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angelwithdemonictendencies · 3 months

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there's dirt on my face from when they buried me alive; i'll show you how to kiss, teach me how to breathe through these soil-laden lungs.

jw60 x reader: what happens at the renaissance faire does (not) stay at the renaissance faire.

(warnings: blasphemous filth (it's honestly not bad), unprotected penetrative sex (m on f), idk a little hair pulling, nothing too crazy (be proud of me!), but you should be warned about the insanity that is me writing slow burn. i know i'm forgetting a lot but all my usual suspects. (please be warned, don’t read if you’re not 100% sure.)

(a/n: well, favorites, did someone say longest story yet? no, size doesn't matter, but this is getting out of hand. we're over 15k, now. next time i'm just gonna hand you a novel. happy valentine's day from the writer that loves you the most. where to begin? no, i don't know anything about faire culture or even that much about theatre, but i hope you like this anyways, because i absolutely loved writing it. i guess goalies are for the heartbreakers (and jw60 is for people who have been demonized because they're hot). this is for those of us with a little bit of a reputation, a little bit of a history. you deserve someone who thinks you look like a princess when your tits are falling out of your corset. yeah, the pacing's probably a bit off, and i got carried away with his big doe-eyes, but shh! don't tell anyone. oh, and you guys can pry bad kisser jw60 from my cold, dead hands. you know how i used to say i hope you watch the canucks and think, wow, qh43 definitely wants something that's just his? i hope you watch the leafs (when jw60 comes back) and think, wow, sweetheart doesn't know how to kiss! and with that stiff upper neck, too, poor baby! of course, please tell me what you think, because i love it when you do. what else? thank you a million times for all the love. try to spot the baby leafs in the supporting cast. and i'm about halfway done with frat!jh86 (it's fun, you'll love it). thank you for being patient with me. go canucks. until next time, all my love).

the corset was making it really, really hard to breathe. you swore, tonight, when you finally unbound yourself, there would be indentations of the small brass eyelets in your spine, perhaps that your back would slink and melt into the ground, having grown accustomed to the relentless support of the tightly-tied ribbon.

"i don't want to hear it," jenny, your best friend, said, holding a hand up to silence you before you even spoke. "you look unreal. you'll thank me for this, babe, i swear it."

you shook your head at her. "i just don't get why i have to dress like a medieval prostitute," you mused, gesturing to yourself, then her, "and you get be, uh, whatever that is."

jenny threw a hairbrush at you, which you dodged. "i'm a jester. you know this. you know how important this is to me."

you sighed, because you did. jenny had been a regular at the old renaissance faire every summer since she was little. you were about to be seniors in university, but this summer, jenny had insisted that you join her, some kind of last hurrah before you began to walk an intertwined path for what would likely be the last time.

and as much as you didn't really have any interest in jousting, or feudal society, or turkey legs, or whatever it was that people did at these things, you loved jenny enough to be grateful that she wanted to share her special place with you.

you didn't ask why she insisted on being a court jester ever year. maybe that was just her true form.

you walked over to where she sat in front of her mirror, put your hands on her shoulders. "and you're the hottest jester i've ever seen," you said, kissing her on the top of the head. "but i still can't breathe in this."

"that's the point," jenny replied, waving you off.

you had wanted to design your own costume, as costume design was quite literally your passion. you'd designed for every school play and musical since freshman year, wanted to pursue it further after college.

jenny had seemed so excited, though, and it was her day, so you let her take the reigns. the way this get-up fit you, though, the revealing upper-thigh slit, the abundance of cleavage you were sporting, the draping lacey skirts, it all had you hoping this specific faire had a strict no-men policy. you could practically already feel the weight of slimy stares on your exposed leg, the top of your chest. not to mention your face, but that was a bit of a constant, not just today.

you finished your hair and makeup, perfected the wench/heroine/damsel look. you knew yourself to be capable of all but shapeshifting, with your design and artistic abilities, but this old-timey seductress look was a spectacle, that was for sure.

jenny squealed when she saw the finished look. you cracked a smile at her ensemble, a straight-up court jester, down to the bells on her pointed hat, the face paint that matched the color scheme of her costume. "you look great," you told her.

"it's about letting my inner jest shine through," she said, "and that's why i dressed you up. so you have enough sex appeal for the two of us."

you were going to ask why there needed to be any sex appeal at all, but when you finally arrived at the sight of the faire, it became clear that that was simply part of the show.

you weren't even out of place in your revealing get-up, among all of the corsets and pants that looked like tights, not at all, although you had to give jenny credit. out of the many wenches and princesses and knights and pirates and such, your costume was especially lovely.

jenny linked her arm with yours as you passed under the tented entrance. it smelled like charcoal smoke and sugar, like wet leaves and musk.

"welcome to paradise," jenny said, a bright, genuine smile on her round face.

you couldn't help but smile, too. smile at this almost-hilarious display of the modern obsession with the past, of the unrelenting pursuit of entertainment, of the shared desire to be someone, somewhere, sometime else. this faire was just human, in a way that could be sort of somber, but in a way that you read as beautiful.

"where to first?" you asked your friend.

for hours, you let her lead you from place to place, from memory to memory.

"this is where my cousin, brett, bought his crush a leather-bound notebook," jenny said, while you perused a leather goods stand. she winced. "think she had a boyfriend, though."

you took pictures of her with different characters, let her take pictures of you with them, after. you smiled, big and cheesy, next to guys on stilts, jugglers, acrobats.

"you're gonna love this one," jenny said, pulling you into a barn that sold soaps and other handmade goods. you held a candle to your nose, inhaled, closed your eyes at the subtle combination of pine and something slightly floral.

you held it out to your friend. "try this one," you offered, picking up another one to test. you left the barn with two new candles and a hand soap for your apartment at school.

"we have to avoid archery," jenny whispered to you from behind a hand as you waited in line for giant pickles.

"why?" you asked, tilting your head at her serious expression.

"pretty sure my high school ex still runs it," she said, "and not the fun one."

you successfully avoided her ex, tried mead (honestly, how did people ever drink that), had your fortune told.

"my mom used to be the fortune teller at her local faire," jenny told you, a wistful sort of look in her eyes. "it's how she met my dad."

your heart flipped. you were a sucker for a meet-cute. "really?" you asked, "how romantic, jen. we have to do it."

jenny went first, the bell on her hat jingling with each movement. she walked away with a vague promise of new opportunities ahead and a new light to step into.

you smiled when she relayed this information to you, grabbed her hands excitedly. "a new light?" you said, "like a center-stage light? like a lead role?"

jenny's eyes widened. you'd met her freshman year in the theatre department, you a bit of a loner with a knack for a sewing machine and her a talkative actress with a beautiful singing voice.

still, after three years of productions, jenny had never had a lead role. she had a affinity for playing the side kick, the best friend, the assistant, the villain's love interest.

but no one had seen what she was capable of more than you, and you knew this year would be the year. you couldn't wait to watch her give the last bow on opening night, with you clapping from the wings.

now, jenny grinned at you. "this is the year, babe," she agreed. "now you!"

she gave you a gentle push towards the booth. the woman running it was probably somewhere between fifty and sixty. she had the face of a person who took advantage of sunny days, of someone who didn't deny herself simple pleasures, who had spent years laughing.

you felt at ease with her when she took your hand, ran her fingers along the ridges of your palm.

"rough hands, girly," she said, shooting you a lighthearted wink. "you workin' too hard, eh?"

you smiled. "just hard enough, ma'am," you told her, to which she patted your hand lightly in approval.

"you'll keep working," she told you, "but you'll find some new fun, too. sooner than you think."

you thanked her, bid her a good day. you never were one to put much stock into this kind of thing, but you'd take a little more fun any day.

when you told jenny what your fortune had been, she bumped her hip against yours. "hopefully that means a new guy," she mused.

you rolled your eyes. "don't need a guy for fun, do i?"

"'course not," she said, waving you off. "just know you, babe."

"you make it sound like i'm some depraved witch," you teased.

she laughed, pulled you by the arm to the big tent in the center of the faire. "c'mon," she said, "it's time for the joust!"

the joust was the main event of the day, you had known this coming in. it was fun, a spectacle of men on horses. you found yourself fascinated with the way they had dressed the horses up, the funny way all the actors were talking, so distracting that you barely noticed when the joust actually happened.

you still applauded and whistled along with jenny, listened to her tell a story about one joust in which the horse ran in the opposite direction, right out of the tent. you were holding your stomach in gentle laughter as you made to finish your day off at the tavern.

the sky began to melt from a blue to a burnt orange, the air hazy with heat. you could feel a day of standing in your thighs, a day of heeled boots in your calves. the makeup on your face had stayed put, but you could feel the weight of it like a halloween mask. your hair pulled at your scalp, a bit.

"hey, thanks for being such a good sport about this," jenny said as she brought you back a massive jug of beer, setting it down on the table with her own.

"what?" you said, scrunching up your face. "this is awesome, jen. thank you for inviting me."

she rolled her eyes at you, but her smile was obviously pleased. "i know it's corny, and kinda weird, but it's, i don't know." she trailed off, a misty sort of look in her eye.

you took her hand from across the table. you got what she meant. with senior year about to start, everything had a new, foreign sort of gravity to it, like it might never happen again. like you might miss it, if you didn't breathe all of it in. "i get it," you told her. "and where else am i gonna get to dress like this?"

she grinned at you as you took a sip from your jug.

"little jenny jester? is that you?"

you both turned to see an old, old man in magician's robes. jenny squealed. "magic jarod!" she said, before turning to you. "be right back," she whispered, "family friend."

"go 'head," you said, waving her on. you watched her approach the man, give him a big hug. you smiled. it was pretty cool, to know people at an event like this. to have people know you.

you sipped on your beer, quickly realized there was no way you were going to finish it. to pass the time, you people-watched, tried to guess people's relations to each other. you admired people's costumes, made mental notes of unique beading patterns or interesting pleats.

at some point, you were torn from your lulled observance by a polite cough. "is this, uh, where the plus-ones hang out?"

you turned your head to the side slightly to see the owner of that deep, pleasant voice. if you were the type to wolf-whistle, this would have been the time to do it.

something thrummed in your chest as you took in the man who stood in front of you, now. maybe it was the height, maybe the lean, working sort of bulk, maybe the soft-looking, just long enough hair. maybe it was the impossibly blue eyes that you could see even in the dim light of the tavern at dusk. maybe it was the careful, straight posture, the high cheekbones, cut jaw.

or maybe it was the fact that he was dressed in some sort of homemade prince outfit, a loose cream blouse, dark trousers, a dainty tiara-like crown atop his head.

he shifted back on his heels ever-so-slightly under your gaze, like it was something tangible, something that meant something.

in the misty, warm lighting of these low ceilings, among the dirty tables and scent of beer, he appeared deliciously out of place, like some fabled savior, some ancient temptation disguised as an angel.

you gave him a small smile, leaning into the table, just a bit. "did you also come with a jester?" you asked, teasing.

his mouth quirked, a beautiful flush blooming across his cheeks at the sound of your voice. he gave a shake of his head that shook the longer curls around his ears. "'m with the knight," he said, nodding to the person who was currently talking to a woman dressed as a pirate, who appeared very confused. to be fair, the person she was talking to was in full armor.

you gestured to the open spot across the table from you. "keep my friend's spot warm until she gets back?"

he stepped closer until he was just across from you. until you could see how long his lashes were, how big his eyes were, doe-like and boyish. how, ever since you'd first made eye contact with him, his gaze hadn't dipped to your chest even once. which was a feat, even jenny had gotten distracted a couple of times.

he made eye contact like a religion, like it was so, so significant. you took a sip of your beer. "what kind of prince are you?" you asked, leaning your heavy head on a palm.

he gave a low short of chuckle, and the sound was a rumble through your body, shook you up from the inside out. he clasped his broad hands in front of himself. "the boring kind," he said.

you shook your head, laughed. "okay, then, boring prince," you said. "what's your name?"

he licked his lips, and your eyes tracked the movement. your hands felt jittery. "joseph," he said, then asked for yours. you gave it. his kind eyes shimmered at this piece of you. "and what kind of princess are you, sweetheart?"

you laughed, bit your lip to stifle it, as you didn't want him to think you were making fun of him. but, really, in what world was this a princess costume? maybe in an adult film, but not here.

he didn't seem offended, though, just gave you a pouty look dripping with mirth. "what?" he said. you had a feeling he was rarely on the outside of an inside joke.

"it's just funny," you told him, feeling honest and open in the light of his polite gentleness. "that you think 'm dressed as a princess."

"oh, yeah?" he asked. his tiara shifted on his head. "what're you dressed as, then?"

something different wafted through the air between the two of you, something stronger than just the smell of grime and alcohol. something that felt sluggish, sparkly, seductive.

because even now, he didn't look away from your eyes. and that was, somehow, so much more intimate than some desperate once-over, one that would get caught on your chest, your thighs.

"how many princesses do you know who show this much skin?" you asked instead of answering his question. your voice had grown gravelly without your permission.

you had almost dared him to look away from your eyes, to take you in fully, in all of your corset-strapped glory.

but he didn't. which had you almost begging that he would.

"at least one," he said, a lopsided grin slanting across his face. "at least you."

"you know," you started, thought for a second. you sucked on your teeth, and his gaze flickered to your mouth for one single, almost undetectable second. a second that sparked a fire underneath you, had victory horns blaring in the distance. "you're pretty charming for a boring prince, joseph."

that pretty blush grew deeper, made his stark stature appear comfortable, warm. you wanted more of it. you wanted to know it deeply and personally.

when had you shifted so close together? the both of you leaning across the small table like it wasn't even there, breathing in the same air, sharing so politely.

you wanted to make his kind eyes simmer, make his blood run hot. you were close, you knew it, you could feel it in his exhales, in the slight tremor of his hands.

"don't think 'm the charmer between us, sweetheart," he said, low, a secret.

"we can share the title, if you want," you offered. "i'd share with you."

he hummed, shifted on his elbows, restless. "that's kind of you," he said. there was a roughness to his tone that flipped your heart in your chest, wrapped your legs up in coiling heat.

"what can i say?" you said, "you're a good influence on me."

there was a pause, during which you reached a hand up and gently adjusted his tiara so that it sat straight on his head again. you tried not to ruminate on how soft his hair was under your fingertips, pretended not to notice how his gaze draped over your face like a weighted blanket as you focused on the task.

when you withdrew your hand, he was staring at you. it felt like there was no one else in the room. "there," you said.

"straightened me out, did you?" he rasped, those doe eyes drowsy.

your mouth quirked up in a smirk. "oh, joey, i couldn't straighten you out," you said, tilting your head.

"no?" he asked, almost disappointed, not really. "what, sweetheart? 'd you be a bad influence on me?" he teased, twisting your words.

you knew you had him.

you knew you had him, so you forced aside any sensuality from your tone, your expression. "oh, fuck, i think my necklace is stuck in my hair," you said, clutching your hair, wincing like it hurt, watching concern flood his delicate features so gracefully. "know it's a lot to ask, joseph, but could you come to bathroom with me and untangle it, please?"

"of course," he said, practically before you could get it out, letting you take one of his wide, warm hands and tug him to the bathroom. once he was inside, just behind you, you locked the door, dropped your hair, both hands now free.

he appeared confused for a second. "your necklace?" he asked, but he trailed off as you placed a hand on his chest, felt the silken material of his shirt under your palm.

you peered up at him through your lashes, cocked your head. "'d you really fall for that, joey?" you asked, almost shocked.

his firm chest rose and fell under your hand, his exhales coming out shaky. "you're very persuasive," he mustered.

you hummed, relished in the heat that simmered between the two of you, full-bodied and palpable. "'m sorry i lied," you whispered, because you felt compelled to, because you had a feeling it mattered.

"'s okay," he breathed, immediate in his forgiveness, finally moving his hands from his sides to rest gently on your hips. this decision seemed to take a lot out of him, which made you smile. like his desire was heavy, like he just needed somewhere to put it down. like he wanted to touch you, so badly, but needed permission, needed someone to tell him how.

"can i be a bad influence on you for a second?" you asked him, leaned forward into his chest, "please?"

he nodded, leaned back against the door like holding his posture straight was suddenly too much to endure, let out some affirmative sound, halfway between a breath and a whimper.

you kept one hand on his chest, pressed him into the door, snaked your other hand into his hair and rooted it there. his grip on your hips tightened, now hard and strong, his own hips angling up slightly, involuntarily.

"can i kiss you?" you asked, suddenly soft, despite his sudden strength. because you had a feeling it mattered. that he mattered.

"please," he said, basically a whine, which had you fisting his shirt and tugging him down, his lips meeting yours in something like a fairytale, something heated and passionate and glutted with relief.

something heated, in the way you pulled at his hair, how his hand reached around you to pull you closer, right up against him.

something passionate, in the way your knees felt wobbly as swallowed down his sounds, swore you could feel his heartbeat under your palm.

something glutted with relief, in the way his tiara fell from his head entirely, only recognized by the dull clatter of plastic against wood, in the way neither of you pulled away, in the way it only gave you more access to him.

he tasted like mint and something slightly earthy, like peppermint candy and flaky sea salt. you much preferred this, you decided in a moment, to the taste of weed brownies and red bull that distinguished the kisses you had grown accustomed to, at school.

it was something like a fairytale, but not because it was perfect.

because it wasn't perfect, not at all. joseph was actually kind of a bad kisser, you realized. nothing crazy, nothing jarring, but the tell-tale signs of inexperience hung off of him like a too-big jacket.

moments of too-much teeth, unsure hands, a stiff neck, they made you smile against his mouth, because it was obvious he didn't let just anyone into his space like this.

so when his teeth would clash against yours, you'd simply nip at his bottom lip, playful, forgiving.

when his hands would still, uncertain, you'd just place a hand over where one of his rested, held it there, let him know you felt him, still, unwavering.

when his neck would stiffen, you'd rub at the knots with a knuckle, trace your nails over his hairline, feel a shiver erupt under your fingertips.

until he grew more comfortable in his motions, more brave in his want. desire flowed between you both like gasoline, sharp-scented and flammable. he let out an especially uninhibited groan when you brought your hand down to rest on his waistline, but the sound was engulfed by three swift knocks on the door.

"get outta there, guys," some authoritative voice called. "we're not that kind of establishment."

reluctantly, you pulled away from each other, chests heaving. the top of your chest glowed with warmth.

your prince looked delightfully disheveled. the top button of his shirt had slipped undone, his hair beautifully fussed, his cheeks ruddy, lips swollen, eyes glossy.

you knelt down, gently, picked up his plastic tiara, pushed up on your toes to place it on his head again. when you pulled back, there was something more dangerous than pure lust in his gaze.

as much fun as you knew you could have with him, and as much as you wanted to, you knew jenny would be looking for you, ready to go home. you knew joseph had his knight to attend to. knew this perfect moment that you had summoned was all but gone.

you knew the chances of seeing him again were very slim. the thought made your stomach drop, a bit. you exhaled all of your expectations, let them fall to the ground like sediment as you placed a hand on the doorknob.

he still hadn't said a word, almost in a daze. "you're going?" he asked, a husky rasp, and you could have pouted. it felt cruel, to be leaving behind such a pretty boy, one with such kind eyes.

you nodded slowly.

he just gave you a goofy sort of sad smile, tilted his crown to you like the brim of a hat. "until we meet again, trouble," he said, "you've been a lovely bad influence."

you smiled back at him, actually felt yourself blush. "and you've been a deviously good one," you said, "goodbye, joey."

and so you left him, walked away, but you could still feel his lips on yours, could feel the steadiness of his eye contact, the endearing uncertainty of his grip.

when the night ended, you had walked away from the dashing prince, the one you had pulled apart at the seams, but you knew you wouldn't forget him. your not-so-boring prince, who you couldn't even call a hookup, couldn't deem a fling, so you just knew him as your storybook kiss.

and you didn't forget him, even as the last summer days melted into early september, even as school started back up again, as classes came back into full-swing, as senior year and the countdown to graduation began.

you and jenny moved your things from your summer lease to your on-campus apartment, reunited with your friends who had been away for the summer, got all your classes and credits in order.

before you knew it, it was the first theatre department meeting, and you found yourself in the auditorium on a hot tuesday afternoon, slotting into a seat next to jenny and benji, the set designer who you had worked closely with during all your previous productions.

"good to see you, benj," you said, smiling at him.

he grinned, returned the sentiment, but tilted his head back in mock anguish. "another year of madness," he mused, "here we go again."

"our last go-around," you reminded him, elbowing him softly.

jenny made a noise, shook her head. "don't say that to me," she warned, "swear i'll start crying."

after welcoming everyone back, and building an adequate amount of suspense, the theatre director announced the fall play to be romeo and juliet.

"our department hasn't put it on since the eighties," the director exclaimed, "and i have the utmost belief that we will make it every bit the magical tragedy it is."

jenny was squeezing your hand so hard it hurt. juliet had been one of her dream roles since she was in middle school, since she had watched the movie with claire danes.

already, your head was spinning with visions of shakespearean headpieces, draping dresses, flowery imagery, blushy makeup.

beside you, benji groaned. "oh jesus," he lamented, "please, please, no castles."

you and jenny laughed. benji was one of the most talented artists you knew, and he always pulled it together before opening night, but he was a true procrastinator, tended to be a bit of a lazybones. the cast and crew loved him for it. what was an artist without a little bit of torture?

auditions were set for thursday morning, callbacks on friday, the final cast list to be posted on monday.

you didn't need to be present for any of the auditioning process, so, for the next few days, you enjoyed what you knew from experience to be your last moments of free time for the rest of the semester.

you went to office hours for your design professors, as you always did at the beginning of classes, just to introduce yourself, get yourself properly situated for academic success.

after jenny's audition on thursday, you went out, celebrated what she assured you was an astounding monologue delivery. between salted rims and blue-colored cocktails, jenny flipped her phone screen your way to show you the email that confirmed her callback tomorrow.

you squealed, shook her by the shoulders, pure excitement flowing through you. this was the year, you knew it. this was it.

nothing out of the ordinary, you let one of your friends set you up with some guy on saturday night. he was cute enough, kind of scummy, but, up until recently, he would have been exactly your type. you'd been known to go for the guys who looked like they'd been around the block, a little fratty, a little jocky. this guy, across from you, fit the bill, you could give him that.

all throughout college, you hadn't been the type to judge too harshly if a guy was a little too glued to his phone over dinner, if he had the distinct posture of someone who grew up with money, if he spoke shortly to wait staff.

for some reason, though, tonight, you felt itchy at the fact that he had a tough time looking you in the eye for more than a few seconds, felt a practically motherly concern at the way his fingers twitched towards his phone if he went more than a few minutes without looking at it.

for some reason, tonight, more so than nights before, the memory of a certain stiff-spined prince, blushing pink and thinking you were a princess, even dressed your sluttiest, danced across your mind like a waltz.

you sort of hated how his memory had kind of ruined what, a few months ago, would have been a satisfying hook-up, resented how someone you were never going to see again was dictating, to any degree, who you would go home with, but, regardless, you gave this guy across from you a terrible excuse for your need to leave, set a fiver on the table to cover your drink, hurried out the door and home.

jenny was sprawled out on her bed when you opened the door, watching some trashy reality dating show for the millionth time.

"watching it again isn't gonna make kaitlyn make the right choice," you reminded her as you set your bag down, recognizing the season from a single line of dialogue.

jenny groaned. "i can dream," she said, then fixed her eyes on you. "you look hot," she observed, "what are you doing here?"

you smiled as you began to take your makeup off. "went out with that guy chase set me up with," you explained, then sighed.

"what, did he lose his eyeballs on the way to the bar?"

you laughed, shook your head at jenny's characteristically odd wording. "nope," you said, "eyeballs intact. i just wasn't into it, i guess."

"fair enough," jenny agreed.

"it was so weird, though," you continued, "like, he was exactly what i usually go for."

"so he was a grimy slacker with a good face who has a concerning obsession with his mom?"

you gasped, feigned offense. "how dare you?" you asked, to which she giggled. "that was only twice!"

jenny rubbed at her neck. "for real though," she pushed, "what do you think is different?"

you bit your lip, thought for a moment, looked down at the cotton pad in your hand, now smudged with clumps of mascara and smears of blush. you swallowed. for some reason the sight made you slightly nauseous, some reminder of guilt or dirtiness or low self-esteem, or something like that, something you didn't really want to get into.

"you remember when you took me to the faire?" you said, still not looking at jenny.

"'course."

you exhaled. "well, when you were talking to that magician guy, i met this guy-"

jenny bolted upright from her horizontal position. "wait," she cut you off, excitement making her tone vibrate. "you mean to tell me that you met a guy at my faire, and i'm just hearing about it now?"

"sorry," you conceded, looking up to meet her eye.

"don't be," she waved you off, hugged her pillow to her chest. "i knew your costume would work!"

you rolled your eyes at her, pulled one of your knees up to your chest.

"so?" she asked, urging you on with her eyes. "tell me about him."

"he was just so fucking polite," you told her. "and so pretty. and when i made out with him in the bathroom it was like he didn't know how to kiss me, but he wanted to be good at it. so bad. like he was almost embarrassed about it." you sighed. "i don't even know why 'm still thinking about him," you told her, and it was true, sort of.

"i do," jenny told you, cracked a smile when you shot her a look. "i know everything."

"enlighten me, all-knowing jester," you said, gesturing for her to elaborate.

"you always take the scumbags, babe," she told you, "and they're fun, sure, but now you've had a taste of the teacher's pet, mom's favorite, goes to church on sunday. once you go 'good guy,' you never go back."

"i don't know," you said, skeptical, "i feel like i'm putting too much stock into this. feel like he probably doesn't even remember me."

jenny blew out a breath. "yeah right," she said, "let me tell you something."

"please."

"as much as you're feeling hooked on the good guy, right now," she said, "i can guarantee he's plagued at night by his glimpse of the dark side."

you hummed, smiled. "and i'm the dark side, in this scenario?"

"babe," jenny said, "you're not a 'bad person,' but you're a 'bad girl.'"

you pouted, but you knew what she meant. knew that you were kind, a good listener, a good friend, that you were trustworthy and patient and generous, but also that you weren't above the simple pleasures. that you weren't one to turn down a free drink, were always down to get your hands (and reputation) a little dirty, and until recently, that you were a one-night-stand frequent.

you also knew that people liked to label you as the bad girl simply because of the way you looked, the way you flirted, the way you dressed.

"whatever," you said, shrugging, acting like it didn't matter, wanting to change the subject, knowing just how to do it. "monday's the big day, right?"

jenny gushed about her callback, how that juliet role was practically hers, how she didn't want to jinx it. you told her the truth, that you couldn't imagine anyone else for the role, that they'd have to be stupid not to cast her.

and they proved to be not stupid, monday morning, when the cast list was emailed out to the department. on you way between classes, you received a face-time call from jenny before you even finished reading the full list.

"we did it!" jenny screamed as her jubilant face filled up your screen.

you couldn't help but let your face split into a grin at her excitement. "i told you," you said, "i told you! this is your year, jen. you deserve this so much." you almost felt misty-eyed. "'m so proud of you."

she looked like she actually was crying, now. "stop, babe, or you're gonna get me going," she warned. "fuck, i can't believe it. a lead role! i can't wait to wear your designs center stage!"

"i can't wait, too," you said, and you meant it.

"i know you have class, i'll let you go," she said, "see you at the meeting at four. okay, bye." she gave one last look. "our year!" she squealed as she hung up, leaving you laughing as you walked into class.

finally, it was time for the all-department meeting, your last commitment of the day, when everyone involved in the production met, now that you all knew the cast, from the leads to the directors to the stage managers to the last freshman painting sets under benji's direction.

"morrison's a night. mare," was the first thing that benji said to you as you slid into the seat next to him.

you hummed. "who's morrison?"

"one of my freshman," he explained. "his girlfriend's in the cast, said he wants to 'keep an eye on her,' whatever that means."

you scrunched up your nose. "gross," you said.

"and he sucks at everything," benji said. "'m half tempted to tell him to just stand in the corner and not touch anything."

you laughed as the director clapped his hands on the stage to get everyone's attention, launched into the typical congratulations speech. you felt jenny sit to your right with a deep breath.

"little late, eh, jen?" benji whispered.

"can it, benny," she replied, to which benji scowled. he hated when she called him that.

"and now, we'll do a full introduction," the director was saying, "from the back of the house all the way to the front. i can not emphasize enough how important it is that we, here in the theatre, trust and love everyone around us."

"i love you so much," you whispered to benji, who smirked.

"'m not interested, babe, but so flattered," was his response.

"why don't we start with our leads? jennifer and carlos, please stand and introduce yourselves."

"yeah, jennifer," you whispered, giggling into your hand. benji shook next to you.

jenny smacked you on the shoulder as carlos went. your production's romeo was a senior, too, had been in the department as long as you and your friends. you were a little surprised he had gotten the role, if you were honest, had always thought his acted grief came across as a bit shallow.

then jenny went, standing up, waving to everyone. when she was done with her introduction, no one clapped louder than you and benji, even whistling, a sound that echoed through the space.

the rest of the cast went, then all the directors and behind the scenes people. eventually, benji and his team went, followed by the costume crew.

"hi, everyone," you said, standing up, giving them all your name. "i'm the head costumer designer, and i can't wait to help all of you look like the best versions of yourselves and characters." you had used that line since sophomore year.

more people followed, eventually even the ushers went, followed by the orchestra and band.

you were friends with some of the music kids, so you tried to pay closer attention.

"'sup guys, 'm matt, on percussion," a stocky guy said, then gestured to the guy next to him. you laughed when you heard him grunt, "go, dude."

"yeah, i'm bobby," his friend, the blonde one, said, giving an awkward wave, "i, uh, play guitar."

"jesus, how does he look hotter than last spring?" benji said, putting his head in his hands, referring to the crush he had harbored on the department's guitarist for two years. you rubbed his shoulder in comfort, but a voice you recognized made your gaze snap back.

"hello, everyone, my name is joseph, i'm your new pianist, and i'm so excited to get to know you all."

the next person went to speak, but you just blinked, swallowed your disbelief down like a too-big pill.

it couldn't be him, but it was. there stood your boring prince, in a button down and khakis, this time, no tiara to be found. it made you wonder if he still had it, somewhere, maybe his bedroom, if his gaze would catch on it sometimes and he would think of you. if it would make him blush.

there he stood, hair just a bit longer, but the rest all the same as the dream boy who lived in your memory. so pretty, his words so naturally kind, you barely even noticed that he mentioned he would be the pianist for the production, too distracted by the fact that he was here, in front of you, right now.

hands on your waist, his soft groans muffled against your lips, wide doe eyes looking at you like he couldn't bear to look away, it all flashed across your mind, made you stiffen, your exhale come out short.

"you okay?" jenny whispered to you.

"that's him," you said.

"who?" her brow was furrowed, confused.

"that's him," you repeated. "the guy from the faire."

benji turned to you. "no way you let her drag you to that geek fest," he said, but you both ignored him, jenny's eyes going wide.

"that's your good guy?" she clarified. "the piano man is the bad kisser?"

"lower your voice," you warned, your voice low, serious.

benji leaned in. "you kissed bambi, over there?"

"yes, benny, keep up," jenny said, barely sparing him a look. "babe, you need to talk to him. this is fate." she snapped her fingers. "this is literally what the fortune teller was talking about, work and fun and all that."

you bit your lip, looked towards joseph again. your heart stuttered in your chest when you found him to be already looking at you. his lips quirked up in a shy smile as his fingers fluttered in a gentle wave.

you let a smile drape across your face at his recognition, his cordiality, then winked at him.

he looked at his feet, shifted lightly on his feet. you swore you could see his nervous blush from here. it made you feel like you were coated in glitter.

finally, the meeting ended with the promise of an email containing a review of all the information discussed. as everyone stood up and made for the exits, jenny gently shoved towards the front, where joseph was talking with his friends. she grabbed the elbow of benji and walked in the other direction as he muttered something about always being the last to know things.

you walked down the auditorium aisle, joseph's eyes lifting to meet yours as you got close. his smile grew boyish and bashful as he registered your approach, stepped out of his lean against the stage, brushed his palms against his pants.

there was a pause that you noted, because what exactly could you say, here? what exactly could you do?

could you say hey, matt and bobby, i don't know how you know joseph, but i made out with him in the bathroom of a ren faire tavern and haven't stopped thinking about him since?

probably not.

instead, you just smiled, asked matt and bobby how their summers were. they had been in the theatre band since sophomore year, so you were familiar with them, at least enough to know what place matt was talking about when he mentioned his vacation home and who bobby was referring to when he mentioned his buddies on the team (the both of them were on the club hockey team at school).

matt clapped a heavy hand on joseph's shoulder. "woller's on the team with us," he explained, "convinced him to fill the piano void we had after the seniors graduated."

you hummed, turned your gaze back to joseph, relished in the endearing awkwardness you found. "joey and i have met, actually," you said.

bobby shrugged. "you go to the same school, not all that surprising."

it was sort of funny, now that you thought of it, that in three years, you hadn't crossed paths with joseph one time. not once did he catch your attention in the dining hall, not once did he drop a pen in your vicinity during a lecture, never did he accidentally bump into you between classes.

you'd gone three years without seeing those blue eyes, and since that chance encounter, you hadn't stopped thinking about them.

matt seemed to be more perceptive than bobby, though, giving a slight nod in understanding. "we'll leave you to catch up, then," he said, grabbing his backpack, tossing bobby his. "see you 'round, guys."

then the auditorium was empty, except for you and joseph. like a universe that existed only for the two of you. the high ceilings seemed barely suitable to fit the mass of emotion you felt.

you kept a safe step's distance. "hi, joey," you said, softer than you meant.

his eyes shimmered at your voice, at the nickname. "hi, trouble," he said, in that tone that felt like winter sunlight, "how are you?"

of course he would ask that, hands shoved into his pockets, of course he would ask that and really mean it, really care.

"'m good," you said. "really good, now. didn't know 'f i'd see you again."

he hummed, and it felt like power, to know that you both were thinking about the last time, to know for certain he was thinking of you, pushing him up against a door.

"how are you?" you reciprocated, leaning back on your heels.

he thought for a moment, the pause fat with nostalgia, ripe with promise. "pretty nervous, if 'm honest," he told you, looked down.

you couldn't hide your delight. "like you honest," you told him, and his blush deepened. he wanted to meet your gaze, so badly, you could tell, but it was almost like he didn't trust himself to, like he might get caught there forever.

he gave a breathy sort of laugh. it made your head spin.

you stepped closer to him, which tore his eyes up to yours. his chest heaved in what might have been a relieved sigh. "do your friends know?" you asked, and your voice had grown husky, softer, only for him.

he shook his head, his eyes welling up with genuine truth, like he would never. "no," he said.

"really?" you asked, cocked your head. "don't kiss and tell, joey?"

his ears bloomed pink, like the word kiss was some kind of curse, like all of it was too much to hear aloud. it had you almost regretting saying it. almost.

when he spoke, his voice cracked, slightly. "no, uh, can't say i do, sweetheart." he said.

you gave him a smile that curled with smokiness. "did you just wanna keep it to yourself, then?" you asked, let your gaze grow hooded. "maybe keep me to yourself?"

his breathing was heavier, and he was so close, and all you wanted to do was kiss him again, knead your knuckles into that stiff neck, feel him against you, but you didn't.

you didn't and then he spoke again. it was breathy, wavering. "think, maybe, uh, we should," he started, "think we should just be, uh, friends, sweetheart."

and you could have been disappointed, offended, even, but you weren't. you just took a small step back, smiled at him gently. let his words settle. "do you, joey?"

he gave a slight nod. "yeah, um, just 'cause of the show, and we'll be working closely, and such," he said. "for the sake of the show." something permissive and almost regretful, something practically compunctious flooded his bright, blue eyes, the way oil sullies a warm ocean gulf.

"thank god we have a pianist so dedicated to the production, then," you said, eyes wide, watched him blush further. "we should probably exchange numbers, then," you continued, "so we can do things that friends do."

he cleared his throat, nodded, entered his information into the phone you offered him. "it'll be good," he said, but it sounded more like he was trying to convince himself than you.

"it'll be so, so good," you amended, retreating, now walking towards the exit. "i promise, joey, 'll make it so good, for you."

for the second time, you left him, blushing, disheveled, this time with much more hope in your heart.

"so, did you talk to him?" jenny asked you over lunch the next day.

"and can you get him to talk to bobby about me?" benji asked, taking a bite of his sandwich.

"yes, and no," you said, making benji pout.

jenny stamped her feet under the table in fast succession. "so, what did you say? what did he say?"

you shrugged. "he said we should be just friends." it even sounded funny coming out of your mouth.

benji winced. "ouch," he said, blowing out a breath.

"i don't get it," jenny said, appearing genuinely confused.

"said it was for the good of the production, or something," you said.

"what a load of bullshit," jenny said, now almost angry.

you shrugged again.

"why aren't you upset?" benji asked, skeptical. "in all the time i've known you, you haven't been friendzoned once. it can't feel good to be slummin' it with the rest of us."

you laughed. "i'm not upset because i know he doesn't want to be friends, he just thinks it's the right thing to do."

"what's the difference?" jenny said, "regardless, he set his terms."

"and i'll be respectful of them," you said, and you meant it. you were not one to break hard-set boundaries, to act in a forceful or disrespectful way. "i'm a great friend."

benji narrowed his eyes. "so, you're just gonna be totally platonic with this guy?"

you nodded, leaned back in your seat.

"just friends with the only guy i've ever seen you think twice about?" jenny clarified.

"exactly," you reiterated. "just friends, nothing more." your mouth quirked. "until he inevitably decides otherwise."

benji rolled his eyes. "of course," he said, almost bitter. "the elusive long game."

"won't be that long," you corrected.

"how can you be so sure?"

you smiled at the memory. "his eyes," you said, honestly, almost guiltily. "bit of a dead giveaway."

joseph had declared you just friends, so that's what you would be, for the time being. you trusted he would come to his own conclusions as time passed, so you figured there really wasn't any reason to rush things. there were much worse things than being friends with a very kind person.

so you texted him the next morning, sent him a hey :) it's your favorite new friend, followed by your name, followed by a what're you doing later?

and of course he was a prompt responder, getting back to you in a matter of minutes. a Good Morning, Sweetheart, followed by a We have practice until 6:30, but I'm free after that. What did you have in mind?

his texts read a bit awkward and stiff, in all of their grammatical correctness, but it made you sigh, because what was he, if not a little awkward and stiff?

wanna study at my place? you sent, followed by i could walk you back from practice.

I'd like that. was his response, followed by Just to clarify, you mean actually study, right? That wasn't an innuendo?

now he had you smiling at your phone. get your head outta the gutter joey you texted, followed by just to study, followed by pinkie promise.

you could picture his blush as if you wear standing in front of him.

See you at 6:30, Trouble, was his last response.

you sort of thought it was funny that he called you that, and maybe it should have been a little offensive, because maybe you were tired of being associated with that kind of negativity. maybe you were tired of coming with a warning label, tired of feeling like all anyone saw when they looked at you was a pretty face wrapped up in red flags.

what was funnier, you supposed, was that you didn't mind it when he called you that. you didn't mind it because there was something you liked about being trouble to him, in particular. you liked being his sweetheart, probably more than you would admit to yourself, but there was something addictive about being important enough, singular enough, powerful enough to be deemed trouble by a person like him.

a person who just oozed with goodness, with righteousness, without any of the arrogance so typically marring the quality, a person whose smile leaked sunshine, who was distinct in their genuineness, whose honesty and kindness you swore you could taste, the way marshmallow fluff sticks to your teeth, grainy and sweet.

maybe you didn't love being trouble, but perhaps you didn't mind being his trouble.

that was the sentiment at the forefront of your mind as you entered the ice rink that the club team practiced at, a few minutes early, let the chillier air cool your face.

the last of the team was on the ice, just a few bodies picking up pucks and cones. you scanned the ice, didn't spot his distinct profile, so you just took a seat in the bleachers, enjoyed the rare moment of quiet, breathing in and out.

a quiet thudding noise drew your attention to the glass, where matt and bobby were waving you down. you hopped down from the bleachers while bobby opened the door to the ice, which made a heavy clanging sound.

"hey, guys," you said, now standing in front of them.

"you missed the fun part," bobby said. you had to crane your neck to look at them. they were taller in skates, a little more intimidating in full hockey pads than when they were goofing off in the pit of the theatre.

you laughed good-naturedly. "not here to watch you trick pucks off the crossbar," you said.

matt laughed. "why are you here, then?" he said.

you didn't quite answer, sucked on your teeth for a second. "where's joey?" you asked, instead.

bobby rolled his eyes.

matt just nodded towards the other end of the ice. "i'll tell him you're here," he said, skated away.

your eyes followed him, then widened. "he's a goalie?" you asked bobby. you tracked the big number sixty on the back of the jersey, the slow, deliberate skating motions, the posture you recognized.

"yeah, why?" bobby asked.

"i don't know," you said, "forgot that was even a position."

"it's the position for freaks," he clarified, leaning against the boards.

you scrunched up your face. but, you supposed, you had never met anyone quite like joseph. perhaps that made him a freak, to some degree.

matt skated back over and told bobby they had to get off the ice for the zamboni, telling you that joseph said he'd meet you by the exit.

you hadn't been waiting for five minutes before the three of them emerged from the locker room, holding water bottles and backpacks. your eyes, however, snagged on joseph like a thread on a nail, didn't leave. he looked too pretty like this, damp hair curling at the ends, face flushed with exertion and cold, his body visibly tired but also more relaxed than you'd seen him.

your throat went dry when he smiled at you. "hey, sweetheart," he said, easy.

"hi," you responded, clasped your hands behind your back, scared, if left to their own devices, they'd reach up and push that rogue curl from his forehead.

"where're you guys headed?" matt asked you as you pushed the doors open into the dusky night.

"mine," you said, not thinking anything of it, because it was the truth, because there was nothing to be embarrassed about.

then you saw the blush that tinted joseph's nose, dainty, but there. maybe it had sounded a little suggestive, but you had nothing to apologize for, and his reaction sort of hurt your feelings, for some reason.

you both said goodbye to matt and bobby, who were headed off to the dining hall, and continued on the walk to your apartment. "are you embarrassed?" you asked, not harshly, just truthfully. because it mattered.

it mattered if he thought you were the kind of person it was embarrassing to go home with. it mattered if he thought there was some kind of reputation with you that would become his through association.

it mattered if he thought you were an embarrassing kind of trouble, instead of a beautiful kind.

he didn't answer for a second, exhaled, and you squinted. "are you embarrassed of me?" you amended.

his gaze shot to yours, eyes flooded with concern, genuine worry. "what? no," he promised, "no, sweetheart, of course not of you."

and this made you feel better, a little. "what of, then?" you asked, in step besides his large frame.

a pause settled in the space between his hip and your waist, side by side, stride by stride.

he ran his tongue along the inside of his cheek. "it's just that," he started, took a breath, then started again. "i know it must seem weird to you, how flustered i get." you wanted to cut him off, correct him, but mostly you wanted him to continue. "'m not as comfortable as you, as confident."

"it's not weird," you promised, "i like how flustered you get. i like your blush." your fingers twitched. "i can try to dial it back, if it'd make you feel better. i can try to be, i don't know, less-"

he did cut you off, then. "no," he said, his voice breaking, only a bit. "don't, uh, change." he cleared his throat, squeezed his plastic water bottle, making it crinkle. "please."

you stared at the side of his face, for a second, any words dying in your throat. "really? aren't you scared 'll bring you over to the dark side, joey?" you said it like a joke, but it wasn't, not really. "aren't you scared i'll turn you bad?"

he looked at you, then, big blue eyes drunk with truth. "'m not scared of you, trouble," was all he said, and that was that.

you showed him up to your apartment, gave him a short tour.

"where do you usually do homework?" he asked, gentle.

"bedroom floor," you said, almost sheepish. "floor's the best place for critical thinking."

he laughed, adjusting his backpack on his shoulder. "lead the way, then," he said.

so you sat with him, on the floor of your bedroom, for a couple hours, until the night made time feel viscous and thick, until your throat was rough from lack of use, until your eyelids felt heavy.

hours of you, doing physics problem sets, and him, finishing history readings. hours of work that were made comfortable, sleepy, by the shared presence of each other, of exhales and warmth and shifting limbs.

hours of work cut with questions about his day, about your classes, about him playing the piano, about your friendship with jenny, about his with bobby and matt, about your mom and his siblings and your design dreams and his uncertain ones.

before long it was past midnight, and you felt your eyes lingering too long on his full mouth, and his gaze felt too honey-sweet on your face. before long, it was time for him to go, before the late hour made you want to see just how far you could push just friends.

out of respect, though, and because you cared about him, at some point, you cleared your throat.

"i should probably go to sleep, soon," you said, a rasp to your voice.

he made to grab his things, pushed his massive body up from your floor. "me too," he said. "'s getting late."

he swung his backpack onto his shoulder and you walked him to the door. he opened it, turned back around, leaned against the frame, facing you.

he looked down at you, and your heart surged, your mind clouded with deja vu. "do you still have your tiara?" you asked, nodding up to his head.

his lips split into a smile as he gave a rough, low laugh. "yeah, sweetheart," he said, his eyes growing foggy with memory. "that's, uh, a keeper."

and it probably wasn't how he meant it, but it almost felt like he was saying you were a keeper, and no one had ever thought that before. you squeezed your hand into a fist. "remember when you said you were a boring prince?"

he nodded.

it took every inch of your discipline not to touch him, hug him, tug him down by his shirt and kiss him dumb. "you're not boring, joey," you said.

he swallowed, his eyes welling up with meaning. "how can you be so sure?" he asked, soft.

"you can't be," you explained, "or i would've been able to stop thinking about you."

his hooded gaze caught on your lips, and it would have been so easy to push up on your toes, slot your mouth against his, but you didn't.

his simmering eyes met yours again. "goodnight, sweetheart," he breathed.

"goodnight," you said, your smile fluttery, shutting the door gently behind him.

and so began the most confusing friendship of your life.

the semester progressed quickly, the pace constantly being pushed by your busy schedule. your days seemed to pass in a blink, filled by classes and exams and rehearsals and theatre commitments, fittings and design meetings and movie nights with jenny, lunches with benji.

jenny's juliet grew more and more compelling, benji grew more and more annoyed with his set crew.

the more time passed, the more frequently you were making plans with joseph, until he just became a part of your schedule. two days a week, you would study at your place, a different two days, you would go to his, instead.

he lived with some guys from the team, so the kitchen was a bit messy, and the decor was seriously lacking, but his room was spotlessly clean, actually sort of comfortable, so you didn't mind. he had a desk, but you had convinced him of the magic of the floor, so the floors of your respective bedrooms had become something of a safe place, a tall, tall tower, away from everything else, away from reality.

you came to find that there was absolutely nothing more comfortable than the warm silence that settled between the two of you like a glittery fog when you'd both get into a working groove, perhaps not talking for stretches of time, but the presence of each other easy enough to fall asleep in.

here and there, one of you would slice through the silence like a warm knife through salted butter, asking about something that had happened that morning, or practice, or rehearsal, or something.

he'd ask how your exam went, and his gaze would melt a bit when you'd gush about how you knew you nailed it.

"that's great, sweetheart," he'd say, his posture more relaxed in the nighttime drowsiness. "'m so proud of you."

maybe you'd ask how the game last weekend went, and his nose would twitch, just a bit.

he'd shrug, and the muscles in his neck would clench, and you'd want nothing more than to ease the tension there with your fingers. "fine," he'd say. "could've been better."

and you'd roll your eyes. "you always think you could've been better," you'd say, and it would be true. you had come to understand that he was a real perfectionist when it came to hockey.

he'd smile, lopsided, and your stomach would flip. "'cause i always could be," he'd say, and it would make you frown.

"i don't know," you'd say, the words coming out slow, like molten chocolate. you'd meet his lazy gaze. "don't think it gets much better than you."

nights of studying and walking him back from practice, days during which, when you were lucky, you could sneak a coffee break with him, began to feel normal, but not in the sense that you didn't feel especially grateful every time you saw him. you couldn't imagine an instance that his eyes wouldn't make your knees wobble, that his voice wouldn't make your heart jolt, a time when making him blush wouldn't feel like a triumph, when making him laugh wouldn't pull the most genuine smile from your own mouth.

you felt as if he'd been an abrupt reset to your whole system, ever since that dusky summer kiss against a door, like a startling ice bath to your entire being. for him, though, you didn't imagine your presence to be as shocking, instead more gradual, like your attention, your thinly-veiled attraction was like ivy, slowly overtaking an old brick building.

miraculously, for weeks and weeks, you kept your hands to yourself. sure, there was the occasional hug goodbye, which typically left you speechless, the more frequent touch of a hand here and there, over a glass of water or across a spread of notebooks. once, and only once, there was a firm arm around your waist, the time when you slipped while walking next to him, his quick reflexes meaning his arm shot out to wrap around you, pulling you back upright in a single motion.

you tried your best not to lean into his embrace, mentally applauded yourself for a job well done. "thanks for that," you said, clearing your throat.

he didn't let go of you immediately though, his hand lingering on your waist for a split second, his gaze shadowy, like in a trance.

"joey," you said, and it came out like a plea, because he couldn't touch you, not like this. it wasn't fair, and you were being so good. "don't do this to me."

that snapped him out of his daze, as he gently retracted his arm, settled it unnaturally next to his side, like he wasn't quite sure what to do with it, now that his palm had laid flat against your hip. what do you do with something sacred? "sorry, sweetheart," he said, and his voice was rough.

for the first time, though, you realized, with narrowing eyes, you got the sense that he was lying to you. that he wasn't actually sorry, not at all.

then there was the time that he showed up at your place unannounced, on a day when you hadn't made plans. "coming," you'd yelled out in response to a knock, fresh out of the shower, only a towel wrapped around you. you opened the door, almost yelped when you saw him in the frame, looking straight out of a fairytale with his hair in his face.

of course, he blushed, looked down when he registered your appearance, clicked his tongue as you held your towel tighter around you. "d'you, uh," he said, "do you always answer the door like this?"

you could have laughed at his gentle humor, despite him being so obviously flustered. "only for you, joey," you said, winking at him, making him go red, which made your smile grow as you swung the door open wider, wordlessly inviting him inside. "kidding. one sec, let me get dressed."

eventually, matt and bobby got used to your presence in their kitchen, in the bleachers of the rink. you met their fourth roommate, a tall, lanky defenseman you mistakenly called simon the first time you met him.

"not si-mon," he corrected, "si-mone."

"like the girl's name," bobby said, trying to help, to which simon whacked him on the back of the head.

"aren't athletes supposed to eat healthy?" you asked one time, when you were steeping one of the tea bags you had begun to keep at joseph's place, just for convenience's sake. you had walked in on matt, bobby, and simon making ice cream sundaes.

matt just waved you off. "it's different for club," he said.

bobby scowled. "last i checked, you don't pay rent here," he said, "no rent, no opinion."

"yeah," simon said, his accent slight as he put the ice cream carton back into the freezer. "why don't you go back to your own house?"

"because i'm studying," you said, to which you were on the receiving end of a chorus of groans.

"swear you guys are practically married," matt said. "remember when i walked in on you putting that gray shit on his face?"

you rolled your eyes. "that was a face mask, and it's good for your pores."

"he has you over here more in a week than my girl has been here in a month," simon continued.

you scoffed. "maybe you should fix that, then," you told him. "nothing to do with me. me and your roommate are just-"

"don't finish that sentence," bobby said, "for my sanity, don't do it."

"what's going on out here?" came that deep voice from behind you.

"nothing," simon said, "your girl called us athletes, though."

simon's wording had you almost sad, about to correct him, but something in you stopped. because was it really all that much of a lie? joseph didn't correct him, either, which had to count for something. had to mean something.

"bein' nice, trouble?" joseph asked, a lazy smile on his face.

"you know me," you said, to which his eyes shimmered. because he did, because it was true.

you could almost hear bobby's eye roll. "we'll see you at rehearsal tomorrow," he said on his way back to his room.

as opening night grew impossibly close, your path began to cross with joseph's more in the theatre, too.

as you'd get final measurements in, make some last minute adjustments to skirt lengths and blouse widths, you'd hear that telltale melody from the pit, so smooth it'd put a smile on your face.

once, you were doing a final check of jenny's costume, the last one she would wear before curtain close, and the music began.

jenny's grin grew teasing. "such a sap, now," she said.

"don't," you warned, "i'm the one with all the pins."

she put her hands up in surrender. "not a bad thing," she said, "it's really cute, actually. just can't believe you've lasted this long."

you sighed. "that makes the two of us."

benji popped in from the wing. "so proud of you," he said, "but one of you needs to do something. it's actually painful."

it was sort of crazy, you realized, to be anything but completely grateful and satisfied with being one of joseph's closest friends. it was a privilege, you knew that. it just kind of made you wish you'd never kissed him in the first place, that you didn't know what he felt like, sounded like, tasted like. you could be so completely content if you didn't know that.

"dude, you sound like a dying cat." you recognized matt's voice, assumed he was talking to bobby. "opening night's in two days."

you could picture bobby's disinterested shrug.

benji took this opportunity to walk all the way out onto the stage, clear his throat. "i think you sound great, bobby," he said.

there was a pause. "uh, thanks, man," was the short reply. "what was your name again?"

you winced. jenny shuttered. "brutal," she whispered.

"bob, you know benji," joseph said from the piano bench, ever the polite diplomat. "he paints all the sets."

bobby looked around, took in the castles and gardens that benji had worked so hard on. "you did these?" he asked. benji nodded. "pretty sick, dude," he said, impressed.

jenny put a hand over her heart. "oh, benji, you're so talented and handsome," she said, loudly, drawing everyone's attention.

benji rolled his eyes. "oh, fuck off, jen."

you caught joseph's gaze across the space, him at the piano, you bent down, fussing with jenny's hem.

hi, he mouthed, and your heart stirred.

hi, you mouthed back.

because of the packed and overlapping theatre schedule, you became closely acquainted with the way joseph played the piano, nothing like matt's violent percussion or bobby's novice-at-best guitar abilities. he played with a gentle intensity, a passionate perfectionism, which you supposed was just the way that he was.

you swore you could watch him get caught up in the notes, could follow the deft movements of his hands for hours and not get bored, because he wouldn't get bored.

finally, it was the day before opening night, and after completing the whole last minute checklist as well as all the department's traditions and superstitions, you went back to your workspace for just a second to triple check everything. you wanted everything to go smoothly tomorrow, no surprises. a few minutes into your last checks, though, there was a soft knock on your open door.

you looked up to find a tired pair of big blue eyes. "what're you doing here?" you asked, gentle. "look like you're about to fall asleep, joey."

he shook his head. "wide awake," he said, and he sounded it. "know it's a late night, but it's still thursday. i understand if you wanted to skip tonight, but-"

you waved him off, lugged your bag onto your shoulder. "yeah, right," you said. "not gettin' rid of me that easy."

he smiled, held the door open for you as you passed him, as you both began the walk to his place. the air was chilly, refreshing, but you shivered, nonetheless.

"cold?" he asked, and you nodded, to which he started to unbutton his shirt.

"what're you doing?" you said, and you couldn't help the shocked sort of tone your voice had taken on.

he gave a light laugh, handed you his button down, revealing a t-shirt underneath. he looked at you, almost guiltily, eyes a bit dark, as you shrugged your bag off, put his shirt on, then your backpack. "'m always prepared," he said.

"thank you," you said, and it looked like the words warmed him from the inside out. you figured, maybe, you'd push your luck. "god forbid you show a little skin."

the silence rumbled. it was dark, but it was as if you could feel the heat of his blush, felt it on your own face like a creamy foundation. "easy, trouble," he said, and it was quiet, hoarse.

soon enough he was holding the door of his apartment open, as he had so many times before, then he was leading you into his bedroom, but it felt so different, for some reason, so much heavier, harder, more heated.

you took your spot on the floor, spread out your notes, planning to get a little bit of studying done, as you knew you wouldn't finish any schoolwork tomorrow, with all the running around you were going to be doing. he took his spot across from you, maybe a little bit closer, which you pretended not to notice.

time passed as it usually did, in this situation, at this hour, in his company.

but then you'd catch him looking at you, feel it like a blistering singe, would look up to meet his gaze, only to find it back down on his homework, like the movement of your head was enough to scare him back into routine.

and then it happened again, and he wasn't even looking at your face, this time, he was staring at your middle, your body, which he never did, and you wanted to throw something at him, tell him to stop, please, because you couldn't handle it. his longing was too much to take, the way it was seeping through the walls like a aphrodisiac. if it was a challenge to keep your hands to yourself under normal circumstances, it was almost impossible, now, when he was hiding his want so poorly, almost like he wasn't trying to hide it at all.

the third time it happened, you cleared your throat. it was making you sort of nervous, and it was definitely getting your hopes up. "you starin' at me, joey?" you asked, not accusatory.

"sorry," he said, immediately, didn't meet your eyes.

you tilted your head. "that's the second time you've done that," you observed.

he looked up, at that. "what?"

"that's the second time you've lied to me about being sorry."

he swallowed, and your eyes tracked the motion. his flush was that of guilt, maybe a dull sort of shame.

"why're you embarrassed?" you asked, shifting a bit closer to him. "you're allowed to look at me, you know."

his blue eyes swam with promise as he let out what looked like a soft sigh of relief. "i am?" he asked.

you nodded, felt a little mean. maybe it was the fact that it had been months since his lips had been on yours, and the memory still sparked a fire inside of you. maybe it was the fact that you'd been so patient, maybe it was that you had a feeling the sight of you in his button-down, a little tight in the chest and by the hips, was making his throat dry. "you're allowed, joey, because we're such good friends."

something like a grunt rumbled in his throat, involuntary, and you squinted at him. you were right in front of him, now, sitting on your heels, watching his indecision weigh on him like a boulder between his shoulder blades.

"what?" you asked, the picture of innocence. "what's wrong?"

"nothing, sweetheart," he said, breathy, "nothing's wrong, it's just that-"

"what?" you pushed.

he didn't continue, just swallowed around his words, rested his elbows on his bent knees, notebooks strewn to the side.

you gave a little pout, leaned forward, so close, now, you could see the faint gold in the blue of his eyes. "don't like being my friend, joey?"

"no, i do-" he rushed, but you cut him off again.

"'ve been so good," you said, because it was true, "and you're being mean."

this seemed to sober him up, to turn his words to steel, steady and honest. this seemed to tap into a well of confidence you didn't even know he possessed, because he leaned forward, too, reached a broad hand out, brushed his thumb against your cheekbone, making your breath catch in your throat.

"i like being your friend," he said, and the words were like a soothing balm to your scorched reputation. then his gaze rippled with heat, and you remembered how you had gotten that reputation in the first place. he gave you a knowing sort of look. "but i want to kiss you, sweetheart. so badly."

you could have cried with relief, could have slapped him in the face for taking so long, could have made him wait a little bit longer just to be cruel, but instead, you just wrapped your arms around his neck, shifted forward, let him make space for you until your knees straddled his hips.

it felt like something religious that he was the one that pulled you closer, by your hips, that he was the one to dip his head down and meet you in a kiss that felt, simultaneously, like opening a door marked do not enter and finally, finally, coming home.

you tugged lightly at his hair, just wanting him closer, just wanting him as close as you could get him. his grip on one of your hips grew firm, confident, as the other hand splayed out on the side of your face, rough and warm.

you sighed into his mouth, because he tasted like how you remembered, like cool mint, and because he smelled so good, and because you felt so perfect, so safe.

his teeth knocked against yours, and his rhythm was off, and you had the feeling he was holding back, a little, but all of that was so him, was exactly the imperfect kiss you had been fixating on, but this time with the added passion of knowing him so genuinely, so deeply.

you dug a knuckle into his neck, worked at the knots under your touch. your movements grew slow, languished, lazy, as you softly rocked your hips against him, relished in the groan you pulled from him, making you pull away, just a little, feel him breathe heavy against you, his eyelids heavy. "so stiff, joey," you said, "relax for me, yeah?"

"yeah." he nodded, whined, slightly, when you shifted back and forth again. when his eyes caught yours again, there was something new there, a deeper desire, a question.

you leaned forwards, pressed your mouth messily to his jaw, down his neck. "just ask me," you said, between kisses, "you're allowed, baby, just ask me."

his voice was dazed, like it was hard to focus with your lips on his neck, with you grinding against him. you could feel him, firm and hard, underneath you. "just need," he tried, "just need something, sweetheart, please."

you pulled back, slightly, rested your cheek on his shoulder, giving you both a moment to catch your breath. "don't wanna rush you," you said into his collarbone, because you meant it, because it was important. "but 'll give you anything you want."

it felt so odd to even have to say that, because it seemed that everyone you'd been with, before, had already assumed this of you, that of course you'd give them anything, everything, because you were you, with that face, with that flirtatious smile, with that history.

it felt so lovely, to feel compelled to have to clarify that for him. because of course you would give him anything, everything, every single part of yourself, if he'd only ask.

he clasped his hands behind your back, exhaled slowly. "thank you," he whispered, and it broke your heart into a million pieces. when was the last time someone had thanked you for offering yourself up, like this? why did it almost make you want to cry?

"what do you want, baby?" you asked, running your nails along his neck, after his words had hardened around your heart like crystal, somehow still silken-soft. "will you let me make you feel good, hm? can i?"

you felt him take a deep breath against your chest. "please, sweetheart," he rasped. "please, need you, so bad."

"yeah?" you asked, shifting up and off of him, now kneeling beside his lap. "can i touch you?"

he nodded, and the heat in his eyes burned you. "please."

you reached a delicate hand forward, palmed his cock over his clothes, gentle, found him so hard and hot, while he hissed at first contact. "makin' me wait so long, baby, and you've been needin' me, too?" you teased, a soft grin on your swollen lips as you pulled him out fully, ran your hand along the length of him.

"'m sorry, sweetheart," he breathed, and it seemed funny, apologizing, then. "just wanted t'do the right thing."

you hummed, pumped him up and down, slowly, spit onto his length, kept going. "right thing, hm?" he nodded. "didn't feel right to me, baby," you said, picking up your pace, your grip wet and firm. he huffed, and his thighs tensed. "know what feels right?"

"what?" he asked, eyes pleading, practically spellbound by you, your steady stream of words, so different from him, rendered basically speechless.

"your cock in my hand," you answered, and of all things, he blushed. you bit your lip, because you had a feeling your word choice was the reason. you were pretty sure that, despite the circumstances, the thing that had your clean-tongued prince flustered was your dirty mouth. you pulled your touch away, let his eager hands help you out of his button down, your shirt underneath.

when you looked at him again, he was looking at you, already, with a galaxy in his eyes.

"what?" you asked, your mouth quirking up.

he laughed, lightly, shook his head. "just so pretty, sweetheart," he said, "just so, so pretty."

you scrunched up your face, but didn't hide your delighted smile as you went to kiss him on the jaw, hoisting your leg up and over him until you hovered above his lap. "pretty enough to fuck?" you asked, against his neck, right by his ear, and you smiled at the jolt of his hips, the shake of his breath. "tell me."

his hand braced the back of your neck, gave the softest rumble of a laugh, like whatever he was about to say was above him, like it was incomprehensible. "can i fuck you, trouble?" he asked, and you laughed, too, because the curse sounded so foreign on his lips.

it was something lovely to be laughing, with someone you trusted wholly, like this. with someone who thought, all that time ago, that you were a princess.

"watch your mouth, joey," you teased, giving him a false look of depravity as you reached under you, gripped him again, angled his cock to your core.

"such a," he began, his breath hitching when you began to sink down on him, "such a bad influence."

you groaned at the stretch as you pushed yourself down further, felt the burn of it in your throat, in your toes. you sucked on your teeth, had to close your eyes for a second as you clung to his neck for support.

finally, all the way in, you stayed still for a moment, adjusting, letting him adjust to you.

"this okay?" you whispered into his shoulder.

there was a pause. "you're perfect," he said, so genuinely it hurt. "feel so good, sweetheart."

you smiled. "can i move, baby?" he surprised you, then, answering you by gripping you harder and angling his hips up into you, slow and deep. you groaned at the sensation, fluttering in your stomach. "so good, joey," you breathed, then smiled, your tone turning devious when his other hand rooted in your hair, hard, steady. "fast learner, hm?" you asked, "already know what i like?"

his pace stuttered, but you met him thrust for thrust, up and down. "show me," he said, almost whiny, a slight sheen on the high points of his face, a flush on his neck and nose. "show me what you like, sweetheart." his eyes flooded with meaning. "want this t'be good for you, hm?"

your chest could have cracked open, because you couldn't remember the last time someone had wanted that, never mind voiced it to you. who would you be to deny him that?

you kissed his shoulder, showed him just how hard to tug at your hair. "you're so good to me, baby," you said, "too good to me, yeah?" you placed your palm over his hand, on your hip, moved it to your clit, showed him how to touch you. the friction made you clench around him, forcing a whimper from your mouth, a throaty groan from his as you both picked up your pace.

time didn't feel real, you supposed it never had, in this room. it had seemed irrelevant when you were working on mechanics problems for physics while he drafted papers for eastern european history, and it seemed irrelevant now, too.

for seconds or minutes or months, you felt yourself spiraling closer and closer, heat building inside of you as his thrusts grew jerky, as his breathing heaved, as the friction of his hand against your clit made you delirious.

your thighs felt hot with exertion as you moaned. "gonna make me cum, joey," you said, at some point, dreamy, "so deep inside of me, baby, feel you here." you placed a palm on your lower stomach to show him, pushed down, relished in the pressurized sensation.

"'m so close," he breathed, "so perfect, sweetheart, right there."

"fuck, let me have it," you pleaded, so warm and wet around him. "want it so bad, baby, let me feel you. let me take it."

he came apart at your words, his muscles tensing abruptly under your palms as his orgasm triggered your own, so sudden and staggering you swore your teeth were chattering. your head collapsed onto his shoulder as your eyes squeezed shut and he wrapped his arms around your back, holding you tight against his chest.

his shoulder was just barely damp with sweat under your cheek, and the air felt humid, heavy, like you could cup it in a palm.

when you opened your eyes, your flighty gaze caught on something shiny, just next to his desk, which had been taken over with completed lego sets. hanging on his open closet door was his tiara, you realized, from all those months ago. from before all the friendship and pining and making kingdoms out of bedroom floors.

it was sort of funny, how something like a cheap plastic crown could mean so much. if he hadn't worn it, what then? would any of this have even happened? if you hadn't reached up to straighten him out? hadn't made some joke about not being able to?

you laughed into him, and you could hear his smile. "what?" he rasped, making you look up at him. he looked straight out of a classical art museum, some kind of angel in acrylic, painted by a god-fearing sinner, all blushy cheeks and big, forgiving eyes, corded shoulders and lips wet with spit.

you massaged the back of his shoulders with a careful hand. "remember when you thought i was a princess?" you mused, the memory at the front of your mind.

"'course," he said. "most beautiful girl i'd ever seen."

you closed your eyes, exhaled, opened them again. "i was dressed as a wench," you said, but the joking tone you'd aimed for sounded dumb, following his honest confession.

he just smiled, a sliver of perfect teeth through pink lips. "don't know, trouble," he said, "pretty sure i know i princess when i see one. i was a prince, after all."

you hit him lightly on the chest, laughed. "i guess you know what you're talking about then, hm?"

he hummed. "oh, yeah," he confirmed, rubbing circles with his thumb into your lower back, "'specially when i'm talking about you."

and you thought, for the first time in a while, that maybe, to have someone talk about you wouldn't be a bad thing. that, perhaps, to have this somebody talk about you would be something quite special.

tomorrow, it would be daylight, and it would be busy, and the world would speed up again. tomorrow, benji would be late, of course, and bobby would mess up the chords to the interlude, and jenny would absolutely nail her first lead role. tomorrow, matt and simon would make a bunch of crude jokes and benji's freshman would give him a fruit basket to thank him for his leadership, and the theatre director would cry, because of how wonderful the production went.

tomorrow, a lot would happen.

but, tonight, there was just the boring prince of legos and piano keys, holding the unbecoming princess of bedpost notches and pleats. tonight, they resided over the kingdom of bad influence and embarrassed flushes.

and tonight, the kingdom was finally quiet.

fin.

372 notes · View notes

misshoneyimhome · 1 month

Note

would you be willing to do a Joseph Woll smut? maybe his girlfriend losing her virginity to him. i feel like he’d be so sweet and caring in the prep and aftercare but the next morning she’s craving joseph again

Well, of course, love! Although, I have to admit, I'm really not that great at first times, apparently - at least not in my opinion 🙈

I tried to keep to soft and romantic, but perhaps I made it too soft? 🤍

Anyway, I still hope it's enjoyable 🌺

Warnings; smut 18+; first-time, reader losing her virginity, fingering, protected sex (p in v);

Word count; 4K (it was not intended to be this long)

・✶ ｡ﾟ

The First Time | Jospeh Woll ⚡️🌺

Joseph Woll - Quite possibly the friendliest guy around, and he happened to be your boyfriend.

Being a tad older than you, you weren’t entirely sure why he'd opt to be with someone like yourself. Joe was a skilled hockey goalie, and with his genuine kindness, he could easily charm any young girl. Meanwhile, you were just a young woman trying to find your way through grown-up life.

Yet there he stood, Joseph Woll, with his gentle gaze and soft smile, choosing to be by your side. It had only been a few months since you officially became a couple, but it felt as though you'd known each other for an eternity. Every moment spent with him was brimming with joy, warmth, and a feeling of belonging.

You often found yourself pondering how lucky you were to have him in your life. He was more than just a hockey player; he was your confidante, your staunchest supporter, and your rock. And now, as you sensed your relationship blossoming, you couldn't help but wonder where this journey would take the two of you.

You’ met Joe in a charming café in Toronto, where the aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the air, and fate orchestrated a serendipitous meeting. With your arms burdened by books and papers, you stumbled clumsily, causing your belongings to scatter across the floor. And in the midst of this chaos, Joe emerged like a knight in shining amour, swiftly coming to your aid.

With a friendly smile and a gentle demeanour, he assisted in gathering your scattered possessions, his presence quelling the embarrassment that threatened to engulf you.

Handing back your books, a soft chuckle escaped his lips. "Looks like you could use a hand there," he remarked, his voice warm and comforting.

Blushing slightly, you nodded appreciatively. "Thanks, I'm usually not this clumsy though," you replied, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

He simply smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "No worries, happens to the best of us."

His smile was utterly captivating. His brown hair tousled just right by the occasional breeze from outside, and his prominent ears giving him an endearing and charming appearance.

"Well, thanks anyway," you said sweetly, but for a moment, neither of you seemed to step out of each other’s way.

Joe wasn’t entirely certain why he felt so drawn to your gentle manner, but a small part of him wished fervently that this moment with you could stretch on indefinitely. So instead of letting it fade, he chose to take a leap and prolong the conversation.

"So… you’re into pianos?" Joe suddenly inquired, his brows furrowing with curiosity as he glanced at one of your books.

“Oh, well, yeah, it’s kind of a New Year’s resolution, but I haven’t really managed to play much,” you admitted shyly.

“Well, I happen to play the piano myself, and I know quite a bit about it. If you don’t mind, I could join you for a drink and share some insights?” he proposed, indicating the empty seat opposite you.

"Sure, I'd like that," you replied, a touch of excitement fluttering in your chest.

And so, amidst cups of steaming coffee and shared laughter, your dialogue flowed effortlessly. From exchanging thoughts on your favourite books to swapping anecdotes from your lives, you found yourselves completely absorbed in each other's company, the hours slipping away unnoticed.

Joe had naturally been the most romantic gentleman when your relationship began. Following your initial meeting, he'd been nothing but considerate, arranging a proper date at a cosy, intimate restaurant. True to his gentlemanly nature, he picked you up and drove you home, focusing solely on engaging in heartfelt conversations and deepening your connection.

On subsequent dates, he whisked you away to museums, followed by more coffee outings. Then, on the fourth date, he extended a heartfelt invitation to his home to cook you dinner. He even serenaded you with a few tunes on his piano, creating an atmosphere straight out of a fairy tale.

His approach was unlike that of most men you'd encountered in recent years. They were typically the stereotypical frat boys, fond of getting drunk and hitting on young women, often resorting to groping. While many of your friends may have been drawn to such individuals, you shared no such inclination.

You preferred to keep to yourself, finding solace in the simple joys of curling up with a good book and savouring a cup of tea. And this suited Joe perfectly.

You weren't one to partake in wild nights out clubbing every weekend or engage in promiscuous behaviour. Instead, you possessed a depth that made you far more intriguing. Always composed and serene, you listened to Joe with a peaceful smile, your laughter like sweet melodies.

As weeks evolved into months and your bond with Joe grew deeper, you found yourself increasingly at ease and secure in his company. Yet, one aspect remained a source of insecurity for you. Though not entirely uncommon for someone your age, discussing the topic and admitting the truth still felt awkward: you were a virgin.

And aware of Joe's past relationships, you knew that he wasn't.

But what troubled you most was the longing to confide in him, even though you were unsure how to broach the subject. You had a strong feeling that Joe, being the kind-hearted person he was, would never judge you. The challenge lay in finding a way to mention it, as casually as possible.

You thought about the issue for some time. However, on your next date, where Joe had once again invited you over for homemade pasta and relaxed piano lessons, it seemed as though fate had decided the moment had arrived.

After enjoying the most simple and romantic dinner a man had ever prepared for you, you found yourselves nestled together on the sofa, your favourite TV show playing in the background.

On the third date, Joe had given you a quick peck as he escorted you to your door. And by the fourth date, your kisses had grown slightly deeper. However, tonight, you felt a longing for more – yet Joe, always respectful, was almost frustratingly so. You didn't want to come across as too eager, but as soon as his lips met yours, you were captivated and craving more than just a fleeting kiss.

And as you cuddled on the sofa, you found yourselves irresistibly drawn into each other's arms, sharing a sincere, passionate kiss. Your tongues danced in sync as you gently explored Joe's mouth, your fingers twined in his hair while he held you close.

He positioned himself half on top of you, mindful of his larger build, as your legs entwined with his. And it was then that you felt it. Through his thick jeans, you could feel his member growing firmer with the escalating intensity of the kiss, and suddenly, a new sensation enveloped you. Something you had only felt in solitude - a rush of desire.

Easing back a little, you broke the kiss, allowing both of you to catch your breath.

"Are you okay?" Joe asked tenderly, earning a slight nod from you. "So, what's on your mind?" he asked softly, locking his pleading gaze with yours.

Feeling a bit apprehensive about expressing your thoughts, yet also buoyed by a surge of confidence, you decided to speak up. After all, he must be thinking the same thing, judging by the noticeable bulge.

"Um, well…" you began slowly. "You... um... you're turned on?" you half inquired, half stated as gently as possible, not wanting to embarrass him. But Joe remained unruffled. Instead, he simply chuckled softly, briefly glancing down before returning his gaze to you.

"Oh yeah... sorry, I can't really help that, this um, this just feels really good," he admitted softly, a broad grin spreading across his face.

And you couldn't help but smile too. "It really does…"

There was a brief moment of comfortable silence as you pressed your lips together, maintaining eye contact with the man above you.

"Are you sure? I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable," Joe expressed once more, his concern and kindness shining through.

But you simply shook your head gently. "You're not… I just…" Once again, you hesitated for a moment before revealing your true desires. "I just haven’t… ever… done something," you softly admitted, feeling your cheeks slowly flush.

And once more, Joe offered nothing but a gentle smile. "y/n, you don’t have to feel embarrassed about being a virgin…"

His words eased your anxiety a little. "Really?"

"Of course not! Honestly, I can only respect that choice, y/n," Joe added tenderly. "Just promise me you'll tell me if I ever cross a line…"

"Oh Joe, you're not! And to be honest, I really do want… more… it's just… I don’t know how," you admitted once again, your voice barely above a whisper.

Joe remained silent for a moment, considering how to proceed. It was no secret he desired you; his body language spoke louder than words after all. Yet, the last thing he wanted was to make you feel pressured into something you didn't want.

"Well, if and when you're ready… I'd like to show you."

Joe had insisted on waiting a few days before taking things further, wanting to ensure you felt ready and not pressured. Which you had reassured him countless times. And finally, the night arrived when you would share your most intimate self with him.

You had naturally heard a lot from girlfriends, so you had some idea of what to expect, yet you couldn't help but feel a little nervous. You'd be completely naked, and Joe would touch your most private areas.

But of course, he had gone out of his way to make you feel at ease. With candlelight and soft piano tunes, he had set a comfortable atmosphere at his home, aiming to keep it romantic and gentle.

And he had succeeded. As soon as he gently took your hand and led you to the bedroom after a casual dinner, all sorts of anxiety washed away. He was nothing but sweet and caring. Guiding you to lie on the bed, he kissed you deeply, his hand gently cradling your face as your lips moved together. His tongue politely sought permission to enter, and you welcomed it eagerly.

You felt incredible under Joe's touch. The way he carefully moved his hands around your body, gently massaging you as he pulled you closer to him, felt nothing short of amazing.

And Joe took his time with you, making sure you felt at ease as he kept the kiss deep and passionate, gradually feeling himself becoming aroused too.

Then, breaking the kiss momentarily, his eyes locked onto yours. "Are you certain about this?" He asked softly, to which you gave him a sweet smile and nodded.

"Yes, Joe," you replied, your voice soft and tender, yet tinged with excitement. With your consent, Joe positioned himself between your legs, kneeling as he guided you to relax completely. His gaze remained fixed on you, ensuring he would notice any hint of discomfort.

Then, gently, he began to move his large palms up under your shirt, feeling your smooth skin against his soft hands, before he encouraged you to sit up slightly so he could pull your shirt over your head. As you sat with your breasts exposed in your lacy bra, carefully chosen for the occasion, Joe remembered to kiss you again.

Giving him a smile, you signalled for him to continue. Still with his lips on yours, he used his skilled fingers to unclasp your bra. Although it looked good on you, Joe wanted to feel your skin against his. Your breasts were perfectly round and your nipples hard, indicating your arousal. He then guided you to lie back down as he slowly moved his lips to your neck, placing gentle kisses while his hand massaged your breast.

"Does that feel nice?" Joe murmured against the sensitive skin of your neck, sending a delightful shiver through you.

"Y-yes," you muttered, feeling yourself yielding more and more to him.

"Good, just relax," he spoke tenderly, before shifting to the other side of your neck and attending to your other breast with his hands.

"Mmm," you softly moaned, surprising yourself as you melted into his touch.

Being with Joe was truly wonderful. Already, you felt remarkably at ease under his touch, and you almost couldn't wait for him to proceed further.

Yet he maintained a leisurely pace. With care, he withdrew his tantalising lips, moving to kneel beside you, before he located the button on your jeans with his fingers. Skilfully, he unfastened them and slowly pulled them down your legs, revealing your matching lacy underwear.

You felt a twinge of embarrassment at being so exposed to Joe, yet somehow, he made you feel comfortable, creating a calming atmosphere in the room.

Returning to your lips, he gently planted another kiss. "If it makes you more comfortable, you can slip under the covers while I undress," he suggested, his voice incredibly soothing. And with a soft nod, you complied, while he slowly undressed as well, revealing his erect member.

You couldn't help but gasp as you beheld his size, proudly standing against his lower torso. It appeared quite large to you, though lacking any real comparison. All you could ponder was how it would fit inside you, as you had only experimented with your fingers a few times, and they didn't even come close to his dimensions.

Joe seemed to sense your slight astonishment. "Don’t worry, I'll make sure you're comfortable," he reassured you, returning to the mattress and joining you under the covers, where he once again connected your lips in a tender kiss.

Gradually, you relaxed once more, his calm demeanour rubbing off on you with each passionate motion. And as Joe slowly moved to remove your final piece of fabric, exposing your heat to him, he broke the kiss, yet keeping his gaze fixed on you at all times. Carefully, he encircled his long fingers around your core, smoothing your skin as he inched closer to your sensitive flesh.

Then reconnecting your lips, he delicately trailed his fingers between your folds, gently caressing your sensitive bud and lightly probing your entrance. You released a small breath, briefly breaking the kiss, before resuming as you felt the pleasurable sensations he was inducing.

And only when Joe felt you were completely at ease did, he let his fingers tenderly stroke your clit, sending small sparks of pleasure through your body. Your hands instinctively reached for his hair, intensifying the kiss as you felt a new wave of excitement beginning to build.

"Does it feel good, sweetheart?" He whispered softly into the kiss, and all you could manage was to moan in response. "Good…"

Joe couldn't help but relish the way you lightly moaned and shifted under his touch. All he desired was to ensure he brought you pleasure, and from the way your fingers tangled in his hair, he took it as a positive sign.

Breaking the kiss once more, he pulled back to observe your expression while gently applying a little more pressure as he circled your clit. Then noticing your moans becoming more rapid and uninhibited, he sensed that you were experiencing the pleasure he aimed to provide you.

And indeed, you were. The knot in your lower abdomen tightened as Joe continued to tease your nerve endings, and soon you felt your legs trembling lightly, losing all sense of control. Your hands shifted to grip onto his shoulders as the intensity within you heightened, and soon you realised this must be what an orgasm felt like.

"Oh… Joe…" you softly moaned, closing your eyes tightly as he maintained a steady rhythm, bringing you closer to climax. "Yes…"

And before long, you felt a small spasm wash over your body, as you allowed yourself to succumb to the moment, your mind enveloped in a blissful haze.

Joe couldn't help but smile as he witnessed the pleasure, he was bringing you. "Did you enjoy that?" He chuckled lightly, though he already knew the answer, as he withdrew his fingers slightly.

"Yes," you simply breathed out as you slowly came down from your high.

There was a tender moment lingering, yet the air was thick with steamy desire. Then, with his eyes still locked onto yours, Joe slowly let his fingers slip further down, gently stroking your moist flesh as he approached your entrance. He studied your face, ensuring you still felt relaxed under his touch.

And when he noticed your controlled breathing, he slowly pressed a finger against your opening, gently pushing as he felt your tight walls around it.

“Mmm…” you moaned softly. Even with just one finger, it felt much better than anything you'd ever tried on your own.

And Joe felt rather satisfied with how well it was going, how wet you were, which had been part of his intention when bringing you to climax first. And as he observed your face showing small signs of pleasure, he slowly added a second finger, ensuring it felt good while also gently stretching you.

Despite feeling his own arousal building, his cock throbbing and slick with pre-cum, his primary focus was on your need. And as he felt your wetness coating his fingers, your walls tightening around his digits as he stimulated you, he thought that you might be ready for him soon.

Your fingers lightly dug into his shoulders as you savoured the pleasurable sensation of his fingers inside you. However, the more he massaged your insides, the more you yearned for him. Another small knot was slowly forming in your stomach once more, and now as you understood what it meant, you felt an even deeper desire to be satisfied.

“Joe…” you softly mumbled between moans. “Please, I want you…”

And your wish was his command. “Alright,” he whispered in your ear, before gently withdrawing his fingers from your core, leaving you feeling a bit empty, yet filled with anticipation.

Then kneeling back, he leaned over to the nightstand where he retrieved a condom packet, carefully tearing it open before sheathing himself. Your eyes followed his every move attentively, your core patiently waiting to be fulfilled.

Hovering over you once more, Joe positioned himself in missionary, his gaze still locked on you as he aligned himself with your entrance. “Let me know if it hurts,” he spoke firmly, earning a nod of confirmation from you. Your hands found their way to the back of his shoulders again, your eyes deeply connected with his as he slowly eased his length inside you.

“Oh… God…” you muttered under your breath as his member stretched your tight walls.

Joe felt nothing but pleasure as he filled you up, slowly reaching the very depths of your insides before he paused. Both of you needed a moment to catch your breath; you were overly stimulated, while Joe needed to exercise restraint. The sensation of you around his sensitive member was heavenly, and he felt a surge of pride being the first one you let in.

“I’m going to start moving, okay?” he softly inquired, earning another nod from you. And then very carefully, he withdrew a little before pushing back in, and then again, very slowly. Your nails almost dug into his skin as you felt the exquisite stimulation of his cock against your walls, your mind drifting into another blissful haze and your vision slowly blurring.

And Joe soon found a steady rhythm that brought you both pleasure, still slow and cautious as he didn’t want to overwhelm you. However, as your moans gradually grew louder with every thrust, he found it increasingly difficult to hold back. Gradually, he began to increase the pace, your wetness allowing him to slide in and out effortlessly.

“Mmmm… yes, oh…” he muttered under his breath as he rocked his hips against you, his cock throbbing with every motion. Similarly, you felt your core dripping and pulsating as he made love to you.

“Joe… Mmm… I think- I think I’m going to…” you couldn’t even finish your sentence as a rush of pleasure coursed through your mind, body, and soul, his length guiding you to another orgasm, your eyes closing as you surrendered to the euphoria once more.

Which only brought Joe closer to his own climax as your tight walls clenched around him, his pace picking up once more. He had to close his eyes as well as he felt himself about to reach the peak, and with a few more thrusts, he finally let out a deep grunt and surrendered to his climax.

“Oh yes…” he moaned loudly, allowing himself to thrust slowly and deeply a couple of times as he released into the latex.

There was another moment of silence as you both regained control of your breaths, your hearts beating faster as you slowly returned to reality from the euphoric state.

Pearls of sweat had formed on Joe’s forehead, his eyes opening again to meet yours in a romantic gaze.

“Was that alright?” he softly inquired with a crooked smile, and you couldn’t help but let out a small laugh.

“Joe, it was absolutely wonderful,” you flashed him a satisfied smile. And for another few seconds, you allowed yourselves to just enjoy the intimate moment.

“Good…” he returned your satisfied smile. “Just try to relax, sweetheart, and I’ll be right back,” he informed you with a soft tone before carefully withdrawing his length from your core. Offering him a nod, you watched as he walked to the bathroom to dispose of the condom.

And while he was cleaning himself up, you couldn’t help but feel a surge of happiness wash over you. Your mind still basking in bliss as you reflected on tonight and how sweet and gentle Joe had been, how understanding and caring he had shown himself to be.

It hadn’t been painful at all, contrary to what some of your friends had warned. Instead, Joe had taken his time to ensure you felt nothing but pleasure, even bringing you to your very first two orgasms.

As you lay there in the romantic yet passionate ambiance, a smile played on your lips. And as Joe returned to the bed, he wore an equally contented smile, a damp cloth in his hand, which he delicately used to help you clean your juices from between your legs.

It was nothing short of an amazing evening, the way Joseph helped you explore your own body and desires, followed by him offering you a t-shirt to sleep in and whispering sweet nothings as you simply lay in his embrace. You chatted for a brief while, both of you wearing broad smiles, as he tenderly caressed every inch of your body, still ensuring you felt relaxed and comfortable even after making love. And as satisfaction filled your mind and body, tiredness descended upon you both, and gradually you drifted off to sleep in each other’s warm embrace.

As morning slowly crept in, you still felt a lingering sense of pleasure in your core. And what made your early smile widen even more was waking up spooning with Joe, his large frame enveloping you, while his morning wood pressed against your back.

And sensing your slight movements, Joe also slowly stirred from his slumber.

“Morning,” he softly murmured into your hair, planting a gentle kiss as he held you close.

“Morning,” you replied with a husky morning voice, before turning around in his arms, your tired gaze meeting his.

“Did you sleep well?”

“Oh, I think we both know I slept wonderfully,” you let out a light chuckle. “How about you?”

“Hmm, I slept well too, especially with you in my arms…”

You couldn’t help but smile as your eyes remained locked. “Did you have any… uhm, dreams about me?” you inquired, slightly mischievously.

“Hmm, not specifically,” Joe chuckled lightly, propping his head on his elbow. “Why?”

“Oh, well then you must just be really happy to have me here…” you teased sweetly, hinting at his once again firm member tucked away in his boxers.

“Yeah, that’s kind of normal,” he chuckled again. “But that doesn’t mean I’m not happy to have you here,” he added, smiling before leaning in for a tender kiss.

“Hmm,” you hummed into the kiss before pulling back slightly, your mind filled with desire for the man lying beside you. “Well… maybe… it deserves a little attention…” you sweetly suggested.

“Oh, you're already up for round two?” Joe grinned playfully, pulling you a little closer to his warm body.

“Maybe…” you admitted softly. “I guess it was just that good…”

And Joe couldn’t exactly disagree with you. Flashing you a flirtatious smile, he then kissed you again, this time in a deeper and more passionate manner, before pulling apart.

“Well, then I guess I shouldn’t keep you waiting, miss,” he said with a smile before attending to your desires with a playful chuckle.

#my asks #18+ smut #joseph woll smut #joseph woll imagine #toronto maple leafs imagine #nhl hockey imagine

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toasttt11 · 2 months

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worth it ; joseph woll

She frowned as she walked into their shared apartment knowing that Joseph is usually at the couch these days when she gets home as he’s been recovering from an injury and waits at the couch for her when she is coming home.

“Jo baby?” She called out frowning in concern when she got no response, she set down her purse and keys at the entrance table, walking through their apartment in Toronto towards the kitchen seeing some light shine from there.

She walked around the corner into the kitchen pausing at the door and smiled slightly at the kitchen, candles lite around the kitchen and dinning table, multiple bouquets of flowers, she could smell her favorite meal and saw it on two plates, her favorite wine already poured into her wine glass, and she could see the cookies on the counter from the bakery that Joseph and her love and she saw Joseph standing there with his sweet smile and had on her favorite sweater on him.

“Jo my love whats all this?” She soflty questions walking towards him and gently grabbing his hands softly caressing them with her thumbs.

"i notice the little efforts you make for me.. and i just want you to know i appreciate it." Joseph Woll responded softly, smiling lovingly down at his beautiful girlfriend.

He knows she’s not the biggest in words and he’s more than okay with her showing her love in her actions. Even after long days of work she’s come home to him being grumpy and in pain and never complained once and he just needed to make sure that she knows he never takes her for granted.

She could feel her face softening even more, in complete adoration for her sweet boy and leaned up on her toes in her heels and pressed a gentle kiss to his lips, “Thank you.” She smiled softly before her stomach rumbled making them break into laughter.

“Come on sweetheart let’s get you some food.” Joseph gently guided her to the dinning room table sliding out her chair for her, letting her sit down before he bent down and slipped of her heels setting them beside the table before he sat down at the spot next to her intertwining his hands to her.

He listened intently as she spoke about her day as they ate their dinner together.

“and then she-“ She trailed off seeing Joseph staring at her, “What?” She smiled looking at him.

“You’re beautiful.” He responded leaning down resting his forehead against hers, his thumb reached up and brushed the sauce off the corner of her lips and he licked it his thumb relishing in the sharp intake from his girlfriend.

“Joey… I want to at least wait to eat dessert first.” She playfully warned knowing fully well what he was doing having been on the receiving end of his flirtatious actions for many years now.

“Well i want mine now and besides it will be here after.” He leaned even closer brushing his lips against her and twirling her hair between his fingers.

“It better be worth it Joseph Woll.” She playfully smirked as she whispered her words against his lips.

“It always is my love.” Joseph whispered back before standing up and picking up his girlfriend with him, she squealed as he quickly picked her up and her legs wrapped around his waist.

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lifeofpriya · 5 months

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Lego Surprises - Joseph Woll

[gif credit goes to @mitchmarner]

summary: after the news of the injury, you had a surprise up your sleeve for your boyfriend...

You wake up to the soft glow of sunlight streaming through the window, a warm weight pressed against your side. For a brief moment, you think it might be your pet, but as you turn your head to the side, you find yourself staring into a pair of familiar blue eyes. Joseph Woll. The 25-year-old goalie from St. Louis, Missouri, who plays for the Toronto Maple Leafs. The same Joseph Woll who's been nursing a high ankle sprain for the past few weeks and has been nothing but a grumpy mess since.

Your heart swells with gratitude as you remember the Lego set you'd seen him eyeing at the store the other day. You knew he'd been a fan of Legos for as long as you'd known him, and it was the perfect way to cheer him up. You carefully extracted yourself from under the covers and slipped out of bed, careful not to wake him up.

You crept silently into the living room, your bare feet padding softly against the hardwood floor. The sunlight streaming through the window cast a warm, golden glow over everything, making the room feel alive with possibility. You picked up the Lego box from the coffee table. You admired it for a moment, savoring the anticipation of giving it to him.

You heard a rustle from the bedroom and hurried back to your spot by the window, pretending to be engrossed in a book. A few seconds later, Joseph shuffled into the living room, still half-asleep. His hair stuck up every which way, and his eyes were bleary with sleep, but a slow smile spread across his face as he saw the Lego set on the table.

"Wha-what's this?" he mumbled, his voice thick with sleep.

"Just something I thought you might like," you said, trying to sound casual. "No pressure to open it now, or anything."

Joseph looked at you, his expression shifting from surprise to gratitude. "Are you serious?" he asked, his voice cracking slightly. "Thank you, that's… that's really nice of you."

You shrugged, feeling a blush creep up your neck. "It's no big deal. I just thought it might help take your mind off of things for a while."

Joseph laughed, the sound filling the room and making you feel warm all over. "Well, in that case, I think I'll open it right now." He carefully tore open the wrapping paper, revealing the massive Lego set inside. It was the Millennium Falcon, the most expensive and detailed Lego set Joseph had ever wanted.

Your heart swelled with pride as you watched his eyes widen with excitement. "I can't believe you did this," he whispered, his voice barely above a whisper. "This is amazing."

You smiled, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. "I'm just glad it made you happy. Now, what do you say we build something together?" You asked, gesturing to the box of bricks. "I could use a distraction from everything too."

Joseph looked up at you, a sparkle of excitement in his eyes. "Really?" he asked, unable to hide his excitement. "That would be amazing."

You nodded, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. "Of course. I mean, I'm not the best at Lego, but I'm sure I could learn."

Joseph's face lit up, and he excitedly clapped his hands. "Really? That would be great! I've been wanting to build this for so long!" He scooped up a handful of bricks and started examining them, his brow furrowed in concentration. "Okay, so here's how it goes…"

#joseph woll #joseph woll imagine #joseph woll blurb #nhl imagine #nhl imagines #nhl blurb #nhl blurbs #hockey imagine #hockey imagines #hockey blurb #hockey blurbs #toronto maple leafs

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jackhues · 2 months

Text

cool - (pricey shots and brick wolls! au)

note: takes place in 2019

"give me five minutes, i'm coming," saroyah tinker, defenseman for the toronto six and one of rowan's closest friends, said as soon as she picked up.

"i've been here for ten minutes," rowan groaned, tapping her steering wheel. "the desk guy is giving me a dirty look."

"also, i'm hungry," elain chuli, goalie for the toronto six, added from the back seat.

"didn't you eat a grilled cheese for breakfast?" emma woods asked.

shiann darkangelo, captain of the team, rolled her eyes with a little smile on her face.

rowan, saroyah, elain, emma and shiann were the first few confirmed members the of the phf's newest team - the toronto six. the inaugral season was going to take place next year, but the team was coming together already.

the five girls had been invited to the toronto marlies camp, to learn and teach new drills and practice with the team. it wasn't the maple leafs or the nhl, but it was still a big deal to them. and if there was one thing rowan hated, it was being late.

"i'm here," saroyah announced, getting into the passenger seat. "okay, we can go now."

"if you were any later, i'm pretty sure rowan would've left you," shiann laughed, causing the other girls to giggle as well.

"i was thinking about it," rowan admitted, turning onto the familiar toronto roads and making her way to the marlies training facility.

the girls sang along to rowan's playlist, made jokes, and laughed as they made their way. finally, rowan reverse parked into the parking lot.

"you should learn to forward park," emma commented, opening the trunk to grab her bag and gear. "there's gonna be a day where you can't reverse park into an empty spot."

"unlikely," rowan grinned, grabbing her own bag. "and at least i can park, not like the rest of you."

"it's not that we hate parking, we hate driving in the city," elain corrected.

"traffic's a pain," saroyah agreed.

emma and shiann nodded in agreement.

rowan stayed silent. she loved toronto because she made it her home. there was kelowna, there was montreal, but those were places her family had taken her. she loved them, yeah. but toronto was where hockey had taken her, and she chose it. so she made herself love every part of the city - even the dreadful traffic.

eventually, the girls had changed into their hockey gear, switching topics to different drills they wanted to try out, to moves they wanted to perform on the ice. they were hockey players after all, their conversations didn't go far from the sport for long.

"welcome," an older man walked up to them. "you guys must be from the toronto six, correct?"

they exchanged introductions, before making their way on the ice. pucks were littered on the ice, along with materials for puck handling drills.

"you guys can start to get comfortable on the ice," he told them. "the guys should be getting on the ice soon."

as if summoned, one of the marlies goalies began skating onto the ice.

"joe, over here!" the older man waved him over. he turned to the girls, "this is joseph woll, our rookie goalie. joe, these are players from the toronto six."

they took turns introducing themselves.

"rowan price," she nodded in the goalie's direction, smiling softly.

she always had a bit of a soft spot for goalies, mainly because of her uncle. and this goalie was a rookie, which made him even more endearing.

"it's nice to meet you guys," he smiled at them, before making his way to the net.

the other marlies players slowly made their way onto the ice, dropping by the girls to talk different drills.

rowan stuck to some puck handling drills, impressing some of the marlies players.

"have you tried shooting on one of the guys yet?" trevor moore, one of the marlies players asked.

"nah, not yet," rowan shook her head. "don't want to embarrass anyone this early in practice."

"ah don't worry about that," he laughed. "light 'em up all you want."

rowan grinned a little, finishing up her stick handling drill before skating off to where emma was. the two girls talked about some of the new drills they'd tried out, and how they were thinking of implementing those in their game.

rowan kept her eyes on the rookie goalie, number 35: joseph woll. he was pretty good, stopping a number of shots. he made little movements, tracking the puck long after he cleared it. the way he played seemed so familiar to her, but she was pretty sure she'd never seen him before today. it was weird.

"you should try shooting on him," emma told her. "he's pretty good for a rookie."

rowan nodded at the second statement, before grabbing a puck and getting ready to go against him. she felt like she was ten years old and back in her driveway, going 1v1 against her uncle after school.

she held the puck until the last second, before letting it go, right past his glove and in the net.

emma cheered at the goal, skating over to hug rowan.

rowan laughed at her excitement, continuing with a few more drills. she talked with different players, practicing new drills she never even heard of. she scored a few more goals on the different goalies, before skating over to the rookie she couldn't stop thinking about.

"joseph, right?" she asked, making her way to him as he stretched out. "you were great in net, you sure you're just a rookie?"

he laughed, taking his helmet off and putting it on the bench. the practice was nearly over anyways.

he has really pretty eyes, rowan noticed. she blinked, surprised by her train of thoughts.

"i'm just a rookie," joseph promised. "and call me joe. you were insane out there, by the way. i had no idea which way you were going to shoot until the shot was in the back of the net."

rowan laughed a little, "thanks. i grew up playing hockey against my uncle, so i had to develop a pretty quick release. the way you track the puck is good, it goes against my release. but i'm a little more familiar playing with goalies who track the puck that way."

"i actually learnt that from watching carey price play," he told her. "he was my favourite player growing up."

rowan stared at him, laughing a little bit. "yeah, he was mine too."

"seriously?" joe asked, doing a double take. "a goalie?"

"a goalie," she agreed. "he was my favourite. after him, i'll take sidney crosby. but carey price was my favourite player. still is. it's why i wear the same number."

she turned around, showing him the 'price/31' jersey she was wearing. joe blinked, realizing a few things at once.

"carey price is your uncle?" he asked, an almost awestruck expression on his face. "oh- that's so cool!"

"yeah," she agreed, knowing that her uncle was one of the coolest goalies of all time. she had a feeling this rookie could turn into something himself. "it's really cool."

#naqia writes!#naqia's au's!#pricey shots and brick wolls! au #joseph woll imagine #joseph woll x oc

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chaotickryptonitetree · 5 months

Text

do you think you'd miss me (a lot or a little) | joseph woll

something about his saving-himself-for-marriage-ish charm has bewitched me and made me feral. its hot but not smut...sorry in advance. it's long

...

You knew what this would become as soon as it started. Or maybe you just knew yourself too well. There was no doubt in your mind that your older neighbor would become slightly more than your older neighbor soon enough.

Even on move in day–when you first saw him–you knew. You ran a hand through your hair as sweat fixed your tanktop to your stomach, box resting on your hip. He barely looked at you, only long enough for you to take in the icy blue of his eyes. You pursed your lips as he stepped in, hanging up the tail end of a phone call. Part of you wanted to introduce yourself right away–instantly add some intrigue to your new city life. But you were patient. There was no need to rush. The fun was in the chase anyways.

One of the first things you noticed was that he was just so sweet. Like, disgustingly so. Always chatting with the doormen and holding open the door for Ms. Johnson down the hall and playing with the kids who lived on the second floor while their mom regained composure in the elevator. Unequivocally good.

Perhaps it was that goodness that first drew you to him–desperate to find something off, something wrong. Or perhaps it was how he looked, if you were honest.

He was tall in a way that made you wonder if he would fit into the elevator when he first stepped into it, not lanky but not intimidatingly large either. He just looked comfortable–mobile and warm and cozy? There was always a twinge of a blush on his cheeks and on his nose, and his bright blue eyes only ever seemed to glisten with a terribly, relentless kindness. It was overwhelming, the good kind–like the sigh of relief after a crisis averted.

But you probably were causing the crisis. He was quiet–not to everyone, though. He had no trouble with other neighbors or the kids or the staff of the apartment building. But when it was just you two in the elevator, he grew quiet. Not even a nervous quiet or a judgemental quiet–just quiet, like he didn’t have anything to say (which might’ve been worse). After the first time you had been in the elevator with him, he pushed five without asking–just as you had memorized that he lived on six. He would hold the side of the door so it wouldn’t close, give a cordial smile, and that would be it.

And it wouldn’t even be a big deal if he wasn’t so out-of-his-way lovely to everyone else. There was a fascination associated with him–for whatever reason. He became “hot neighbor” to your friends who slept over or heard you talk about him, and for a while, he stayed just that–hot neighbor. Someone to whisper about as soon as he was out of earshot. Someone to ogle in the lobby before class.

But then you got a little impatient. A little tired of his sleepy smile in the lobby in the morning. A little–fed up, maybe–with his toothy smile for the doorman as he helped put up the ornaments on the top of the christmas tree in the lobby. Eyes got a little bit restless when you’d walk into the elevator and find him in a suit and a winter coat–hair mussed from the wind. He practically forced your hand.

…

“What’s your name?” You asked bluntly one evening after he had pushed the buttons for five and six. The elevator made a whirring sound on the way up. He turned around slightly to face you and tilted his head, a little surprised at your question. You feigned indifference, picking at your nails.

“Joseph,” his voice was deeper than you had expected, but not deep in a heavy, gravelly way. Just smooth. Steady. “And yours?” He asked politely as the doors opened to your floor.

You didn’t answer, just walked right past him as he held the doors open. He didn’t fight you–and while the act of immaturity probably should’ve made you feel more like a kid around him, it didn’t. Maybe you were too concerned with his name rattling around your skull to think too deeply about it. Joseph? Joey? Joe? You realized that no name felt right when it came to him. He was definitely too pretty for a normal name like Joe, you decided as you turned the key in the door. The empty apartment greeted you unceremoniously.

…

The next time you saw him, you weren’t expecting to. It was usually too late for him–too late for you as well–but finals week called for longer nights in the library. You smiled at the doorman and fixed your glasses, sweat set suddenly feeling warm in the heat of the lobby. The elevator dinged and you held onto the straps of your backpack, walking faster. “Hold the door, please!”

A deft hand reached for the door and it was probably not a good sign that you recognized him from his knuckles alone. But there was probably no one else in the entire city who had working hands as pretty as his. The corners of your mouth lifted to a smirk as he wordlessly pressed the button for five. You zipped up your coat, tucking your chin into the collar–feeling…shameless, almost?

“Late night for you, huh Mr. Joseph?” His tired smile was wonderful enough to make you feel grateful that you gripped the railing in the elevator. He nodded silently, blushy from the cold. You weren’t about to let him off so easily. “Tired?” You pressed, eager for more of his undivided attention.

He squinted his eyes as if to decide how to respond, and smiling easily, he nodded again. “It would be Mr. Woll,” he began, left hand reaching up to rub his eye adorably. You tilted your head, trying to stay focused despite everything about him. “If we were going to be technical with it–Woll is my surname, so it would be Mr. Woll.” Your smirk widened.

“And do you want me to call you Mr. Woll?” You teased, suddenly less tired. His blush deepened as he shook his head slightly.

“No, I think Joseph is just fine,” he offered pleasantly. You feigned contemplation for a moment.

“Okay, J, I’ll keep that in mind,” your eyes darted up to ding of the doors opening on your floor.

He laughed a polite little laugh that stirred your stomach. “I’m too old for that nickname, I’m afraid, sweetheart.” The name lit you up from the inside out.

“How old are you?” He held the doors open for you as you asked.

“25,” he answered honestly and smoothly, despite not getting any information out of you, he didn’t seem to mind answering your questions.

You turned on your heel and put your hands on your hips, found him looking at you kindly with sleepy eyes.

“Not too old in the ways that matter, Mr. Woll,” you winked at him indulgently and walked toward your apartment, hoping you’d dream of blue eyes and blushy cheeks.

…

A few days later, you waited for your uber in the lobby of your building–not feeling desperate to escape the warmth of the lobby and venture out into the cold prematurely.

Holiday music wafted through the room sweetly, kissing the high ceilings and swirling around the christmas tree near the desk. A dull press into the cushion of the couch directly next to you pulled you from your comfortable observation. You turned your head just slightly to take him in.

He crossed his ankles, leaning back against the couch to mimic your positioning. His smile was sheepish, persistently kind. “Hey, how’s it going?” He offered, stuffing his hands into his pockets. You leaned back further, looking up at him with a smirk.

“Oh I’m great, Mr. Woll, thanks so much for asking,” he shook his head, meeting your gaze by peering down at you.

“You’re really going to make me regret that, aren’t you kid?”

“Don’t call me kid,” you wrinkled your nose–secretly loving how it sounded when he said it. He leaned closer to you slightly, teasingly.

“Well, I wouldn’t have to call you that if I knew your name,” he said lightly. How could you deny him now–when you could smell his smokey cologne and fresh, clean aftershave? Closing your eyes for a moment, you sighed loudly.

“Oh fine Joseph, but only because you’re begging me,” he tried to look at you sternly but you could tell he was excited to finally know your name as you told him. He leaned into his hand, propped up on the back of the couch.

“And how old are you? You’re a student, right?” He smiled into his palm, knowing he was pushing his luck as his words tumbled out too fast.

You rolled your eyes, but nodded, head lolling back on the couch. “21, and I’m a student, yeah,” you felt a little embarrassed being so close to him, being younger, but it was a weird, nice, kind of embarrassing. And something told you that he knew what he was doing.

“Look at us, neighbors getting to know each other,” He leaned away from you slightly, eyes shimmering with content. Your phone buzzed, uber finally outside. He stood up first and offered you his hand–which you took with a smirk. “Where are you headed tonight?”

You tried not to notice how warm his hand felt, or how it covered yours entirely. “Just a party, nothing crazy,” you shrugged. He took a step back and walked you to the door, opening it graciously.

“Oh right, I forget kids your age actually have plans on Thursday nights,” his laugh was light and airy, mixing with the jingling of the holiday music. You hit him on the chest good-naturedly.

“Kids my age?” You mocked facetiously. “I’m four years younger than you, Joseph,” you scoffed into the freezing air between you both.

“Don’t I know it,” he finished vaguely, retreating back into the warmth of the lobby, leaving you to hop into your uber, wondering what he meant.

…

When you returned home late that night (technically, very early into the morning), you were pleasantly drunk–enough to be able to walk just fine, but where you felt flush and just a little warm, easier to laugh, easier to smile maybe.

It only made sense that he was in the elevator when you just slightly stumbled into it. Your laugh was probably too loud for the space, but you couldn’t help yourself as he pressed five.

“Of course it’s you,” you grinned childishly, “it’s too late for you, Joey!”

He grinned right back at you, so sleepily you could’ve sighed. His sweatshirt looked cozy and smelled of fabric softener, pajama pants rolled just into his socks.

“You’re right about that sweetheart,” he yawned into the back of his hand. “Did you have fun?”

“Mmm,” your nod was immediate, “m’a little drunk though.” He smiled kindly. He was so handsome then, you realized as you cocked your head to the side.

“I can see that,” he laughed, white teeth gleaming. “You warm?” He let his eyes drop down to your exposed collarbones, flushed and red–but seemed to catch himself and met your eyes again sheepishly–realizing that he didn’t have any excuse as to why he said that. Unable to break eye contact, you nodded slowly, stepping away from the wall.

“Yeah,” your words came out as more of a sigh, “wanna feel?”

He shook his head quickly, hair sticking up in haphazard directions. You took a step closer, emboldened by the alcohol enough to not stumble in your heels. “No? Really?”

He rested his head on the wall of the elevator, looking up. “Really,” he concluded, to which you pouted.

“But you look so soft right now, Joey,” you bit the corner of your lip, “maybe I wanna feel you.” He looked down, finally meeting your eyes as you stood right in front of him. He wore his emotions easily, beautifully on his face. Tired. Conflicted. Entertained…almost?

He didn’t say anything, probably for fear that he would get in trouble. Instead, he opened up his arms–allowing you to step into his personal space and wrap your arms around him too. This–to him–was safe. A hug was safe. For now.

You buried your face into his chest, breathing him in. His body was solid, arms wrapped around you tightly enough to make you exhale into his sweatshirt. The bell dinged, the door opened, and you craned your neck up, chin resting on his chest.

His blue eyes peered down to meet yours–calm and clear. “Hi Joey,” you giggled, too enamored with the feeling of his arms around you to care.

“Hi,” he smiled wide, untethering himself from your body and ushering you gently onto your floor. To your surprise, he walked you out of the elevator and down the hall, warm palm resting comfortably on your lower back, thumbing rubbing circles softly into the fabric of your coat.

You leaned into his side, breathing deep and level. “I’m 512, on the right,” you whispered into his shoulder, sleepiness catching up with you. You felt him nod, hand coming up to pat your head lightly.

“We’re here sweetheart,” he whispered into the air above your head. You fumbled with your key, opening the door as he shoved his hands into his pockets.

“You coming in?” You asked softly. He shook his head bashfully.

“Not tonight,” if he was trying to feed into your delusions, it was working. You leaned into the doorway, not ready to say bye just yet–would you ever?

“Okay, J.” He took a step back, about to turn around.

“Call me if you need anything,” he hesitated, “I put my number in your phone already.”

“You sly dog,” you moved to close the door, “thanks for everything Mr. Woll.”

“And here I thought I was making progress,” he joked, backing up toward the hallway. “Goodnight, sweetheart.”

You waggled your fingers at him mockingly and watched him walk with his hands in his pockets back to the elevator. Just before he stepped in, you called after him.

“Joey!” He smiled as he faced you a final time, knowingly. You brought your palm to your lips and blew him a kiss. His smile deepened as he reached up to catch it, bringing his fist to his heart and tilting his chin down. Thank you, he mouthed as he soundlessly stepped into the lift.

You closed the door and slid down the surface, slipping off your heels and pushing them toward the doormat. Your cheeks felt warm for a different reason than just a few minutes before. Every interaction with him was like a gulp of hot chocolate–indulgent and sweet. He was making this a lot more interesting.

…

The following morning, you awoke to a slight headache and a twinge of embarrassment about the night before. Whatever game you were playing–at this point you weren’t totally sure–was sort of contingent on him viewing you as a legitimate option. You couldn’t imagine him viewing you as anything other than an irresponsible college student after last night.

thank you for taking care of me last night :) you texted him, dull light from the screen casting over your face.

No need to thank me. I’m glad you had fun! His response was immediate and grammatically correct, making you feel immature even through the phone. You tossed your phone to the side and got ready for the day. Distracted yourself by throwing on an outfit and doing your hair–only to be interrupted by a crisp knock on your door. Sliding the lock open, you opened the door just slightly, peering through the crack. His smile was embedded in your eyelids at this point, but it didn’t make it any less lovely.

“Good morning,” he offered, almost taller than the door frame.

“Good morning,” you parroted, “now that you know which apartment is mine, should I expect you knocking more often?”

Now it was his turn to be embarrassed. You both seemed to be doing that often. Embarrassing each other. It was too easy. “Well you shouldn’t, but you might” He shook his head a little sadly at your pout. “Wanted to see y–see that you’re okay.” Your delight in his slip up was painted over you like a full face of makeup.

“M’okay. You’re too nice to me, you know,” you opened the door further, crossing your arms over your chest. He shook his head again.

“Just trying to be a good neighbor,” he hesitated at your disbelieving expression. “I remember how hard it was being new to a city all by myself, it helps to have someone you can trust–someone who knows the ropes.” You might’ve physically swooned at his words. Endlessly kind.

“Thank you,” you responded simply, because there was nothing else that really encapsulated how much that meant to you. But there he went again with his dimples creasing his cheeks and the knuckles of his hands slightly red from use and his hair always messy and you just had to be a little bit of a menace–just for a second. “Did Ms. Woll approve of your late night last night?” Your eyes practically shimmered.

“No–no, there’s no Ms,” he stumbled over his reply, grasping for a suitable answer that wouldn’t lead you on. You willed surprise into your expression.

“Really? How?”

“How?” He laughed, however forced it was, “Just busy, I don’t know, not a priority right now.” You wore your disbelief like a medal–emboldened by the prospect of winning.

“They must be throwing themselves all over you though, right Mr. Woll?” You brought a hand to your neck, feigning shock. “Someone as handsome as you, kind as you,” his blush deepened as he looked anywhere but your face and clavicle. “Must be dying to make you their husband.”

“Apparently not,” he cleared his throat, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. “But that’s okay with me,” he said unconvincingly.

Your eyebrows shot up. “Really? You don’t want someone to come home to?” He knuckled one of eyes slowly, bashfulness egging you on. “Someone cooking dinner for you in the kitchen? Someone to yell ‘Honey! I’m home?’ to?” His disapproving smile was fake, and you could tell.

“You talk a big game about marriage…Think I haven’t seen your tinder boys in the elevator the morning after?” You gasped–delighted that he was finally playing along.

“Joseph! How could you possibly know that those boys are coming from my room!”

He just shook his head at your incredulous expression. “Call it a lucky guess,” he feigned disappointment, clearly delighted. “Or maybe it’s their magical glow,” he teased. You hit his shoulder playfully.

“Hey! If you want that “magical glow,” so badly, just ask,” you winked.

“Gonna get me in trouble, sweetheart,” there was a slight groan in his voice–a slight strain. It was delicious. The silence between you both felt heavy–charged, almost. You practically melted into the doorframe.

“That’s the goal, Joey,” your voice was lower than you wanted it to be, his eyes flitted back up to meet yours. He raised his eyebrows–hopefully?

…

After a particularly stressful day at the library, you practically felt you were seeing double, glasses pushed up on your forehead. Tired eyes, tired mind, the world almost felt in slow motion. You drowsily pressed the button for your floor, nearly unable to keep your eyes open.

You made your way down the hallway and got out your keys, fumbling with the lock and cursing under your breath.

You felt him behind you before you heard him. “Breaking in, are we?” His tone was teasing as he reached for his own key. Your eyes flitted to the plaque next to the door–612, not 512. You groaned as he reached over you and opened the door, chest practically pressed to your back.

You leaned back onto his shoulder, the curve of your cheek slotted into where his collarbone was. “Long day,” you offered, breathing in the scent of laundry detergent. He smiled down at you, the column of his throat working beautifully as he let out a rumble of a laugh that you felt in his chest. He felt so comfortable–maybe that was why your eyes darted down to his lips for just a second.

Just long enough for him to notice. Long enough to feel his struggle of an exhale. You brought your gaze back forward.

He cleared his throat. “Want some tea before you go to sleep?” He offered kindly. You nodded as he gently pushed you into the doorway.

It smelled like him–making you fight the urge to breathe in audibly. He took your bag off of your shoulder and hung it on the hook by the door.

“Looks familiar,” you turned toward the noise in the kitchen. Everything just screamed him. It made you smile to yourself as you wrapped your arms around yourself–shamelessly snooping. “But I like yours more,” you entered the kitchen to find him boiling water.

“That's nice of you,” he said to no one as he opened the cabinet to get the teabags. You could’ve watched him forever. “Feel you staring at me, sweetheart,” he turned over his shoulder, smiling broadly in the dim light.

You couldn’t even fake being ashamed of being caught. “Just look pretty, s’all.” Your response was honest as you sat at a stool while he poured water into mugs and let the tea steep.

He chuckled under his breath, leaning against the counter top–taking you in. You pretended to look innocent, head in your hands. Everything about this place was comfortable. Home-like. The idea made you smile. He passed a mug to you. It read “World’s Best Dad,” in block letters. You raised an eyebrow.

“You didn’t tell me that you’ve got kids, Mr. Woll…” you trained off, letting your gaze drip down his tall frame. “I mean, I can see it.” You took a sip of your tea. Peppermint. “With your advanced age and all.” He laughed, leaning back.

“Easy,” he warned, a large hand wrapped around the mug. “No kids–just an inside joke with a few buddies of mine. I like their kids so much that they call me Dad too.” He laughed at your expression.

“You like being called that?” His face was dark with shadows of the day. He took his head in his free hand.

“Easy now, kid,” he warned again lightheartedly. Cleared his throat.

“What’s the hardest part about life in a new city?” He was good at changing the subject. You let him.

“Hmmm,” you considered his question. “Probably just having to do a lot by myself,” you answered honestly. “I like alone time but since moving here it hasn’t been a choice–more so like my only option.” He made a face that made you backtrack. “I have my tinder boys and my school friends–sure–but it can get a little lonely,” you felt sheepish, hiding your face in your elbow.

“That’s quite the undertaking, kid,” paused for your rejection of the name, but continued when he realized you were too tired to care (and you still liked when he called you that), “but you’re capable. And trying your best. Relationships take time–allow yourself that, at least.” He took a sip through a smile. “I see you giggling with your friends in the lobby,” he admitted. “Those school friends will become real friends, just you wait.”

His words were a sedative, calming any worries you had carried with you for the day. He had a habit of doing that. “We’re probably giggling about you, if m’honest,” you hid your confession behind your mug. He raised an eyebrow, prompting you to continue. “Oh please. You know how you look.”

He laughed, embarrassed. So pretty it hurt. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Don’t be vain, Joey,” you rolled your eyes, “you’re ‘hot neighbor,’ they could giggle about you and your baby blues all day,” you smirked.

“I suppose ‘hot neighbor’ is better than ‘old man Woll,” he tried to laugh it off, steam from the tea dancing around his long lashes.

“So,” you set your cup down, smacking your lips. The kitchen smelled like a lavender candle freshly blown out. “Hardest part of your city boy lifestyle, hit me.” He considered; thoughtfulness looked beautiful over the freckles on his nose.

He shrugged noncommittally, a small smile painting his lips. You scoffed, refusing his non-answer.

“Come on, Mr. Woll,” you whined, “don’t tell me you don’t get a little lonely in this big city. No wife. No kids,” he gave you a pointed look, “of your own,” you amended. She just shrugged again. It felt a little like trouble, sparking up your throat.

“And no tinder boys,” you joked, pouting, “unless you’re extremely sneaky,” you raised an eyebrow. He shook his head.

“No, no tinder boys for me. No tinder at all–M’not on your apps,” he admitted. “Too old.” You laughed at the blush dusting the tops of his ears.

“You’re not that old,” you answered honestly. “Maybe you should make an account…” you wanted him to bite. To refuse. To be upset. Something different. But he just smiled his sweet smile. So you kept going.

“You’d do well enough on them. Women would eat up this good guy thing you’ve got going,” he frowned,” And you have to know how handsome you are.” You set your mug down and pushed up from the stool, daring him to answer.

He met your gaze–seemingly against his better judgment. The muscles in his jaw worked slowly. Heat seemed to radiate off of him in waves as you ventured closer. He almost looked in pain, blue eyes pouring into yours.

“Do people tell you that enough?” You feigned innocence, closing the gap. “Tell me.” You stood right in front of him, looking up through your lashes. “Please,” it came out as a whimper.

He brought a warm palm up to your face, thumb skimming over your cheekbone. So gently it made you pout. He was so sweet–even now. How badly you wanted him to break. “‘M too old for this,” He shook his head a little sadly, voice coming out as a whisper. It would’ve broken your heart, made you back off.

But you liked your game too much to forfeit now. Enjoyed making him blush a little too much. You wrapped your arms around the back of his neck, ran your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck. His lips parted slightly.

“Too old for this?” You bit your lip. “For me?” He didn’t nod right away, making you smile. You still had him. In some weird, fucked-up way, you still had him. His eyes were dark, hands warm where they rested on your hips. The skin underneath radiated under his touch. “I know you miss it Mr. Woll, I can tell,”

He pouted adorably, full lips shiny with spit. You twirled a longer piece of hair around your finger, relished in the groan that just escaped his mouth. “Miss what?” His voice was gravelly, curious–not ready to give in to you, but also not ready to give up the game. It was too good. It was perfect.

“Miss having someone around, and not just a tinder boy,” you raised your eyebrow, teasingly, “miss having a soft, warm body in your bed when you get home from work, someone making coffee when you wake up,” you brought your lips to his ear delicately, “someone to fuck into the mattress after a long day.” His grip on your hips tightened–hard enough to bruise. You smiled up at him innocently, content with his response. You could feel his labored breathing with each rise and fall of his chest. It ruined you. “I know you want that,” you licked your lips.

“Tellin’ me m’pretty in my own home, callin’ me Mr. Woll,” he smiled down at you–was that a glint of trouble in his blue eyes? “Running that filthy mouth about some domestic fantasy,” he wrapped his arms around you in a warm hug, crushing your nose into his solid chest. “You know what you’re doing to me,” a laugh rumbled through him. You could’ve fallen asleep in his arms.

“I know,” you smiled into his chest. “That’s why I do it.”

You could tell that he was smiling as he slotted his chin on top of your head.

…

love ya

#Joseph woll #Joseph Woll fluff #toronto maple leafs #nhl imagines #nhl hockey #nhl imagine #nhl fic

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prettyboywoll · 2 months

Text

Our eyes only - Joseph Woll + Matthew Knies

warnings: this is my first time writing smut (be aware), not proofread, sexual themes, p in v (unprotected), choking kink

“I could make so much money just by posting these pictures on onlyfans” you whispered, looking through the pictures of Joseph covering your breasts with his hands.

“Why would you wanna do that?” Joseph asked with a confused look on his face. He lets his hands roam freely while kissing your neck.

“So I could buy myself pretty things” you smirked, moaning when you feel him pinch and twist your nipples around.

“Matty’s not gonna like that, honey”

“Does that mean you’ll let me?”

turning your body to straddle his naked waist, you shudder when he lowers you onto his cock. The slide is easy and quick as he holds onto your waist. “Fuck you’re so good to me,” you cried, shutting your eyes and willing the painful burn to go away quickly.

“What am I not gonna like?”

Matthew walked out of the bathroom wearing only a towel around his waist. Sighed when he saw his best friend underneath his girlfriend.

“She wants to post our pictures on onlyfans” He says, panting and moaning as you grind harder against him. Matthew walks towards you to grip your neck tightly.

“I want you to listen. These pictures are for Joey and I to use on the road. Our eyes only.”

He teases you, giving small, gentle amounts of pressure, squeezing lightly on the sides of your neck, as his fingers grip tighter, the pressure increasing. Your breath stutters as you forget how to breathe, feeling the pleasure go straight to your cunt, as it clenches around Joseph’s cock.

“Woll, i’m gonna teach you how to punish this brat”

#joseph woll #matthew knies #toronto maple leafs #nhl blurb #hockey blurb #nhl imagines #nhl writing

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hockeyboysimagines · 21 days

Note

“Not to sound cheesy, but your smile really lights up the room.” for Woller?♥️

YES! Thanks for requesting this. It’s the first time I’ve ever written for him, and it’s the perfect trial run for something longer in the future!

Thanks anon and I hope you enjoy this🤍

There was a ton of beautiful girls in the world.

But none as beautiful as his girl.

At least in his opinion anyways.

His friends made fun but it couldn’t be helped. He could not find a single thing wrong with you. There was something magical about you that he couldn’t put into words, but anyone who knew you understood what he meant.

The way you talked. The way you laughed. Even the way you sneezed was adorable and every minute he wasn’t talking about you, he was hoping someone would bring you up so he could. Every second, every minute, every hour spent with you no matter what you were doing was the best part of his day.

He found himself openly staring at you more often than not, eyes moving over your features until he had them memorized. He listened to your every word, voice dulcet as the sweetest honey that moved through him with a shiver. The way you wrapped your arms around him after a game, or in bed at night or just because you felt like it always made him blush, even after all this time.

He would never get over how much you had lit up his everyday.

“Hey. Are you listening to me?” You snapped your fingers and leaned down to look at him pushing your bottom lip out.

He was sitting across from you, chin resting on his palm while you told him about work. He was dreamy eyed and nodded with a smile “Every word.”

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

He shrugged “Why would I not? When you have a girlfriend this beautiful you look at her every chance you get.”

Blood rushed to your cheeks and you couldn’t stop the smile from spreading across your face.

He sighed and met your eyes “Not to sound cheesy, but your smile really lights up the room.” He paused and then grinned “Who am I kidding of course I’m trying to sound cheesy.”

“You do a great job.”

He chuckled and motioned for you to come around the table and sit on his lap. He rested a hand on your knee and gave it a squeeze “That’s why you love me though right?”

“That’s only one of the reasons I love you. But if I listed them all we’d be here all day.” You squeezed his hand back and wrapped an arm around his shoulders.

He smiled eyes sparkling and kissed your cheek “Start listing. As long as I get to spend it with you I hope it takes forever.”

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pucked-bunnie · 2 months

Text

ABOUT: This is a fan-fiction blog centered around hockey players and the nhl, please not that not all requests will be completed and may be deleted if not within my comfort zone.

BLOG UNDER CONSTRUCTION; SOME LINKS MAY NOT WORK/ARE NOT POSTED YET

⎜ inbox status : closed temporarily⎜

⎜ fic requests : closed temporarily⎜

⎜chat & questions : open ⎜

⎜masterlist: n/a ⎜

⎜prompt list ⎜

⎜masterlist ⎜

⎜who i write for ⎜

nico hischier

timo meier

dawson mercer

alexander holtz

john marino

luke hughes

jack hughes

quinn huges

mat barzal

elias pettersson

trent frederic

jeremy swayman

auston matthews

joseph woll

william nylander

cole caufield

jamie drysdale

matthew knies

seth jarvis

cale makar

jesperi kotkaniemi

⎜genres i write ⎜

horror

thriller

angst

romance

alternate universes (e.g. soulmate au, college au etc.)

fluff

summer lovin' - l.hughes (requested)

synopsis: a summer down at the lake house always had a way of changing peoples relationships.

oh captain, my captain - n.hischier

synopsis: as the new team nurse of the new jersey devils you knew that staying at arms length with the players was for the best, but injuries can bring out your deepest emotions.

my all star - e.pettersson

synopsis: you’ve been dating for a while now and after receiving an invite to go to the all star weekend with Elias you realise your relationship is about to change.

puppy love - t.frederic (requested)

synopsis: you met him once by accident, you don't know what to do when you start your new job with a little bit of puppy love

shameless flirt - a.matthews

synopsis: working as a team trainer came with many ups and downs, when you pull one of toronto's super stars the downs seem to outweigh the ups - but auston is always willing to bring you back up.

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pocketsizedq · 18 days

Text

Joseph Woll

Blurbs

Headcanons

Imagines

#joseph woll #Joseph woll x reader #Joseph woll imagines

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misshoneyimhome · 21 days

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I have a question. can you make write something about Matty(kniesy) and Joe threesome with reader. like Kniesy and reader are dating or it’s Joe and reader that are reading and they let Matt/Joe fuck reader with them? Idk I js think it’d be kinda sexy to read about a threesome about those two and reader🙃

Babe, I'm not sure what I've written 🙈 It almost feels like a saucy and steamy tale featuring two adorable golden retrievers! Nevertheless, I put my best effort into it, and I hope it's somewhat enjoyable 😉🤍

Warnings; 18+ smut; threesome - boyfriend!Joseph Woll x Reader x Matthew Knies; Oral sex (f and m receiving), fingering, hand job, penetrative sex (p in v), cum inside, protective sex (p in v);

Word count; 3.6k

・✶ ｡ﾟ

With a Honey in The Middle I Matthew Knies & Jospeh Woll 🖋️⚡️🌶️

You'd always felt a deep connection with Matthew Knies since you first met him. However, it was Joseph Woll who ultimately won over your heart.

You met Joe last year during the off-season, and as you spent a couple of months dating, he gradually introduced you to his team. However, it wasn't until about three months into dating, when you officially became exclusive, that he started inviting you to team events.

At first, you wondered if Joe was ashamed of you, but you soon realised that wasn't the case. He simply wanted to take things slow and ensure you were comfortable with his lifestyle and career before getting too serious. To say the least, Joe was nothing but considerate and respectful.

Moreover, he had a rule about not having penetrative sex until both of you were committed to a serious relationship. Though, you had engaged in other forms of physical intimacy, like touching and kissing for extended periods, it wasn't until he’d asked you to be his girlfriend that you took that final step. However, after that, you spent quite the number of hours together naked in bed.

Joseph Woll was nothing but an outstanding boyfriend in many ways. In fact, he was the complete opposite of the jerks you'd dated in the past, and his sweetness and caring nature were like a breath of fresh air.

Joe fulfilled all your desires. Or at least most of them. He was attentive, kind, always vocal about his feelings for you, and willing to tackle any issues that arose—again, a stark contrast to your previous experiences with guys.

To be honest, your lifestyle before meeting Joe may have leaned towards the wild side. After enduring a devastating breakup, where your ex and your best friend betrayed you by secretly dating and hooking up behind your back, you chose to focus on yourself and embrace a carefree and open way of life. However, this approach also led to some wild incidents from time to time. So, last summer, you decided to dial it back a bit, which was when you crossed paths with the goaltender. And it had felt like he was sent to you like an angel from above or something along those lines.

However, despite all that Joe offered, there was a lingering sense of something missing. For a long time, you couldn't quite put your finger on it, and even around six months into your committed relationship with Joe, that feeling persisted. And you knew you had to figure out what it was.

Then, at the Leafs’ New Year's celebration party, it occurred to you.

It was later in the evening, while Joe was engrossed in conversation with some of his teammates, where you found yourself standing somewhat apart while Cornelia went to the loo.

Seeing you standing all alone, that's when Matthew Knies approached you, as he wanted to check in and make sure everything was okay. And you didn't mind one bit. After all, Matthew was one of your closest friends from the team.

From the moment you first met, there was a special connection between the two of you. It wasn't anything romantic or sexual though, but rather a bond of genuine friendship, built on banter and cheesy humour.

Of course, you couldn't ignore the fact that he was good-looking, and despite him being a couple of years younger than you, you still found yourself drawn to his charm and outgoing personality. Yet it was nothing but friendly, or at least you thought so.

It wasn't until that New Year's Eve, that you realised what you’d secretly been missing. When the clock struck twelve, and Joe was still engrossed in conversation with friends, your New Year's kiss unexpectedly ended up being with Matthew. Though, it was just a simple peck on the cheek, delicately placed, you still felt a tingle of joy where his lips had touched.

At first, you weren't quite sure why he did it. But then a few days later, when he apologised, he tried to explain that it was just a spontaneous gesture in the moment, with no intention to seduce you in any way.

Yet, deep down, you couldn't ignore the spark he had ignited within you. He had awakened a desire that you hadn't felt with your boyfriend.

Naturally, you were consumed with guilt. You loved Joe deeply, and the thought of entertaining feelings for another guy, especially in that way, filled you with unease. Yet, despite your efforts to push aside the feelings Matthew had stirred within you, they persisted. So, you made the difficult decision to confide in Joe.

To your surprise, Joe's reaction was not one of anger or hurt, but rather calm and composed understanding.

"He likes you," Joe stated softly, his expression gentle as he looked at you. "And you like him."

You were momentarily stunned, absorbing his words before silently nodding in acknowledgment. ”But I love you," you affirmed firmly yet quietly, meeting his gaze.

"I know," Joe responded simply.

His composed reaction left you slightly bewildered. You had expected a more emotional response from him. However, as you engaged in deep, heartfelt conversations, you realised that Joe had his own concerns and insecurities. He was worried that he wasn't living up to your expectations, and his greatest fear was that he wasn't meeting your needs.

Moreover, Joe wasn't oblivious to the connection between you and his teammate. Despite his trust in you and your commitment to honesty, he sensed that your bond with Matthew went beyond mere friendship.

In fact, it was Joe who proposed the idea of inviting Matthew into your personal space, specifically, the bedroom.

This suggestion had been brewing in his mind for a while. And after witnessing your interactions with the younger player on the team, he noticed a different side of you—a side that was more playful, flirtatious, with a spark in your eye.

So, when you revealed the New Year's kiss to him, Joe felt compelled to act on his idea. He was a little surprised though by his own confidence and excitement about the prospect of inviting his teammate into an intimate encounter. It was as if the fantasy of you fulfilling your needs with him also brought Joe pleasure. And perhaps, he hoped that your intimacy with Matthew would bring some sort of closure to your longing for him.

Initially, Matthew hesitated, wary of overstepping boundaries with Joe and jeopardising his relationship with the goalie. However, after discussions between the two players, and Joe's reassurance that you had expressed your desire for him, he eventually agreed.

It was no secret that Matthew had thought about you, maybe even fantasised about you a few times. But he genuinely didn't want to be the cause of any rift between you and Joe. He cared deeply about both of you. Yet, the temptation of the idea was too strong to resist, especially since it was Joe's own suggestion.

And when Joe shared the idea with you, you were equally taken aback. Your initial assumption was that he was only doing it to please you. However, as he explained the reasoning behind the idea once again, you realised that it wasn't necessarily about your attraction to Matthew. It was also about fulfilling Joe's sexual fantasy of sharing you with someone else, all in an effort to satisfy you. And that was something you couldn't bring yourself to reject.

The atmosphere in the spacious bedroom was already charged with heat as the three of you came together. Soft piano tunes played in the background, and the lights casting a gentle ambiance.

However, before diving into the moment, you had all agreed upon some ground rules: prioritising protection if things escalated with Matthew and he wanted to be inside you. Proceeding at a comfortable pace. And ensuring everyone's comfort throughout.

Taking a deep breath, you acknowledged the gravity of the situation, but also felt an overwhelming sense of excitement. Matthew was undeniably attractive. His stature was imposing, with strong arms and a sculpted torso that exuded power.

Though slightly bulkier than Joe due to his muscular build, they shared the same towering height of 6"3, making you feel almost like a mouse between them.

With Joe standing behind you, Matthew stood before you and slowly began to undress you, revealing you down to your underwear. Then, in a moment charged with anticipation, he leaned in and closed the distance between you with tenderness.

Cradling your face in his hands, Matthew connected his lips with yours as he shared your first real kiss on the lips. The kiss was both gentle and profound as his tongue delicately explored your mouth, intertwining with yours. And surrendering to the sensation, you let your hands roam over his bare chest, feeling the solidity of his muscles beneath your touch.

Then breaking away from the kiss, you gasped for air, taking a moment to catch your breath as Joe's arms enveloped you, his hand guiding your chin to turn back towards him, eager to connect your mouths. Meanwhile, Matthew seized the opportunity to strip completely, his gaze fixed on you as he freed his hardening member.

The atmosphere was thick with sensuality as you then shifted your focus back to the man before you, while Joe discarded his boxers, followed by the men taking off your underwear as well. And with all pieces of clothing removed, exposing your breasts and core, the anticipation mounted. Their hands explored and massaged your breasts in another sensual moment before guiding you onto the bed.

Despite your previous adventurous nightlife, engaging in a threesome was uncharted territory for you. So, you simply allowed yourself to be guided by Joe and Matthew. While neither of them had experienced this before, their sexual prowess allowed them to navigate the situation with confidence.

And as you all settled onto the mattress, Matthew assumed a slightly more dominant role, despite being the invited guest. He instructed you to lie on your back while Joe lounged beside you.

You then shared a deep kiss with Joe, his hands gently caressing your breasts, while yours took a hold of his shaft. But as Matthew positioned himself between your legs, a gasp escaped your lips when you felt his tongue trace along your folds, igniting a wave of pleasure.

"Oh... shi..." you moaned as his mouth expertly explored every inch of your sensitive flesh, from your entrance to your clit, savouring every drop of your nectar. And with his hands he held firmly around your hips, anchoring you in place while he worked his magic.

Matthew was undoubtedly skilled at oral pleasure, leaving you utterly mesmerised by his technique. While Joe had only occasionally gone down on you, it wasn't his preferred activity, and you never wanted to pressure him into it. So, having Matthew between your legs, unashamedly indulging in eating you out, it filled you with pure, unadulterated pleasure.

And as the intensity grew, it became increasingly challenging for you to focus. Still, you made an effort to gently stroke Joe's member, interspersing sloppy kisses between your shared moments of passion.

But it was a struggle. Matthew's talent pushed you beyond the brink, and you could feel the tell-tale signs of an impending orgasm building in the pit of your stomach. Your moans grew louder with each passing moment until Matthew suddenly pulled back, allowing you to gasp for air as you shifted your attention to Joe.

However, the moment your lustful gaze met Matthew's, he wasted no time inserting two long fingers into your core, eliciting a loud moan from you. It was almost effortless for him to stretch you, and as he pumped his digits in and out, stimulating your walls, you couldn't escape the imminent climax.

Then with a smirk on his face, Matthew watched as you squirmed and rolled your eyes back in pleasure, while Joe felt his own arousal throbbing in your hand, his eyes fixated on your every movement.

It was surprisingly arousing for him to watch you being pleasured by his teammate in a way he hadn't done himself. And as he kept his gaze fixed on you, he sensed your impending climax as the motion of your hand increased in speed, only to suddenly halt as you gasped for air.

Matthew's fingers continued their expert work, maintaining a steady rhythm of motion, scissoring, and curling to pinpoint your sensitive spot. And when he hit the mark, evidenced by your near scream of pleasure, he responded to your plea of "just like that" by repeating the motion with precision.

And it didn't take much longer for you to close your eyes completely, arching your back as you reached your climax, both men holding their breath as they savoured the sight of you in ecstasy. You didn’t know how many seconds went by before you then gradually regained control of your breath, and Matthew gently withdrew his fingers, leaving your pulsating core feeling stimulated and empty.

"Fuck, you're hot when you come," Matthew muttered, his eyes fixed on you as you lay before him.

And slowly opening your eyes to meet his gaze, you couldn't help but flash a satisfied smile before biting down on your lower lip, your eyes then shifting to Joe's.

"Did that feel good?" Joe asked softly, concern evident in his tone, and you offered him a gentle nod. "Do you want more?"

"I want you," you replied sweetly, the desire to feel the touch of your boyfriend overwhelming you.

Then with silent communication between the hockey players, they shifted positions so that Joe positioned himself between your legs, with Matthew kneeling next to you. Joe leaned in to share a passionate kiss with you as he then lined the tip of his length up with your entrance and slowly pushed himself inside. Thanks to Matthew providing you with your first orgasm of the evening, he slipped in with ease.

As Joe supported himself by kneeling back, he took hold of your leg and placed it on his chest and shoulder, rocking his hips to penetrate you deeply. Meanwhile, Matthew fetched a pillow to support your head, ensuring your comfort as you took a firm grip of his shaft and began pumping to the rhythm of Joe's thrusts.

It was a scene of sensual pleasure as the three of you indulged in each other. With Joe's member stimulating your sensitive walls, your moans reverberated through the room, intermingled with the boys' heavy breathing as they felt their climaxes building.

And sensing your enjoyment, Joe picked up the pace slightly, watching intently as you stroked Matthew's cock. He observed your breasts bouncing to the rhythm, and when he noticed Matthew relaxing into the pleasure, he increased his speed.

In sync with Joe's motions, you jerked the younger player off, licking your lips as you watched him revel in your touch. Matthew gazed down at you, running his fingers through your hair before tracing his thumb across your lower lip and teasing it into your mouth, prompting you to suckle gently.

"Mmm... want those sweet lips around me..." Matthew muttered under his breath as you continued to stroke him. And with a soft moan, he withdrew his thumb, relishing in the sound of your pleasure.

Then, casting a glance at Joe, Matthew seemed to convey a silent command, asserting his dominance in the moment. Following his lead, Joe gently withdrew from your heat, releasing your leg as Matthew held a smirk on his face, instructing you to roll over onto your stomach.

Bending one leg slightly, you offered Joe access to your core once more, supporting yourself on your arm as he quickly found your wet pussy. With one knee supporting him and the other bent, Joe pressed his throbbing member into you, filling you up to your depths once again.

Meanwhile, Matthew moved to kneel before you, his hard length standing proud and ready to be greeted by your mouth. And gently, you took him in, coating his shaft with your saliva as you seductively gazed up at him, stroking the part your mouth couldn't reach.

The scene was nothing short of scorching. Your pussy was beyond stimulated by Joe's thrusts, causing you to moan in sync with the two lads. Matthew felt a rush of pleasure as you eagerly took him down your throat, while Joe sensed his climax approaching with the tightening of your muscles around him.

You did your best to bob your head in sensual motions, but as your mind drifted into a blissful state, your vision blurred, making it increasingly difficult to maintain a rhythm. You had to pull away a few times to catch your breath, though still stroking Matthew before taking him in once more.

You felt Joe's hands on your hips, his fingers digging into your skin as he sped up and increased his force, and you could sense his impending climax.

"Mmm... damn..." he muttered under his breath, as he tried to hold back his release. He wanted you to come with him, just as you always did. And sensing your cunt clenching around him, he knew you weren't too far away either.

It was almost overwhelming, the sensation of Joe's shaft filling you so perfectly, as if it was tailor-made for you. And unable to keep up the rhythm with Matthew's cock in your mouth, you had to let go, your mind consumed by ecstasy and your cries echoing loudly in the room.

"Joe... babe... I'm close," you panted, your eyes almost closing as you continued to pleasure the man in front of you.

With your warning, Joe thrust harder and faster, the sound of your bodies colliding mixing with your moans. And with a few final thrusts, you both reached climax, him releasing into you as you peaked.

Letting out a deep grunt after he'd finished, Joe slowly pulled back, and you had to pause your movements, still coming down from the intensity of your second orgasm. A moment of heavy breathing followed, the air thick with sweat and the scent of sex.

And as you returned to the present moment, you looked up at Matthew, the only one yet to climax, gasping slightly as Joe carefully withdrew, and you felt his cum dripping from your cunt.

"And how do you want to finish, Kniesy?" you asked him with a sweet, flirtatious smile.

Considering his options for a moment, Matthew thought about it. Your talent with your mouth was undeniable, making it an easy choice to finish with your skills. However, he also desired the feeling of being inside you, despite Joe's preference for using protection.

So, with a confident smirk, he chose option two.

Joe then handed him a foil package, prompting him to cover up, followed by Matthew instructing you to roll onto your back once again. Then once covered, he positioned himself between your legs and entered you.

"Oh yes," you cried out as Matthew filled you up, his member slightly larger, or at least thicker, than Joe's, and swiftly he established a rhythm, eager to maintain the momentum toward climax.

And as you surrendered to his movements, you lifted your body slightly and supported yourself on your elbows, while Joe knelt beside you once more. His member still hard, you couldn't resist giving him a hungry look, parting your lips to take him in and clean him up. You tasted a mixture of your own fluids and his salty, sticky cum.

Though you knew he couldn't come again, you heard his soft, contented moans as you pleasured him.

Meanwhile, you felt Matthew increasing his pace, thrusting vigorously against you, nearing his climax.

"Fuck, you feel amazing…" he moaned, his breath heavy as he approached his peak, his movements becoming more intense. The combination of your fluids and Joe's release provided an incredibly slippery sensation, and as he lost control, he became rougher than you'd ever experienced with Joe.

Releasing Joe's cock, you had to let out a deep breath. "Oh, shit…" you exclaimed as Matthew overstimulated you, a few tears trickling from your eyes.

And at last, he reached his climax. With a loud, deep grunt, Matthew closed his eyes and leaned back in ecstasy, releasing into the condom with force.

Your body felt numb from the intense encounter with the two hockey players, rendering you unable to speak. And as you all settled down from the moment, Joe smiled down at you, satisfaction evident in his eyes. He relished seeing you satisfied, and as Matthew carefully withdrew and headed to the bathroom to dispose of the condom, Joe leaned down you share a deep kiss with you.

"Thank you," you murmured softly, genuine gratitude etched on your face. Though it hadn't been overly adventurous, it had been a change, and exactly what you needed.

"I just want you to be happy," Joe replied softly as you both slowly shifted positions and settled on the bed, facing each other.

"I am, Joe, I really am – I'm just amazed you let me have this experience," you whispered softly, pressing your lips together before offering a sweet smile.

"I'd do anything for you."

It was a tender moment, the connection between you palpable as you shared another gentle kiss.

Turning your gaze to Matthew emerging from the bathroom, the three of you exchanged heartfelt chuckles.

"Got room for one more?" the younger player quipped cheekily with a smirk, and in response, you simply gestured for him to join and lie behind you, spooning you while your hand intertwined with Joe’s.

You couldn't deny that your attraction to the forward hadn't disappeared. If anything, it may have been heightened by the experience. But you still knew your heart belonged to the goalie. And as the three of you lounged together, with you in the middle, you exchanged soft and tender kisses with both of them.

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