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43luv · 3 days ago

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𝓢𝐩𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝓤𝐧𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐧

𐙚 fic ; in which matthew regrets the things he said and the things he didn’t say . . .

𝒇𝒆𝒂𝒕. matthew tkachuk x fem!reader 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒕. slightly toxic fwb. little angst. fluff. hurt to comfort. 𝒙𝒐 𝒄𝒂𝒎𝒊. tried writing for someone new😽 this is kind of set as last playoff season? also not trying to romanticize injuries, just putting it out there. as always reblogs and feedback is appreciated and I hope you liked it <3

You wince as you watch Matthew get pounded into the boards for what seems to be the twentieth time tonight.

One hand goes to cover your mouth and the other gets gripped by Taryn, her tight grip surely meant to comfort and ease the ball of anxiety currently building in the pit of your stomach, but it only builds and builds as Matty takes a bit longer than usual to get back to his feet.

“He’s okay,” Brady whispers, bumping his shoulder into yours and you briefly wonder if those words comforted him more than they were meant to comfort you, so even though you didn’t fully believe them, you send Brady a small, thankful smile in response.

When you first met Matthew at a mutual friend’s birthday party you had no idea who he was. Growing up in Florida with a dad who was obsessed with football, hockey was never something you were exposed to and thus had no idea what he did for a living. And it’s not that you didn’t like the sport or found it entertaining, because you did and you could see why Matthew and the rest of his family loved it so much.

But seeing Matthew get targeted, fans in the stands cheering while he was struggling to regain his footing made you physically ill, and all you could do was clutch your stomach and hope he wasn’t too banged up.

Florida ends up losing and that puts an even more bitter feeling in your gut, knowing Matty took a beating tonight and it didn’t even pay off.

You fiddle with the charm bracelet on your wrist while you wait with his family for him to come out of the locker room, an anxious pit in your stomach, not knowing if he is gonna want to see you after a game like that.

The anxiety melts away the second he steps out of the locker room and makes his way over to you, not even glancing at anyone else as he pulls you into his arms, head resting in the familiar spot between your head and shoulder.

You swallow hard when the butterflies in your stomach threaten to make their way up your throat as Matty kisses your cheek, hugging you again and mumbling, “Thanks for coming.”

You try to get a hold of your thoughts while he greets his family, never straying far enough away from you to be out of reach. You weren’t sure in what category to place him anymore. He didn’t quite fit the “just friends” box, nor the boyfriend box, but somehow over the past few months that you’ve gotten to know him, he’s become your closest friend and one of your favourite people.

Always the first one to celebrate with you when something good happens, or comfort you when something bad happens. You can’t even remember what your life was like before you had Matty in it.

“Do you guys mind if we skip out on dinner tonight? I know we had reservations but I’m beat and I honestly just wanna pass out,” Matthew says, his words directed at his family as he pulls you closer to his side again, making it clear when he said ‘we’ he was talking about you and him.

Taryn smirks knowingly and waves him off. “Yeah, yeah, go sleep it off, Matty. We’ll see you tomorrow.” His mom gives him a quick once-over, eyes scanning for any injuries he might be downplaying, but she just sighs and nods, clearly used to this by now.

Brady, on the other hand, raises an eyebrow at you, a teasing glint in his eye that makes your cheeks heat up. You just glance away before swallowing the lump in your throat, offering his family a soft smile before bidding them goodnight.

Matthew doesn’t waste another second, his arm tightening around your shoulders as he starts guiding you toward the exit. Your heart is pounding, and you’re not sure if it’s from the game, the weight of his body pressed into yours, or the way he keeps stealing little glances at you like he’s making sure you’re still there.

The drive back to his place is quiet, save for the low hum of the radio and the occasional deep sigh from Matthew. His hand stays on your thigh, warm and grounding, and every so often his thumb brushes over your skin in a way that makes you hyper aware of every breath you take.

“You staying at mine tonight or do you want me to take you home?” he asks, and you hesitate for a moment before agreeing to stay at his.

Once you guys get inside his house, he drops his bag by the door and toes off his shoes with a groan. “I’m so fucking sore,” he mutters, rolling his shoulders before flopping onto the couch with a heavy sigh.

You hover awkwardly for a second, unsure if you should try to touch him or not, but then Matthew pats the empty spot next to him, his eyes soft and tired. “C’mere.”

You hesitate only for a moment before sinking down beside him. He wastes no time wrapping an arm around you, pulling you in close, and resting his head against yours. Your throat restricts slightly when you rest your head on his chest and notice the way his breath hitches every so often, as if he’s in pain by just breathing.

“Did you see the trainer before you left?” you ask softly, almost afraid of the answer.

“No. I’ll uh — see how I feel tomorrow morning and then maybe give them a call” he says and the frown immediately appears between your brows

“Matty,” you sigh, lifting your head to look at him. “You can’t keep doing this. You need to take better care of yourself.”

His eyes flicker with something—annoyance, maybe exhaustion—but he doesn’t meet your gaze. “I’m fine,” he mutters, shifting slightly as if to prove it, but the wince that follows betrays him.

You sit up a little, the warmth of his arm around you fading as you put some distance between you. “You don’t look fine. You could barely get up out there, and I can tell you’re hurting right now no matter how much you try to hide it.”

Matthew groans, running a hand down his face. “It’s nothing I haven’t dealt with before. I’ll be good to go by the next game.” he says, his voice almost on autopilot as if he’s practiced this response in the mirror a thousand times. Almost trying to convince himself.

That tight knot in your chest grows. “You shouldn’t play in the next game.”

His head snaps toward you then, brows furrowing. “What?”

“You should sit the next one out,” you say, your voice steady but pleading. “Matty, you’re not invincible as much as you’d like to believe that you are. You keep pushing through stuff like this, and one day it’s not just gonna be some soreness or bruises. You’re in your mid twenties for crying out loud! At this rate ten years from now you won’t be able to bend down and do every day things, never mind play hockey every night”

His jaw tightens, and for a moment, you think he might actually listen to you. But then he shakes his head, a bitter laugh escaping his lips. “You don’t get it,” he says, leaning back against the couch, rubbing at his chest absentmindedly. “I have to play. Sitting out isn’t an option.”

Your frustration boils over. “Yes, it is! You’re hurt, Matty. They’ll understand.”

“You don’t understand,” he snaps, his tone sharp enough to make you flinch. “I can’t just sit out because I’m a little banged up. That’s not how this works.”

You stare at him, heart pounding, hurt creeping into your voice. “Matty, I just… I care about you, and I don’t want to see you get worse. I just — I don’t understand how you — why you would do this to yourself. Put yourself through this” Put me through this , you think bitterly but keep it to yourself.

For a moment, something flashes in his eyes—guilt, maybe—but then it’s gone, replaced by something colder. He exhales sharply, his fingers pressing into his temples before he mutters, “You’re not my girlfriend, so stop nagging me like you are.”

The words hit harder than any body check he took tonight.

You freeze, blinking at him as the sting of his words settles deep in your chest. It’s like the air has been sucked out of the room, and suddenly, you feel like you shouldn’t be here at all.

“Right yeah,” you say quietly, forcing a nod as you pull yourself off the couch. “Got it.”

“Wait—” Matthew shifts forward, wincing as he tries to reach for you, but you’re already stepping away, grabbing your bag with shaky hands.

“No, it’s fine,” you say, voice tight. “I shouldn’t be nagging you about this. It’s not my place”

The look on his face is a mix of regret and frustration, but you don’t stick around long enough to let it sink in. The sound of the door closing behind you feels deafening, and as you step out into the cool night air, you try to swallow down the lump forming in your throat.

You weren’t his girlfriend. You knew that. But hearing him say it like that, like your concern was nothing more than an annoyance, made it hurt in a way you weren’t prepared for.

You text Brady while you wait for your uber, letting him know that Matty was going to be alone tonight and he might need someone to check in on him periodically.

You manage to make it home and into your bed before you let the tears fall. The most frustrating part was that you weren’t even mad at him, you were just worried for him. The combination of your sobs and the constant buzzing of your phone mix into a perfect melody that lulls you to sleep.

—

As much as you’d wish to say you didn’t, you watch the next game on TV, and the panthers win to advance to the final round of the playoffs. You were busy scrubbing your kitchen clean for the fifth time in the last week, a glass of wine sitting on the counter keeping you company. Your apartment has never been as clean as it was right now, cause every time you got the urge to text or call Matty you’d find another way to keep your hands occupied.

You were debating whether you should bake something or do your laundry when you heard a knock on the door.

You took your time getting over there to answer it, knowing who was standing on the other side.

You take a deep breath before opening the door, finding him standing there, still in his suit from the game.

His tie is undone, the top button of his shirt popped open, and the exhaustion from the night is etched into his face—but none of it hides the way his eyes immediately lock on yours, soft and pleading.

“Hi,” he says quietly, his voice hoarse, like he’s been rehearsing the word over and over again on the way here.

You cross your arms over your chest, leaning against the doorframe. “What are you doing here, Matty?”

He hesitates, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “I—uh—I needed to see you.”

You raise an eyebrow, trying to keep your expression neutral even though your heart is pounding. “I thought I wasn’t your girlfriend. Isn’t this the part where I’m supposed to stop nagging you and mind my own business?”

His face falls at your words, and he scrubs a hand over his face, letting out a heavy sigh. “Okay I deserved that,” he admits. “I was a complete asshole, and I’m sorry.”

You stay silent, waiting for him to continue.

“I didn’t mean what I said that night,” he adds, stepping closer. “You do have a place, okay? You’re one of the only people who cares about me in a way that — You’re not my girlfriend. But not because it’s not your place or because I don’t want you to be. It’s because I haven’t had the balls to ask you, because I’m scared you’re gonna realize you deserve a hell of a lot more than — whatever it is that I can offer you”

Your defenses waiver as you look at him, his usual confidence stripped away. There’s no mask, no bravado—just Matty, raw and vulnerable.

“Why are you here now?” you ask softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

His lips twitch into the faintest of smiles, and he shrugs, looking down at his feet before meeting your gaze again. “Because we won tonight. And we’re going to the finals. And I played a hell of a game. And yet the only thing I could think about afterwards, was that the only person I wanna celebrate with wasn’t there”

Your breath catches in your throat, and he takes another step closer, leaving almost no space between you.

You swallow hard, your arms loosening from their crossed position as you take in his words. “Matty…” you start, but your voice falters.

“I know,” he cuts in gently, his tone pleading. “I know I don’t deserve you. I know I messed up, and I know I hurt you. But I’m standing here, telling you that you’re the only thing in my life that makes sense. You make me better, even when I don’t deserve it.”

His hand reaches for yours, hesitant, like he’s afraid you might pull away. You don’t, your fingers brush, and the warmth of his touch sends a shiver up your spine.

“I don’t want to keep pushing you away. I don’t want to keep running from what this is—what you are to me. I’m here because I can’t stand the thought of celebrating something this big without you. Because none of it matters if you’re not there with me.”

The sincerity in his voice chips away at the walls you’ve spent the last few days building. You look up at him, your resolve crumbling.

“You can’t just say this and expect everything to be fine, Matty,” you whisper, your voice trembling. “You can’t just treat me like shit and then show up every time you decide I matter and think I’ll be waiting. That’s not fair.”

His face twists in pain, but he nods. “You’re right. It’s not fair. But I’m here because I’m done running from you, from us. I don’t expect you to forgive me right away. I just—I’m asking for a chance to prove that I mean it this time. That I’m not going anywhere.”

You take a deep breath, your heart pounding in your chest. His eyes search yours desperately, and for a moment, neither of you speaks.

“I don’t know if I can keep doing this,” you admit, your voice cracking. “You can’t keep breaking my heart, Matty.”

“I won’t baby,” he promises, his voice firm despite the vulnerability in his gaze. “Just… let me in. Let me prove to you that I can be better. I can be the man you deserve”

“You already are” you say softly, your voice barely audible. “You just have to start acting like him”

His lips curve into a small, relieved smile, and he nods. “I won’t screw this up. I promise.”

And as he steps inside, pulling you into his arms for the first time in what feels like forever, you can’t help but hope that maybe—just maybe—he means it this time.

#˖ . ݁₊ kenzies library ˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊#matthew Tkachuk #mt19

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43luv · 6 days ago

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HATE AT FIRST SIGHT

WARNINGS: hair pulling, extreme domination, degrading speech, choking kink, etc. 18+ readers only

PAIRING(S): Trevor Zegras x Fem!Reader

SUMMARY: in which passion comes in many forms, including hate.

Trevor Zegras. To Y/N, that name brought nothing but absolute contempt. She hated his smug face and his big ass ego that always took up the entirety of the room he was in. She found herself passive aggressively rolling her eyes more often than not when she was around him. His name made her want to vomit, the sound of his voice made her want to hurl, and the sight of him made her shiver in disgust.

There was no easy way to say it, no cliche that could hide the absolute honest, factual emotion that she felt towards him. She hated him, but she couldn't seem to escape him; each time he showed up wanting more, she couldn't seem to turn him away, tell him to fuck off or chase his needs elsewhere.

If only Trevor wouldn’t be so adapt with her body, remembering every part of her, didn’t matter to him if it’s been a week or a month, he always remembered and targeted the spots he knew had to be taken care of because he knew exactly how to fuck her, please her and make her sob out uncontrollably.

Even now, as Trevor grabbed her head and pulled her in for a hard, angry kiss, she almost forgot about all the deep-rooted hatred that was growing inside of her heart. He knew exactly where to touch, where to kiss, where to bite. And as much as she wanted to fight him off, she couldn’t. Her body responded to his touch, a traitorous dance of pleasure that she never wanted to admit she enjoyed.

Y/N didn't even make an attempt to pull away, grabbing the collar of his shirt to drag herself up a couple more inches. She felt her body heat up, as if singed by the flame that was burning brighter by the second. His fingertips were icy in comparison, nearly burning her with the strange mix of temperatures. Strain crackled almost perceptibly in the small space between them, and when Trevor opened his mouth to speak, Y/N felt the warmth of his breath on her cheek.

"I hear..." Trevor’s voice trailed off. Y/N was strung like a wind-up toy, ready to spring at the slightest provocation, every muscle in her body tense with anticipation and thinly veiled rage and frustration. But she wasn't sure where she would spring — backward, away from Trevor, or into him.

Trevor's pupils grew yet larger as he awaited the completion of his own sentence, but it never came. Y/N never did get to figure out what he heard or any such indication, because his lips were on hers before she had any time to react. His mouth was surprisingly soft and melted into her like chocolate on a hot day, and she found herself lapping it up as if that was all it were.

Either in an act of impulse or total insanity, Y/N parted her lips and allowed their mouths to tangle, a wet clashing of teeth and saliva that was astonishingly erotic. The kiss, hungry and long, was finally broken by Trevor as he pulled back, perhaps shocked by the rashness of his action. She took a hard look at his face and was amazed at how attractive it suddenly appeared with his breathing slightly labored and lips swollen and how the small fire was now an uncontrolled inferno of sheer lust.

Y/N’s head was spinning too quickly to think rationally about how wrong this was. She could have made a lengthy list of reasons why she shouldn't kiss Trevor Zegras. But as his hand traveled slowly down from her shoulder to her breasts, slipping into the fabric and grazing the soft flesh, she couldn't even drum up a shred of good sense. She barely felt him lean in closer to her ear as he cupped her heavy breast, giving it a rough squeeze and eliciting a gasp from her.

"I hear," Trevor continued from earlier, rolling a thumb over her nipple, "that you're a bit of a slut." He nipped at her earlobe in a manner that was almost playful.

In a moment of clarity, Y/N found the strength to challenge him again, as she usually did. "I’m not a slut.” She hissed, fighting with every ounce of might within her. "I just don't put out for dipshits like you." She was paralyzed when Trevor’s other hand, unoccupied until this moment, made a beeline for the snap of her shorts, undoing it with suspicious agility.

"Oh, is that so?" He breathed, an obvious snicker behind his voice. "Then I guess you'll object to me doing this, huh?" His fingers dipped beneath the waistline of her panties and glided over her sex. That single, swift motion made Y/N realize how wet she really was.

Lashing out, Y/N grabbed his wrist, but by then, it was already too late. A spark, wholly electric, jolted her and caused stars to glint in the corners of her eyes. She moaned and her grip slackened. Snapping his hand from her grasp easily, Trevor coyly slid his finger repetitively over her clit, and she had to bite her lip to keep from making any more noise.

She made the brutal mistake of looking back into his eyes, and the vast glare of hatred and desire jumped out and devoured her from his stare. It was enough to stimulate her further, but Y/N briefly came to her senses and slammed her thighs shut so as to give him less leverage. (Un)fortunately, the pressure of her tightened skin only increased the friction, heightening her pleasure. Y/N wanted to scream, both out of need and anger.

"You're not helping yourself, you know.” Trevor chuckled, yanking her shirt down around her breasts in one tug. A satisfied purr rumbled from the back of his throat as he discovered she wasn't wearing a bra.

Y/N tended not to wear one when she was alone in the house and was mentally kicking herself for not remembering to put one on before she opened the door. As he got down on his knees and buried his face into her chest, his lips caressing both breasts until they were soaked and glistening with sweat, she came to the dull revelation that he was right: she really wasn't helping herself.

In an instant, Trevor’s face was no longer slightly above par with hers and was instead between her legs, the tip of his tongue tantalizingly caressing her, lapping thirstily. Trevor was unbelievable, so unbelievable that when Y/N felt the first twinges of her climax begin to build, she had to frantically grasp for his hair to keep herself from shaking out of the chair.

When she did cum, her entire body convulsed, shuddering with tremors so powerful that her hips bucked forward, nearly collapsing from the force of her orgasm. Trevor planted both hands on either side of her hips, holding her steady until her trembling died down, leaving her panting and winded, as if she run a very long and very pleasing marathon.

Trevor stood up, and Y/N saw his perpetual half-smirk painted with the glistening shine of her juices, the wetness extending onto the skin of his cheek. She wasn't a whore, and her standards, though low, did not include Trevor. But this was a dirty little secret, and she was somehow willing to let this particular instance slide.

Practically glued to the chair, her shorts down by her feet and her lower half still soaking and exposed, Y/N felt she still had enough of her dignity to glare up derisively at him and mouth the phrase "I hate you" in silent mocking, the quiet words shaping around her puffy, tired lips.

Trevor laughed, deep and insulting. “What was that?” God, she hated him so fucking much. “You were talking some high and mighty shit not too long ago, where’d that pretentious bitch go, huh? Wanna hear that sweet voice again.”

Y/N felt a new wave of anger building up inside her, but before she could say anything, he leaned down and kissed her again, his tongue pushing past her teeth and coating her mouth with her own taste. He was playing with her, and she hated it, but she couldn't stop the moan that escaped her throat as she felt his hands on her hips, guiding her to the edge of the chair.

With a swiftness that took her breath away, Trevor pulled out his erection and positioned himself at her entrance. She felt the head of his cock nudge against her, the heat of it burning into her skin. Her body was still pulsing from the aftershocks of her orgasm, but she was powerless to resist the urge to push against him. She was wet and ready, and she hated herself for it.

"Look at me." He murmured, his eyes boring into hers. Y/N did, and she saw the hunger in his gaze, the desire that was almost primal. And she hated herself more for the way it made her feel. Trevor's hands gripped her hips tightly as he pushed into her, the sensation of fullness making her eyes roll back in her head. She'd never been so thoroughly filled before, and it was all she could do not to scream out his name in pleasure.

“I don’t know if I told you this." Y/N whined out through a clenched jaw, her trembling frame luxuriating in the feeling of his thick cock rubbing against her spongy spots as the spreading warmth of his body fused inside of her own. Nevertheless, she continued her taunting. “But I really fucking hate you.”

Amusement swiftly settled on the Trevor's face. "Oh, is that right? Then, tell me.” He demanded, face lowering to hers; minty breath hot against her lips as he quietly growled. “Does anyone else fuck you this good?” Teeth barely grazing her jaw, he whispered a growl once again, liberatingly thick length practically obliterating her pussy. “Does your tight, wet, needy pussy clench around anyone else like this?”

The only thing that seemed appropriate to her personally in this situation was to punch him, especially due to that stupid, handsome, dumb smirk on his face. "No.” She sobbed through gritted teeth, foggy thoughts desperately trying to focus on anything but the way his throbbing cock worked her pussy, the way he perfectly fucked her into pure and utter bliss. Trevor was the best she'd had, and ever would. "God, Trevor. More. Please, more."

“Oh, so now it’s ‘more, Trevor’, ‘please, Trevor.'" He sneered, nose pressed to her cheek as his warm breath fanned over her skin. "What happened to all that fucking venom from a second ago? What happened to ‘I hate you, Trevor’?” He snarled, hips slowing as she pressed her lips onto a thin line, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of hearing her cry out for him again.

“I do fucking hate you." Y/N hissed, and his hips snapped against her hard in retaliation, his cockhead smashing into that spongey spot inside her. Her eyes rolled back as he forced all the air out of her lungs, whatever hateful words she had ready dying on her tongue as her brain went fuzzy. He was quick to notice, angling his hips to hone in on that spot, his pace quickening. “Hate you so fucking much." She managed to choke out as that coil in her stomach tightened faster and faster, and her pussy tightened around him.

He knew she was close, and he snatched her orgasm from her grasp, his hips stilling. A broken sob crawled its way from her throat and she squeezed her eyes shut to stop the tears from spilling down her cheeks. He tapped her cheek firmly with one finger to get her attention, her face still firmly in his grasp and she leveled him with a glare filled with as much hate as she could muster. He was completely unbothered, but she did notice his blue eyes softening as he leaned forward, peppering kisses over her cheeks.

“Oh, baby." Trevor sighed out, tracing an invisible path along her face with his lips. “I promise I’ll let you cum as soon as you stop lying to me." He breathed, lips ghosting over hers. His mouth twitched in a grin when she inhaled sharply, when she tilted forward a little bit, eyes fluttering shut at his soothing tone. "Just admit you love me and I’ll make you cum on my cock.”

"Fuck you." Y/N spit the words with venom, but Trevor only smirked in reply. That signature, smug look of his that always sent a jolt of electricity running through her, even now. With a cruel twist of his hips, he slammed back into her, making her cry out despite herself.

“We’re already on it right now, no?” She could practically feel him smirking against her skin as his hand added more pressure around her neck, followed by him pounding into her even harder. “You might hate me, but you’ll never hate the way I fuck you, baby.”

Trevor’s smirk only grew as he watched her eyes roll back, the euphoric feeling building in the pit of her stomach leaving her unable to snap back with a witty retort. He was able to paralyze her in every way possible and he always seemed to take full advantage of that fact. He hated her just as much as she did, but he fucking loved her pussy. He was addicted to it, and the way she screams his name ten minutes after she tells him how much she despises him, could make him cum instantly every single time.

"Trevor." Y/N whimpered, hands pressing down on the chair to fist at the edge as she accepted her fate. "God, you feel so fucking good." He quickened his pace, snapping his hips faster and faster as he tried to bury every little thing he's ever felt for her as deep inside her as he could manage.

"So fucking pretty." Trevor growled as he slammed into her, his hands firmly gripping her hips as his fingers dug into her flesh. "Especially when you shut that mouth of yours." His hand then traveled from her hips all over her body before he tightly wrapped it around her throat, applying just enough pressure to make her feel slightly lightheaded.

"You're such a fucking asshole." Y/N groaned, her breath shallowing as she drew nearer to her end. She was so close and she could feel that he was too by the way his cock twitched inside her when she let out a particularly lewd moan and narrowed her eyes at him. "Just shut up and fuck me, already. You can do better than this, can't you?"

Two could play at this game, if this was how he wanted to play it. The hand that closed around her throat told her that she'd at the very least succeeded in slipping under his skin. Trevor’s eyes gleamed with a malicious glee as he watched the emotions play out on her face. He knew he had her, knew he could make her scream his name and beg for more, just like he always did.

"If I knew you were gonna run your fucking mouth so much, I would've fucked your face instead." Trevor rasped, each subsequent thrust forcing the breath from her lungs as she finally fell apart, tumbling into euphoria.

Her nails dug into his skin and she threw her head back, screaming his name as she came around him, her orgasm ripping through her with the force of a tornado. She felt like she was shattering into a million pieces, and yet, she'd never felt more alive. Y/N hated herself for falling for him and his ways once more. She hated herself more for enjoying it so goddamn much, a moan escaping her as her back arched for him just the way he liked, making her suddenly remember exactly why she always seemed to end up here in the first place.

As her pussy contracted in wet bursts around him, Trevor released every drop of cum inside of his body, deep into her walls so that she could feel herself becoming full and it beginning to drip out as it became too much. His thrusts slowed to a stop as they both slumped, catching their breath for a moment.

Y/N’s eyes remained tightly shut, her cheeks flushed with a mix of anger and pleasure. She felt his sticky heat deep inside her, and the reality of the situation came crashing down. "Get the fuck off of me." She spat, pushing at his shoulders with surprising strength. Trevor smirked but obliged, pulling out with a groan and a wet pop that made her stomach turn.

Before she could get up to go clean herself up, she lifted her head to look him in the eye and said in the most serious voice he had ever heard her use, "This changes nothing between us. I still fucking hate you." She bit out, her voice quivering with the intensity of her emotions.

Trevor took a moment to process her words before his mouth was hovering over her ear, his warm breath tickling her skin. “You can hate me all you want, but that’s my cum dripping down your legs, baby.”

#˖ . ݁₊ Kenzies library ˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊#tz11 #trevor zegras fanfic

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