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coolwyous · 11 days ago

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┈─★ 𝘪'𝘥 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘮𝘦 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝙥𝙤𝙞𝙣𝙩 𝙤𝙛 𝙫𝙞𝙚𝙬 .

⊹ ࣪ ˖ you give yourself three rules as you make it onto the women’s volleyball team: 1. don’t fail any classes, 2. don’t get kicked off the team, and 3. don’t fall in love with any of your teammates. the first two are easy enough. but after meeting the team’s broody, guarded team captain, you realize you’ll have to try very hard not to fall in love with sophia laforteza.

ˎˊ˗ 🌌 ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ୭˚. ⠀ ᵎᵎ ⠀ 🗝️

➴ pairing: volleyball captain!sophia laforteza x f!volleyball player!reader.

➴ genre + wc: 15k, slow burn, onesided rivals to lovers, angst and fluff, ice queen sophia, she turns mommy so fast, reader is lowkey a big dork.

➴ you might want to tune in...: pov - ariana grande. ♫

┈─★ a/n: my first sophia fic <3 long overdue and now i'm lowkey addicted i fr miss being a sophia bias..... hope you guys enjoy, lmk what u think!! <3

“cyclones’ beloved libero retiring due to injury.”

you remember reading the article, at the end of your first semester in community college. your best friend put the idea in your head. malibu is a 6 hour drive from your small town, but you hop on the bus with a crazy, stupid idea, and pray it’s crazy enough to work.

you step into the gym and let out a deep breath. this is your ticket into something bigger.

“hi, um, y/n y/ln,” you greet the coach, recognizing her from all the articles you had read. “i emailed you guys.”

the assistant coach perches his arms on his hips and gives you a look of disbelief. “a walk on?”

you swallow down nervously. it’s not ideal, to be infiltrating this practice before their season has even started, a shot in the dark in the hopes that they haven’t already started training up a new libero. what even is your game plan? waltz up, show off your skills, and pray they see your potential enough to recruit you on the spot?

(well, yes, that is the plan, but it doesn’t make it any less intimidating to have all these eyes start to draw to you, as if you’re invading their secret space.)

you try to avoid the attention your presence is bringing to you and stay focused on the conversation with the two coaches.

“freshman?” they ask.

“sophomore,” you clarify, before clearing your throat nervously. “i play libero.”

“why didn’t i see you during the off season?” he asks.

“i played club, i was homeschooled,” you explain simply, as they both turn to each other to review something between themselves. you feel so awkward, an outsider, dressed up to play, to beg for a chance to join a team that’s already got so much synergy between them.

“i remember you—” the coach says, but before he can say anything else, there’s the sharp crack of a ball landing directly in between the two of you. you jump back in shock, looking up to meet the intense gaze of a dark haired girl, eyes fixed on you. you swallow down nervously, and she walks up with a calculated coldness that makes your chest tense.

“this team hasn’t had a walk-on in years,” the girl says sharply. you’re shocked about how much she’s heard despite you guys talking quietly. did the coaches mention you and your impromptu tryout today? you try to flash her a smile to indicate you’re no harm, but she instantly sharpens her eyes at you. “not sure why you’re smiling. arrogance isn’t cute.”

her thick, dark hair is pulled back into a perfect ponytail, kept out of her eyes by a wide headband. her eyes are dark, intense, and feel like they’re looking through you. everything about her screams composure— her kneepads are in perfect condition, her shoes are perfectly unscuffed, her tshirt tucked perfectly into her shorts in a way that makes you almost confused as to how she doesn’t have a single wrinkle. everything about this girl just looks so unrealistically perfect.

“no, yeah, totally,” you stammer, watching as she picks the ball up off the ground. you shake your head. “not trying to be cocky. sorry.”

“easy, soph,” the coach waves her off, before turning back to you. “y/n, join us for practice today. we’ll do a scrimmage at the end and see if you’re up to snuff.”

you nod appreciatively, and all you can feel are the harsh eyes of this girl burning a hole in the side of your head.

the coach motions for you to go get stretched, and you jog over to the other girls, waving as politely as you can manage. much to your relief, they welcome you warmly, encouraging you to warm up with them. you try to avoid looking back behind your shoulder, out of fear that the girl is still glaring you down.

you join the girls as they all get into their first warmups, and you end up directly behind this girl in the line to practice setting. you want to extend an olive branch, to express that you’re excited to get a chance to practice with them, that you’ve admired their team for a while and you recognize her as one of the best setters on the west coast conference.

she doesn’t give you a chance, shooting an icy gaze over her shoulder at you.

“don’t get in my way,” she warns simply, running up as the ball comes her way to make the first set.

“i’ll do my best,” you breathe.

by the time their practice ends, you’re dripping sweat, but it’s been fun to enjoy playing with a team like this all over again. your community college team was nothing in comparison, these girls are elite on several levels above what you’ve ever seen. but it excites you, and it makes you hopeful that with how good you’ve gotten over the years, you can convince them this is where you belong.

the assistant coach waves you over, and you comply immediately.

“what were your grades like?” he asks, looking over something on a clipboard.

“good,” you say quickly, your eyes widening. “why?”

the head coach interrupts, smiling broadly. “wanna play volleyball for me?”

“no way,” you breathe. “if you’re joking that’s super mean.”

“you’ll be our newest cyclone,” she beams, holding out her hand to you for a shake. “i’ll figure out application stuff with you. scholarship might not come until you’ve completed the season, but academics might be enough to get you through the first semester. welcome to the team.”

“thank you for the chance,” you breathe, feeling the emotion bubbling in your chest. “you have no idea how excited i am.”

you know most of the girls are looking at this point, but you feel one set of eyes harsher than the rest of them. you try to ignore it and not let it ruin this moment for you.

you get moved into campus and set your mind to ensure that the next practice you go to, you give it your all, eager to prove yourself to the girls on this team. you try to show up to the court early, and you quickly realize making friends might not actually be impossible, considering a majority of the girls are extremely friendly and even more eager to welcome you than you are to introduce yourself.

“y/n, hey!” they call out excitedly, waving to you where you’re already stretching.

you spend the next chunk of warmups small talking with your new teammates, doing your best to memorize their names and whatever quirks you pick up about each of them.

“were you seriously homeschooled?” manon, a junior, tilts her head at you curiously.

“it made it easier to focus on volleyball,” you smile. sure, it’s kind of lame you didn’t get to have the same high school experience as most other people, but you got the chance to travel all over with your club team, and the skills it gave you were obviously good enough to land you here, so you can’t be too upset at how it panned out for you.

“people ask me if i was homeschooled,” megan, a chatty brunette, blurts. “whatever that’s supposed to mean.”

lara lets out a laugh. “oh, you know exactly what it-”

“look busy,” daniela warns quickly, cutting you all off as her eyes go wide.

you’re not quite sure what she could mean by that, but the moment you look up, you realize someone is coming towards you.

sophia laforteza, you quickly learned her name. the no-nonsense, scarily-intense team captain of the malibu state university cyclones.

by the time you realize why daniela freaked out, you look around to realize the rest of them have jumped into very serious stretches. you quickly reach for your knees and pull them up to your chest, trying to look like you’re actually stretching.

“supreme leader sophia,” manon nods. you think the interaction is harmless enough, but somehow, it’s enough to set the captain off.

“bannerman, go take a lap,” she snaps quickly. manon groans but complies, standing up and starting to jog around the court. your palms start to sweat, but sophia eyes your group and moves on, and you breathe a little easier as the distance between you increases.

“so serious,” lara mumbles under her breath.

“is she always like this?” you ask, eyeing her nervously as you all keep stretching.

“no. she’s playing it up for the newbies,” daniela rolls her eyes.

“uh yes, yes she is always like that,” megan pushes back, shaking her head. “strict as hell.”

sophia’s voice cuts in from several yards away where she stands.

“you can take a lap too, skiendiel.”

“fuck,” megan groans, standing up. “how the fuck can you even hear me, leader?”

you bite back a laugh at megan’s nickname for the captain. you had heard manon call her that too, leader, but figured it was a teasing thing. not something all the girls joined in on.

“i have a sixth sense for complaining,” sophia says dryly.

as if sophia’s warmup drills weren’t enough, practice itself is absolutely grueling. you realize this team is no joke, and if you’re going to keep up, you’re going to have to take this extremely seriously.

“bro, my asscheeks,” megan whines as you guys reach the end of the 2 hour practice, each of you dripping in sweat. your legs are shaking and you wonder how the hell you’re planning to keep up with such an intense team.

but sophia laforteza waltzes by, her skin barely glistening with sweat, not a single hair out of place in her ponytail.

“more complaining, damn. if you’ve got the energy for that, then you’ve got another lap in you, skeindiel,” sophia grins, almost devilishly. you want to laugh— she seems borderline insane, but you can tell it doesn’t come from a place of true intent to harm.

“oh yeah? what if i fucking die, then what?” megan pushes back, tossing her head back in exhaustion.

“so dramatic, megan, you know it’s okay to shut up every once in a while?” manon groans, sensing where the youngest girl’s complaints are about to land them.

you can sense it too, after having witnessed sophia’s reaction earlier, and as predicted, sophia’s eyes sharpen as megan responds.

“i think we’ll all take an extra lap, just to show megan some support,” sophia announces, whistling quickly to catch the team’s attention. you hear a collective groan from everyone, and your coaches simply laugh at you all. you can tell that sophia’s ability to keep you guys practicing is something they’ve approved— all her power is clearly given from the people in charge, probably for good reason.

“meiyok, i’m going to fucking kill you,” daniela grits irritatedly.

“you like seeing people suffer,” manon groans at sophia as she stands up from where she was laying and begins to jog off.

“walk-on can handle it,” sophia says, pointing at you, surprising you that she’s chosen to bring you into it. “that’s the only person i hear not complaining, actually.”

you can’t help but find the nickname endearing. maybe it’s the worst timing possible, but it brings a smile to your face.

“walk-on?” you tilt your head. “is that supposed to be me?”

sophia arches a brow, turning her head to orient towards you. “problem?”

“surely you could have come up with something more creative?” you grin.

you hear a collective gasp from your teammates. something tells you that trying to banter with sophia laforteza is a very big, very dumb mistake.

“you know, maybe you, megan, and manon can finish with some burpees while the rest of us cool down,” sophia says, her jaw hardening. “see if that helps your attitude problem.”

i don’t have an attitude problem, you want to push back by saying, but you realize this girl is probably on a rampage, and getting in her way is a death wish. you bite your tongue and start the last lap, mentally preparing for the extra task sophia has given you.

“damn,” you gasp for breath, collapsing on the floor after the three of you finally finish.

“that was rough,” manon groans, only for megan to gag and dry heave in response.

“i’m going to puke and the season hasn’t even started yet,” the youngest whines.

“she usually loves the newbies,” dani says in surprise, having waited for you guys with lara as the rest of the team headed off to the locker room. “not sure what you did to her.”

“you replaced—” megan starts, but manon quickly cuts her off.

“oh shit,” manon nods. “that makes sense.”

“the old libero,” lara realizes, looking at you. “they were really close.”

“where is she now?” you ask curiously.

“she took a gap year,” megan tells you, and the others look amongst themselves anxiously. “mommy sophia’s been sensitive about it. those two did everything together.”

“mommy sophia?” you laugh, but they gloss over it, clearly dead serious.

“megan…” lara warns.

“what? she hasn’t always been this angry,” megan holds her hands up to defend herself. “serious, yeah, intense, yeah, a little scary, also yeah, but not this flat out angry.”

“no, i get it,” you shake your head, trying to empathize. “i wouldn’t want my business all out there either. not a great look. we don’t have to keep talking about it.”

the small group gives you a look of approval as you all head towards the locker room.

“i miss the old sophia,” megan admits quietly under her breath, just loud enough for you to hear.

——

your dorm isn’t perfect, but the malibu state campus is absolutely gorgeous, and being a 10 minute walk from the beach is enough to make up for your broken window and slightly unnerving roommate that won’t say a word to you. sure, you miss your home city, but it isn’t the end of the world, and the girls on your team are so friendly, it makes the homesickness even easier to handle than you imagined.

(at least, most of the girls on your team are friendly.)

you spot her on the first day of class, sitting alone at a 2 person table in your humanities class. you approach her without hesitation, just how you would for anyone else you know.

“hey! we have a class together. just my luck, huh?” you beam, excited to see a familiar face, dropping your backpack down on the table with a thud. “can i sit here?”

she looks perfect, as she always does, somehow making a black hoodie and gym shorts look elegant. her long dark hair is tucked back behind her ears, and her lips are so gorgeously glossy. sophia is naturally gorgeous, infuriatingly so, but you’ve never been the insecure type, more so just grateful to exist at the same time as people this pretty so you can admire them.

her eyes narrow at you, something dark and unreadable in them.

“you just did,” she says simply, staring at the backpack in front of her.

“i guess i should have asked before i parked my ass,” you realize, grinning sheepishly as you take up the seat next to her. “good point.”

“y/n,” she says firmly, looking back at the front of the room. “i can’t hear, and i need to focus.”

you were too busy trying to get on her good side that you didn’t even notice the professor had started introducing herself. you sink into your seat, trying to rush to get your laptop out.

“totally. sorry.”

she says nothing. she doesn’t even look back at you for the rest of the class. she doesn’t say “bless you” when you sneeze loudly in the middle of class, she doesn’t laugh like the rest of them when you introduce yourself and admit you have zero fun facts about yourself because you’re painfully incapable of self-reflection to know anything about yourself. when it’s her turn to introduce herself, she simply says her name and that she plays volleyball, sitting back down without so much as a smile. she doesn’t say anything when your computer dies halfway through the lecture and you have nothing left to take notes on, even though she’s siting next to the outlet and seems to have the same type of laptop as you do.

you’re not brave enough to ask her anyways.

class ends, and she doesn’t bother looking in your direction.

“don’t be late to practice,” she says simply, swooping up her backpack over her shoulder in a quick, graceful motion. “we need to win our first away game. sets the tone for the season.”

that’s it. you watch as she walks off unceremoniously, almost as if you didn’t exist except to inconvenience her.

“jesus christ,” you whisper under your breath.

———

your season starts a month later, and your first away game gives you a taste of what to expect.

“who’d you get roomed with?” you ask the small group of 5 that you had grown particularly close to as you guys cram into the uber to your hotel. you’ve missed traveling for volleyball, and the anticipation in your bones for tomorrow’s game makes you even more eager.

“i always get manon,” daniela says.

“and nobody else can handle megan’s mess but lara,” manon grins.

“hey, whatever,” megan whines from the back seat, where she’s been stuck in between all your bags of luggage.

“i got sophia,” you breathe quietly, thinking back to the email of the hotel roommate arrangement your coaches had sent out that morning. “should be fine, right?”

“walk-on, you’ll be quick to learn that supreme leader sophia is a drill sergeant with lipgloss,” manon laughs.

“very shiny, very pretty lipgloss,” you defend her.

“she’s a junior,” lara informs you, as if it puts some things into perspective for you. “for her, it’s time to start stressing about the real world next year.”

as a sophomore, you know you’ve got another 2 full seasons coming for you.

“second to final season,” lara goes on. “mommy sophia’s trying to make the most of it.”

you laugh again at lara and megan’s stupid nickname, as if “supreme leader” wasn’t bad enough.

you guys get to the hotel and your coaches send a group text warning everyone to be in bed by 9pm. you part ways with your group once the uber drops you off and go up to your room, only to find sophia has beat you there. she’s taken the bed closest to the window, her bag set up neatly. she’s wearing a facemask and a set of earplugs, eyes quickly flickering up to acknowledge you as you enter the room.

you can’t help but hope that this is your chance to break through her icy facade.

“hey! want to plan for breakfast together?” you beam, tossing your bag onto the floor in front of what sophia has decided is your bed. “i love hotel oatmeal. something about it is so gross i can’t stop craving it.”

she doesn’t bother to look up at you, slipping into her bed without another glance in your direction. “i need to sleep.”

“okay, no worries,” you blink, watching as she reaches for the light switch. “when should i wake us up?”

“i’ll be up at five.” her hand flicks the lights off, leaving you both in the dark. “good night.”

“good night,” you respond quietly, trying to feel your way around for your bed. you suck in a breath. this feels like it might be a very long few days.

—---

sophia is gone before you wake up.

you don’t hear her alarm, but you also don’t hear yours, and you’re just lucky that you can hear megan banging her fist against the wall, screaming for you stupidly and asking if you can hear her through the wall. you can vaguely hear lara yelling at her for being so annoying, but megan’s antics keep you from sleeping in too late, so you’ll thank the goofy sophomores some other time.

you don’t see sophia at breakfast, but by the time you come back to your room, she’s heading into the shower, freshly sweating in her workout clothes. you realize she’s probably already fit in a morning workout while the rest of you were barely waking up. you’re impressed, but frankly not surprised, by her work ethic.

by the time the game starts, it’s your first time in the cyclones uniform, and you feel a strange sense of nervousness wash over you in a wave. your warmups are simple enough, and sophia gathers you all in a team huddle after your coaches debrief you all.

“stay focused, stay confident, don’t let them see you sweat,” sophia states, voice cold, neutral, and self-assured. her icy disposition can be quite scary, but you can see why she’s captain— she’s intense, and something about her demeanor being so laser-focused fuels you with an equal amount of confidence.

“uh, leader, what do i do if i’m already sweating?” megan blurts anxiously. lara reaches over to smack her on the back of the head, and sophia keeps going.

“keep your hits unreadable. their back line is tough but we should be able to break through if we stack clean and aggressive. stay focused,” she emphasizes, eyes looking over at her two main hitters, dani on opposite and megan on outside. “i’ll feed whoever’s eating."

“i like that,” you grin, the metaphor tickling you for whatever stupid reason.

you almost regret it as soon as you say it, but sophia’s eyes aren’t hostile as they meet yours. you realize this may be a first.

“cyclones on three,” you blurt out, and sophia shoots you a sharp look, but doesn’t seem fully annoyed.

“one, two—” she starts, and the rest of the girls jump in for the finishing chant. by the time your team takes to the court, your body is buzzing.

time to shine.

the opposing team is no joke, and you wonder where the hell they got girls this fucking huge. they tower across the net from you, and you can’t help but swallow down anxiously. sophia walks back from the coin flip with an approving nod, and chooses to serve first. your old team always opted to pick the side of the court, but sophia takes to her serve with extreme confidence, and as you watch her two handed jump float, you realize just why she is the face of the team.

the girls on the other team blink in shock at just how high sophia leaps into the air to send her serve. when you played, setters weren’t exactly known for power, but the sharp boom that leaves sophia’s hand as it slams into the ball, shooting through the air to speed straight at the other girls makes you realize what a force this girl is. sophia laforteza, as scary and intimidating as she is, is the perfect face of the malibu state university cyclones for that exact reason— she scares the shit out of anyone who lays eyes on her.

much to your shock, the serve sinks directly into the wood. your first point, an ace serve of all things. lara and manon high five from their positions and daniela lets out a loud cheer, but sophia is focused as ever. she doesn’t so much as crack a smile as she returns to her serving position, reaching out for the ball as it gets passed to her. you look over and see the opposing team shaking their heads, clearly trying to regain their composure. another boom, and the ball is in play. your stomach flutters at the thought of sophia’s phenomenal talent, and how grateful you are to play on the same team as such a talented girl.

(maybe you don’t mind the batshit crazy attitude when she can back it up with skills like this.)

the set goes on and your team only goes up from there. you’ve forgotten how much you enjoy diving around a court like this, making quick work to get the ball back in the air each time it goes too far out of reach for the rest of the girls, hopping back up to your feet after every dive with a smile on your face. it’s part of what made you love the libero position in the first place— it was the perfect place to put all your boundless energy.

your team loses possession of the ball when megan misses her one-handed set to daniela, the opposing team using the opportunity to send the ball directly to where she should have been. you’re not fast enough to save it, but there’s no time to lose moping about it before those massive walls of women are preparing for their own serve on the other side.

the other team’s serve rockets straight into an empty gap where lara isn’t expecting, leaving it up to you to protect the back line. you focus in on where sophia is standing and dive, ensuring wherever you land, the ball hits you and soars high enough for sophia to set easily. and she does, and you witness megan and daniela stack so inanely fast, you almost can’t perceive where the ball ends up or who ends up with the kill. all that matters is that the ball slams into the ground at lightning speed, dani and megan high fiving each other excitedly, and that’s when you realize your team has insane synergy.

manon and lara with you, megan and dani eager to take on whatever sophia feeds them, and sophia, level-headed and sharp-eyed, keeping everything moving on the court.

it’s back to back, and the pace makes your blood race in your veins. the thud of the ball against your skin is a dull burn at this point, and your elbows ache from all your digs, but your adrenaline is at an all time high, especially as the first set ends and you guys are riding the high and sailing towards taking over the second set as well.

your heart thuds even more powerfully in your chest when after a particularly good save, sophia comes to tap fingers with you, her eyes lighting up even if her face is still stern.

“your serve receive is phenomenal,” she tells you breathlessly, and you can’t tell if you’re more shocked by the compliment, or by the first high five she’s given anyone all game.

“thank you,” you beam. “easy when i have such a good setter ready for me.”

sophia blinks, as if she’s surprised by her own compliment, or by yours, but you can’t read into it. “don’t get cocky.”

you smile back even brighter. “i think we’re flirting, leader.”

she shakes her head and returns to her position, but it’s the most positive interaction you two have had since you joined the team. maybe you overdid it with your joke, but sophia is unphased, and you guys end up winning the game in a blowout win over the other team, so it’s a win for the night overall in your book.

“hi,” you greet the captain, coming out of the shower after getting back to the hotel. you’re only going to get a few hours of sleep before your guys’ flight, and the routine starts all over again with practice in the morning. the grind for the msu cyclones clearly never stops.

“hey,” she greets back simply, and you’re just grateful she acknowledges you at all. she’s packing her bag, still in the uniform, clearly waiting her turn for the bathroom.

“great game!” you chirp excitedly, but you immediately regret it as she stares you over, a gaze that tells you she’s thinking, she’s studying, she’s got something prepared in her head.

but what she says next surprises you.

“you’re good. i misjudged you.” you almost can’t believe that she’s complimenting you, but it suits her— she’s not looking at you, she isn’t smiling, and she follows it up with a piece of critique. “but weak on your left side.”

“i hurt myself a few months ago, before the summer. still recovering,” you explain simply.

“oh,” is all she says in response.

she’s comfortable with the silence, obviously, but you’re not, so you blurt out the first thing you think to ask: “they’re serious, about the whole leader thing?”

“they call me that instead of captain,” sophia says after a beat. “manon was being stupid and then it just stuck with the rest of them.”

you smile, realizing she lets it happen. “it’s hilarious.”

“i’m glad you find it funny,” she deadpans.

“you don’t?” you raise a brow.

“no,” she says plainly.

you let out a laugh, shaking your head. “then you must hate what megan and lara call you.”

you see her gaze narrow, and she finally looks up to acknowledge you. “what?”

you grin, realizing you’ve caught her attention with that one. something the girl doesn’t know. you can see how it drives her crazy, and it makes sense— sophia is so in the know, so perfectly in control of everything around her, it must feel disorienting to have something occurring that she’s not aware of, much less on the team that she runs like a military commander.

“good night, leader,” you say simply, tucking into bed and letting your head hit the pillow. she says nothing and slips into the bathroom as quietly as she can manage.

you guys fly back and you’re already itching for the next practice, eager to keep improving as a team. the high of the first game’s win is addicting, and you’re not about to let that energy slip through your fingers.

at the end of practice, the coaches come and debrief you all, dismissing you for the morning. but you’ve quickly learned that the girls all wait for sophia’s approval, in case she has any final words or thoughts before you guys head to the locker rooms.

you all huddle around sophia, whose unreadable features have stopped unnerving you as badly. sure, she’s still terrifying, but a little less now that you know she’s actually capable of being something other than annoyed and pissed off.

she spins one of the balls in her hand, casually and comfortably, but her voice is cold and serious as ever.

“who came up with it?” she asks, eyes fixed on the ball in her hand. “mommy sophia?”

you hear the girls go collectively silent.

“oh fuck,” you hear lara whisper under her breath.

“who was it?” she repeats, her gaze unreadable as she simply keeps the ball spinning. “i can wait all day. i’ve got nowhere to be on a saturday morning."

you can hear a pin drop. finally, one of the culprits bravely admits to her crime.

“t’was i…” megan raises her hand sheepishly.

“hm.” sophia stares her over, and you can feel the collective terror of the team as they realize their captain is preparing to make an example out of megan.

but then sophia surprises everyone, instead of verbally berating megan or making her run laps until she throws up, she simply points to one of the scaffolds in the gym, motioning to megan for her to come up to it. “we’re having a pullup competition.”

“what the fuck?” megan asks in disbelief.

“she’s not gonna kill her in front of everyone?” manon asks in pure shock.

“maybe she’s turned a new leaf,” you offer.

“if you beat me, practice ends,” sophia explains the conditions. “i beat you, and we all run two extra miles. full extension, chest to bar, no fakies.”

“megan, i’ll fucking murder you,” daniela glares at her. it dawns upon everyone— the weight of how your practice ends rests in the mildly-incapable hands of megan skiendiel.

“no pressure,” megan mumbles under her breath as she approaches the bar.

the competition starts, and the silence erupts into a rush of screams and cheers as the two race to see who can outlast the other. it’s stupid, good-natured fun, and you know there’s a two mile run on the line, but you can’t help but love how silly the whole thing feels. you didn’t think sophia was capable of something like this, but you feel the scene quickly becoming a core memory.

“come on, you useless so-cal wasian!” manon screams, standing directly underneath megan to count her reps. “all that time lifting boxes in your little boba shop for what?! you could have been training shoulders that whole time instead!”

“i’m fucking trying,” megan sobs, her arms trembling after hitting 15. “i was at the boba shop trying to get bitches.”

“you were too useless to get a single number the whole summer you worked at that fuckass boba shop,” daniela screams laughing.

“oh my god, shut up guys,” megan groans.

“light work from supreme leader,” lara sighs, standing underneath sophia to count her reps, who leads at a steady 16 and shows no signs of slowing down. “chat, we’re cooked.”

megan is strong, but she’s growing unsteady with each increasing pull up. sophia, as expected, is barely breaking a sweat, face tensed in concentration.

you feel the back of your neck flush as you watch the way her arms move in the tank top, the way her eyebrows furrow together, the slack of her mouth and the quiet breaths she lets out with each movement. you mentally chastise yourself for the images that come to your brain and try to soothe your raging hormones by cracking a joke, clapping your hands at her.

“looking good a little too good, laforteza,” you tease her, shaking your head with a smile. “you make it look easy.”

in a true blink and you’ll miss it moment, you spot it— sophia laforteza, forever unshakable, lets her cheeks go pink.

you’re in shock at the reaction, and you half wonder if it’s just her straining to pull herself up again, but she simply drops from the bar, the girls all screaming excitedly as megan does one final pullup to surpass sophia by one. whereas sophia calmly reaches for her water bottle, megan collapses onto the ground, painting heavily.

“go shower,” she waves you all off. “get some sleep. good game, megan.”

she reaches out to tap fingers with the younger girl, who looks up at her with bright, excited eyes, clearly in shock to have beat the captain.

megan gets to her feet and pumps a victorious fist in the air. “i’d like to thank my mom, and then god, and then lebron james, in that order.”

“what does lebron have to do with this?” daniela questions.

“dude, what doesn’t he have to do with this?” megan answers too easily, and you simply shake your head laughing as you see them walk off.

you reach for your gym bag to follow them, and spot sophia watching you. she turns away as soon as she’s caught, her eyes avoiding yours. you smile to yourself and chase after your friends.

———

the next day, you’re off on your own in the dining hall getting something for dinner. you’re prepared to scroll tik tok as you scan around for an empty table to sit alone at, but something catches your attention. the perfect cascade of long, dark hair waterfalling down the shoulders of a familiar figure. she’s eating alone, a book in hand, and without thinking, you run over to join her.

“did you let megan win that pullup competition?” you blurt quickly, setting your tray down in front of her.

sophia remains silent. she doesn’t look up from her book to acknowledge you, but she simply raises her brows, as if to greet you. it’s not much, but you’ll take it.

“i watched this documentary today in my anthropology class,” you tell her, unphased by her silence. “where the adult lions pretend to cry out and lose their fights when the cubs are learning how to play. so the cubs build confidence.”

she shrugs as if she doesn’t know what you’re talking about. “i’m just here to keep the team in one piece.”

“i’ve never met someone so passionate about this sport,” you breathe, admiring her pretty face since she’s not even bothered to look at you. you pick boredly at your dinner, much more interested in getting something, anything out of this mystery of a girl. “how’d you start?”

she pauses, her eyes flicking to your hand briefly, before she focuses back on her book. it’s a long bout of silence, but you hold your own, staring at her. as if she finally realizes that you’re not letting up, her voice softens. she finally gives you something.

“i played beach volleyball, as a kid,” she says slowly, hesitantly. “on the actual beach, in the philippines.”

“really?” your eyes light up at the piece of information. like a piece of a puzzle, giving you a chance to see the bigger picture that is sophia laforteza.

“i grew up there. didn’t have a ton. volleyball opened up every door i’ve ever had,” she goes on, but you can tell she’s picking her words carefully.

“you’re pretty far from home,” you acknowledge, tilting your head. “do you miss it?”

sophia says nothing. in the silence, you get an idea.

“c’mon,” you reach for her wrist, grabbing your phone to call up a few of your new favorite friends. “let’s go get lara and megan. two v two.”

“i have homework,” she pushes back instantly, looking down at your grip on her arm.

“homework will be there,” you reassure her with a smile. “come on, leader.”

to your shock, she relents. her eyes are hesitant and untrusting, but she follows behind you without a further complaint.

you all pile into lara’s car, and you’re on the beach within the hour. you haven’t played beach volleyball in a while, but you get the hang readily and when your partner is as good as sophia, there isn’t much of a learning curve. she doesn’t resist, getting into the game quickly and easily as you all enjoy the fall-time breeze and the beautiful golden hues of the setting sun against the ocean.

sophia spikes another ball straight into a gap where megan should have covered. the two girls groan as you’re up by another point against them.

“okay, my game is off. i have sand where sand isn’t supposed to be,” megan whines.

“meg, you are such a loser, lock in i am begging you,” lara gasps in exasperation. “there’s girls watching.”

sophia peeks over her shoulder and spots a small group of girls, your guys’ age, sitting on their towels admiring you guys as the game goes on. she arches her brows at you, in concern, but you wave her off, knowing it’s all in good fun.

“shirts vs. skins?” you suggest playfully, motioning over to megan and lara.

“see that, meg? that’s how you pull,” lara nods in approval. “see how she’s setting us up for success?”

megan quickly pulls her shirt up off of her head, and lara follows suit to do the same. the two play in their sports bras. sophia eyes you questioningly, but you reassure her once again with a smile that you know what you’re doing.

“do you guys want to play?” you offer, motioning to the girls watching from off-sides.

“we’re good watching,” they wave back appreciatively. “none of us are very good, anyways.”

“lara’s a really good teacher,” you encourage them, “and megan’s—”

“i love women,” megan blurts.

“oh lord…” sophia brings a hand to her face.

megan blinks a few times before trying again, her big puppy dog eyes wide and round.

“uh, i mean, i love women’s sports and i love getting people into women’s sports. do you guys like sports? we do, of course we do ‘cause we’re players for the university. not like, players players, as in like we pull a ton, i mean some of us do but some of us don’t, i meant like we play volleyball—”

“it’s painful to watch,” you whisper to sophia. she laughs and nods in agreement. the sound of her laughter makes your entire chest rumble with warmth.

“i think we should put her out of her misery and go home soon,” she mumbles back to you.

“at least give lara a chance,” you grin.

and pull through, lara does! the afternoon ends with the girls joining lara’s team, leaving you all in a 2 v 6, but even with the extra man power, you and sophia are truly no match. granted, none of the strangers play volleyball, and lara is too busy flirting while megan stammers her way through a half response, but sophia, true to herself, doesn’t take the game any less seriously.

lara drops you guys off one by one near your dorm buildings, and you and sophia realize you’re just a few buildings apart. you wave her off and head in your own direction, but you’re stopped by a movement that nearly shocks you.

sophia laforteza, ice queen, grabs you by the wrist.

“thank you,” she tells you softly. “the beach was… it was nice.”

“of course,” you smile back. “i can’t imagine being a whole world away from my family. you must get homesick pretty easily.”

her mouth tightens. “i have a hard time unwinding.”

“i can tell,” you laugh. “you deserve to smile too.”

“i forget that part, sometimes,” she breathes, offering you a quiet laugh in response. “i had fun watching megan fail at flirting.”

“she’s so, so clueless,” you shake your head.

sophia pauses for a second, contemplating. you can’t help but admire how deep those gorgeous brown eyes are, how easily you lose yourself in them.

“sorry if i’ve been short with you,” she finally says after a beat.

“i’ve been told you’re usually not this grumpy,” you say back simply.

“i wasn’t always,” she admits. “people used to think i was cheerful, actually. too cheerful.”

“i missed an iconic era, it seems,” you smile, reaching out to give her hand a squeeze. “but i think we met each other exactly when we were supposed to.”

another victory— you make sophia laforteza smile.

“maybe we did,” she says simply, before letting go of you. “good night, y/n. see you.”

—

your season goes on, and you fall into a comfortable rhythm with the girls. your season hits a few rough patches, but each time you hit the court with those girls, you’re forever more and more grateful to have convinced yourself to try out. your friendships are deeper, your days brighter, and you can’t help but feel like this is what the dream college experience is supposed to be like.

your teammates are admittedly a little more girl-crazy than you’d initially have expected, but you’re too busy trying to keep up to focus on much else. between classes, practice, traveling for games, and just general team shenanigans, you feel more than content enough. not having a love life doesn’t feel like it affects you in the slightest.

(and, should you ever get the itch, it’s always kind of fun to banter with your very hot, very serious team captain.)

you know nothing is going to come of it, and it’s absolutely harmless, but something about the way you and sophia go back and forth sends butterflies through your stomach. you know it’s all in good fun, and it isn’t hurting anyone, so what’s the harm in laying it on a little thick for the girl you know isn’t taking it personally?

plus, sophia’s been warming up to you, much to your surprise. sure, she’s still mostly quiet around you when you join her in the dining hall or sit next to her in class, but at the very least, she’s not glaring at you. she’s not mean, just focused, and the fact that she’s not icing you out is a huge win. you wonder what she used to be like, before she was this serious, and you get small glimpses especially when she’s on the court and playing like she was built for this and this alone. you see her defenses fall whenever that whistle blows, the way her eyes light up as soon as the ball leaves someone’s hand, the way she eagerly watches to see who scores.

and you love, love, love the attention she gives you for being a good fucking volleyball player.

“you’re amazing,” sophia had beamed under her breath at your last game, in awe at your sprinting dive to save what had nearly been a match-point, saved only by your quick feet.

“knock it off with the rizz while i’m playing, you’re distracting me,” you tease her, grinning widely, but you can’t deny the warmth it brings to your cheeks.

she shakes her head, but she’s smiling, watching you in admiration, and if you could feel any more vulnerable, it’d be under the beautiful gaze of a smiling sophia. she’s so radiant like this in front of you, burning almost as bright as the sun. you wonder what possibly could have happened to burn her out like this, to dim her light, and your heart aches at the thought.

your team wins your game, and instead of everyone scattering to try and get some rest, they all seem eager to shower and get dressed up for something. you follow dani’s directions to wait for a ride outside of the student center after you’ve gotten ready, and as much as you’d like to be curled up in bed and massaging your sore muscles, the enthusiasm from the girls is enough to get you going.

“ride with me and lar!” megan pleads, motioning for you to hop in the car as soon as they spot you exiting your dorm.

“where to?”

“it’s a surprise,” lara grins. you guys chat absentmindedly as she drives you guys up through the city, and before you realize it, you’re parking in front of a giant building plastered in neon signs.

“what’s this?” you ask, spotting other girls from the team arriving at the same time as you all.

“team karaoke,” lara fills you in excitedly. “oh, nobody told you? we do it to celebrate the halfway-point of the season.”

you grin bigger than you thought was possible. god, you love this team.

they lead you to the private karaoke team and introduce you to yoonchae, coach’s daughter who’s about to graduate high school and will be soon joining your team next year. there’s no drinking, mostly due to the underaged attendees, but also considering how insane half of the team is, there’s little more you guys need to get started than someone playing “thinking of you” by katy perry before you’re all screaming along at the top of your lungs.

you almost don’t notice when sophia slips into the private room, her hair softly falling over her shoulders. it’s your first time seeing her outside of her gym or campus clothes, and even though she’s still casual, you can’t help but admire how stunning she looks in the pretty black top and jeans she’s in. plus the silver-framed glasses you never get to see her wear, and you realize you’re going to have a very hard time not staring tonight.

“sing a little ditty for us, leader,” megan begs, hooking an arm around her neck and shoving the microphone in her face.

“filipino throat chakra!” lara hollers at the top of her lungs.

“so-phi-a,” manon chants. “so-phi-a.”

the girls all join in in the rambunctious cheer, and sophia simply presses a loving kiss to the top of megan’s head and waves them off. she sits down in between daniela and megan, but keeps one hand on the microphone. sophia may be a lot of things, but the one thing you’ll give her is that you can see how clearly she loves every single girl on that team, some ways more warm than others, but love nonetheless.

“queue lala lost you,” lara tells daniela, who’s been helping yoonchae queue up the songs as the girls all take their turns.

“you could hear sophia blasting this shit through the walls of the dorms all summer training camp,” megan laughs, pushing the microphone to her face. “i know you’ve got it in you, leader!”

sophia hasn’t said a single word since she’s walked into the room, but the moment she locks eyes with you, blatantly staring at her, her eyes soften.

“get off of me, meg,” she laughs, shoving the girl away. “i need a little space to hit these runs.”

“that’s our leader!” manon screams, leaping out of her seat to cheer the girl on as the song starts. between all of your cheers, you’re all almost louder than the speakers, but sophia’s voice rings out loud and clear as soon as the music hits.

she doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t seem nervous, doesn’t even so much as clear her throat before simply starting the song. that’s what you’re realizing is the way sophia operates— confident, certain, straightforward, not one to sugarcoat or do anything extra.

and it doesn’t hurt that her voice is absolutely gorgeous. you find it extremely hard to understand how people don’t just fall in love at the mere sight of her, much less the sound of her angelic siren’s call. she’s so focused, so precise, so impressive in everything she does, so capable.

(not that you’re in love with her or anything, definitely not the case.)

she’s not smiling until the end of the song, where she takes a small bow after the final note and lets megan scream in her ear about how beautiful the whole experience was.

“encore!” manon goads her on.

“i’m thirsty,” sophia shakes her head, reaching for her water. “it’s dani’s turn.”

“oh say less,” daniela chirps happily, pointing at yoonchae. “yoonchip, queue gasolina by daddy yankee.”

“no twerking on the table, megan,” sophia warns knowingly.

“you are literally no fun,” megan throws her head back.

“you broke their table last time,” sophia reminds her, laughing. “we had to put coach’s credit card down for them to not ban us from ever coming back.”

“that was not my fault,” megan pouts.

“i’m going to go get some air,” the captain stretches her arms over her head, taking her water with her as she heads towards the door. “yoonchae’s in charge.”

“what the hell?” manon protests.

“as i should,” yoonchae nods.

“sweaty, leader?” you joke, realizing the girl had worked up the slightest glint of a shimmer on her skin from the song in this cramped room.

“oh, like a pig,” sophia teases back.

“lechon queen,” manon laughs.

“oh fuck, this is like the perfect opportunity for a—”

“no spit roast jokes,” sophia holds a warning finger up.

“you’re no fun!” dani rolls her eyes.

sophia’s eyes are shining with something that makes you think for as much as she pretends to be annoyed with these girls, they keep her entertained. she reaches for the door and excuses herself. “i’ll be back.”

dani’s halfway through her second song when you realize sophia still hasn’t come back. you slip out the door and seek her out, finding her outside the front door, leaning against the wall, admiring the malibu sunset. you approach her quietly, as to not scare her, and lean on the wall next to her.

“who hurt you?” you laugh. “that song was haunting.”

sophia simply smiles knowingly.

“how much time do you have?” she says after a second, much to your surprise, even if she is joking.

“all of it, for you,” you tell her instantly, smiling back at her.

“you’re doing too much,” sophia shakes her head.

“i’m gonna be so transparent,” you tell her, raising your hands in the air like you’ve been caught. “i get such a rush when i make you smile. it’s like crack to me.”

“that’s sweet,” sophia laughs, her eyes avoiding yours as she stares down at something invisible on the ground. “i can promise you all that is not worth it.”

“for you?” you question. “no, i think you’re super worth it.”

sophia clicks her tongue, continuing to avoid your gaze. you can hear something soften in her voice— still playful, still firm, but something seeking more. “you don’t even know me.”

“not a ton, sure.” you lean the tiniest bit closer, your shoulders brushing together as you lean into her. “but i like what i know so far.”

“you’re weird,” she pushes you off, but her eyes are warm. she doesn’t entirely hate it as she’s trying to pretend.

“you’re smiling,” you call her out, poking her in the cheek. “i made leader smile!”

“y/n,” sophia says quietly, and you half wonder if she’s going to reprimand you, but then you realize that she’s leaning back against you. the two of you stand, shoulder to shoulder, the gentle warmth of her body sending a wildfire along your skin at the proximity.

“yes, leader?” you tease playfully.

the girl’s eyes finally come up to meet yours, twinkling with something indescribable.

“you can just call me sophia.”

you nod, caught up in the warmth of her incredible brown eyes, and smile back broadly in response.

“sounds good, sophia.”

—

your team flies out to the next game a week later, and as you board the plane, you notice an empty seat next to sophia. learning your lesson from your first week of school, you approach her carefully, waving a hand in her face as she takes off her headphones and arches a brow up at you.

“hey!” you greet, pointing to the middle seat next to her, where she’s positioned by the window. “can i sit here?”

“no,” she blinks flatly.

“oh,” you feel the back of your neck burn awkwardly.

but then her eyes light up again, meeting yours, and you see it. the stupid sophia laforteza smile that sends a thunderstorm through your chest.

“i’m kidding,” she reassures you, moving her bag off of the seat. “all yours. i was saving it actually.”

“for me?” you ask in disbelief, slipping into the seat.

she tilts her head at you. “for whoever was brave enough to ask.”

you settle into the spot and the two of you coexist in a peaceful silence as the airplane takes off. but you and your stupid mouth can never keep your cool around sophia laforteza, and you find yourself rambling soon enough, disturbing what you can only assume is the peaceful silence she’s seeking.

“megan told me something sweet the other day. after our last game,” you inform her, wondering if the tidbit of information will catch her attention.

and it does. sophia’s brows knit together in curiosity as she turns to face you. “what’s that?”

“she says we make a good team.”

“we do,” sophia nods. “our positions kill when we work well together, and we work well together. i agree with her.”

“i could die happy,” you beam, pretending to fan yourself. “a compliment from the sophia laforteza.”

“hey!” she rolls her eyes. “don’t start. i’ve given you plenty.”

“i’m greedy,” you wrinkle your nose at her playfully. “sorry not sorry, i want more.”

“compliments are overrated,” sophia pushes back.

“oh, for you i bet they are,” you laugh, tossing your head back in disbelief. “what compliments could you possibly need? you’re brilliant, you’re confident, you’re super talented, and you’re insanely pretty. you’re perfect. people literally use ‘sophia laforteza’ as a synonym for perfection.”

“you’re doing too much, again,” sophia shakes her head, her eyes now avoiding yours.

“and you sing like a fucking angel,” you add. “and you smell amazing all the time.”

“not true,” sophia wrinkles her nose.

you’re about to look over and keep rambling, but in that moment you see it in her eyes. something about the way you’re talking to her makes her uncomfortable.

“and you’re actually so fucking nice,” you add, your voice softening, curious as to why the compliments are making her recoil like this. “like the nicest ever. just protective of what you care about.”

“that’s sweet,” she mumbles.

“i mean it. all of it, soph,” you press, reaching over to take her hand in yours. it’s a brave, probably stupid move, but as soon as your fingers touch, she looks up at you with those soft beautiful eyes.

“i’m sorry if i was tough on you, when you first joined,” she says quietly, her eyes digging into yours as if to emphasize her regret. “i couldn’t go easy on you. i have a lot riding on this team.”

“i forgive you,” you reassure her, giving her hand a gentle squeeze. “have to keep up the whole tough team captain thing.”

“thanks,” she smiles softly.

“can i tell you something?” you whisper, leaning in as the plane cabin lights turn off, leaving you guys in the quiet glow of the airplane.

she arches her brows, beckoning for you to go on.

you smile. “i like knowing you’re a softie.”

something in her face changes, and you can see it. the warmth.

you rest your head on her shoulder, and she lets you, her gentle breaths keeping you comfortable the rest of the flight.

—

you and sophia become inseparable.

the next away game, you’re brave enough to invite her to come watch tik toks with you, and she’s bold enough to wriggle her way under the blankets, and before you realize it, the two of you are in your bed, cuddled up, staring at your tiny screen.

you try not to overthink it. your semester is going perfectly, you couldn’t ask for better friends, and the more time you spend with sophia, the more grateful you are to just know the girl. she’s incredible— so smart, so talented, and so, so thoughtful. someone like her shouldn’t exist, shouldn’t be this perfect, shouldn’t be this close to you giggling at something stupid on your phone.

you don’t get more time to overthink. megan is bursting through your hotel room door, barging in as she seeks out a spare set of kneepads considering she left her lucky ones back home.

“it smells like fritos in here,” she says plainly, snatching your extra pair out of your bag.

“you have to be the weirdest person i know,” sophia groans, throwing her head back against the pillow.

“my mom says frito smell comes from a yeast overgrowth,” the girl goes on, clearly not realizing she’s intruding. “y’all baking bread?”

“i don’t even think she realizes she’s talking sometimes,” you laugh, nudging sophia in the shoulder. “the noises just come right out of her.”

she grins back at you and checks the uber eats notification on her phone. “stay there. i’m gonna go pick up our food.”

she slips out of the door and megan simply watches, before looking back over at you.

“you guys look close,” the girl arches her brows knowingly.

“she’s been opening up,” you inform her.

“oh i bet she has,” megan nods, pursing her lips into an ‘o.”

“megan, ew,” you shake your head, throwing a pillow at the girl who has quickly become one of your best friends.

“i dunno dude, you’re mighty comfy. looks sus for two people just to be friends and be that all up on each other.”

“whatever,” you roll your eyes. you watch as the girl lets herself out.

sophia comes back and lands herself right back in your lap. something about how she fits so comfortably besides you feels too easy. megan’s words ring through your head, and you shake them off.

sophia falls asleep in your bed, and you don’t mind. you don’t mind one bit.

—

the semester goes on, and you and sophia only grow closer. wherever she goes, you’re sure to follow, and people become painfully aware of your newfound friendship.

“y/n,” sophia beams, waving you over as the girls all sit together for breakfast out on the grass of the quad. “come sit.”

you do as you’re told, looking in surprise as the girl hands you a drink. you’re usually one to skip breakfast in favor of getting more sleep, so the fact that sophia, a notorious early riser, already has a drink for you makes your stomach flip.

“i got you a matcha,” she beams proudly, unwrapping the straw for you and placing it in your hand.

“how did you know i liked the sesame one?” you question.

“you ordered it last time we went,” she responds simply.

“the whole team went,” you say in disbelief. “you noticed my order?”

“of course,” she says, too confidently, as if it’s obvious.

“such a gentlewoman,” you smile, pressing your head into her shoulder appreciatively.

megan, who has been eyeing the both of you since your arrival, simply blinks, before blurting out the only thing on her mind:

“sophia, you are so down bad.”

“not even,” she shoves megan away, rolling her eyes.

you’re blushing, and you hope sophia doesn’t notice. but what makes this even more difficult is that you realize she probably did notice, because sophia laforteza cares about those little tiny details.

—-

as it turns out, being this close to sophia laforteza is not only super enjoyable, but super fucking confusing. you promised yourself you’d focus on school and volleyball when you moved to malibu at the beginning of the semester, but whatever you’ve got going on with sophia starts to feel like this weird third thing, past friends but not quite somewhere beyond that. it’s nameless, it’s confusing, but worst of all, you can’t imagine stopping.

she opens up little by little, letting you have tiny pieces of her as if she’s testing how trustworthy you are. she tells you little stories of her island, reminisces about singing with her grandparents, reveals that she plays piano in the common room of her dorm late at night when no-one is around when she’s stressed. her favorite subject is english even though she’s studying public health to run her own pediatric resource clinic for low-income families. she likes disney and she’s afraid of bugs.

and she sings, all the damn time, as if she’ll die if she doesn’t get a tune out. at first it’s quiet, a gentle hum or a whistle, but with the sheer amount of time you two are spending together, the more comfortable she gets with your presence, the more she lets it out. by the time your season is ending, she’s around you and beaming like the clouds came out from in front of the sun, warm, bright, and so melodic. she sings at the top of her lungs whenever you two are alone, studying, watching a stupid movie, at the gym together getting in a stupid extra practice.

you feel kind of pathetic, but you’d do anything to spend more time with her, more time basking in her light, in her beautiful warmth. whether it’s joining on her on her morning runs, or hanging out at your dorm to watch game recaps, she’s reaching out to you, and you’re not about to let her slip through your fingers. each time she invites you to anything you say yes, and any time you think she may even remotely like something, you invite her. your days are starting to revolve around spending time with sophia laforteza, like you can’t get enough of her, but why would anyone want to be apart from her? she’s perfect, and if she’s picked you to be her new best friend, you’ll consider it the biggest win in the world.

the sleepovers didn’t start until your season starts coming to an end. you’re about to enter your first playoff game, and sophia invites herself over as you guys prepare for your flight the next day. you lose track of time packing, chatting mindlessly, sharing stories and making sure you’re both in the right headspace before the game, but quite frankly, any ounce of access to sophia that you get will have you exactly as focused as you need to be.

you’re not sure how you end up there, but you’re admittedly a little too close for comfort, curled up together in your bed. she’s in a cozy hoodie and shorts, those stupid glasses that look way too good on her perched on the tip of her nose as she shows you another stupid brainrot tik tok that made her laugh that day. somehow, you’ve ended up with your head on her shoulder, a common occurrence for the two of you lately, but the way you’re cuddled into her arm, feeling the warmth of her body against yours, close enough to see the shimmer of the lipgloss in the light of the phone screen, is a little too close for you to ignore.

you suck in a deep breath. you figure it’s now or never, and even if you get nothing out of it, you’ll feel better knowing you’ve at least made the effort to get some clarity.

“sophia,” you say gently.

“hm?” her head tilts in your direction, but she doesn’t look away from the phone screen.

your chest tightens, but it’s too late now. “what are we doing?”

“what do you mean?” her face stays neutral, forever the queen of composure.

“i mean i don’t even know what to call you,” you breathe.

“my name, duh,” she wrinkles her nose at you, and you shove her back gently. of course she’d choose now of all times to be a smart ass.

you let the silence rest for a few moments longer, but the feeling gnaws at you. you have to be honest, with her, but first and foremost, with yourself.

“sometimes it feels like we’re dating,” you finally admit.

you know sophia at this point to see her micro-expressions: the curl of her lip, a small shift, or in this case, the twitch of her brow. she doesn’t look at you— a habit you’ve realized that she takes up when she’s thinking.

“oh,” is all she says.

“yeah,” you breathe back awkwardly.

“we’re not,” she tells you.

you squint at her. “i know that.”

she pauses again. you wait her out. you’ve gotten good at it— realizing her silence isn’t hostile, it’s just contemplation. sophia, perfect sophia, takes a second to pick the exact words she wants to say in that exact moment. it’s part of what you’ve come to adore so much about her, how purposeful she is, her attention to detail.

“y/n…” she muses quietly, her lips parting to show her teeth as she sucks in a quiet, thinking breath. “i don’t know how to ask this.”

“sophia laforteza, tongue tied? our eloquent leader?” you tease her, poking her in the cheek. maybe it’s a poor time to be messing with her, but this is your bad habit, making jokes at the worst possible times to try and diffuse the tension. “what’s today, the end of the world?”

but she doesn’t laugh. she doesn’t even smile.

she finally turns her head, she finally looks at you. her voice low and serious, as it always is.

“y/n, i want to kiss you.”

“oh.” you blink. “oh.”

“you can tell me it’s a bad idea,” she tells you slowly, forever the gentlewoman, but the way her eyes flutter down to focus on your lips makes you absolutely dizzy, “or that you don’t want to.”

“i um,” you feel your stomach in knots, jumping at the sight of how she stares you down. “neither of those are true.”

she pauses, her tongue darting out to wet her bottom lip. the movement leaves her lip even shinier, which you didn’t think was even possible, but it is and it makes you absolutely sick at how easily the movement unnerves you. her voice drops, just slightly, but it’s enough for you to notice the rasp in her tone.

“y/n, do you want to kiss me?”

sophia is so painfully confident, so direct and straightforward, it makes your teeth hurt with how attracted you are to her.

you nod, dumbstruck and incapable of forming any more words, and her hand drops the phone onto her stomach. she turns to reach for you, her hand cupping you by the cheek. the feeling of her grasp on your face, the closeness of her body, her breath on your nose is nearly too much for you.

“i’m going to kiss you now,” she tells you gently, moving closer and closer with each passing second, her eyes never leaving your lips. “don’t move.”

you do as you’re told, and sophia laforteza is a woman of her word. she’s slow, painfully gentle as she bridges the distance between you both, and you lose yourself in the perfect smell of her hoodie, the softness of her perfect mouth, the perfect sweetness on her tongue as it brushes softly against your bottom lip. the only word you could ever use to describe sophia, the only word that even starts to do her justice— she is absolute perfection.

“you’re not real,” you breathe, staring at her in disbelief. you’re an idiot for breaking the kiss, sure, but if you didn’t pull away to take a breath, you might’ve actually passed out. your head is so, so dizzy— in no reality, when you had first met this girl, did you ever picture she’d let you get to know her, to be this close to her, to kiss you.

“very real,” she pushes back, reaching for you once more. she turns to lean on top of you, resting her elbows on either side of your torso, hovering over you. she reaches up to brush some of your hair out of your face, her fingertips against your skin feeling like electricity. her eyes are so dark, so intense, so focused. “gonna kiss you again. don’t move.”

you wrap your arms around her neck and nod eagerly. she won’t have to tell you twice.

—-

making out with sophia laforteza for 3 hours the week of your first college playoff game is definitely not something you could have predicted on your sophomore year bingo card, but you’re not about to get greedy.

she falls asleep cuddled up next to you after you guys mutually agree to wait until after playoffs to get distracted by anything else, and you have half a mind to tell her that you’re already extremely distracted when she’s this close to you, but you’re able to keep those thoughts to yourself.

unfortunately, sophia is a creature of routine no matter how badly you beg her to sleep in and keep cuddling you, and gets out of your bed as gently as she can manage to go on her morning run. you’re not exactly thrilled, but she presses a gentle kiss to your temple as she slips out of your room and promises that you’ll talk more when she gets back. the combination of the two is a true win in your head, so you make your way to breakfast with a few of the girls and hope nobody asks why you can’t stop smiling even at 7 in the morning.

(of course, it would be just your luck that it’s megan who clocks you immediately— somehow clueless to literally everything except for whatever is between you and the team captain.)

“y/n, why do you keep acting like nothing’s going on?” she blurts, eyeing you suspiciously. you’ve looked down at your phone a million times that morning, eager to see if sophia has any thoughts about the development between you two, and of course, your teammate didn’t let it go unnoticed. “you’re clearly into her.”

you take a cue from sophia’s playbook and stay silent, reaching for your breakfast oatmeal in the hopes they’ll drop it. you know yourself, prone to oversharing, and you’re not sure that sophia would want something between the two of you to leave between the two of you. manon and daniela eye each other from across the table, lara giggles to herself, and megan doesn’t let up.

“are you guys dating?” she asks bluntly, narrowing her eyes at you.

“um…” you choke on your oatmeal, but try to play it off. “i don’t know how to answer that.”

“oh holy shit,” manon beams, her eyes lighting up. “it’s not a no! you always deny it!”

“it’s true,” lara grins. “this is your first non-answer.”

you feel your cheeks burn, but before you can hide your face, you can tell dani has already seen you blushing. the three of them burst into coos, clearly thrilled to hear things have moved along.

“dude, it’s so sweet,” dani chirps excitedly.

megan nods, and you can tell she’s about to start rambling, but it’s megan, and she means well, so you let her.

“no, dude, you have no idea how good this is for us. she’s like, finally smiling again! our sophia! angry, serious sophia. she even laughed at one of my jokes last practice. my joke. do you know how long it’s been since she’s laughed with me, bro? all it took was y/n to warm her back up. it’s like the ice age is melting or something. i haven’t seen her this happy since marquise—”

you see all 3 of the girls seize up at the exact same time at the mention of this name. a name you have never, ever heard before, and yet got each of these girls to freeze with the exact same reaction. your stomach drops.

“megan—“ manon says harshly, a tone she never uses, which only tells you this is extremely not good. whatever megan has just touched on was clearly not for your ears to hear.

“who’s marquise?” you try to ask, but the three ignore you, locked onto each other.

“megan skiendiel,” daniela says it like a punishment, and megan only sinks further into her seat, her eyes wide like a puppy that’s just been scolded for chewing something up that she wasn’t meant to. you guys are the only ones at the dining hall that early in the morning, but even then, you feel like the whole world around you is spinning, in the worst way possible.

“guys. freaking out here,” you remind them, still left in limbo with nothing more than a name and 0 context. “who the hell is marquise?”

then, as if on cue, a voice cuts in from behind you. a familiar, cold, firm voice. too perfect.

your stomach sinks. you can feel it about to crumble around you.

sophia laforteza, too perfect, too dreamy, too good to be true.

“marquise is my ex.” her voice is neutral, factual. you can’t bring yourself to look at her, but you can see her figure in the corner of your eye. she’s got her arms crossed over her chest, so composed, so eternally the picture of calm and control. “megan wasn’t supposed to mention that.”

you feel your stomach twist into a knot. “oh.”

“saw you guys through the window,” she explains simply, motioning out to the side of the table. you can see your table directly from the window facing the running trail. “thought i’d join you guys for breakfast.”

the tension is palpable. megan is the first to speak up, but her voice is quavering and weak, like she knows the gravity of what she’s done. “soph, i’m sorry…”

sophia moves into your view and presses her lips into a fine line. “they’re freaking out because we’re on a break. marquise gets back to the US in two months.”

“oh,” you say simply, dropping your gaze to the table. “oh wow.”

“we’re gonna go,” lara says, clearly sensing the danger in lingering much longer. she scoops dani in one arm and grabs megan by the hoodie, yanking her along roughly.

“y/n, i’m really sorry,” the youngest girl tells you, her voice shaky, and a part of you feels the tiniest bit better that her guilt comes not just from spilling sophia’s secret, but from not telling you something sooner. it softens the blow somehow.

“she played libero,” sophia tells you once the girls walk away. she sits down across from you in the booth. you can tell she’s treading carefully, wanting to be close but not wanting to overdo it, and you appreciate that she has the common sense to give you space and follow your cues. “she’s the one that got injured last year.”

your throat goes dry at the realization.

“i replaced her,” you finally say out loud. it stings even worse hearing it than it does thinking it.

“i wanted to tell you.” her voice is still even, still composed, but you can hear the quiet rasp of something more, like she’s straining herself. she’s speaking slowly, picking her words carefully as she does. “but i didn’t want to lose you.”

“you knew it was wrong,” you call her out shakily.

“i didn’t want you drawing your own conclusions,” she tells you. “after we kissed, i knew i had to say something. i wanted to. i was going to.”

“i don’t mind being a girl with a one-sided crush. hell, i don’t even mind if we don’t work out on our own.” your voice is shaky as you look down at your hands, trying to even out your breathing to avoid crying, but fuck, this hurts. “but i do mind being a rebound if you’re not over someone.”

“i am,” she presses quickly, and it’s the first time you’ve ever heard her rush her words, as if she’s trying to speak over you. it doesn’t irritate you, if anything, you’re grateful to hear that she’s got some humanity left in her, but it doesn’t help soothe you. she tries again, letting out a breath to steady herself. “we haven’t talked literally at all since she left. i’m going to tell her that things are completely over between us. i can promise that i am 100% over her.”

you won’t look up at her, but you can see her hands on the table. she’s picking at her fingernail, and the movement surprises you. sophia never fidgets, never moves nervously, never even cracks a sweat. but here she is, picking at her nail, and it makes your heart ache. you want to comfort her, but you feel sick even thinking about how much you feel for her.

“that’s the problem with being dishonest, sophia. and i know you weren’t even dishonest, you just didn’t tell me the whole truth, but it’s still a problem,” you admit, swallowing down a lump in your throat. “‘cause now, i don’t know if i believe you. i don’t know if i can trust that you’re telling me the truth.”

she says nothing, and that seals your fate. you feel the first few hot tears drop from your eyes as you shield your face and get out of the dining hall as fast as physically possible, rushing to your dorm to try and compose yourself without sobbing in public like a mess.

sophia doesn’t follow after you. you feel stupid for ever thinking she would.

—-

megan comes over a few hours later after you miss practice, too embarrassed to face sophia after everything collapsing around you.

the younger girl sits on the edge of your bed, staring at one of her textbooks in confusion, but you know she’s only faking studying until you say something. you can tell she wants to apologize, she wants to say something, but if you can appreciate anything, it’s that megan is showing some restraint and stopping herself from crashing out in the middle of your dorm room.

you play mindlessly with your laptop as a specific email catches your attention. you had read it weeks ago, but archived it. the cyclones were your whole life at this point. this team had filled your heart with such a sense of belonging and wholeness, you didn’t even consider the idea that other schools could be eyeing you. you didn’t want any of them, you wanted sophia—

you clamp your eyes shut instantly as you realize your mistake, grimacing. you wanted malibu. you wanted to be a cyclone.

your stomach aches, thinking about the team captain. maybe this mindset of unconditional devotion was the thing truly holding you back.

so you go back to the email, and blurt it out to megan.

“UCLA is interested in me,” you tell her. “after this season.”

she looks up at you instantly, her brows tensing, but you see her instantly try to relax her face and be supportive. “oh whaaaaat? no way. that’s sick.”

you stare at your screen, feeling the ache in your chest and wishing you could just will it away in an instant.

“and since i’m still technically a walk-on, and not scholarshipped yet, i could transfer.”

“you’d leave?” megan asks softly, her eyes falling. “but we just got you, y/n. we’re about to win a championship together. you’d really leave?”

you hear the crack in her voice, but you can’t bear to look up at her. the idea sounds appealing, just a few more months and transfer over to a new school once the semester ends. move, start over, make new friends. you stop yourself from thinking about her again, pushing all thoughts of sunshine and lipgloss and singing out of your mind.

you blink a few times more, trying not to be swayed by just how fucking sad megan’s little sniffles are from her corner of your room.

“what if i don’t have anything keeping me here?” you ask, but you’re not quite sure the question is for megan any more.

—-

megan goes back to her own dorm a little bit later, after the silence gets to be too much, and you spend the rest of the evening staring up at the ceiling. you don’t have practice on sundays, so you’ll finally get a chance to sleep in, and you start to look up the forms you might need for a transfer if you opt to follow through with this. three schools in less than two years might not look great, but if it’s what’s right for you, you’ll figure out a way to explain it on a transcript.

you’re asleep with your laptop on your chest when a quiet knock on your dorm room door wakes you. you check your phone for any messages, and there’s no recent ones as you realize it’s nearly 1 am. you feel your eyelids getting heavy once more, but that knock comes back, gentle, evenly spaced, quick.

a perfect knock on the door, straight out of the movies. your stomach sinks. how fucking annoying to be so perfect, it’s recognizable, even in a knock.

you want to ask her to go away, and considering you just ditched practice for the first time all season just to avoid her, you figured she’d understand. but there’s another knock, more insistent this time, and you suck in a deep breath to try and prepare yourself for what comes next as you get out of bed and finally give in, swinging the door open.

perfect sophia laforteza has messy hair.

it’s not insane, of course even her messiness is so coordinated, but it’s the first time you’ve ever seen her hair not silky smooth falling in waves over her shoulders. it’s a little frizzy, the tiniest bit unruly, thick and admittedly even a little poofy. she has some baby hairs sticking out of her headband, her bangs pulled back. your heart thuds at the sight— sophia, in her hoodie and her shorts, and her super cute, imperfect hair that’s somehow still perfect to you, as much as you wish it wasn’t

“megan called me crying,” she says simply, her eyes dark and seeking as they look up into yours, her hands tucked into her pockets as she stands in front of your door in the middle of the hallway, “saying you wanted to leave.”

you blink at her, and honestly, you’re not quite sure what to say next.

her lips press into a tight line at your lack of response.

“i’m sorry if that’s because of me,” she breathes, quieter now.

“i’ll text megan in the morning to apologize for stressing her out. i forget how sensitive she is,” you force a smile, your forever bad habit of trying to smooth things over with anyone and everyone. you drop your eyes, unable to keep looking at her any longer without the ache in your chest roaring back to life. “i need to go to bed, good night.”

you move to close the door, but to your surprise, the door doesn’t budge.

sophia has her foot against the base, her hand around your wrist, anchoring you there.

it reminds you of that day, on the beach, your first glimpse into something more in sophia besides her cold stares and her unobtainable standards of perfection. the first time she ever reached out to grab you, you saw it— sophia laforteza, as perfect as she is, is also human, just like you.

her voice surprises you.

“please don’t go.” it’s soft, and she’s avoiding your eyes again, but you hear the rasp, the crack in her voice as she pleads with you. “please hear me out.”

you can feel the burn in your chest at how small she looks, how unfamiliar this version of her is to you. “sophia…”

“i can’t um...” she clamps her eyes shut, and it physically pains you to see just how badly she’s struggling to get the words out. how badly she wants to be vulnerable with you, how hard it is for her. “i just got used to doing it alone. for a really long time. even when my ex was there, i just never could see myself as someone...”

she trails off, and you see it again in her face. that day on the airplane, where you had complimented her, how uncomfortable it seemed to make her to hear so many nice things said about her. you feel your heart shatter for her in that very moment. she doesn’t believe it.

“and then you came in, and i tried to push you away, but you insisted on being kind to me even when i wasn’t worth being kind to, and now i have feelings for you.” she bites down on her bottom lip, the words spilling out almost rushed, as if she’s trying to get them all out at once. “so here i am, pouring my heart out, hoping you’ll stay.”

you blink back, your heart racing. “you have feelings for me?”

“i don’t need you to say it back,” she shakes her head, her brows furrowing. “i just need you to know how pissed i’ll be if you leave after i started to like you. even if it’s just as friends.”

“i didn’t know you’d care if i was gone,” you laugh, feeling your eyes water. it may be a little later than you would have wanted, but she’s trying, and you can see just how hard it is for her.

“you’re ridiculous,” she wrinkles her nose, as if it’s obvious. “i get leaving me might be easy—”

you stop her there, feeling yourself get angry at the way she talks about herself. “no. stop that. no way.”

she presses, insisting. “no, you don’t have to lie. i know how i get. i can be difficult, and a perfectionist—“

“sophia, you’re an incredible captain,” you cut her off, your voice full of conviction. “and a warm, thoughtful friend. people admire you.”

“they’re scared of me, y/n,” she breathes quietly.

“they respect you,” you insist. “you’re incredible.”

she pauses, looking at you, and you let yourself look back at her. something in her eyes change, softening, warming. like the stormclouds parting to reveal the sun.

“i didn’t believe any of that, until i met you,” she admits to you, shakily. “it was like you saw me differently. i believed it because you believed it. you treated me like i was worth it.”

“you are,” you press, before you remember something that might help convince her. “soph… the team, we made you a gift.”

she blinks back at you in shock. “what?”

you motion for her to follow you into your room, and reach under your bed to pull out a scrapbook you guys had worked on between all of you, keeping it in your room as you guys all worked on the finishing touches. the idea was to give it to her after playoffs were over, to celebrate her if you guys won and to cheer her up if you guys lost, but you figure the girls will forgive you for giving it to her a little early.

“when i first heard you were feeling homesick, we started putting it together.” you put the book in her hands and she opens it, immediately seeing all the printed photos of your team together. your days at the beaches, the practices you all bonded over, the photos of you all traveling for games, some of the random shenanigans you’d get into like karaoke. sophia turns the page and realizes that each girl on the team had written her a note about how much they appreciate her as a captain and as a friend, and paired their heartfelt notes with a photo of themselves with her.

(unfortunately, you had waited a little too long to work on your note considering you were working through a massive crush on her, but you hope she won’t mind that you’re the only person on the team who doesn’t have a page in the scrapbook.)

“this is how we see you,” you continue, watching as sophia flips through each page, reading over each and every word with unmatchable focus. “i know you have a skewed vision of yourself. you’re so, so hard on yourself. so we wanted you to have this, so you could see what the world sees. how we see you.”

“this is incredible,” sophia whispers, her eyes welling up with tears.

you’re incredible, you stop yourself from saying, letting you guys continue in silence as she reads the rest of the pages.

“megan spelled ‘gratitude’ wrong,” she laughs, wiping a tear from her cheek as she points to the mistake.

“okay, cut the girl some slack, she could barely stop crying long enough to get the words down. she was so sad thinking about how lonely you’ve been,” you laugh with her, pointing to the dried tear stains on the page. “literally sobbed all over the page and lara had to help her pull it together to finish and sign her stupid name. at this point i’m surprised there’s no snot.”

she smiles and wipes again at her cheek, clearly trying to stop herself from crying in front of you. “i’ve been a little less lonely, ever since you walked on.”

you want to reassure her that you don’t mind the tears, that you don’t mind her being human. that you adore every part of her, exactly how she is, perfect imperfections and all. you try to open your mouth, but the words get caught in your throat.

she beats you to it.

“i’m sorry if i confused you,” she sighs. “it was unfair. i’d be pissed if i was you. getting all caught up before someone had their shit together.”

“i’m not mad at you any more,” you reassure her, reaching out to gently squeeze her hand. “maybe a little hurt, maybe a lot jealous.”

she lets out another laugh, and the sound warms your bones. the idea of UCLA seems so, so silly now, as you two look at the book together. this is where you belong. playing libero with the most incredible group of girls you’ve ever known. wingmanning for lara, laughing with dani, clowning manon, trying to keep megan from a near-daily crashout.

basking in the light that beams from sophia laforteza. reminding her every day that she is the sun in human form, twice as bright and just as warm. reminding her especially on the days she has a hard time believing it.

“i understand if you just want to be friends after this,” she tells you quietly, so infuriatingly thoughtful. “i totally get it. i’d love to be your friend.”

you let out a soft breath.

“i think friends a good place to be.”

sophia smiles, and you smile back. you stop yourself from reaching for her hand. her eyes twinkle as they look back at you. you watch her like she’s the sunset against the beach, and you let it warm you.

sophia laforteza smiling is your favorite view.

#☆ﾟ coolwyous works.#☆ﾟ coolwyous - pov.#☆ﾟ pov thoughts.#sophia laforteza x reader #sophia x reader #katseye x reader #katseye sophia #sophia #sophia laforteza #katseye

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ariestrxsh · 4 months ago

Text

olderbrothersbsf!matt x innocent!reader

જ⁀➴ ♡ content warning: smut, public, praise, teasing, begging, finger sucking, oral (m & f!receiving), fingering, unprotected car sex, getting caught, forbidden love, age gap (both characters are adults)

જ⁀➴ ♡ summary: matt takes you out for dessert and a movie for your first-ever date together, but the two of you can't keep your hands to yourselves, even if you're out in public

dividers by @/roseraris

Young God

chapters: | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 |

Matt drove a little too fast, his hand resting on your thigh with the windows down, the breeze dancing in your hair, and your heart pounding in your ears. You were high on adrenaline from how you had taken off, leaving your brother in the dust after blatantly rebelling against his wishes to stay away from his best friend.

It wasn't like you to do things without permission or do anything that would cause controversy or stir up conflict, but there was something about Matt.

The truth was, Matt was all those things your brother said that he was - perverted, manipulative, arrogant, a player - the list goes on. However, he was also determined and passionate, and there was something about you that softened him.

"What do you want for dessert? Hmm? Just tell me what you want, and I'll take you there," Matt told you in a sweet voice, his fingertips softly brushing over the smooth flesh of your freshly shaven legs. "I want a strawberry milkshake," you told him without hesitation, your eyes lighting up. Matt smiled at you as he revved his engine and drove the two of you to a small ice cream parlor.

He held the door open for you, he ordered for you, and he even paid for you. The two of you cozied up in the booth beside each other, Matt sitting way closer to you than he needed to be.

"You're really pretty, you know that?" Matt told you in a soft voice just barely above a whisper. You blushed, trying to hold back your laughter, a nervous response to Matt's compliment. You watched his gaze travel to your lips as you plucked the cherry from your strawberry dessert and popped it into your mouth, sucking off the whipped cream. Matt felt his cock spring to life as he watched your tongue swirl around the fruit.

"Wanna know how to find out if you're a good kisser?" Matt wondered, picking his own cherry from atop his milkshake. "How?" You asked, giving him a skeptical look. "Can you tie the stem into a knot with your tongue? If you can, it means you're a good kisser," he informed you, popping the cherry into his mouth.

You were now determined to try. Once you'd swallowed the cherry, you pushed the stem between your lips. You started contorting your tongue, trying to fold the stem over onto itself with a silly, concentrated look on your face. Matt had his gaze locked on you, admiring how adorable you looked.

While you were still maneuvering your stem, Matt gave you a smug look before sticking out his tongue to reveal his perfectly tied knot. "No way!" You said, giggling and pulling out your own that was bent and misshapen. "For the record, I still think you're an amazing kisser," Matt winked at you.

You giggled, discarding it in your napkin and glancing back up at Matt, who was swiping his finger through the whipped cream on his milkshake. He smirked over at you, extending his hand for you to lick it off. With your eyes on his, you took his finger into your mouth, slowly licking off the whipped cream, the sweetness flooding your senses as you slid your lips over his knuckles with a soft hum. Blood rushed to his tip, his cock twitching at the sensation.

"That's it," he encouraged you, pushing his finger back into your mouth, savoring how good your tongue felt brushing against it. "Good girl," Matt whispered to you, his stare lingering on your bright red lips wrapped around his digit.

Matt didn't care that there were people around. All he cared about was your mouth and all the different fashions he was going to use it in tonight. The way he looked at you sent a throbbing between your legs, desire burning through your core, and an electric current of energy rushing through your whole body.

When he was finally satisfied with how well you'd sucked on his finger, he let you get back to your milkshake. "You didn't tell my brother where you were taking me on a date, did you?" You asked, stirring your shake around with your straw and mixing it with the whipped cream that was beginning to melt. "Hell no. He's crazy enough to show up here," Matt chuckled.

"You're right," you giggled. "You know, he complains about how overprotective our mom is, but he's even worse," you told Matt in a hushed voice as if your brother were around to hear you. "Yeah, but it's just because he cares about you, you know?" Matt replied. "He wants to protect you from guys like me."

"Guys like you?" You wondered, furrowing your brow. "Well, you know, when we got together, I was no virgin. I drive too fast, listen to my music too loud, and party a little too hard," Matt admitted in a very self-aware manner. "But you get to see a side of me that no one else sees, and I like that," Matt told you, reaching up and tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

You wondered for a moment if he meant all the things he was saying or if he was just saying them to get into your pants. It honestly didn't matter much to you because either way, you craved him.

Matt's hand traveled to the hem of your dress, and he discretely pushed the fabric up, revealing your red laced panties. "Matt!" You exclaimed in a hoarse whisper as you pushed the hem back down. "You know where these would look even better?" Matt cooed, leaning in and whispering into your ear as he dipped his hands between your thighs and started rubbing your clothed clit. "Where?" You asked, trying your hardest to keep your composure.

"On the floor of my mustang," Matt told you, his lips curling into a devilish smile as he planted a kiss on the side of your neck, inhaling the floral notes of your perfume. You bit down on your lip to stifle your moan. "C'mon. Be a good girl and finish your dessert," Matt said, withdrawing stimulation and scooting back over to his side of the booth. He certainly knew how to tease you.

The two of you finished your milkshakes and then walked hand-in-hand to Matt's car. He opened the door for you, admiring how pretty you looked in your little black dress one last time before he was going to get you out of it. Matt cranked the key in the ignition, the engine turning over as you settled into the seat beside him and clicked your seatbelt closed.

The two of you had decided to go to the drive-in, which was only a couple blocks away, to see the new Captain America movie. After a few moments of navigating through side streets and parking lots, Matt pulled into a spot near the back.

"Do you want anything from the concession stand?" Matt sweetly asked, glancing over at you. You flicked your eyes up at him with a smile on your lips like you did want something, but you were too afraid to say it. "Come on, sweetheart. Tell me what you want, and I'll give it to you," Matt replied in a sultry voice, his gaze dancing between your red lips and your big doe eyes.

"A coke, please," you told him. "I'll be right back," Matt said, leaning in and kissing you before he reached for his wallet and got out of the car. Your stomach was swarming with butterflies, an effect that Matt had had on you since you were kids. You still couldn't believe you were out on a date with him.

You opened your phone, making sure to shut your location off. The last thing you wanted was your brother rolling up to your date and ruining everything - especially if the date was going to go the way Matt had alluded to earlier in the evening.

I'd ask what movie you wanna see, but I have a feeling we won't be watching much of it, you remembered him saying. You squeezed your legs together, feeling yourself instantly getting wet as you recalled the texture of his voice and the way he had pinned you down as you said it. Just as you were losing yourself in your fantasies about him, the driver's side of Matt's door opened, startling you and making you jump.

"You good?" Matt asked, shooting you a smile. "Yeah, you just scared me," you laughed, placing your hand on your heart that was still beating quickly. "What? Were you doing something in here you weren't supposed to be doing?" Matt gave you a smirk, setting your drink in his cup holder. "No, it's not that," you giggled, picking it up and sipping from it.

"What is it then? What were you thinking about?" Matt wondered, looking you and up down skeptically as he got into the car and shut the door. "I was just thinking about how you said we weren't gonna be watching much of the movie and what we are going to be doing instead," you quietly replied, peering up at him as you adjusted your straw in your soda.

"Having naughty thoughts about me, hmm?" Matt cooed, running his fingertips along the hemline of your dress. You slowly nodded, staying silent. "I've been having naughty thoughts about you, too. Can't stop thinking about your pretty mouth and all the things you can do with it," Matt purred, bringing his hand up to your face and gently brushing his thumb against your bottom lip. "Why don't you show me again, hmm?" Matt asked, smirking at you.

"Right now?" You asked, raising your eyebrows. "Yeah, I've been thinking about it since you licked that whipped cream off my finger. I've got tinted windows, you know," Matt flirted, his seductive blue eyes scanning you up and down, fucking you in his mind. "Meet you in the back seat?" Matt requested, his lustful stare lingering on your mouth.

You slowly nodded at him. You kicked off your heels and climbed over the center console, nearly spilling your coke to get into the back seat. You felt a light swat on your ass as you did so, causing you to squeal.

"Hey!" You exclaimed, glancing back over your shoulder at Matt, but you secretly loved the attention he gave you. "Wasn't me," he shrugged with a smug grin on his face. "Yeah, sure," you rolled your eyes, trying to conceal your smile.

Matt climbed into the backseat shortly after you and brought you closer to him by your waist. "C'mere," he whispered before he tilted your head towards him and pulled you into a long, deep kiss. His mouth was sugary and sweet like the dessert the two of you had earlier. You moaned against his lips as he reached for your breasts and started squeezing them through your dress.

His tongue explored the inside of your teeth, his saliva mixing with yours as he slipped out of his black, leather jacket and discarded it on the floor of the car. Before pulling away, he trapped your plump bottom lip between his teeth and gently sucked on it. He was certainly messing up your lipstick, but neither one of you cared.

His lips traveled along your jawline, and he subtly tipped your head to the side with his nose. "Mmm.." you hummed, enjoying the feeling of his tongue pressed up against your neck. He started gently working his teeth along your soft flesh, gently biting down and creating a lovely sensation. "Oh, Matt," you whimpered quietly. The lovely sounds you were making encouraged him to keep going.

As the sounds of sloppy kisses filled the car, you heard another sound - a slow ziiip - and you peered down at Matt's hands that were now undoing his jeans. "Come on, sweetheart. I've missed your mouth so much," he whispered, gently placing his hand on the back of your head and pushing you down towards his lap.

You opened your mouth for him, allowing him to tuck his cock between your pillow soft lips. Your taste buds were immediately filled with a saltiness as you gently sucked the precum from his tip. "Fuck. That's it. Keep going, pretty girl," Matt groaned, involuntarily tightening his grip on your locks of hair.

He gently bobbed your head up and down, feeling the soft, wet feeling of your lips wrapped around him and the incredible sensation of your tongue massaging his length. He screwed his eyes shut and let his head fall back against the headrest of the car. "Oh, fuck," the words tumbled out of him in a sexy, low rasp as you worked your mouth on his most sensitive nerve endings.

The two of you were so enthralled by what you were doing that neither one of you noticed that the movie had started or what was going on at all. "Good girl," Matt purred as you started bobbing your head faster. Your mouth felt like a hedonist's heaven - warm, wet, and velvet soft.

Matt slowly slumped down in his seat as you cleaned the clear liquid seeping from his tip again. "That's it. Don't stop," Matt directed you, more satisfied sounds pouring from his mouth as he lifted his hips off of the seat. He drove his cock a bit further, hitting the back of your throat, which elicited a soft gagging sound from you that drove him wild. His breathing grew jagged as his fingers became entangled in your hair.

He was getting so close, his cock throbbing against your lips that were stretched around it. "Gonna be a good girl and let me cum all over that pretty tongue?" He sweetly cooed. Pleasure surged through his body and flooded his system as you hummed against the base of his shaft, "mhmm." You could feel every vein as your tongue wiggled over them, and Matt could feel every delightful subtlety of your mouth.

Suddenly, Matt's whole body tightened, and he let out a loud guttural moan with his hand eagerly pushing down on the back of your head. Your jaw was growing tired, but the sounds he made inspired you to keep going.

Shortly after, his cock twitched between your lips, hot spurts of cum squirting down the back of your throat. "Oh, fuck. Good girl. Good girl," Matt praised you, smoothing down your hair with the soft caress of his hand. You swallowed what you could, and the bit that you couldn't pooled at the corners of your lips and slowly spilled out of your mouth and down his shaft.

Matt picked your head up, his dick falling flat against his stomach as the sounds of his panting filled the car. "If I didn't know any better, I'd swear you'd have done that a million times," Matt complimented you, his blue eyes glazed over as he stared straight ahead at Captain America playing on the projector.

"Really? You think so?" You giggled, wiping the mixture of spit and cum from your mouth. "Yes. You're so fucking good at it," Matt whispered, tucking himself back into his boxers and zipping up his jeans.

"Do me now. Do me," you pleaded, unable to ignore the wetness pooling in your panties. "Hold on, sweet thing. You sucked the energy right out of me," Matt weakly replied, still trying to regulate his breathing and collect his thoughts. "I just want it so bad," you told him in a needy voice, tugging on the hem of his shirt.

Matt chuckled, and a devilish smile made its way into his expression as he started to push up your dress, revealing your red panties and your perfect tits. "No bra, hmm?" He asked, brushing his thumb across one of your nipples and causing it to stiffen under his touch. Waves of pleasure rippled through you, making you shiver and gasp before shaking your head no.

"What do you want, sweetheart? Gotta use your pretty words," Matt softly replied, leaning down towards your chest and closing the space between his lips and your breast. "Oh, Matt.. you know.." you whimpered in a shy voice, running your fingers through his hair as he circled your sensitive nipple with his fluttering tongue.

You leaned back against the window, your thighs splaying out as Matt maneuvered himself between them. You had one foot planted on the seat of Matt's car and the other leg hanging over the seat with your foot on the ground. "C'mon, sweet girl. Tell me what you want," Matt hummed against your breast before moving to the other. "I want you to kiss me down there."

"Kiss you right here?" Matt asked, his voice thick with lust as he moved his lips down your ribs, placing delicate kisses on your stomach, his stubble tickling you. You giggled and writhed around beneath him. "Lower." You were getting more impatient by the minute. You knew that Matt knew what you meant, but he loved relentlessly torturing you.

Matt trailed down to your hips, leaving you hanging once again. "Here?" He pressed his lips just above your panty line. "Noo," you whined. "Here." You finally pushed his head between your legs, encouraging him to kiss you through your panties that were drenched in your arousal at this point. He skipped over your cunt again, grazing the insides of your thighs with his scratchy face.

"Here?" He asked, placing a kiss on your soft flesh about an inch away from where you wanted him to. You whined in frustration, lifting your hips off the back seat and attempting to grind against his mouth. But Matt roughly gripped your thighs, spreading your legs open as far as he could.

"Stay still. Tell me what you want," Matt demanded, his tone laced with dominance. "I w-want you to eat my p-pussy," you whined in desperation, tripping over the words that you never thought would leave your mouth. Matt's lips curled into a smile at your filthy requests. "Yeah, why didn't you just say so, hmm?" Matt whispered, hooking two of his fingers into your panties and pulling them to the side.

His tongue darted out and gently grazed your sensitive bundle of nerves, sending goosebumps across your skin. The next time his mouth made contact with your heat, his lips engulfed you, and he softly hummed against you, sending vibrations through your clit.

You whimpered his name, gently grinding against his tongue as your heartbeat thumped away in your chest. He'd kept you waiting so long that you were already on the verge of falling apart, but he abruptly stopped.

"Lets get you out of these," Matt whispered, hooking his fingers into the waistband of your panties. You lifted your hips to help him remove them. He tossed them carelessly somewhere in the car and nestled himself between your legs again. Matt took two of his fingers and started gently rubbing your entrance with them while he lapped away at your pussy, dipping his tongue between your folds.

"P-please," you begged, your legs started to quake from the anticipation building. He smirked against your heat, gently running his digits up and down your slit while ignoring your pleas to put them inside you. You felt so shy, embarrassed every time you had to admit to Matt what you wanted from him, but you knew he wanted you to practically spell it out. It was the only way you were going to get it from him.

"P-please put your fingers in my pussy," you managed to squeak out. Matt chuckled against you. "Good girl. Knows exactly what she wants," he mumbled into your heat, pushing his fingers inside your hole. They were finally where you wanted them, but Matt kept them still inside of you, teasing you even further.

"Matt," you whimpered, beginning to ride his fingers. "What's wrong, sweetheart? Is this not what you wanted?" Matt mumbled against your pussy. You started to fuck yourself on his fingers even faster, the car starting to subtly rock.

"Fuck, Matt -" you started to say, but your voice cracked and you cut yourself off with a strangled moan. "Fuck me with your fingers," you demanded in a shaky voice, chasing sweet release as you pushed his head down. He did just as you said, his digits picking up momentum.

Just as you were about to finish on Matt's face and fingers, you looked up with wide eyes to see a car parked across the way that looked just like your brother's.

"Shit!" You exclaimed, throwing your hand over your mouth as if the people outside of the car could hear you. Matt continued eating you like a man starving, exploring you with the flick of his tongue and pistoning his fingers into your hole.

"Matt! My brother's here! Look! He's parked right over there!" You yelled, starting to push him away, but he responded by licking you more aggressively and chuckling against your pussy. "So?" Matt mumbled against your heat. "What if he comes over here?" You asked, your voice trembling.

"He won't do anything in public, sweetheart. And the windows are tinted. Just sit back and enjoy the way my mouth feels," Matt told you, coming up for air. You knew he was right. Your brother wasn't a fan of making a scene in front of others regardless of how angry he was, but you knew you were gonna get it when you returned home later that night.

Although it was dark, you could still make out his features. It was definitely him. You could see him waiting in the driver's seat, looking directly over at Matt's car. You tried to remember that you were completely hidden behind the illegal shade of the windows that you were all around you.

The look of concern started to fall from your face, your muscles relaxing as Matt latched back onto your clit and rolled his tongue over it in a rhythmic pattern. "Oh, Matt," you whimpered, your legs beginning to tremble again as you started combing through Matt's hair with your fingers. "Good girl," Matt hummed against your warmth.

You started humping his face again, grinding your clit against his tongue as you swiveled your hips on his fingers. You couldn't take it anymore. You let your head fall back against the window, profanities falling from your lips that Matt had never heard you say before as the knot in your stomach snapped.

Your legs shook, your thighs trapping Matt's head between them as he slurped up your juices. "Holy shit, sweetheart. You're making the whole car shake. You trying to get us caught?" Matt asked, finally poking his head up. "I-I'm sorry. I couldn't help it," you nervously laughed, pulling your dress back down over your body. "I'm just really that good, huh?" Matt arrogantly asked, wiping your arousal from his face.

He craned his neck around in search of any evidence of your brother, and that's when his gaze landed on him sitting in the front seat of his own car right where you said he was. "Shit. He's such a psycho. But don't worry. He's not crazy enough to confront us here," Matt told you, trying to subtly crawl back into the front seat.

He took your hand as you followed closely behind, nearly knocking over your coke again. The two of you chuckled. "And as long as we don't tell him what we did on our date, it's like it never happened," Matt replied. "Just reapply your makeup and fix your hair, because you look crazy right now," Matt laughed at you, admiring how pretty you looked with your smudged mascara.

You chuckled along, turning on your overhead light and pulling down the sun visor so you could fix it in the mirror. You reached into your clutch, pulling out your lipstick and your mascara and touching it up so that it looked relatively the same as how it looked when you left.

"So, let's get our story straight. I took you out for a milkshake. Then we went to the drive-in. I was a perfect gentleman. We did nothing more than kiss and hold hands, got it?" Matt told you. "Got it," you confirmed.

The two of you were discussing the details of the version of the date you were going to tell your brother when you looked up and realized his car was gone. The end credits were rolling, and Matt was firing up his engine again, ready to pull away before the traffic getting out of there got too intense.

Your heart was pounding again, and your mind was flooded with how your brother was going to react to you storming out on him and going on a date with his best friend even though he'd spent years of your life warning you not to fall for Matt's charm.

The two of you drove in silence, both secretly dreading going back to your house and preparing yourselves for your brother's wrath. However, there was also an unspoken agreement between the two of you that your date was very much worth it, and for a moment, you both had the same thought - why not make it even more worth it?

The two of you exchanged a glance, a primal look in each of your gazes. "You wanna make the night last a little longer?" Matt asked, peering up into the rearview mirror and making sure your brother hadn't found a way to follow the two of you. "I don't know. I should really get home. It's almost midnight. My brother's gonna be pissed," you sighed, glancing at the clock on Matt's dashboard that read 11:38.

"I thought you were gonna stay out as long as you wanted to and come home when you feel like it," Matt replied, smirking over at you as he recounted how hot you looked when you'd openly defied your brother and told him that exactly. A smile tugged on the corner of your lip as you mulled over his suggestion. "I did say that, huh?" You answered, nibbling on your lip and clenching your thighs together.

Matt pulled off onto the shoulder of a dark road, killing the engine and cutting his lights. You each had the same exact idea. The two of you ended up in the backseat again. He was on top of you, nudging your legs open and unfastening his belt while you laid down on your back. He pushed your dress up, his hands running across your warm skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake.

"You never put your panties back on?" Matt smirked, his voice drenched in desire as his fingertips danced across your soft inner thighs. "I don't know where they are," you softly giggled. "We'll find them," he half-heartedly mumbled as he guided his cock towards your heat. Your breath caught in your throat as you felt his tip press up against your folds.

He held your hips in place and slowly slid into you, relishing in the sweet whimpers that you made while he breached your entrance. You could feel his dick, swollen with desire, throbbing inside of you. "Good girl," he whispered into your ear as you wrapped your thighs around his waist. Both of your breaths quickened as Matt started to rock his hips back and forth, trailing kisses down your jawline.

His strokes were slow and gentle at first, but the louder you moaned, the faster he went. His soft lips were attached to your neck, your fingernails digging into his shoulder blades. His name tumbled off the tip of your tongue over and over again as he pistoned his cock inside of you.

"Good girl. Take it," he purred into the crook of your neck. His praises excited you even more, filling the car with the soft sounds of your pussy squelching around his every thrust. You were a babbling mess beneath him, the knot in your core threatening to come unraveled.

You couldn't control the lustful sounds cascading from your lips or the way your legs began to tremble as Matt took you in the backseat of his mustang. His thrusts were steady and powerful, driving into you with all the force he could muster while you were using all your willpower to keep yourself from coming undone.

"C'mon, sweet thing. That's it. Cum all over my cock," Matt softly rasped, encouraging you through his jagged breaths.

There was no going back. His words hit you hard, tipping you over the edge and sending ripples of sheer pleasure through your entire body. Your cunt throbbed around him, sucking him in and causing him to finish shortly after. Your shared moans of ecstasy filled the tight space between you as you each climaxed, and every time Matt propelled his hips forward, the sound of skin slapping against skin rang in your ears.

Your orgasm felt like it lasted several minutes, wave after wave of satisfaction washing over you. Matt pumped you full of his warm, sticky load, filling you to the brim and whispering sweet nothings in your ear as you each came down and his thrusts slowed to a halt. "Wow," you sighed, wiping a drop of sweat from your brow as you tried to call your breath back to you.

Matt chuckled, pulling out of you and leaning in for another kiss. The two of you laid there for a few minutes, waiting for your hearts to return to a normal pace before finding your way back to the front seat once more. You smoothed out your dress, touching up your lipstick once more and making sure there was no evidence of what you and Matt had done tonight before he dropped you off at home.

When the two of you pulled up to your house, your brother was outside waiting for you with his arms crossed and a stern look on his face as he stood blocking the front door. "Shit," you mumbled to yourself, looking for your panties that were somewhere in Matt's car.

Both of your hearts were racing as your brother started to approach. You paused your search for your underwear when you realized your brother was outside of the window. You slowly rolled it down and gave him an innocent smile, but he wasn't buying any of it.

"It's 12:30," he calmly stated. "So?" You shot back with a bit of attitude. "So the movie ended almost an hour ago," your brother responded.

You threw open your car door, nearly hitting him with it. "Yeah, and you would know, right? Since you followed us on our date?!" You shouted at him, getting into his face. Matt scurried out of the driver's side of his car, ready to deescalate the situation. "You're my baby sister. I couldn't let anything happen to you!" Your brother raised his voice.

"I don't need you to follow me around on my dates! Matt does just fine protecting me," you exclaimed, crossing your arms. "Yeah, does he!? Is that what he was doing when he was shoving his whipped cream-covered fingers down your throat?" Your brother scoffed, making big hand gestures to convey his anger.

Your cheeks grew warm, realizing he'd witnessed such an intimate moment between the two of you and wondering how much more he'd seen. "Shut up!" You shouted back as you pushed past him, your heels clicking against the pavement of your driveway.

"You're such a slut!" Your brother called after you. "Woah! Hey! Cool it!" Matt intervened, defending you. "Don't call her that," he said in a softer voice. "Well, if she isn't one, then I'm sure she watched the whole movie and she'd have no problem telling me what happened in it," your brother answered with his eyes locked on yours, raising a brow.

Matt started to speak for you, but your brother cut him off. "I said she can tell me what happened in the movie. Come on, sis. How did it end?" Your brother smugly asked, knowing damn well you couldn't tell him. You stared silently at your feet for a moment.

"You know.. Captain America killed all the bad guys," you responded, unsure. You didn't know how the movie ended. You didn't even know how it began or anything that happened inbetween because you were preoccupied the whole time with Matt's cock. And his tongue. And his fingers.

Your brother scoffed. "You are a fucking slut," he told you, reaching out and touching the dried cum stain on the front of your dress.

Your gaze dropped to the small, white, unmistakable mark on the black fabric. So did Matt's. The two of you were speechless. Your eyes widened as you peered over at your date, searching for some kind of excuse, but he was just as stunned as you were. You nearly choked on your words as your shaky voice broke the silence. "It's whipped cream.." you softly answered, unconvinced of your own lie.

"Sure it is," your brother said in an unamused tone as he rolled his eyes. You were frozen in embarrassment, unsure of what to say next. You felt hot tears welling in your waterline as your brother glared disdainfully at Matt before strolling towards the front door with both of his fists balled up at his sides.

#sturniolo triplets #sturniolo smut #sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo x you #matthew sturniolo #matthew sturniolo smut #ᴀʀɪᴇꜱ' ᴡᴏʀᴋꜱ .ᐟ ✮⋆˙#ᴍᴀᴛᴛ ꜱᴇʀɪᴇꜱ .ᐟ ✮⋆˙#ʏᴏᴜɴɢ ɢᴏᴅ .ᐟ ✮⋆˙

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vvampirelust · 11 months ago

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thinking about ice hockey player!abby

warnings: smut, 18+, dom!abby, sub!reader, strap on sex, spanking, quite rough sex, mentions of alcohol consumption, not proof read

that girl would get veryyyy possessive

she’s the star player, hell practically the star of campus. (frat!abby??) having been the captain back on her old high school team, she’s earned a name for herself.

so of course she’s gonna adore you in her jersey. surprising her post-game as you celebrate her victory, snug in her blue hockey hoodie #13 adorning the back. abby picks you up when you finally get to see her, kissing you with force, adrenaline still pumping through her veins. “did you see that?!” she’s asking excitedly, and there’s nothing you love more than seeing the passionate shine in her eyes as she recalls her last goal. you join her and the team for a celebratory beer in the parking lot, reminiscing and cheering loudly about the best moments.

“nice hoodie, babe,” abby calls from behind you as you both walk back to your car. abby, the few steps latter was enjoying the view with a smirk on her lips. you match her smile, twirling once in front of her, pulling a laugh from her throat, “you like? found it under my bed, wonder who left it there,” you shrug, a lightness to your voice. abby catches up to you, strong arms hugging you to her chest, faux gasp leaving her lips, “we’ll never know,” she breaks off into a chuckle and you can’t help but join her, shoving her with a roll of your eyes.

back home, you had abby pressed against the inside of her door. her dad away on a conference in seattle meant you and abby have been playing wife in her beach house for the past week. she set a challenge to fuck you anywhere and everywhere possible. who would complain? “baby. baby,” you’re both lost in the kids you’re sharing. the flat of your palms find her chest, pushing her softly against the door. “wait here two minutes, take your clothes off and i’ll meet you in the bedroom,” you speak lowly, flashing her the eyes as a coy smile spreads on your lips.

abby audibly groans, “fuck, go. now.” she orders, not wanting to wait any longer.

approximately 1 minute and 29 seconds later, abby finds you in nothing but her jersey, sprawled across the kingsized bed like a pornstar. she bites her lip as she takes you in, you’re so slutty, she thinks, she loves it. she makes a note to tease you for it at some point. “look at you, pretty girl,” she admires, those icy eyes never leaving your body, even as she walks around the side of the bed, “that all for me?” abby asks, breaking her gaze to bend over. just the sound of that specific drawer opening has your thighs rubbing together. her question fell on deaf ears, you too busy staring at your smokeshow of a girlfriend. she had done what you’d said, a pile of clothes on the stairs waiting to be tripped over in the morning. but god, the sight was worth it. your eyes trail the curve of her ass as she was rummaging, you’re near drooling over the way her back muscles shift beneath her tanned skin. abby smirks when she stands to face you again, busying herself with buckling the strap. abby clears her throat;

“baby.” your eyes find hers, “focus.”

head bobbing in a nod, you swallow the whimper threatening to escape. “i asked, if this was all for me? hm? you look so sexy in my hoodie babe,” abby crawls over where you are pushed up on your elbows, caging your body with hers. “you played so well out there tonight, anderson. thought you deserved it,” you tell her sweetly, inviting her in with open legs. abby chuckles, moving one big hand to cup the inside of your knee, ever so slowly sliding up your inner thigh. “gettin’ pussy for a good game, do i?” she’s smug, taking hold of what’s hers. you, now unbearably horny starts nodding, “yeah!”

“yeah, sweetheart?” she mocks the high pitch of your voice, lazily nodding along with you. “fuck me, you’re so wet,” thick fingers push between your folds, “want it bad, don’t you baby?” abby grins, looking down at the mess between your legs. “please, abby.” you pull her hair to gain access to her mouth, been deprived too long of the feeling of her lips on yours. her tongue invades your warm mouth, throaty groan following suit, which you swallow happily. the kiss ends with a wet smack, abby’s heavy breaths now mingling with your own. “i know, i know. i’m gonna fuck you, don’t worry. and you’re gonna keep that hoodie on, okay?”

“please baby, please fuck m-“ you can barely finish your sentence before she’s using those strong arms to flip you onto all fours, abby’s jersey hitching around your waist. you can feel the weight of her pretty pink strap against your thigh, ass wiggling in anticipation. abby responds with a surprisingly hard spank, jolting you onto your elbows as a yelp passes your lips. “abby, baby, please!” you feel the warmth of her free hand sliding up your spine, hiking her hoodie up, allowing her to see the arch of your back along with the word ‘Anderson’ boldly written in white along your shoulders. “fuck,” she moans.

a strong hand grasps your hip, you can hear abby spit behind you followed by her panting heavily. you whimper when you feel her tip splitting your slick folds, wasting no time as she begins to thrust inside of you. pushing deeper with each small rut of her hips, relishing in your little “uh, uh, uhs” abby does this until she bottoms out, your cunt stuffed and throbbing. “that’s it, you always take me so well baby.” abby grips your hips tight.

she fucks you with the same aggression she portrayed on the rink earlier that night. your chest flush against the mattress, your loud moans still echoing through the bedroom, even with your face smushed into the pillows, leaving a wet patch of drool and tears in your wake. using your hips to set the pace, she pulls you back on her cock, profanities slipping past her lips . “such a slut for me, fucking look at this pussy, squeezing so tight,” she moans so prettily, her clit rubbing against the strap just right. she stares at her surname as she gets off, the pace of her thrusts quickening, hurtling towards her climax. the sound of her moans shoot straight to your lower stomach, clenching tighter around her. “my fucking best girl, baby. just needed my lucky charm tonight,” abby huffs out, stuttering, “couldn’t have done it without you.”

abby cums with a cry, curling over your back, arms wrapping under your shoulders. her hips don’t falter for a second, riding out her high while pushing you to your own. at the last moment, her fingers thread in your hair, tugging your head back so she could hear you clearly. she wanted to hear you scream for her, just like you did when she won her game.

“abs i’m- oh my god, abby!” you follow right behind her, practically mewling like a bitch in heat. you cum hard, creaming on your girlfriends cock, she fucks you through it. even as it means hurtling herself into overstimulation, whimpering in your ear until she feels your body beginning to tremble beneath her. abby pants, pushing herself up with a grunt. palms spreading your cheeks, she watches the way your cunt tries clinging to her cock as she slowly pulls out. you’re a whimpering mess, “abby,” you mourn the stretch. “m’right here,” she tells you breathlessly, her thumb running down your folds, circling your gaping hole, collecting the creamy cum leaking from you. her teeth find purchase within her bottom lip once again, taking a last look at the hoodie bunched around your top half. and at her name decorating it.

#abby anderson smut #abby anderson #abby anderson x reader #lesbian #abby anderson x reader smut #abby smut #abby tlou #abby the last of us #wlw #the last of us smut #tlou x reader #ellie williams smut #ellabs #abby x reader #abby x you #abby the last of us smut #lesbian smut #sapphic

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urhoneycombwitch · 1 year ago

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common tongue of you lovin' me

Eddie Munson x Reader loverboy smut of the touchstarved variety.

foreword: based on THIS anon everyone say THANKS anon. R and Eddie are in their early 20’s, R is on a gap year from college (so me), they’re in a new relationship with each other, I’m writing this while blasted on edibles idk what else to say 0_o

cw: nervous Eddie, touchstarved R, smut, dry humping (is it actually dry if they’re both wet…?), cumming in pants, one (1) use of the word “daddy”, light use of the miscommunication trope

wc: 2.5k

____

By nature, Eddie Munson is not a shy person.

Even though his dark reputation in Hawkins hasn’t been completely erased, he still manages to make friends wherever he goes through sheer force of personality. It’s like a magic trick, one that you never get tired of- he’ll pause in the middle of grocery stores to make faces at a baby in a stroller, getting belly laughs out of a stranger’s kid in less than ten seconds while still holding your hand down the aisle. One second he’s right behind you in the record store, looking over your shoulder as you browsed, and the next he’ll be on one knee charming a elementary school-aged kid into getting the latest Dio album.

You’ve seen him flirt his way out of speeding tickets with Hopper, for christ’s sake.

Eddie isn’t shy by any stretch of the imagination, so after three months of nothing but chaste kisses and quiet hand-holding, you’re left to assume he actually wants to take things slow with you.

He’s been nothing but a gentleman, in these early days of dating- the most action you’ve gotten from him was unintentional. On your third date, a dollop of his ice cream landed on your lap when he used the cone to gesture, which led him to manically grabbing napkins out of his dashboard to wipe at your skirt while you laughed it off. The second he’d brushed against your bare thigh he snapped his hands back like he’d touched a live wire, hastily heaping on apologies, leaving you to allay his nerves while wiping at the stain yourself.

Which, whatever. It’s fine. It’s not like you’re complaining about him being respectful, per se, it’s just that it’s getting harder and harder (hah) to pretend like you don’t wanna fuck him. The feeling between your thighs only seems to increase in intensity when he gives you one of those precious little hand kisses at the end of a date, or a closed-mouth peck before he drives off into the night.

Unfortunately for you and your wet dreams, Eddie Munson has the most edible body you’ve ever seen. Biceps bulging through those form-fitting tees he likes to wear, rounded nose and strong jaw outlined by that cloud of soft black hair, those lithe hips…

Hips that you’re openly staring at from across the room as you sit quietly on Eddie’s couch. He’s reaching up to grab a mug from the cabinet, his Metallica tee pulling up out of his dark denim at the motion, flashing a stripe of his pale lower back.

You feel like a Victorian maid seeing ankle for the first time. You subtly press your thighs together under your short tartan skirt as Eddie moves around the kitchen, talking animatedly about the start of his upcoming campaign.

“I haven’t decided yet if I’m gonna go easy on the little shits or not,” he says, metal spoon clinking against ceramic as he mixes hot chocolate powder. “It’s Max’s first session as an official player, and I don’t wanna scare her off but I do have a reputation to uphold.”

“Yeah,” you agree, giving him a knowing smile as he crosses the room to pass you your mug- “You’re a DM most fearsome. Can’t let them off the hook too easily.”

Eddie blooms under your praise, wiggling his eyebrows with familiar cockiness as he settles on the cushion beside you. “Gotta keep Hawkins' finest in line. It’s a tough gig but I did swear an oath, after all.”

You smile around a sip of hot cocoa, then reach over to set your mug on the coffee table. Eddie has been sat in his usual manner (knees far enough apart to be taking up his whole seat, arm draped casually on the back of the couch) but the second your knee knocks against his, he adjusts himself stiffly, drawing his arm back with a nervous throat-clearing and a murmured “sorry”.

Normally you’d let it go, not wanting to push the issue past the point of his comfortability. But it’s been Three. Months. Of this. And you wanna test the waters, just a little.

“Sorry for what?” You ask, rotating to face him, your shoulders almost-but-not-quite touching.

He’d doing an uncanny impression of a deer caught in headlights, blinking at you with those doey brown eyes, stuttering his way through a weak explanation- “Uh… uh. Sorry for being- f-for touching you?”

There’s a lift at the end of his sentence, one that you mirror with a tilt of your own brow, a playful challenge. “You don’t have to apologize for touching me, Eddie. I’m your girlfriend.”

He chuckles, a nervous edge bleeding around the sound. The curls around his face dance with the head shake he gives. “No, of course, yeah, I know that.”

“Do you?” You scoot closer, a kick of assertiveness giving you the courage to press your leg against his.

“Uh huh.” He’s gazing openly now at the bare skin of your thigh, like he’s waiting to see if it'll burn a hole into his denim.

When you gently lift his hand and place it on the skin that he’s looking at, you hear him gulp, audibly.

So he does want to touch you. Interesting.

You know for a fact Eddie’s not a virgin. Back in high school, you’d both dated around your respective circles, gossip surrounding escapades in the Munson Van circulating back to you through mutual friends. When he’d asked you out a few months previous, you’d happily accepted, wanting to take full advantage of your interim gap year from college. For the first few weeks, you’d chalked his near-celibate behavior up to nerves.

But now, you’ve got him squirming with just a thigh touch. So maybe… he’s waiting for you to make the first move?

Fuck testing the waters- you’re gonna dive in head-first.

You swing your leg over his lap, kneeling on the outside of his hips. His hands automatically go to your waist, and he lets out a little “Oh” as you rest your arms around his shoulders.

“You gonna kiss your girlfriend?” you whisper, forehead crushing into his bangs as you wrap a hand around the back of his neck.

Eddie looks up at you like he’s seeing a full moon for the first time, eyes sparkling with want. “Yeah,” he rasps, angling his face up to kiss you.

It’s soft, at first, like it always has been. His plush lips softly move against yours, breaking for air once, twice; when he kisses you with that same softness for a third time you press your tongue to the seam between his lips.

He lets you in with a little noise, low in the back of his throat as you lick into his mouth. His hands twitch on your hips as your tongues twine, slight movements in his own hips creating a ripple effect.

When the hard seam of his jeans bumps against the warmth of your cunt, you both gasp, your hand at the back of his neck tightening.

“We should probably, um-” he’s panting against your mouth, grip flexing between hard and soft- “I mean, if you wanna stop…”

“I don’t wanna stop. Do you wanna stop?” you ask, equally out of breath.

“Fuck no,” he rasps again, in that smoke-salt voice, and this time when he kisses you it’s with one hand at the back of your head and the other pulling your hips to meet his.

The noises from the wet slide of your mouths are turning you on more than you care to admit, and you’re sure he can feel the damp patch that’s soaking through your panties as the crotch of his jeans make contact again. Which normally would make you feel really self-conscious, if it weren’t for the fact that Eddie’s hard as a rock underneath you, the bulge in his pants thickening with each roll of your hips.

You drop your kisses down, exploring where you haven’t been able to before: against his cheek, his jaw, stopping just behind his ear. Unable to help yourself, you graze your teeth against the velvet skin there, and he jolts beneath you with a small yelp.

“Sorry,” you whisper, still a touch mirthful but soothing your tongue over the mark.

Eddie brushes his thumb across the back of your neck as you continue your path down the column of his throat. “Now who’s sayin’ sorry for no reason. Baby, I’m begging you to do that again.”

So you do, this time at the junction where his neck and shoulder meet, grinning against his skin when he groans and bucks his hips up.

Around your hickey-making, he’s choking out words that you just manage to string together. “I wanna… make you feel- christ, sweetheart- good too, wanna make it good for you-”

When you sit up to see his face, he looks absolutely wrecked- rosy flush in his cheeks, lips swollen and kiss-bitten, pupils blown so big his eyes are nearly black with lust.

“You are making me feel good,” you assure him, pulling the hand he’s got on your neck down to where the end of your skirt sits, pausing before your next move. “You want me to prove it?”

He nods, and you guide him into the warmth of your thighs, letting his fingers graze the stickiness that’s been steadily soaking through the fabric.

Eddie inhales sharply, moans out, “Fuck, honey”, and when his thumb finds your clit you sink down into his touch, stomach tightening with the shock of arousal coursing through you.

He’s watching your face intently as he slowly circles your clit, gauging your reactions, pressing in a bit harder and faster when the pace change makes you cry out.

Feeling doubly exposed with his eye contact and hand against your core, you try making a joke to diffuse some of the tension as the pad of his finger moves against you in steady rhythm. “Still thinkin’ about stopping?”

“A train could crash through that wall and it wouldn’t stop me for a second,” Eddie says, resolute and getting a little braver, kissing his own path across your throat, nibbling at a spot that makes your clit pulse beneath his fingertip and your cunt clench around nothing.

Goddamn, he’s a quick learner. In less than two minutes he’s got you so close to the edge, squirming around his touch, that you have to grab his wrist and still his fingers between your thighs.

“What’s wrong?” he asks. You can feel his breath punching up down up, your breasts pushed up against his chest from the way your body was trying to coil in on itself.

“Nothing,” you assure him, and now it’s your turn to falter around your words. “I just- maybe can I… I wanna get o-off at the same time. If you want. And I’m really, really close.”

Eddie’s head falls back against the couch with a thunk, eyes scrunching shut as if in concentration, a strung-out whine leaving his throat. “Hang on. Give me a second.”

He’s still got his hand on your clothed pussy, and you can’t help but giggle once he blinks back to the present, dazed- “Christ. You can’t say shit like that, baby, I almost came in my jeans.”

You give him a condescending little pout, accented with another twist of your hips. “Well maybe that’s what I want.”

“Give you anything,” Eddie replies, unabashedly babbling now as you adjust yourself in his lap. “Anything you want, sweetheart. It’s yours. All yours.”

He helps you maneuver into a new angle: now, your drenched core can rub freely against his thigh, while your knee in the socket of his hip means he can rut his cock along the flat of your leg.

When you move experimentally in shallow circles on his thigh, the newly-gained friction lights up your throbbing clit. Soon, all pretenses melt away as you both find your rhythm again, little grunts and pants filling the air.

“Feel good, angel? That’s it,” Eddie encourages, slipping his hand under your skirt to grope at the meat of your ass, helping your movements along as he chases his own pleasure with a rocking grind against your leg. “Take what you need. Lemme get you there. Please, please…”

His whines spur you on, one of your hands shooting out to clutch at the back of the couch beside his head while the other anchors itself on his opposing bicep. “Fuck, Eddie, keep talking like that, ‘m so close…”

“Talk to you all day,” he heaves out, “you make me so fucking hard, princess. You feel how hard I am for you? God, you’re so wet, that’s so fucking hot…”

You should have expected that bravado and charm you’ve seen these last few years to naturally be carried over into his sex life, but god, not in your wettest of dreams could you have imagined the mouth on him.

The combination of his dirty talk and thigh between your legs is bringing you right up to that edge again, toes curling in anticipation, cunt starting to flutter erratically with every thrust.

“Fuck, baby, I’m gonna come…” your head rolls back on its hinge, eyes flickering shut as Eddie fumbles to catch at your clit again, movements becoming sloppy.

“C’mon, pretty baby, let go.” He’s sucking another mark into your neck between his praises, teeth catching- “Let me see you come, honey, be a good girl for daddy…”

“Jesus FUCKING christ” is all you manage to grit out before you’re tipping over the edge into orgasm, all your muscles bearing down into the bright point of pleasure, high sob winding its way from your throat.

Eddie keeps kneading at your spasming clit as you ride it out on his thigh, even as he lets out a series of short, keening whimpers, even as his cock jerks against your leg into his own release.

You sag into his waiting arms, tittering lightly against his neck as you both work on catching your collective breaths.

“Holy shit, and I was really starting to think you actually didn’t want to fuck me.” You laugh in relief.

His hand pauses mid-stroke up the slope of your back, sounding genuinely aghast when he asks “Why the fuck would you think that?”

You straighten in his arms with an incredulous stare. “Uh, maybe because you acted like a monk that I was corrupting every time I even breathed near you?”

Eddie covers his eyes with his hands, heels to sockets, groaning- “Fuck, honey, I was tryn’a be respectful. You’re telling me we could’ve been doing this sooner?”

You reach to soothe your palms over the length of his forearms, equally fond and serious when you say “I’m telling you I absolutely would have slept with you on the first date.”

He makes a strangled, pained noise before you continue- “You described to me in detail the entire mating cycle of a bat, and then walked directly into a trash can by accident. How did you expect me to wait on jumping your bones?”

He lets you take his hands, enveloping them in your own and bringing them to your chest, pressing your lips affectionately to each ring.

He whispers, “Can I ask you something?”

When you look up at him again, he says, with sincerity, “Can I see your tits next time?”

You hide your laughter into the crook of his neck.

________

guys i cannot stress how high I am is this even any good plz perceive me

#eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie x reader #eddie munson x you #e.m. thots from lu #drabble #smut #mdni

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sturniowhore · 9 months ago

Text

Kiss Cam!

Warnings: Fluff, Secret/hidden relationship, Chris x Fem!reader, swearing

Tags: @d3axplr @miss-ykwho @mattsturnziolio @joemamaaa42069

A/n: this shit is so ass ngl LMAO sorry if some of the wording doesn't make sense i'm exhausted and I refuse to download grammerly! Also I hope I didn't screw up the hockey scenes I know NOTHING about the sport

Dividers: @bernardsbendystraws

In which.. Y/n and Chris decide to keep their relationship out of the public eye. What happens when they decide to go to a hockey game and they appear on the kiss cam on live television..?

You and Chris shuffle through the crowds of excited hockey fans trying to find your seats. Chris leads with one of his hands behind him, allowing for you to take hold of it so you don't get lost amidst the swarm of people.

Eventually, you two make it to your designated seats. You sit down waiting for the game to start, Chris's arm drapes over your shoulder "you excited?" he turns to you with a toothy grin. To be honest you could care less about the game, you didn't even know which teams were playing tonight. You still wanted to come with Chris though, knowing it'd make him happy. "Yeah! Can't wait! Also.. who are we rooting for again?" Chris laughs, leaning in and placing a kiss on your temple.

As he starts explaining, the screens in the middle of the arena started counting down and the lights dim. The crowd starts cheering, awaiting the players to come into view. Chris stops speaking immediately, his eyes widened and glued onto the ice. You smile at his excited expression and turn your head to one of the screens.

The lights of the arena came back up as the sports commentator announced the first team. "WELCOME TO THE ICE THE BOSTON BRUINNSSSSSS" The crowd went wild! People were jumping, screaming, waving their arms around in support. "WOOOOOO" Chris cheered clapping his hands together. The opposing team was also announced, it was the other half of the arena's turn to cheer.

The game soon started, the opposing team taking the lead. The people in the stands were on the edge of their seats, watching the puck glide around the ice waiting for it to go into one of the goals. One of the players from the opposing team scored a goal. Half the crowd started cheering, the other half kept quiet out of respect but still had sour looks on their faces.

Your boyfriend sucked his teeth, using one hand to rub his chin in frustration. "c'mon c'mon" Chris muttered under his breath as the game continued. He was watching the game with intensity, his eyes never leaving the ice.

Soon enough the Bruins made a goal, the score was now 1-1. Much to everyone's disliking the game paused for an intermission. People got up to use the bathroom, grab something to eat, stretch their legs, trying to use the short break to the best of their ability not wanting to miss anything.

You yawned, head leaning against your boyfriend's shoulder. "what? ya bored already?" He smirked down at you. "no no just uhm..." Chris laughed at you failing to find an excuse, holding you close to him. The screens in the middle of the arena changed, it went from the arena's name to a white page with the words KISS CAM in pink letters and hearts around it.

"here we go with that corny shit" Chris rolled his eyes. "stop, I think it's cute" you pouted at him and turned back to the screen. The first pair that was shown were an elderly couple, the woman was first to notice and pointed it out to her husband. when he saw the screen he gently cupped her face and gave her a soft kiss. "aww that's so sweet" Your eyes widened at the sight, a slight pout forming on your lips. Chris tried to suppress his smile but failed. He leaned down, his breath tickling your ear "that's gonna be us in 40 years." You blushed at his words, your eyes peering into his "yeah? you think so?" "oh I know so 100%" Chris said with confidence. You couldn't help but smile at his words, you loved that he was thinking of a future with you.

The next pair on the kiss cam brought you out of your trance. It was a father and his daughter, the girl looked no older than 3. The father pointed to the screen to show his little girl they were on tv, the girl grinned ear to ear clapping her little chubby hands together. The father kissed his baby's cheeks and she let out a happy giggle. The whole stadium erupted into awes, smiling at the wholesome interaction in front of them.

Chris's arm's were drawing patterns on your shoulder mindlessly, he was distracted by the bustling crowds of people walking up and down the stairs to notice that you were trying to get his attention. "Chris..." no response "Chris" you repeat, again no response. "Chris." you say a little louder this time, this catches his attention "hm?" he questions with a lazy look. You point at the screen in front of you. He looks over expecting to see another couple you found cute, what he saw wasn't what he expected at all.

On the screen, he saw himself and you displayed in front of everyone that was inside TD garden, not to mention the thousands of people watching the game live on television and he knew some of those people were probably his fans. His eyes widened at the sight, on different circumstances he would've kissed you on the spot not caring about a thing. But this was different.

You've gotten enough hate just for hanging out with the triplets and being in their videos, imagine how much hate you'd get for kissing one of them? Let alone dating. You and Chris kept your relationship hidden from the public for years knowing that you would get crucified if some of the fans found out.

You were in a state of panic not knowing what to do. You looked at your boyfriend for answers, he was just as clueless. You looked back at the screen hoping it would've moved onto another couple, it didn't. The camera was still on the two of you. "I swear whoever's operating this is praying on our downfall" You nervously chuckle Chris is silent, still in a state of shock. "just kiss already!" some stranger said from afar.

Chris's thoughts were running wild in his mind, He didn't want his fans to go ballistic on you but the thought of the two of you kissing in front of thousands of people was making him go crazy, he wanted to show the world that you were his and his only.

"Fuck it." Chris grabbed your face with both hands pulling you into a forceful kiss. You were stunned. Chris pulled away, grinning ear to ear at your surprised expression. The kiss cam moved on to another couple soon after, not paying attention to the two of you anymore. "I can't believe you just did that" you say astonished. Chris still grinning, faced towards the ice and shrugged "I mean we were on the kiss cam right? we had to" "but your f-" "don't worry about it ma I'll deal with it" Chris grabbed your hand interlocking it with his, bringing it up to his lips and kissing the back of your palm. You had a shy smile plastered on your face "I uh.. thought you said kiss cams were corny" "they are" "then why'd you kiss me?" you questioned. You knew the answer, he knew you knew the answer. "Oh y'know, we couldn't let the people be disappointed" trying to act as nonchalant as possible, failing terribly. "of course of course" you played along.

The intermission ended and the game continued. Chris had a hard time focusing on the game, his mind wandering to the events that had just unfolded a few minutes ago. He wanted to for so long to show everyone that the two of you were together and he finally did. He didn't care what the haters had to say, all that mattered to him was that you were his and that he was yours.

hours later....

You and Chris went inside the house. Both of you were exhausted, you planned to take a nice warm shower and to finally get some sleep. But someone had other plans..

"what the fuck were you guys THINKING?" Nick screamed at the two of you. Matt watches from the couch with amusement, holding Trevor in his lap. "what are you-" you were about to question him but the man cut you off by shoving his phone in your face. On it was a clip of you and Chris kissing on the kiss cam. "oh.." Soft chuckles came out of Matt's mouth "you both are fucked everyone is going insane." He was right, that video has a million likes and hundreds of thousands of comments.

"Are you guys mentally okay!? Did you not use your brains for a second!? Why on EARTH did you do that!?" Chris rolled his eyes at his brother's antics. "Nick what the fuck were we supposed to do? The stupid cameraman wouldn't move on until we kissed each other" "You could've said no!" "Its fine Nick, whatever's happened happened. You don't gotta worry about it anymore kay?" Chris shrugged. "fine fine but you're gonna have to deal with this cause i most certainly am not. Good night." Nick put both his arms up in surrender and walked to his room.

Matt got up from his spot from the couch. He walked up to you both, he gave Chris a supportive pat on the shoulder and he shot you a reassuring smile before walking up to his room, Trevor following close behind.

You plopped down on the couch, your face was buried in your hands. "we shouldn't have done that" you groaned, your voice filled with regret. Chris sat down next to you "hey.. it's gonna be fine, I promise if anyone tries some shit I'll block them and they will no longer have access to any Sturniolo Triplet content" His hands went to his cheeks as he gave a faux surprised look. You laugh "you can't block them all" "yeah but if I block 3 of them I'm sure the rest will get the message" He grins. You shake your head in disbelief, a playful smile resting on your face. "alright now no more sadness we just came back from an awesome bruins game and we need to keep the good vibes goin'. I'll run you a bath yeah?" With that Chris ran up the stairs to the bathroom. You couldn't help but chuckle, somehow that man always knew how to make you laugh even in the most dire situations.

You picked up your phone opening Tiktok, you weren't surprised when the first video that popped up was the kiss cam clip. You knew you shouldn't, you knew what you were about to do was dumb, but you couldn't help it the curiosity of peoples opinions took over. You opened the comment section bracing yourself for the hate and insults

comments:

user3453985: I KNEW IT

user7654876: I'm not even surprised they were so bad at hiding it I LOVE THIS THO

user2832733: AWWW CUTIES 🩷🩷🩷

user003328: they're perfect together omg!

User33314: really? her? he could do sm better tbh. 🤷‍♀️

user22383: @user33314 like who? you? girl please sit down.

As you were reading the comments your smile got bigger and bigger. Sure there was some hate, but the amount of positive comments were drowning them out almost completely. Everything might be okay after all.

#chris sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader #christopher sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sturniolo imagine #sturniolo smut #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo imagine #chris sturniolo x you #sturniolo #the sturniolo triplets #matthew sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo fluff #sturniolo fluff

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itneverendshere · 10 months ago

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LOOKIN' LIKE MOTIVATION - hockey!r.c (+18)

requested by my #1 @zya4lifers

warnings: meantions of cheating; SMUT. pairing: sports physical therapist!reader x hockey player!rafe; friends to lovers.

Rafe’s day started the same way it had for the last two months: with a groan of pain that shot up from his knee and settled into his mood like a stubborn storm cloud.

He hated physical therapy, but what he hated more was sitting on the sidelines, watching his teammates on the ice while he was stuck on a cushioned table with resistance bands and an overenthusiastic sports medic, with hair pulled into a no-nonsense ponytail and a pair of blue scrubs that somehow still looked cute on you.

At least that was what he thought when he first met you.

But two weeks in, his hatred had morphed into something else entirely, something way more complicated. He wasn’t sure when it happened—maybe when he caught you singing quietly along with the radio while taping up his knee, or when you’d given him that first, honest-to-God smile that wasn’t out of politeness but genuine amusement at some stupid joke he’d made.

And he made a lot of those.

Now, sitting on that same damn table, Rafe found himself looking forward to PT in a way that had nothing to do with his injury.

You walked in, clipboard in hand, looking as professional as always. It was kind of cute, the way you tried so hard to keep things strictly professional between the two of you.

Rafe knew he got under your skin—hell, he made sure of it. He could tell by the way your eyes flicked up to meet his for just a second longer than necessary before you quickly looked away. You tried to be cool, but he knew better.

“Alright, Cameron. How’s the knee today?”

He put on his best wounded-puppy face. “Terrible. I might never skate again.”

“Shut up.”

“And I could be better,” Rafe drawled, his lips curling into that signature smirk. “But seeing you always helps.”

You rolled your eyes, but he saw the faintest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of your mouth.

“You say that every time.”

“And I mean it every time,” he shot back, winking at you.

You tried to ignore him, busying yourself with adjusting the equipment. “Let’s focus on your knee, alright?”

“Whatever you say, Doc,” Rafe said, stretching out on the table with a lazy grin.

You rolled your eyes, but the corners of your mouth twitched up. “We’ve got to work on your pain tolerance.”

He couldn’t resist. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were trying to keep me on my toes.”

Finally, you looked up, your expression deadpan.

“And if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were trying to avoid actually doing your therapy, Cameron.”

Touché.

He liked the way you said his name—like you were in control, like you were the one calling the shots.

It was refreshing.

The first few minutes of the session passed in relative silence as you guided him through the exercises, your hands expertly working his injured knee. Rafe winced, but it wasn’t all from the pain.

It was from trying to resist the need to say something that might actually cross the line.

But resisting wasn’t really his style.

“So, what’s your boyfriend up to this weekend?” Rafe asked, his voice casual, but his eyes keen, watching your reaction.

You weren’t the kind of girl to fall for a player, especially one with a reputation like Rafe’s.

Besides, you were already with someone. Logan—the clean-cut, dependable defenseman from a rival school. You’d been together for over a year, and things were great.

You looked up at him, a little caught off guard.

“Out of town.”

Rafe snorted, unable to help himself. “Figures.”

You frowned, straightening up to give him a look. That look. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He shrugged, feigning innocence. “Nothing.”

“He’s busy,” you said defensively.

“Too busy for you?” he pushed, his tone dripping with faux concern. “That’s a shame. If you were mine, I’d make time.”

You gave him an unimpressed look, “I’m sure you would.”

“You don’t think I would?”

“I think you’ve already got your hands full with the cheerleading team.”

He liked to pretend you sounded jealous and not critical.

Rafe chuckled, the sound low and rumbling in his chest. “Cheerleaders are fun and all, but they’re not really my type.”

Okay, that was half a lie, but in his defense, he hadn’t slept with anyone on the cheer squad since sophomore year in college.

You raised an eyebrow, feigning disinterest as you adjusted the strap on his knee brace. “And what exactly is your type, Cameron?”

He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a flirtatious whisper. “Complicated. Smart. Gorgeous.”

You didn’t miss a beat, even as your pulse quickened. “So, basically the opposite of you?”

He grinned, like a stupidly in love sick puppy, unbothered by the jab. “Maybe that’s why I like you so much.”

You shook your head, trying to hide the smile threatening to break through. “You’re relentless, you know that?”

“Only when it comes to you,” he replied smoothly, his eyes locked on yours.

There was no denying the chemistry, no matter how hard you tried to ignore it. But you were with someone else, someone who, despite his flaws, you cared about.

Still, Rafe made it hard to remember why you were trying to resist in the first place.

“Rafe, we really should focus on your PT,” you chastised, trying to steer the conversation back to safer territory.

“Trust me, m’focusing,” he replied, his tone suggesting he wasn’t talking about his knee.

You rolled your eyes, standing up straighter to put some distance between you.

“Right. Well, you need to focus on this next exercise. We’re going to work on your range of motion.”

He sighed dramatically but didn’t argue, watching you with a lazy smile as you moved to demonstrate the exercise.

He couldn’t help but admire the way you carried yourself—confident, knowledgeable, and completely fucking beautiful.

It was a challenge, and Rafe Cameron loved a challenge.

As you guided his leg through the motion, your hands firm but gentle, he couldn’t resist pushing a little more. “You know, you never answered my question.”

“What question?” you asked, though you had a feeling you knew where this was going.

“What you’re doing this weekend.”

You glanced away, focusing on the movement of his knee, your fingers brushing against his skin as you adjusted the angle. “I’ll probably just catch up on some work. Maybe relax.”

“Sounds boring,” Rafe remarked, then adding most absolute out of pocket suggestion. “You should let me take you out.”

You looked up sharply, caught off guard by his directness. “Rafe, I’m—”

“Taken, I know,” he interrupted, biting his tongue not to add the unfortunately’. “But that doesn’t mean you can’t have a little fun, does it? Just as friends.”

“Just as friends?” you echoed skeptically, knowing full well what his idea of ‘just friends’ probably entailed.

Rafe shrugged, a smirk playing on his lips. “We could get dinner, maybe hit up a bar, talk about something other than my knee for once. It doesn’t have to be a big deal.”

“No.”

His smirk faltered, just for a second, before it came back stronger, more determined. He leaned back on the table, pretending to stretch as he tried to ignore how much your rejection hurt his feelings.

"No?" he echoed, as if the concept was foreign to him.

You crossed your arms, standing straighter. "No. We both know what you're trying to do, and it's not going to happen."

"And what exactly am I trying to do?" he asked, feigning innocence with a earth shattering smirk that told you he knew exactly what he was doing.

You rolled your eyes, refusing to get drawn into his game. "You know what. I’m here to help you with your injury, not to entertain whatever fantasy you’ve got going on."

"Who says it’s a fantasy?" he shot back, his voice lowering, taking on a more serious tone that caught you off guard. "Maybe I just want to get to know you better."

You paused, searching his face for any sign of sincerity. But he was hard to read when he wanted to be. "Rafe, you're a good guy, but—"

"Good guy?" he interrupted, raising an eyebrow. "I don’t think I’ve ever heard someone describe me like that."

"Fine," you conceded with a small smile. "Maybe ‘good’ is a stretch. But you’re not as bad as you want people to think."

Rafe’s smirk faded. It was a rare moment of vulnerability, and it made you hesitate, made you wonder if there was more to him than just the cocky, relentless flirt.

But before you could dwell on it, he was back to his usual self, flashing you that devil-may-care grin that made it hard to stay mad at him. "You know, I’d actually take that as a compliment if it came from anyone else."

"Don’t get too excited," you replied, trying to keep things light. "I still think you’re a pain in the ass."

"Yeah, but I’m your pain in the ass," he teased, stupidly blinking his lashes up at you.

You shook your head, unable to stop the laugh that bubbled up. "You really don’t give up, do you?"

"Not when it comes to something I want," he said, his voice dropping an octave.

"Cameron, this isn’t going to happen. I have a boyfriend."

He shrugged, unbothered. "And? You’re no fun. You’re trying to kill me, aren’t you?”

You handed him a water bottle, expression neutral. “You’re just out of shape.”

“Out of shape?” He looked at her, incredulous. “Do you see this body?”

You didn’t take the bait. “I see a guy who’s been slacking off on his conditioning.”

He laughed, low and warm, as he took a sip of water. “You’re tough. Tougher than most of the coaches I’ve had.”

You shrugged, as if it was no big deal. “Someone has to keep you in line.”

“Logan’s a lucky guy.”

The hockey world was small, and word got around, of course he knew his name.

“Logan’s great,” you said, a little too quickly.

Rafe nodded, his expression unreadable. “Yeah, I’m sure he is.”

He didn’t push it further, though. Instead, he fell back into his usual routine of teasing and flirting.

Every time you guided his leg through a stretch or adjusted the equipment, he found his mind wandering, imagining what it would be like if things were different. If he were the one you were coming home to after a long day, if he were the one you smiled at without that guarded look in your eyes.

But you were with Logan, and as much as he hated to admit it, Rafe wasn’t the kind of guy to cross that line. Not when you were clearly trying so hard to keep things professional between the two of you.

As the session wrapped up, you handed him his schedule for the next few days, “I’ll see you on Thursday. Make sure you keep up with the exercises over the next couple of days, and don’t overdo it.”

He took the paper from your hands, his fingers brushing against yours for the briefest of moments.

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll be good,” he muttered, more to himself than to you.

“Try to stay out of trouble, okay?”

“Can’t make any promises.”

He spent the weekend bored out of his mind, thinking about you—wondering if you were with Logan, if the guy was actually smart enough to know what he had.

He hated Logan more than he hated the pain in his knee.

The guy was too perfect, too dependable, too fucking boring. And he had been praying, in a way he wouldn’t admit to anyone, that something would happen—something that would make you see Logan for the jackass he really was. It wasn’t that he thought he was a better guy; he knew his own flaws better than anyone. But he also knew that he could make you happier, make you laugh harder, make you feel things that Logan never could.

So when you walked in late to the next session, he was ready to make a joke, to tease you about finally deciding to show up.

The words died on his lips when he saw you. You weren’t looking at him, not really, just muttering a half-hearted apology as you dropped your bag in the corner. But when you finally met his gaze, his chest did that stupid thing where it almost stopped. Not in a good way.

Your eyes were bloodshot red, the kind of red that came from hours of crying, from tears that wouldn’t stop no matter how hard you tried. You looked exhausted, like you hadn’t slept in days, and your usual spark was nowhere to be found.

His first instinct was to make a joke, to lighten the mood the way he always did, but he couldn’t. Not when you looked like that.

“Hey,” he said softly, his voice void of its usual cockiness. “You okay?”

You nodded, but it was the kind of nod that was meant to shut someone up, not because you actually meant it. You were far from okay.

“You’re late,” he said, his tone teasing, but even he could hear the concern underneath.

“I know, sorry,” you replied, your voice small, almost defeated.

Rafe frowned, his eyes narrowing as he studied you. This wasn’t like you. You were always so put together, so in control, and seeing you like this was…so unsettling.

“What happened?” he asked, more serious now, the joking tone completely gone.

You shook your head, avoiding his gaze as you busied yourself with the equipment, but Rafe wasn’t going to let it go that easily. Not when he could see the pain written all over your face.

“C’mon sweetheart, what’s going on?” he pressed, his voice soft but insistent. “Did something happen with Logan?”

The way you flinched at his name told him everything he needed to know.

Protectiveness instantly swelled inside him. He’d always thought Logan was too good to be true, but seeing you like this confirmed it.

“Did he hurt you?” His voice was low, a dangerous edge to it that he usually kept hidden from you, saved it for the ice. “Because if he did, I swear to God—”

“No,” you interrupted, your voice cracking as you finally looked at him, “I mean, yes, but… it’s not like that.”

His jaw clenched, his hands curling into fists at his sides. “What did he do?”

You hesitated, the words trapped in your throat as you tried to hold it together. But there was no point in pretending anymore, not when Rafe was looking at you like that—like he actually cared, like he was ready to go to war for you if that’s what it took.

“He cheated,” you finally whispered, your voice trembling as the tears you’d been holding back started to spill over. “I found out through a fucking DM on Instagram. Some girl… she just messaged me out of the blue and told me everything. And when I confronted him, he didn’t even deny it. He just—just said it wasn’t a big deal.”

Rafe’s vision blurred with red-hot anger. The kind of emotion he only felt when his team was being robbed by referees or losing.

He wanted to find Logan and beat the shit out of him for making you cry, for being stupid enough to let you go. But more than that, he wanted to make you feel better, to make the hurt go away, even if he didn’t know how.

“That fucking asshole,” He growled, his voice trembling with barely controlled rage. “I swear to God, I’ll—let me get on that ice and I’ll wipe the entire ring with his face.”

“Rafe, don’t,” you pleaded quickly, cutting him off. “It’s not worth it. He’s not worth it, okay?”

His heart twisted at the broken look in your eyes, the way your voice wavered as if you didn’t quite believe your own words.

“He’s not worth you,” Rafe rebutted, stepping closer, his anger replaced by something gentler, “You deserve better than that. Way better.”

You looked up at him, surprised by the sincerity in his voice. It wasn’t like him to be so serious. But here he was, looking at you like you were the most important person in the world, and it made you want to cry even more.

“I don’t know what I deserve anymore,” you admitted. He reached out, hesitating for just a second before he gently held your cheek, his thumb brushing away the tear that had finally escaped.

“You deserve someone who knows what they have when they have you,” he reassured you, his eyes locked on yours. “Someone who would never make you cry like this. Someone who would never, ever cheat on you.”

You swallowed hard, feeling a fresh wave of tears threatening to spill over at his words. “Rafe…”

“I’m serious,” he continued, not giving you a chance to doubt yourself again. “You’re… you’re amazing, you know that? Any guy would be lucky to have you, and Logan’s a fucking idiot for not seeing that.”

You shook your head, trying to keep it together, but it was no use.

You started to cry, the kind of deep, gut-wrenching sobs that you’d been holding in all weekend. And before you knew it, you were collapsing into his arms, letting him hold you as you cried, his arms strong and steady around you.

He didn’t say anything, didn’t try to shush you or tell you everything was going to be okay. He just held you, his hand slowly rubbing your back as you let it all out, crying into his chest until there were no more tears left.

When you finally pulled back, your face red and puffy from crying, you only uttered a small, “Thank you.”

Rafe nodded, his eyes practically glazed with love sickness as he looked down at you. “Anytime.”

And then, without thinking, you leaned up and pressed a soft, hesitant peck to his cheek, lingering for just a second before pulling away.

He blinked, a little stunned by the gesture, but before he could say anything, you stepped back.

“Do you mind if we reschedule for tomorrow?” you said quickly, your voice still shaky. “I’m not sure I-“

“Of course not.”

You breathed out in relief, “Thank you again. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He wanted to tell you to stay, to tell you that it was okay to not be okay, that you didn’t have to face this alone.

But he knew you needed space, needed time to process everything that had happened. He could wait. He’d wait forever for you.

“Yeah,” he said softly, nodding as you turned to leave. “Tomorrow.”

He wanted to be there for you, to be the one you turned to when everything fell apart. But more than that, he wanted to be the one to put you back together again, to show you that not all guys were like Logan—that he wasn’t like Logan.

And as you disappeared down the hallway, he made a silent promise to himself: he was going to make you see that. No matter what it took.

The weeks passed, each session with Rafe seamlessly flowing into the next. What started as this totally professional thing, strictly business, slowly morphed into something way more personal. His cocky jokes and playful banter had shifted into these deep conversations that actually mattered, and somewhere along the way, you found yourself getting closer to him than you ever expected.

Rafe’s knee had healed remarkably well, and now the day had arrived: his first game back on the ice.

As it drew near, a strange sense of anxiety started to mess with your head. Your life had become so closely tied to Rafe’s recovery over the past few months that the thought of him no longer needing your help—or your company—left you with an unsettling emptiness.

You were going to miss him.

You had prepared yourself for the possibility that he might distance himself once he was back on the ice. After all, athletes had their own lives, their own routines, and you were just the therapist who had helped him get to this point.

But when he invited you to his first game, the gesture came as a welcome. Whether you wanted to admit it or not, he’d slowly lurked his way into your heart.

It was after a particularly intense session, where you’d pushed him harder than ever before, that he brought it up. You were finishing up, wiping down the equipment while he caught his breath, stretching out his legs on the bench.

“Y’know sweetheart,” Rafe started, his voice casual but with a hint of something more in it, “I’ve got my first game back tomorrow night.”

You looked up, catching the not so subtle excitement in his tone.

“Yeah, I’ve heard. You must be excited.”

“Nervous as hell, more like it.” He chuckled, running a hand through his hair, “It’s been a long time coming. A lot of pressure to perform, y’know?”

You nodded, understanding him. You’d seen how hard he’d worked, how much this comeback meant to him. “You’ll do great, Cameron. You’re more than ready.”

He smiled at that, but there was something else in his expression, something hesitant. “I was thinking…maybe you could come. To the game, I mean. It’d be nice to have someone there who’s seen the whole process, who knows what it took to get back on that ice.”

You felt a warmth spread through your chest. It wasn’t just the invitation—it was what it represented. He didn’t just see you as the therapist who’d helped him heal.

He saw you as someone important, someone he wanted by his side as he took this next step. A friend maybe.

“I’d love to, Rafe. I wouldn’t miss it for anything.”

Relief washed over his face, followed by a grin that was equal parts gratitude and something else— “Good,” he said, his voice quieter now, “because I’d hate for you to miss it. You’ve been a big part of this, more than you know.”

Your heart fluttered at his words, and you found yourself blushing under his gaze.

“I’m just doing my job,” you shook your head, but the look in his eyes told you that he saw right through your attempt to downplay it.

“Yeah, well, I’m glad it’s you,” Rafe said, his voice earnest. “I don’t think I could’ve done this with anyone else.”

The sincerity in his voice, the way he looked at you made it hard to breathe. This was more than just an invitation to a game. This was him telling you, in his own way, that you mattered to him—that you were more than just his therapist, that you were someone he wanted to keep around.

“I’m glad it was me too,” you admitted, unable to keep your eyes away from his.

“Tomorrow night, then.”

“Tomorrow night.”

Now, as you sit in the stands, watching Rafe skate out onto the ice, you feel a nervous anticipation that has little to do with the game itself.

Just before the puck drops, Rafe catches your eye, giving you a confident wink that sends your heart racing like a school girl. He knows what this game means, not just for him, but for you as well.

Logan is there, playing on the opposite team. You haven’t seen him in exactly two months. Whatever feelings you had for him disappeared the moment you found out about his betrayal, but your ego still hurts like hell.

The energy in the arena is electric, a buzz that makes his blood hum with anticipation. His first game back, and the stakes couldn’t be higher—not just because of his injury, not just because it’s a rivalry match, but because Logan is on the other side of the ice. Rafe’s jaw clenches at the thought of that bastard, the memory of your tear-streaked face still fresh in his mind.

During warm-ups, he spotted Logan, skating like he didn’t have a care in the world, like he hadn’t just thrown away the best thing that ever happened to him. Rafe’s grip tightens on his stick, his knuckles white against the black tape. The rage simmering beneath his skin isn’t just about the game. It’s personal.

His focus is razor-sharp, every movement precise, every play calculated. But no matter how much he tries to concentrate on the game, his eyes keep drifting back to Logan, who skates circles around the ice like he owns it.

The first period passes without incident, but by the second, the tension is boiling over. Rafe feels it building, that need to do something, to break Logan’s face in half. He doesn’t just want to beat him; he wants to humiliate him, to knock that smug look off his face once and for all.

Then it happens.

Midway through the second period, Logan makes a hard hit on one of Rafe’s teammates, sending the guy crashing into the boards. The hit is clean, but it’s the arrogance in Logan’s smirk that pushes Rafe over the edge.

He doesn’t hesitate.

He skates straight at Logan, not bothering with any pretense. If Logan wants to play dirty, he is more than ready to play dirtier. Logan barely has time to react before Rafe drops his gloves, his intent crystal clear.

“You think you can just get away with that?” He snarls, his voice low and menacing as he shoves Logan hard in the chest, the force sending him stumbling back on his skates.

Logan’s eyes flash with surprise, quickly followed by anger. “What the hell’s your problem, Cameron?”

He doesn’t bother with a reply.

He swings, his fist connecting solidly with Logan’s jaw. The satisfying crunch of bone against bone is drowned out by the roar of the crowd, but Rafe doesn’t care. He’s been waiting for this moment, waiting to unleash all the pent-up anger and frustration that’s been eating away at him since the day you walked into that PT room with your heart shattered.

Logan staggers back, his expression twisting with fury. He recovers quickly, launching himself at Rafe with a wild swing, but Rafe is ready. He dodges the punch and counters with another one of his own, this time aiming for Logan’s ribs. He can feel the impact reverberate up his arm, but it’s not enough. He wants more.

“Come on!” He shouts, face red from all the pent-up anger simmering inside him. “Is that all you’ve fucking got?”

Logan grits his teeth, struggling to keep his balance. “You’re fucking crazy, Cameron!”

“You haven't seen shit," He spits back, landing another punch to Logan’s midsection. “But at least I know how to treat someone right.”

Logan’s eyes widen, the realization of what this is really about dawning on him. “This is about her? You’re seriously going to throw down over some girl?”

Rafe’s vision goes red at the mention of you, the casual way Logan dismisses you as “some girl.” He doesn’t care that he’s going too far, doesn’t care that the refs are probably going to break this up any second. All he cares about is making Logan feel a fraction of the pain he caused you.

“You don’t get to talk about her,” He growls, grabbing Logan by the collar and yanking him close. “You don’t even get to think about her.”

Logan tries to shove him off, but Rafe is relentless, landing punch after punch, each one fueled by the memory of you crying in his arms, by the way your voice trembled when you told him what Logan had done.

By now, the refs are on them, trying to pull Rafe away, but he isn’t finished. Not yet.

“You don’t deserve her,” He hisses through clenched teeth, his fist connecting with Logan’s face one last time before the refs finally manage to separate them. “You never did.”

Logan stumbles back, his face a bloody mess, and for a brief moment, he feels a little satisfaction. But it isn’t enough to stop the anger, the frustration, the overwhelming need to protect you from ever being hurt like that again.

He sits in the penalty box, his chest heaving as he tries to calm the adrenaline still pumping through his veins. He can barely hear the crowd over the sound of his own heartbeat, but he knows they’re going wild. The fight has been brutal, and he’s given Logan exactly what he deserved. But as the rush of the fight starts to fade, he starts to overthink: how will you react?

The game ends with a hard-fought win for his team, but the victory feels hollow. As his teammates celebrate on the ice, Rafe’s thoughts are miles away, fixated on you. What if you’re pissed? What if you think he’s overstepped?

After the final whistle, he makes his way to the locker room, his mind racing. He’s about to strip off his gear when he hears footsteps approaching, quick and determined. Before he can even turn around, the locker room door flies open, and there you are, marching straight toward him with a look on your face that he can’t quite read.

Shit. You’re mad.

“Hey, listen,” he starts, his voice low and uncertain as he holds up his hands in a gesture of peace. “I know that might’ve looked bad out there, but I swear—”

You don’t let him finish. Instead, you grab the front of his jersey and pull him down to your level, crashing your lips against his with a force that takes him completely off guard.

His mind goes blank as all he can focus on is the way your mouth moves against his. It’s like nothing he’s ever felt before—raw, heated, desperate.

His hands instantly find your waist, gripping tightly as he pulls you flush against him, the heat of your bodies mingling in the small space between you. Your kiss is wild, all tongues and teeth, and when you bite down on his bottom lip, hard enough to make him groan, he realizes this is real.

You’re kissing him.

“Fuck,” he gasps against your mouth, his voice ragged with need. But you don’t give him a chance to catch his breath, your hands threading through his hair as you deepen the kiss, your lips moving with a feverish intensity that makes his head spin.

You break away just long enough to breathe, your lips brushing against his as you whisper, “You’re such a fucking idiot.”

The way you say it, half-growled, half-breathed, sends a shiver down his spine, and he can’t help the sound that escapes him, somewhere between a moan and a groan. His grip on your waist tightens, his fingers digging into your skin as he fights to keep control, but you aren’t making it easy.

You press yourself even closer, your body flush against his as you kiss him again, harder this time, more demanding. Your tongue sweeps into his mouth, claiming him, and Rafe is more than happy to let you take the lead. He’s never felt anything like this before—this urgency, this hunger that makes him want to lose himself in you completely.

You tug on his hair, tilting his head back to give yourself better access, and Rafe nearly loses it right then and there. He can feel his self-control slipping, can feel the primal need to devour you taking over, but he doesn’t care. All he can think about is how badly he wants you, how desperately he needs to feel more of you.

When you pull back, your lips are swollen and glistening, your breathing just as ragged as his. You stare at him, your eyes dark with lust, and Rafe feels his heart hammering in his chest, each beat echoing with the desire pulsing through him.

“Been waiting for over an hour to do that,” you breathe.

Rafe’s hands roam up your back, tracing the curve of your spine as he leans in, brushing his lips against your ear. When he reaches the curve of your ass, he doesn’t stop. His fingers grip you there, kneading the soft flesh with a pressure that makes you gasp into his mouth, your hips instinctively pressing against his.

“Then do it again,” he murmurs, “Do whatever the hell you want to me.”

His hands are everywhere, sliding up your sides, his thumbs brushing the undersides of your breasts before moving back down to cup your ass again, pulling you even closer against him. You can feel him, hard and ready, pressing against your thigh, and it sends a wave of heat pooling low in your belly. You want him—more than you ever wanted anyone—and the way he’s looking at you tells you he feels the same.

Rafe lets out a low, almost guttural sound as you rock your hips against him, the pressure making him tighten his grip on you, holding you in place as he grounds himself against you. The sensation makes your breath hitch, a needy whimper escaping your lips that only spurs him on.

“Fucking idiot,” you whisper again, your voice rough with desire as you nip at his bottom lip, pulling it between your teeth before soothing the bite with your tongue.

His reaction is immediate. He groans, a sound so deep and full of need that it sends a shiver down your spine. His hands flex against you, his fingers digging into your flesh as if he’s trying not to loseg control completely.

But you can feel it—the way he’s trembling, the way his breath is coming in harsh, uneven pants against your neck. He kisses you again, hard and desperate, his mouth moving against yours with a fervor that matches the wild pounding of your heart

But just when you think you can’t take it any longer, the sound of footsteps echoes outside the door, snapping you both back to reality. You pull back, your chest heaving as you try to catch your breath, your mind spinning with the intensity of what had just happened. He’s just staring at you, his eyes glazed with desire, his lips swollen and red from your kisses. He looks as wrecked as you feel, and it takes everything in you not to drag him back down for more.

But you know you shouldn’t. Not here. Not now.

Except there’s no fucking way Rafe is letting you go now. He doesn’t say a word. His eyes lock onto yours, dark and filled with a raw need that makes your breath catch.

He doesn’t ask; doesn’t need to. He’s done waiting, done pretending he can hold back.

Without another word, he pulls you toward the locker room, his grip firm and unyielding as he leads you through the maze of benches and lockers. Your heart races as he pushes open the door to the showers, the sound of the water echoing off the tile walls. The room is empty, the air thick with steam, and the second you step inside, he’s pouncing on you. Clothes are gone in the blink of an eye.

He presses you up against the cold tile wall, his body flushes against yours as his lips find yours again, hands running over your wet skin. His mouth moves from your lips to your neck, his tongue tracing a path down to your collarbone as he kisses, licks, and nips at your sensitive skin. You whimper, fingers threading through his hair as he drops to his knees in front of you, his lips trailing down your stomach.

The sensation was overwhelming, the combination of the hot water and his hot mouth on your skin driving you insane. "If you don’t-" your voice trembles with need as he spreads your thighs apart, “Fuck.”

He looks up at you, “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

His hands grip your hips firmly. Without another word, he buries his face between your legs, his tongue flicking out to taste you. The sudden, intense pleasure makes you cry out, your hands clutching at his broad shoulders as he licks and sucks, his tongue working you over with a skill that leaves you gasping for breath. It’s not fair.

This man can’t possibly be real. The water splashes against your back, masking the sounds of your moans as he takes his time, driving you closer and closer to the edge with every swirl of his tongue. Your body trembles, your legs barely able to hold you up as he pushes you higher, his hands tightening on your hips as he holds you in place.

"Oh my god," you moan, your voice breaking as you feel the pleasure building to an unbearable peak. He doesn’t stop, doesn’t let up until you are crying out his name, your body shuddering as your orgasm crashes over you, your nails digging into his shoulders as the pleasure rips through you.

Rafe keeps his mouth on you, drawing out your release until you are trembling, your legs shaking as you struggle to catch your breath.

Truth is, he doesn’t want to stop. He can’t get enough now that he has finally gotten a taste. He stands back up, his hands running up your sides as he kisses you again, the taste of you still on his lips. You can feel him, hard and ready against your stomach, and it only drives you crazier. Of course, this man had to be fucking huge.

Without breaking the kiss, he spins you around, pressing you against the wall as his hands grip your hips, pulling them back slightly. You brace yourself against the tile, your body arching as you felt the head of his cock pressing against your entrance.

"Oh Rafe," you groan out his name, your voice low and needy and he growls softly in response, his breath hot against your ear as he slowly pushes inside you, filling you inch by inch until he is buried to the hilt.

Rafe nearly passes out from the sight. Watching himself disappear inside you has to be his favorite sight in the entire world.

“So fucking pretty.” The feeling of him stretching you, filling you completely, is almost too much to bear, and you let out a long, low moan as he begins to move, setting a slow, deliberate pace that drives you wild. The water cascades over your bodies as he thrusts into you, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he fucks you with a steady, unrelenting rhythm.

Each thrust pushes you harder against the wall, the cool tile a pleasing contrast to the heat between you. You can barely think, barely breathe, lost in the sensation of Rafe moving inside you, his cock hitting all the right spots with every thrust. The sound of the water mixed with the wet slap of skin against skin, your moans and gasps echoing off the walls as the pleasure built higher and higher, threatening to consume you.

"God, you feel so fucking good," He groans, his voice rough with desire as he leans over you, his lips brushing against your ear.

"Faster," you gasp, your voice pleading as you push back against him, needing more, needing everything. He doesn’t hesitate. His pace quickening, his thrusts coming harder and faster as he drives you both toward the edge. The intensity of it is overwhelming, every nerve in your body on fire as he fucks you with a raw, desperate need that matches your own. Just when you think you couldn’t take any more, you heard footsteps outside the shower, followed by a voice calling out.

"Cameron? You in here, man?" Rafe freezes, his body tense, his cock still buried deep inside you as he glances toward the door, his breath ragged.

"Yeah, I’m here," he calls back, trying to keep his voice steady, though you could hear the strain in it.

"We’re heading downtown to the bar. You coming?"

He looks down at you, all too pleased with himself, "Not tonight," he replies, his voice thick with lust. "Got something else to take care of."

There’s a pause, then a chuckle from the other side of the door. "Alright, man. Have fun."

The footsteps retreat, and the moment the door closes, he’s moving again, thrusting into you with a renewed urgency, the near-interruption only heightening the intensity of the moment. You moan loudly, your body quaking as he drives into you with a relentless rhythm, each thrust sending you spiraling closer and closer to another orgasm.

The combination of the heat, the steam, the feel of Rafe fucking you so hard is too much, the almost getting caught. You feel yourself losing it, your entire body tightening as you reach the edge once again.

"Come for me," He growls, his hands gripping your hips so tightly you are sure there will be bruises tomorrow. His words push you over, and you cry out as your orgasm tears through you, your body convulsing around him as the pleasure crashes over you in waves.

Rafe follows right behind you, his hips slamming into yours one last time as he comes, his body shuddering as he fills you to the brim with a low, guttural groan.

For a long moment, neither of you move, both of you panting, your bodies still trembling from the intensity of it all. The water continues to pour over you, washing away the evidence of your encounter as you slowly come down from the high.

Finally, he pulls out, turning you around to face him as he cups your face in his hands, his lips brushing softly against yours in a tender kiss that’s so different to the rough, desperate way he just fucked you.

"You’re a fucking idiot," you whisper against his lips, a small, breathless laugh escaping you.

He chuckles softly, his thumb brushing over your cheek as he looked down at you, drowning in affection. "Yeah, but I’m your fucking idiot."

He was fighting every fucking player on that ice ring if it meant having you again.

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe x reader #rafe cameron fluff #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron smut #rafe smut #rafe x you #rafe x y/n #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x female reader #hockey!rafe

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hughes-your-daddy · 3 months ago

Text

secret

pairing: luke hughes x fem reader

summary: your relationship is a secret to everyone, even luke’s brothers. but for how long will it last?

you walk through the corridors of the rink, the cold breeze leaking into the office area. you pull your athletic jacket tighter around yourself, hearing the echoes of pucks being slammed against boards, the laughter of the teammates echoing the arena.

you make quick work of weaving your way through the maze of corridors to the rink, stepping into the players bench to observe the practice. the players whip around the rink, starting to cool down and finish their morning practice as you come to collect your injured players.

they start to skate off the rink each saying a quick hi to you before one stops beside you.

“morning.” luke states, not turning to look at you.

“morning hughes.” you smile, keeping the same stance as him, not looking. you wait for the rest of the players to clear off the ice noticing one missing.

“no jack today?” you ask, turning to head to the physio room.

luke follows behind his skates clicking against the hard surface of the floors.

“oh uh, he told me to tell you that he bashed his shoulder last night so he just stayed home.” luke recounts as you stop mid walk, the taller walking into the back of you.

you turn, quickly becoming fave to face with luke, him looming over you.

“well hello.” he smirks before you push him away.

“1) not here 2) i need to see him if he’s hurt his shoulder. it’s not been that long since his surgery.” you huff before continuing to walk, luke hurrying to catch up with you.

he hurries falling into stride next to you this time before you lead him into the physio room, as he hops up onto the bed.

“right, pass off.” you say, turning to slide some gloves on and grab your stool. you slide over seeing him sat there a pout on his face.

“pads off luke.” you instruct, eyebrow going up as you wait.

“back hurts too much.” he shrugs trying to hide the smirk on his face. you sigh, shaking your head and sliding back over to your computer.

“well if it hurts that much i’ll have to take you out the game.” you tease, hiding your own smile before you hear frantic movement and head hitting the floor.

“you know what, it’s feeling a bit better now.” luke huffs out, as you turn back around to see his torso exposed now.

“thank you.” you smile before moving over to check out his back, “now be honest, how is it?” you ask, knowing how hard a hit he took the other week.

“getting better, just the same as last night.” he mumbles, turning over onto his stomach so you can examine it.

you think back to last night. back at your apartment, roommate out for the night, tangled in each others limbs, scratching his back. absolute bliss.

“hey, your working the game tonight right?” he asks, as you shrug.

“i don’t know, depends if i can get my school work done or not.” you sigh, pressing down on areas around his spine.

“i want you there, to meet quinn.” he sighs, looking up at you from the bed, snaking an arm around your waist.

“luke.” you sigh, knowing you shouldn’t be doing this at work, before you relax letting your fingers take through his wet curls.

“what if we told people? just the ones we want to know, doesn’t have to be a public thing.” he asks, moving onto his back, resting on his elbow to lift himself up, arm still around your waist, now drawing circles on your hip.

“maybe, i just-“ you pause, looking down at like seeing his puppy dog eyes, “maybe privately ok? i don’t want all eyes on me, luke hughes’s girlfriend.” you sigh, cupping his cheek with your palm.

you see a smile break out on his face, as he leans back into the bed. you shake your head at his antics before sliding over to your desk, fishing your apartment keys out your bag.

“here, head over to mine,” you smile, dropping the keys into his hands, seeing him almost shake with excitement. he’s said countless of times how much of a comfier bed you have than him and how great a pre game nap would be in there.

“really?” he asks, smile growing.

“yeh, head over. i’ll probs be about half an hour behind you,” you nod as he starts to get back up, picking up his head off the floor, “oh and luke?” you call out before he leaves.

he turns around a small smirk growing on his face.

“let ollie out for a wee will you when you get there?” you ask, seeing his smile drop. you giggle at his face before finishing with what he anted to hear.

“i love you.” you say quietly, luke being up a hand to blow you a kiss.

“love you more.” he smiles before leaving, you shaking your head to get out of your daze after that meeting with luke.

you finish up some paper work, marking in your calendar to reschedule with jack before packing up your stuff and heading out to the car.

you throw your bag into the backseat, before getting in and driving home, letting the radio play in the silence of your drive.

you head home, using your spare key to unlock the door, peering in seeing luke’s shoes and back by the door. you slip off your own trainers and walk through to the living room seeing luke’s suit laid out over the back of the couch meaning he’s definitely here somewhere and since there’s no noise, he’s most likely asleep.

you pull your hair out of your pony tail, waking though to your bedroom, slowly opening the door seeing a lump tucked under the covers with a small tuft of hair peeking out. you walk in further seeing ollie cuddled up right next to him.

the sound of you moving must wake him, cause he’s up and running over to you, tail wagging.

“hiya sweet boy, is lukey asleep?” you ask in your dog voice, bending down to scratch his ears before standing back up, quickly stripping of your clothes before climbing under, ollie settling at the bottom of the bed, as you move up close next to luke.

your heat, wakes him up, his arms wrapping around your waist, pulling you closer as he buries his head in your neck.

“hiya.” you whisper, luke responding by pressing a few soft kisses on your neck, “have you had any food?” you ask, feeling him nod, hair tickling your face.

“i ate on the way back.” he mumbles still very much half asleep. you breathe in in scent letting your own eyes drop, embracing his warmth. he rolls you over, so your on your back, his body covering yours with his head resting between your breasts.

“i love you, but if you want me at the game tonight i gotta do school work.” you sigh, knowing you’d rather be here.

“do you have to?” he whines, tightening his arms around you.

“do you want me there tonight?” you ask, his head popping up eyes wide.

“promise? if you do work you’ll come tonight?” he asks, a pout almost forming.

“promise.” you smile, as he pushes up to kiss you, lips melting together.

“ok, i’ll cuddle with ollie.” he smiles, letting you go as you stand up, sliding on some sweats and one of luke’s hoodies that he left last night.

“i’ll be quick,” you smile leaning down to press a kiss to the top of his curls hearing him hum in delight before heading through to the kitchen where you set up your laptop and work.

as promised you are as quick as possible in doing you work, but when you head back into the bedroom, you hear the shower running from your en-suite with the bed empty.

you smile walking over to ollie, as he rolls over onto his back on the bed, giving him some nellie rubs before getting under the covers yourself feeling the leftover warmth from luke once again breathing in his scent. you just yourself on your phone scrolling through tiktok a few about luke actually popping up.

the bathroom door swings open, causing you to look up, seeing luke standing there, towel around his waist.

“hiya baby.” he smiles, quickly coming over, pressing a kiss to your lips.

“mmh,” you giggle pushing him away, “your all wet.” you smile, causing him to let out a little laugh.

“i hope you don’t mind me showering here, i didn’t really want to head home. all the family will be there and that just freaks me out abit before games.” he sighs, quickly slipping on some underwear before dropping his towel, using it to dry off his curls.

“it’s ok, i’m gonna quickly hop in myself.” you smile, brushing past him but not before he pulls you back by the wrist and pulling you close, arms around your waist.

“i’m excited for you to meet them though, you sure your ok with it?” he asks and you nod, resting your chest against his chest to look up at him.

“i’m excited too, but right now i need to shower.” you smile pressing one last kiss to his lips before unravelling yourself from his arms and heading into the bathroom, quickly showering but not bothering to wash your hair as it will be tied up anyway.

you step out, wrapping a towel around your body and heading through into your bedroom, the warm steam following you through. you slide on some panties and a bra before dropping your towel, turning to your closet where luke is stood staring.

“hiya.” you grin, a small smirk playing on your face as he forgets about the tie hanging around his neck. he walks over to you, grabbing you by the waist crashing his lips onto yours.

“mmh,” he groans pulling away, “god, you’re beautiful.” he smiles a lovestruck look upon his face.

“and you,” you start, moving to knot his tie, “might get lucky if you score tonight.” you smirk, finishing his tie, tightening it slightly.

“imma score a hat trick for you.” he mumbles, pressing kisses all across your face. he keeps going, making you break out into giggles before you push him away, moving to get ready.

you just slide on some workout leggings with your devils team gear and slide on some trainers before walking out to the living room, where luke’s waiting on the couch.

“i thought you’d be gone by now.” your brows furrow as you move to pack some things into your bag.

“yeh uh,” he stands, nervously stuffing his hands into his pockets, “thought i could drive you, tonight. instead of taking two cars?” he asks, hesitantly, the tips of his ears turning slightly pink as he looks down at the floor.

“oh, um, yeh that’d be nice.” you smile, zipping up your bag to see him grinning ear to ear.

“yeh, ok, cool well, after you baby.” he says, grabbing his coffees d opening the front door, allowing you to walk through before he locks it with the same key you gave him from before.

“keep that yeh?” you say as he’s mid handing it over to you, his eyes go wide before softening with a soft smile as he slides it into his pocket, before taking your hand in his as yous head down to the parking lot.

you slide into his car, as he gets in to drive, the car ride to the arena not being too long. you let the radio play as you both sit in a comfortable silence, his hand on your thigh whilst yours tangles in his curls as he drives.

he pulls up to the arena, both of you flashing your passes for security before heading down into the parking lot, skipping any waiting fans for privacy.

“ok, give me your keys.” you say, holding a hand out as he looks over confused.

“why?” he asks, turning the car off once parked.

“we can’t walk in together and you need to go in now, i have time. i’ll lock the car.” you state simply as he complies dropping the keys into your hand before leaving over to kiss you.

“i love you, we’ll go out for some food after yeh? with the whole family.” he smiles about to he tout as you stop him.

“luke!” you shout, startling the boy, “i didn’t bring spare clothes.” you whine seeing him relax and laugh.

“baby, you look beautiful in anything ok? it’s nothing fancy. i’ll be in sweats probably ok? don’t worry.” he reassures you pressing one last kiss to your lips before leaving, sending you a quick wink over his shoulder before he enters the building.

you wait a few minutes ducking when any players walk past before getting out and locking the car, slipping his keys into your bag before heading inside, going straight to the office and dropping your stuff there before heading to the locker room to tape up the boys.

you enter, a few sending a quick hello your way before your going from boy to boy, taking up their bodies ready for the match tonight.

“ah y/n! how are you?” nico smiles as you make your way over, already turning to the side so you can tape his shoulder.

“i’m good nico, thanks. exciting game tonight huh?” you say, feeling the excitement radiate off of him.

“i can’t wait to play all the hughes, they’re a good bunch aren’t they?” he asks, as you finish the tale, turning to face you.

“yeh, they’re pretty good.” you smile before heading off, not before luke could send you a smile over his shoulder as he’s getting his pads and skates on.

you head back into the office grabbing your stuff ready for the game as you’re set on the bench tonight, meaning bring ready for any injuries that could appear.

you grab a few gauzes and a cloth, securing them in your small utility belt before heading out and surveying the crowd for tonight at the bench.

before you know it, the teams are heading out for warmups, each player having you a fist bump before hitting the ice. just as luke walks past you, you feel his hand linger on your shoulder a moment longer before stepping out onto the ice to begin his own warmups.

you smile at the gesture, not drawing too much attention to it as you were still in public.

warmup goes on for a hit before they finally come off and you prepare for the game.

they announce the starting lineup in the changing room before they’re back out, ready to play. you see jack up in a box, watching the game giving him a small wave which he returns before the puck drop.

the game starts quick, goals being scored by both the canucks and devils. you stand at the bench, arms cross focused on the game watching each player, making sure none of them were fighting an injury.

then it comes in the second half, luke racing down to his end trying to catch the puck with boeser and joshua on either side of him, sticks already getting tangled. joshua’s skate looses balance slightly, getting tangled with luke’s skate, sending him crashing down into the boards, followed by joshua and boeser.

a collective gasp comes from everyone in the stadium, players on the bench immediately standing up to see what’s happening.

you quickly move over to the door, waiting to see whether luke gets up or not. your heart pounds in your chest, breathing starting to pick up at the fact he could be hurt. you see boeser and joshua get up, while luke’s limp body stays on the ice.

you quickly rush over, game being stopped, kneeling next to luke where quinn already is.

you gently lean over him, seeing his eyes open meaning he’s awake thankfully.

“luke, what did you hit?” you ask, seeing his mouth move to open but nothing coming out.

“luke, you gotta speak.” you say more stern, while trying to move him into a better position.

“my back and neck, can’t feel my legs.” he gets out, teeth clenching in pain as you roll him onto his back. you move around to brace his neck with your hands as you signal to the bench for a stretcher.

“what’s happening?” quinn asks, face full of concern fr his youngest brother.

“he needs to go to the hospital and gets scan, we can’t risk anything with the spine and neck.” you say looking up to see quinn nodding his eyes slightly glossy.

“yeh ok, um,” he fumbles not knowing what to say, “hey luke, you gotta go to the hospital ok? but i’ll make sure everyone’s there ok?” quinn fumbles, gently patting luke’s stomach, taking a knee.

“i know, y/n just said.” luke mumbles, causing quinn to huff out a laugh, your cheeks reddening slightly.

a team rushed over with a stretcher. the team carefully roll him over, your hands still bracing his neck before they replace them with a proper brace.

they lift him onto the stretcher, your hand finding his shoulder as a small smile appears on his face, as you follow the team off the ice, quinn skating behind.

there’s stick taps and claps from around the arena, as the roll him off and into the corridors.

“which hospital is he going to?” quinn asks, following you.

“most likely st mary’s, do you want to ride in the ambumance with him?” you ask, being cut off by luke’s voice.

“no, y/n rides in the ambulance.” he says, hand gripping your wrist.

“yeh, ok, i will.” you say, reassuring him before turning to quinn.

“they’ll be grabbing your parents and jack now, so i’ll keep yous updated with what happens. i have jacks number.” you smile before quinn nods, heading off to which you assume is to find his parents.

they load him into the ambulance, you climbing in after him sitting in one of the seats, before the paramedic clicks him him place.

“hey y/n?” luke calls out, voice wavering.

“yeh like? i’m here.” you reassure him, leaning forward so he can see your face from where his head in braced in place.

“you’ll stay with me right?” he asks, and you see a small tear fall from his cheek, “i’m scared.” he admits, voice breaking slightly at the end.

you immediately reach forward grabbing his hand with yours the other moving to wipe his cheeks.

“i’ll stay with you the whole time i promise.” you send him a soft smile, hand lingering on his cheek as your fingers brushes it comfortingly.

“are my family coming?” he asks, grip tightening on your hand.

“yeh baby, they’ll be right behind us.” you say, thumb brushing over his knuckles.

the ride to the hospital is pretty quiet, the paramedic just moving around to check vitals and make sure luke is comfortable.

yous arrive, as they pull the stretcher into the hospital and you follow, hand on luke’s leg both of you needing that physical contact.

doctors crowd his bed as you lock eyes with one of your own friends.

“y/n? what are you doing here?” eden asks, moving around to check luke.

“he’s ones of the play-,” you start before looking to luke, rethinking your sentence. “he’s my boyfriend.” you smile at eden, as she looks up matching your smile.

“you know i love you y/n but your going to have to wait outside.” she says, a sad smile playing on her lips.

“please, please let her stay.” luke calls out, making eden stop her assessment. she looks between the two of you, before letting out a sigh.

“ok, you can stay. just don’t let anyone know.” she says to you, also warning the nurses.

you stand in the corner out the way as they carefully peel off his gear, allowing them to actually assess what’s going on. they take his vitals, check over his body ultimately deciding he needs some scans.

“ok, we’re gonna send him for an mri and an xray, it’s msg likely that any numbness is temporary as your getting that shoot to g pain up your leg,” she turns to luke as he nods. “we’re gonna keep the brace on for now just cause it will take around 10 minutes before we can get you through to get the scans done.” she smiles before the nurses start to leave the cubicle, leaving you and luke together.

you move over to stand next to him, taking his hand in me of yours the other pushing the curls off his forehead.

“you’re not allowed to look at me like that.” luke mumbles, eyes meeting yours as yo ur brows furrow.

“like what?” you ask, voice soft, fingers scratching his scalp.

“like your scared.” he whispers, moving his hand to wipe your cheek, as you hadn’t noticed a tear had fallen.

“i am scared luke, i feel like i’m totally responsible for this. like i sent you back on the ice too early.” you say, voice breaking slightly at the end.

“hey hey, no, don’t you dare say this is your fault,” his brows furrow as his grip tightens again in your hand.

“it’s was a nasty fall, skates got tangled, that’s all. it could have happened to anyone.” he says, brushing his thumb over the back of your hand, “but hey, at least i’ll see you every day for recovery plans.” he says, a soft smirk falling onto his lips as you drop his hand.

“if you weren’t injured right now, i’d push you.” you say, brows raised before they fall soft again, taking his hand in both of yours, leaning down to press a kiss to his forehead.

“i love you.” you whisper, lips brushing his skin.

“i love you too y/n.” he smiles before they take him way to get his scans.

you sit waiting in his cubicle lost in your own thoughts when your phone starts buzzing from your pocket. you quickly pull it out seeing jacks contact, quickly answering, knowing they’ll be waiting somewhere.

you quickly wipe your face and compose yourself a bit more before answering, pressing the phone to your ear.

“hey ja-“ you start, immediately being cut off

“y/n? what’s going on? where luke? is he ok? i saw it from the box he went down.” jack rambles, panic heard in his voice.

“jack, take a breath for me, can’t have two of you in the hospital,” you start hearing him take a shaky breath, “he’s doing fine. they’ve took him in for scans but they’re pretty sure any injury is just temporary so he’ll probably just need some recovery time maybe surgery.” you say hearing his breath doing more under control.

“yeh, ok. um, can we see him or?” he asks, hearing the others in the background.

“em, i’ll ask someone. i think once he’s back from the scans then they’ll put him in a room and then you’ll be able to see him. i’ll meet you guys though, don’t think i wanna be alone right now.” you say hearing him hesitate before speaking.

“yeh, we’re just in the waiting area.” he says before yous hang up, making your way through the corridors and following the signs to the waiting area, seeing his family and a few teammates, assuming the game had just finished by their wet hair.

“y/n!” jack calls out seeing you, coming straight over to give you a hug, one handed as the other is still in his sling, “hes ok right?” he whispers as you nod.

“doing fine.” you say, pulling away, seeing quinn and luke’s parents standing.

“mom, dad, quinn, this is y/n our team physician.” jack introduces you, each of them pulling you in for a hug, quinn lingering.

“your dating him aren’t you?” he whispers, as you pull away in shock, “i could tell by his reaction before about the ambulance.” he says sending a soft smile your way.

“wait, your dating luke?” jack asks, eyes wide as people’s attention starts to focus on you, “everything jake so much sense now.”

“yeh,i guess this isn’t how i wanted to officially meet the parents.” you say, looking down as you feel emotions come back up again.

“oh sweetie.” ellen smiles, pulling you back in for another hug, gently rubbing your back.

“no, i’m fine i promise. just overwhelmed.” you say taking a deep breath before pulling away, quickly wiping your face. she sits you down with the others as you explain everything.

yous wait a while before a nurse comes out, everyone straightening up slightly as she comes over.

“y/n l/n?” she calls out, everyone immediately looking at you, as your own brows furrow.

“oh, these are his parents.” you say gesturing over to ellen and jim.

“his emergency contact is listed as y/n l/n, i can only give information to you.” the nurse says, as you look to ellen and jim with an apologetic look, before ellen gently pats your back only a loving smile on her face.

“go, we’ll be there soon.” she smiles before you get up following the nurse.

“his scans have came back showing a herniated disc, which is good, but he’ll still need surgery to remove it, which is scheduled at 9pm, so you’re welcome to go see him now. he’s in room 304.” she smiles about to leave before your stop her.

“can his family come?” you ask and she nods.

“you can head up, i’ll bring them.” she smiles before you make your way to his room.

you peek inside seeing him now in a hospital gown, eyes fluttering open at the noise, a smile spreading across his face.

“hey baby.” he says, voice soft but a little raspy.

you linger by the door, struggling to take in the sight.

“baby, come here.” luke says, soft but stern, opening his arms. you move across the room, gently taking the hug, trying not to hurt him.

“talk to me.” luke whispers, hand gently stroking the back of your head.

“why am i your emergency contact?” you ask, feeling him tense slightly at the question.

“because i trust you with my life. eveyone else is either in the same profession as me or live in a different state. but mostly because i love you and you love me.” he finishes as you look up, his hand coming to caress your cheek.

“i do love you.” you mumble, a tear falling, as he wipes his kissing your forehead.

“i love you too baby.” he smiles before you pull away, sitting beside his bed and taking his hand in yours.

it’s a matter of minutes before there’s another knock, jack poking his head in as luke moves to pull his hand away, you stopping him.

“they know.” you mouth as he relaxes into the bed a soft smile spreading on his face as they filter in, taking a seat around his bed.

“you licked a good one luke.” jim smiles, gently patting him on the shoulder, as luke’s eyes travel over to yours, smile growing.

“i know dad.” he says, eyes never leaving yours.

teammates filter in and out checking up on him until it’s time for his surgery as he gets whisked away but not before you can give me one last kiss.

the surgery didn’t take too long but considering how late it was, his teammates headed home leaving you and his family in the waiting room, coffee in hand and small talk about how yous met and basically everything leading up to now.

soon enough he’s out and back in his room, where you find him very much still affected by the anaesthetic.

yous walk in, you at the back of the group like lighting up seeing his brothers and parents before sopping dead in his tracks at the sight of you.

“my baby!” he calls out, arms open, dramatically waiting for a hug, causing everyone to laugh.

“hiya luke.” you giggle accepting the hug, hearing him hum against your neck.

“you didn’t leave.” he mumbles and you nod.

“i promise you didn’t i?” you ask, pulling away seeing that goofy grin back in his face.

“yeh you did.”

#hockey x reader #jack hughes #luke hughes #hughes brothers #hockey #jack hughes x reader #luke hughes x reader #quinn hughes #quinn hughes fic #nhl #luke hughes fic #hospital #injury #hurt/comfort

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bueckers555 · 3 months ago

Note

girl where is pt.2 of pazzi 😐 it’s been 2 years atp 😔

SUMMER NIGHTS 2 — paige bueckers x reader x azzi fudd

summary: in which, paige and azzi act like you don’t exist. until their teammate doesn’t.

warnings: smut, oral sex (r and a receiving), strap on sex, spitting?, fingering

authors note: HERE DAMNNN no jk, LMAOAO honestly this has BEEN finished i just needed to edit it and i got lazy 😔 sorry frens hopefully this filth makes up for it

Summer flew by after that night.

The night you were starting to think you imagined.

Not just because it had been days and nothing of the sort had happened again, but because they acted as if it never had. No glances when you were in the same room. No acknowledgment at the dinner table. Not a single word spoken to you, which made the short drive to the ice cream parlor feel unbearably tense, though your parents remained oblivious.

It pissed you off more than you wanted to admit. Because admitting it stung would make it real. And you weren’t about to give them that much power. So all you had left to feel was anger.

But summer was winding down, and you’d be damned if you let them ruin the cabin you’d loved since before you could talk. You were going to soak up every last bit of sun, every jump into the river, every warm breeze before classes started again.

Paige and Azzi clearly felt the same way. The UConn girls had practically moved in, knowing their days of sleeping in until 1 PM, late-night Fortnite marathons, and raiding your fridge were numbered. Soon, it’d be 6 AM workouts, midterms, and press conferences every other day.

You didn’t mind, though. You loved the team—well, most of them. And they loved you.

They weren’t just Paige and Azzi’s teammates. They were your friends too.

That’s what you reminded yourself as you sat on the hood of your mom’s sleek black car, watching them play a heated game of 3v3 in the driveway. Your hibiscus-print tube top rode up slightly, and you tugged it back into place as you snorted at Ice, who was rolling her hands to call a turnover. Paige, naturally, argued—but to no avail.

“Aight, aight, I’m gassed. Imma get waters. Y’all want one?” Paige lifted the hem of her shirt to wipe a bead of sweat from her forehead.

Any other day, you would’ve let yourself gawk at the sight of her abs peeking through her sports bra, the way it hugged her body just right. You would’ve let yourself think about tracing your tongue down the defined lines of her stomach.

Not today.

Azzi followed Paige inside to help, and Caroline, Jana, KK, Sarah, and Aubrey stood off to the side, deep in conversation.

Ice, on the other hand, strolled right over to you, placing her hands on either side of your thighs where they rested on the car hood. She smirked, easy and confident. “Tryna play a lil’ one-on-one?”

You snorted, clamping a hand over your mouth as you shook your head. “I live with basketball players. That don’t make me one. I don’t even know how to shoot the damn ball.”

Ice tilted her head, unimpressed by your protest. “C’mon, then.” She nodded toward the court.

You hesitated but reluctantly slid off the car, brushing past her as you followed her onto the pavement. She gently passed you the ball, then stepped closer—too close, if the way your breath hitched was any indication.

“Alright, first lesson—hand placement. It’s important when you shoot.”

You glanced down at your awkward grip. Ice didn’t hesitate, wrapping her fingers around your wrist, adjusting one hand so it rested more to the side of the ball instead of on top. Her touch lingered as she shifted your other hand.

“One hand here,” she murmured, voice lower now. “And the other here.”

Her breath ghosted over your cheek, her fingers light but firm as they brushed over your knuckles. It was unnecessary—she could’ve just told you what to do. But she wasn’t in any rush to step back.

And maybe you weren’t in a rush to move either.

“Now, bend your knees a little,” she continued, her hands settling lightly on your waist—again, unnecessary. “Loosen up.”

You sucked in a sharp breath but followed her instruction.

Ice hummed in approval, her grip squeezing slightly. “There you go. Now, when you shoot, flick your wrist—” she guided your arm through the motion, her body pressing into your side as she did, “—like that.”

The ball left your fingertips, arching toward the hoop. It hit the rim, bouncing around before finally dropping through the net.

“Oh, shit.” You blinked in surprise. “I made it.”

“Damn right you did.” Ice grinned, her hands still on you. “Might have to start calling you a natural.”

As you smiled back, something made you glance toward the house.

Paige and Azzi were standing just outside, holding water bottles, watching.

Neither of them said a word.

Paige’s jaw was tight, her grip on the bottle firm, knuckles pressing against the plastic. Azzi’s eyes flicked between you and Ice, her expression full of amusement, but something sharp lingered in it. Neither spoke up. Neither intervened.

They just stood there. Seething.

Not that you cared.

Not after the way they’d spent all summer pretending you didn’t exist.

So you let yourself soak in the moment. Let yourself smile as Ice’s hands stayed firmly on your waist, let yourself feel the warmth of her body pressed close, let yourself enjoy the attention—the touch, the easy flirting, the way she looked at you like she wanted to keep teaching you all night.

If Paige and Azzi had a problem with it, well…

They should’ve thought about that before they spent the last couple of weeks ignoring you.

It was late, the cabin dimly lit by the glow of the TV. Coach Carter played in the background, but no one was really watching. The UConn girls were sprawled across the couches, already having fallen in deep sleep, surrounded by bowls of popcorn, Capri Sun packets, and scattered bags of chips and candy.

You sighed, shaking your head as you started picking up the mess. The parents were gone for the night, but if they came back to this disaster, there was no way they’d allow another sleepover.

You heard the soft patter of footsteps behind you but didn’t bother turning around. After spending twenty-two summers in this cabin with them, you could tell exactly who it was without looking.

“You don’t have to do that. Leave ‘em,” Azzi’s voice came from behind, low and casual.

You rolled your eyes. Now she wanted to talk to you?

“Well, someone has to. Don’t think Katie, Amy, or my mom would appreciate seeing the cabin they pay for trashed,” you muttered, placing the last of the bowls in the sink before turning to face her.

Azzi was leaning against the wall, arms crossed, head tilted ever-so-slightly as she looked you over. And not just looked—scanned.

Her tongue swiped across her bottom lip before she spoke. “C’mere.”

Your brows furrowed. “What?”

Azzi had known you long enough to know you’d never act first, so she closed the space between you herself, her hands planting on either side of the counter—like Ice had done earlier.

“That was cute,” she murmured, voice low. “The shit you pulled earlier. Me and Paige, now Ice?”

You barely heard her over the way your pulse pounded in your ears. Your eyes flickered to her lips as she gave a breathless laugh—like this was funny.

But the way she held your gaze told you it was anything but funny.

You mustered up a slow smile, one that felt more like a smirk. “She was teaching me how to shoot. Probably better than you two ever could.”

Azzi gave a humorless laugh, nodding slowly before she grabbed your hand and tugged you toward the stairs. You barely had time to react before she was pulling you into her room, the door clicking shut behind you.

Paige was already there, lounging in a chair like she’d been waiting.

“Took y’all long enough,” she muttered, standing up, stretching, towering over you.

Your instinct was to turn toward the door, but Azzi was already there, leaning against it, her dimples deepening with amusement.

“Wanna hear sum funny, Paige?”

Paige hummed, blue eyes locked onto you as she raked her fingers up your side—slow, deliberate, sending a shiver through you.

“She said Ice was teaching her how to shoot,” Azzi continued, her voice dripping with something you couldn’t quite place. “Better than we ever could.”

Paige snorted. Her hand dropped from your side, and you almost whined at the loss of contact but held firm, refusing to give her that satisfaction.

You crossed your arms. “You can’t just ignore me all summer and then—”

Paige cut you off with a scoff. “Fuck, you wear these tight-ass clothes, your ass damn near hanging out—for what?” Her eyes dragged over your tube top, the curve of your hips, your way too short shorts. “You like the attention? That what you’re looking for?”

Your blood boiled. “Fuck you, Paige.” Your voice was sharp, but your stomach tightened at the way she was looking at you. “Who the fuck are you to tell me what I can and can’t wear? Who I can and can’t talk to?”

Paige exhaled slowly, rubbing her jaw as she looked to the side, like she was trying to keep herself in check. You watched every movement—the way her brows furrowed, how her tongue poked at her cheek, how her lips parted slightly like she was on the verge of saying something reckless.

Like you were pushing it.

And she liked it.

Paige always had a way of making eye contact feel like a game you were destined to lose. It wasn’t just the deep blue of her irises or how sharp her gaze was—it was the way she always made you feel like she was one step ahead. Like she already knew how this would play out before you did.

Like she was just waiting for you to break.

“You wanna fix that mouth before we do?”

Your pulse pounded in your throat.

But you weren’t backing down.

You stared straight into her eyes, unwavering. “You’re a bitch.”

Paige’s lips twitched—like that’s exactly what she wanted to hear.

“Paige!”

You don’t know how much more you can take, have already taken. Her grip on your hips is hard as she snaps her hips forward, fucking you into oblivion.

Paige’s hand cracks against your ass—sharp, sudden—jolting you forward, your tongue sinking deeper into Azzi, a gasp muffled as your sensitive core throbs.

“Fuckkk,” you blubber, voice shaky, her strap sliding in—slow, thick—stretching you open, sinking deep into your gummy walls, a delicious burn rippling through, your moan swallowed by Azzi’s heat—your tongue flicking her bud, circling, tasting her, her thighs trembling, her grip tightening.

“Flirtin’ with Ice—like a little slut,” Paige mutters, voice rough silk, her hips rutting into you—steady, deep—each thrust sending your ass quivering, the bed groaning under her, her fingers digging into your hips—warm, possessive. Your tongue works Azzi—sucking her bud, dipping lower—her juices slick on your chin, her moans rising—soft, needy—her climax coiling tight. “No fuckin’ respect—gonna fuck it outta you.”

“Mmm,” you mumble, voice thick, lost in Azzi—your tongue lapping, eager—her hips grinding down, chasing it, her breath hitching—“Fuck—right there—gonna—” and she breaks, a trembling cry spilling out, her juices flooding your mouth, warm and sweet, her body shuddering as you lick her through it—slow, savoring. Paige keeps moving—deep, relentless—your core fluttering, a quiet wave cresting, your moan soft, your senses drowning in Azzi’s taste, Paige’s rhythm.

Azzi slides off—panting, flushed—kissing you quick, her tongue shoving its way past your lips and into your mouth, tasting herself on your lips, humming low.

Paige pulls out—slow—leaving you empty, aching, flipping you onto your back with a nudge, your legs splaying—quivering, slick—your core tender, begging silently.

She kneels between your thighs—her strap discarded now—her tongue darting out, flattening against your bud—slow, warm—coaxing a jolt, your hips bucking, a whine slipping free as she dives in, licking through your folds, tasting your juices—rich, needy—her hands pinning your thighs wide.

“Paige—oh fuck—” you gasp, voice trembling, your fingers tangling in her hair—tugging—her tongue swirling your clit, sucking soft—her moan vibrating your core, your gummy spot pulsing, overstimulated, tears pricking as she eats you like she’s starving, her eyes flicking up—dark, ravenous. Azzi’s beside you—watching, smirking—her fingers brushing your chest, teasing a nipple—light, electric—your stomach fluttering wild.

“Cryin’ already?” Azzi murmurs, voice a soft taunt, her hand sliding lower—rubbing your bud now—quick, precise—while Paige’s tongue dips deeper, lapping your juices, her lips sealing over your clit—sucking, coaxing—your core vibrating, a fresh wave building, tears spilling—pleasure, surrender—“No dignity—lettin’ us use you like this.” Her words hit hard, your body arching—needy, wrecked—Paige’s tongue relentless, your climax crashing—sharp, trembling—juices soaking her chin, your thighs shaking, a sob breaking free.

“Fuck—too much—” you whimper, voice raw, but Paige doesn’t stop—her tongue flicking faster—overstimulating, ruthless—Azzi’s fingers circling, teasing—your core clenching, tears streaming, your mind hazing, fucked stupid. Paige pulls back—panting, grinning—wiping her mouth, climbing up—missionary now—her strap sliding back in—deep, smooth—your legs hooking her waist, your nails raking her back—soft cries spilling as she ruts into you, hitting your gummy spot—slow, punishing.

“Imma fuck you stupid,” Paige growls, voice husky, her hips rolling—deep, deliberate—each thrust sending sparks, your bud throbbing, raw—Azzi leaning in—her lips brushing your ear—“No self-respect—spreadin’ for us after flirtin’ with her—pathetic.” Her hand slips between—rubbing your clit—light, fast—your core tightening, another wave swelling, your tears hot—pleasure curling tight, your bratty spark gone, melted into their hands.

“Fuck—sorry—” you sob, voice breaking, your core clenching—hot, desperate—Paige filling you, Azzi’s fingers working you—your third climax hitting—sharp, wet—juices gushing, soaking Paige’s strap, your thighs, the sheets—your body quaking, cries loud—submission wrapping you soft and warm. Paige slows—gentle, deep—kissing your jaw—sloppy, warm—easing you down.

“Still not done,” Azzi says, voice firm—sliding off—kneeling now—her head dipping between your thighs—her tongue tracing your folds—slow, savoring—tasting your mess, your bud swollen, sensitive—your hips jerking, a whine spilling as she licks—soft, then firm—coaxing another tremble, tears falling—“Fuck—Azzi—I can’t—”—but she doesn’t care, her lips sealing over your clit—sucking, humming—your core vibrating, wrecked.

“Take it—useless little slut,” Paige murmurs, her hand resting against your cheek. Her thumb trails down and parts your lips, dragging your lower lip down. She lowers herself down, a ball of spit slowly falling into your mouth before lets your lower lip go and chases it, her tongue in your mouth and you sucking on it hastily.

“Cry all you want—gonna fuck you dumb.” Azzi’s tongue dives deeper—lapping, sucking—your juices dripping, your gummy spot pulsing, overstimulated—your fourth wave crashing—soft, shattering—your sob loud—juices soaking her face, the bed—your body limp, trembling, fucked beyond thought.

They settle—Paige curling beside—her hand resting on your thigh—warm, grounding—Azzi climbing up—her arm draping over—soft, possessive—her lips brushing your cheek—tender, lingering. “No more Ice shit—got it?” Paige whispers, voice rough, her breath warm—Azzi humming agreement, her fingers tracing your ribs—light, soothing.

“Got it,” you mumble, voice hoarse—fucked out—your body spent, fluttering—juices everywhere, tears drying, their warmth holding you—your bratty fire snuffed, fucked stupid, theirs completely.

#uconnwbb #paige bueckers smut #paige bueckers x reader #paige bueckers #uconn wbb #azzi fudd #uconn #azzi fudd smut #azzi fudd x reader #wlw smut #smut #paige bueckers fic #azzi fudd fic

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gojoluvs · 1 year ago

Text

Break free

Minors do not interact.

Summary; Apparently, he's one of the hottest hockey players in the country, and you had just agreed to be his fake girlfriend. Satoru Gojo is hard not to notice. With his coy smirk and rock-hard abs, he's the cockiest of all the jocks.

Tags; satoru gojo x reader, hockey player au, figure skater x hockey player, college au, roommates au.

Warnings; 18+, fluff, angst, smut, college au, partying, drinking/alcohol, weed usage, romance, jealousy, pining, slow burn, enemies to lovers, cheating.

Notes; Taglist is open!! also this chapter is so short compared to my other fics since i rewrote this like 7 times and this was the one I liked the most..

3.5k words

masterlist! ⤏ next chapter

The sound of ice being scraped by the skates of the hockey players filled your ears, making you cringe at the unpleasant noise.

Crossing your arms, you watched as they skillfully passed the puck to each other, determined not to let the opposing team take control.

You hated hockey, and it wasn't just because of the sport itself. It was the type of men who played it - cocky, entitled, and overly aggressive. Every time you came to the rink after their practice, you would find the ice in terrible condition, thanks to the rough way they played.

The University of Tokyo was notorious for its hockey team, and not in a good way. The players were known for their douchey attitudes and their reputation as "fuck boys." As you watched them play, you couldn't help but notice their ridiculously attractive appearances. It was almost as if the only requirement to join the team was to be a 6-foot-tall, handsome guy. Despite their looks, you couldn't stand them.

You sat next to your friend in the cold arena, her eyes glued to the fast-paced hockey game unfolding in front of you. She munched on her popcorn, a smile spread on her face as she yelled your friend's name, "Go Yuji!!" You couldn't help but laugh at her enthusiasm, even though you weren't a fan of hockey yourself. Suddenly, she exclaimed and started choking on her popcorn, causing you to quickly pat her back and make sure she was okay.

As you looked back at the game, your eyes narrowed at one of the hockey boys who had stopped full speed and scraped the ice so badly it made you cringe. This was one of the reasons why you hated coming to these games - the roughness of the players and the damage they caused to the ice rink. The poor ice rink didn't deserve such treatment. Wondering what the ice rink did to deserve this.

You couldn't help but feel a sense of annoyance as the game went on, the constant yelling and cheering from the crowd only adding to the chaos.

The fans roared with excitement as one of the Hockey boys received the puck, deftly dribbling past the defender with ease. As he stopped momentarily, a wide smile spread across his face before he swiftly went left, skillfully dodging the goalie and scoring a goal for his team.

The crowd erupted into cheers as the score changed from 1-2 to 1-3, with Nobara screaming and spilling her popcorn in excitement. She saw Yuji skate towards her, a grin on his face. "Next one's for you, Kugisaki!" he shouted, before skating back to his original position.

As the team huddled up before getting off the ice rink, you couldn't help but feel bored. Hockey was never your cup of tea, despite your father being a huge fan and dragging you to countless games as a child. But as you watched the boys high-five and congratulate each other, you couldn't help but feel a sense of camaraderie and team spirit in the air.

The energy in the stadium was infectious, and even though you weren't a fan of the sport, you couldn't deny the sense of excitement and unity that filled the air. As the second half began, you settled back into your seat.

Nobara looked at you with a small smirk on her lips as you both sat in the stands, watching the hockey game below. The arena was buzzing with excitement as the home team took on their rivals.

Nobara noticed your gaze and nudged you, "So Y/N, what about that one?" She pointed towards a tall blonde man, his hair disheveled and stuck to his forehead from the sweat buildup on his helmet. As he lifted his jersey to wipe his forehead, the "puck bunnies" in the stands went wild at the sight of his chiseled abs.

You shrugged and replied, "No thanks, not looking right now." You grabbed your bag and took out your phone, snapping some pictures of the action on the ice.

Nobara pouted and scooched closer to you, placing a hand on your shoulder and shaking it. "Don't be like that, Y/N. You have to get over Toji soon." She was referring to your recent breakup with your long-term boyfriend, who happened to be a hockey player on this very team.

You sighed and leaned your head against Nobara's shoulder, taking in the energy of the game and the cheers from the crowd. Despite your best efforts, you couldn't help but feel a pang of longing for the excitement and passion that came with being in a relationship with someone like Toji.

You couldn't help but feel a pang of nostalgia as you watched Toji, the man who you used to love before he cheated on you with some random sorority chick, interact with his teammates. You remembered how much you used to admire his skills on the ice and how he always seemed to effortlessly lead his team to victory. But as you watched him now, you couldn't help but feel a sense of bitterness towards him. You were still hurt by the way he had treated you, but at the same time, you couldn't deny the fact that he had genuinely treated you well at some point.

As you continued to watch him, you couldn't help but wonder how things would have turned out if he hadn't cheated on you. Maybe you would still be together, cheering him on from the stands. But now, you were just another face in the crowd, trying to hide your emotions as you watched your ex move on with his life.

Kugisaki, your best friend, noticed your gaze and followed it to Toji. She let out a sigh, knowing all too well about your past with him. But she didn't say anything, just letting you take a moment to yourself.

Toji Zenin, a living legend in Utokyo. He was the captain of the hockey team before being demoted due to the fact that he was the reason why the ice rink was broken during your freshman year. He may have been just a year older than you, but he seemed so mature and confident on the ice. That was one of the reasons why you had fallen for him in the first place. But now, as you watched him interact with his teammates, you couldn't help but see him in a different light. He was just another guy, no longer the perfect image you had created in your mind. And although it hurt, you knew it was time to move on and let go of the past.

You remember the day you met him like it was yesterday, sneaking into the ice rink to practice late at night. You were startled when he caught you, but instead of getting angry or telling on you, he just teased you and then let you go. He was the man who showed you what love was, and you were grateful for his presence in your life.

He was the reason you continued your skating career, the one who motivated you to finish tryouts even when you wanted to give up. And now, as you looked at your calendar and saw the upcoming final, you couldn't help but feel overwhelmed. Just 20 more minutes until the game was over, and you could finally go home and take your mind off of everything. But for now, you couldn't tear your eyes away from the man who had once meant everything to you, and still held a special place in your heart.

You were supposed to be studying for your midterm in sports medicine, but here you are, stuck at a hockey game. The players were fiercely competing, their skates gliding across the ice as they chased after the puck. The sound of sticks hitting the ice echoed through the arena, and the cheers of the crowd filled the air. Suddenly, the referee blew his whistle and signaled a roughing penalty, causing the crowd to boo in disagreement. You couldn't help but feel annoyed at the interruption, wishing you were back at home studying instead.

But you knew you couldn't just get up and leave without your friend Nobara dragging you back in. Sighing, you resigned yourself to staying for the rest of the game, trying your best to enjoy it despite the looming thought of your midterm.

One of the players had gotten up from the ice and was now furiously cussing out the referee. His white hair stuck out in all directions, his angry words audible through the mic attached to his helmet. You knew instantly who it was - Satoru Gojo, the star of the hockey team and the most popular guy on campus. Girls flocked to him like "puck bunnies," as they called it in hockey slang. But to you, he was just the man you absolutely despised.

Growing up, you had always been in the same social circles because your parents were close friends. Your father and Satoru's both shared a love for hockey, so you were constantly in the same presence as him. And it seemed like he was good at everything he did - sports, academics, socializing. It was infuriating. As you watched him being escorted to the penalty box, a scowl immediately replaced the look on your face. Satoru Gojo was the last person you wanted to see.

The enemy hockey team slammed into the glass, right where you were sitting, causing it to shake. The sound of their bodies colliding with the glass was loud and jarring. Nobara, who was sitting next to you, looked both amused and thrilled by the intense action happening on the ice. One of the players fell to the ground, but he quickly got back up and flashed a smile at Nobara before returning to the game.

You couldn't help but notice her blushing and giggled at her reaction. "I'm definitely coming to their next game if this is my view," she said, fixing her hair and staring back at the player.

The game continued, the energy in the arena was palpable. The coaches and fans were yelling and cheering, urging the Utokyo team on as they made their way back to the goal. You could feel the intensity building as the clock ticked down to the final seconds. And then, with a swift and powerful shot, the Utokyo team scored another goal, solidifying their victory with a final score of 4-1.

The iconic music of the game began to play, the Utokyo hockey team skated onto the ice, their sharp blades slicing through the smooth surface with ease. Each player had a look of fierce determination on their face, and you could feel the excitement building in the air. As they reached the center of the rink, they gracefully removed their helmets, revealing their sweaty, yet glowing faces.

The girls in the audience erupted into screams and cheers, their excitement and admiration for the team palpable. You couldn't help but feel a surge of adrenaline as you watched the team prepare for the game ahead. Their strong and confident presence was enough to make you believe that they were the best hockey team in the world.

Grabbing your things, you followed Nobara to the front of the gymnasium where everyone was eagerly waiting for the hockey teams to come out. Tapping your foot impatiently, you scanned the crowded room, trying to find your ex among the sea of faces. "When is Yuji coming?" you asked, crossing your arms in frustration.

Nobara rolled her eyes before interlocking arms with you. "He's coming soon, now help me look for that hot hockey player we saw earlier," she said, a mischievous glint in her eyes. Just then, the Kyoto boys walked in, some of them looking dejected and others trying to hide their disappointment after being defeated.

But your attention was immediately drawn to the tall, handsome guy who walked in, laughing at some joke his friend had said. He had a confident stride and a charming smile that caught everyone's attention. Your eyes widened as you realized it was the same guy Nobara had been drooling over earlier. And it seemed like she wasn't the only one, as you saw several girls in the crowd blushing and giggling.

As he made his way towards the group of girls, your heart raced in anticipation. You could see Nobara practically melting as he locked eyes with her and walked up to her. They both looked nervous, fidgeting with whatever they could find in their hands. But before you could even process what was happening, he left with her number and an invitation to one of the parties she was throwing later that weekend.

You were tired and hungry, and all you wanted to do was go home and rest. But you knew how much Yuji loved playing hockey and how important it was to him, so you waited patiently.

Finally, after what felt like hours, Yuji emerged from the locker room with a huge grin on his face. His hair was a mess and he was drenched in sweat, but he looked incredibly happy. He immediately ran over to you and gave you a tight hug, causing you to wrinkle your nose at his sweaty smell.

"You reek of sweat," you said, playfully pushing him away before he could hug your friend Nobara.

"Nice to see you too, Y/N," Yuji replied with a chuckle, his light brown eyes sparkling with mischief. You couldn't help but smile at him. He was like a little brother to you, and you were proud of him for pursuing his passion for hockey.

Ruffling his hair, you couldn't help but praise him for his performance on the ice. "I saw your shot, good job," you said, a genuine smile on your face. Yuji beamed with pride, and you knew that your words meant a lot to him. Despite the fatigue and hunger you were feeling, seeing Yuji's happiness made it all worth it.

His eyes glistened with excitement and his cheeks flushed with a rosy tint as he listened to you compliment him. You couldn't help but giggle at his reaction, finding it endearing and cute. But before you could say anything else, your attention was caught by a certain someone sprinting towards you, looking like he was silently cursing to himself. It was your neighbor , and he seemed to be in a rush.

He came close to you and let out a sigh of relief as he reached you. "I'm stealing her real quick," he said, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

You raised an eyebrow in confusion, but before you could question him, he grabbed your body and pulled you close. Leaning his arm against your body, he whispered into your ear, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine. "Just go along with it, okay?" he said, propping back up with a smirk on his face.

You turned to look at the white-haired male, opening your mouth to say something before being interrupted by the sound of his mother's voice. She let out a loud squeal once she saw the two of you, quickly hitting her husband's arm before coming close to you with a warm smile on her face. "I always knew you two would end up together," she exclaimed, causing you to blush and your friend to avoid your gaze because he knew you would be furious with him for this stunt.

"Y/N, I'm so glad! I've always wanted another girl in my family, besides my baby girl now," she said with a bright smile as her husband propped up Satoru's baby sister. You couldn't help but smile at the adorable sight of the 4-year-old girl with her white hair tied into two small ponytails and her face covered in chocolate.

"I'm glad to be a part of the family," you replied, placing your hand on the back of Satoru before pinching his back, making him wince. "I'm going to invite your family to dinner tomorrow! We haven't had a get-together in years... We definitely have a reason to have one now." She covered her mouth before giggling, and you couldn't help but feel a slight sense of dread at the mention of your family coming over for dinner.

Excusing herself, his mom walked away with her husband and child, leaving you and Satoru alone. You could feel the anger radiating off of you as you stared at him, if looks could kill, Satoru would have been dead long ago.

"You told your parents we were together...?" you asked, your voice dripping with disbelief and rage. Satoru's face fell, knowing he had made a grave mistake. He tried to explain himself, but you cut him off with a smack to the head.

"You're kidding me, right?" you scoffed, crossing your arms and raising an eyebrow at him. He looked like a child being scolded by his parents, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of satisfaction at that.

"Uh, about that," Satoru started, a sheepish smile on his face as he scratched his head. Before he could say anything else, you stormed away, pushing open the gymnasium doors and striding towards the parking lot.

This is dangerous. So fucking dangerous, playing this game with you. You know that getting involved with someone like Satoru is a recipe for disaster. He's charming and confident, but you've seen the way he treats women. He'll use them for his own amusement and then discard them without a second thought.

“What if I pay you to date me?” He asks with a mischievous glint in his eye, watching as you stomp towards the parking lot, completely ignoring his request.

“No,” you say firmly, not even turning to look at him.

“But I got plenty,” he says, following close behind you.

“Don't care,” you reply, your tone laced with annoyance.

“All right, so it’s obvious you’re not interested in money,” he muses, as if you haven't spoken. “Has to be something else then.” He pauses for a moment, deep in thought. “Booze? Weed?” he suggests, trying to find something that might interest you.

“No, and no, and get lost,” you say, your voice dripping with sarcasm.

He continues to follow you as you walk towards your car, his footsteps matching yours on the sidewalk. “Okay then. I guess you’re not into party favors,” he teases, a hint of a smirk on his lips.

"How about a date?" he offers, leaning against the doorway of your car.

You roll your eyes, trying to ignore the smug look on his face. "Why would I want to go out with you, the most arrogant and obnoxious guy on campus?"

"Because I'm charming, handsome, and irresistible," he grins, winking at you.

You scoff, not buying his ridiculous act. "Yeah, keep dreaming, Mr. Hotshot Hockey Player."

He laughs, clearly enjoying your banter. "Come on, just one date. I promise to behave."

You shake your head, crossing your arms over your chest. "No way. I have better things to do with my time."

"Like what? Study?" he teases, raising an eyebrow.

"At least I have priorities," you retort, trying to hide the hint of a smile on your face.

"Fine, be that way. But just know, everyone wants to go out with me," he says cockily, flashing you a dazzling smile.

You can't help but laugh at his confidence. "Just out of curiosity, after you wake up in the morning, do you admire yourself in the mirror for one hour or more?”

"Two," he replies without hesitation, causing you to burst out laughing.

"Do you high five yourself and talk yourself up?" you ask, unable to resist teasing him further.

"Of course not," he smirks. "I kiss each of my biceps and then point to the mirror and thank my old man for creating such a perfect male specimen."

You shake your head, trying not to smile at his ridiculousness. "No thanks, I'll pass on that date.

"Three months." He mutters, his voice confident and determined.

"Three months and if I don't convince my parents or get Naomi back, I promise I won't ever bother you or contact you ever again." He sticks out his chest confidently, smirking at you as if he knows he's already won.

"Three months?" you ask incredulously, your voice laced with disbelief. "Seriously? Three months is too much," you say, pursing your lips before letting out a heavy sigh. Three months of pretending to be in a fake relationship with him just to make his ex jealous.

"You're my only option." He pleads, his eyes boring into yours.

"Incorrect." You scoff, crossing your arms over your chest. "There are plenty of other women out there who would be more than willing to help you make your ex jealous." You wanted to say no, to turn him down and drive away.

"You're right, but she hates you the most." He says, his voice barely above a whisper. You hated him so damn much, but you couldn't deny the fact that you were intrigued by him.

There was something about him that drew you in, that made you want to know more.

You couldn't believe it. You thought this kind of shit only happened in movies, in books, or in some ridiculous fan-fiction.

But no, this was reality and the touch of his hand squeezing yours made you realize just how utterly fucked you were. You tried to laugh it off, thinking he was just playing some sick joke the hockey guys told him to do. But when you saw the serious look on his face, you knew he wasn't joking. He didn't even have a glint of mischief in his eyes, just pure determination. Your heart raced and your palms started to sweat as he shook your hand, his strong grip making you feel like a limp noodle.

You could feel the pulse in your ears as he squeezed your hand. But as you stood there, feeling like a deer caught in headlights, all you could think was, "Fuck."

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