#pulled that title from the depths of my ass

[the-daiz]

#2— leap rewards

—Flufftober day 2: Rainy day (prompt extras)

Pairing; Speed-o’-sound Sonic x reader

Tags; Established relationship, corny, corny reader

Synopsis; Kisses, tenderness and cockiness.

✎Word count; 1.3k

♪ Playlist; Feenlayalik | فين لياليك

A/N; ew this is so cringy it’s killing me. One of the very few fluffs I’m writing, so eat well. I hope I didn't miss any typos woops

The rain, only a few lone droplets a moment ago, drizzled across the dark streets in a thunderous rhythm.

Your fingers curled tighter around the plastic bag in your hand, and you could do nothing but purse your lips as you watched the cruel misfortune cackle at you behind the glass of the convenience store.

It was midnight. Almost midnight, and you were restless, so you decided to simply head to the small familiar store to find something to eat in hopes of quenching your boredom.

Unfortunately for you, however, the night sky had hidden the clouds encasing the city, and who would bother checking the weather app for such an inconvenient outing?

You muttered a fleeting curse as you contemplated running all the way back to your apartment. You'd probably catch a cold, but what other choice did you have?

"Seriously? How do you always manage to get yourself into these situations?" The snarkiness laced in the individual's voice didn't go unnoticed by you, and you needn't glance to your side to know who the ominous figure— that seemingly materialized out of thin air, was.

"Of course I'd find you here." You sighed, masking the relief that had washed over you.

"I found you." His smirk stretched. "Actually."

"Yeah, ok, what are you doing here, anyway?" You finally turned your head to glance at him. The lights from the streets poured onto him with such great precision, even while being obstructed by the rain droplets racing down the glass tiles. He looked enchanting.

Speed-of-sound Sonic. What a name. What a face. Always so beautiful, always so alluring. Always keeping you ensnared in its bewitching existence. Always keeping you chasing after its beholder.

"Looking out for you. I had a feeling you'd get yourself into some kind of predicament." He glanced at you from the corners of his eyes, the smug turn in the corner of his lips never faltering.

"So you were stalking me?" You concluded.

"In a sense." He shrugged.

"How shameless." You shook your head, a smile slowly creeping up your features.

"Oh? So you don't need my help?" He raised a brow. "Save's me the trouble, then." He turns around, walking away, pretending that he's about to abandon you.

But knowing him, he would do it if he's feeling cocky enough.

As quickly as he does, though, you latch onto his arm. One hand faintly squeezed his while the other clasped onto his inner elbow. His brows rose and he blinked down at you with gleeful endearment.

His lips stretch to form a grin once more, but this time, it holds less arrogance than his previous one.

He feels a stretch of warmth pool into his chest as your palms press around the fabric of his sleeve.

The both of you fall silent, as the sound of pouring rain outside filters the quiet around you.

"What?" Sonic finally speaks as he stares at you.

"You know what." You roll your eyes with a grumble.

"Hmm, no I don't think I do."

"Does being a prick turn you on or something? Help me." As soon as those words flew past your lips, his hands were quick to carry you off your feet and into his arms. One of his arms supported the back of your knees while the other held you firmly by your back. You let out a soundless gasp at the sudden action.

You still hadn't gotten used to his speed.

"Sure. I won't do it for free, though." His smirk was back, but you had no time to retort as he was already soaring out of the shop and into the streets. The wind slammed into your curled frame along with a few spatters of rainwater. You scrunched your eyes closed and held your breath, your hands gripping tightly onto his sweater.

After a few seconds of wind constantly ramging into you and breath-knocking swerves, everything stills. You slowly pry your eyelids open, and you're met with the clean walls of your home. The lights were on. 

Did you forget to turn them off? or did he turn them on just now?

After blinking a few times while taking in a few deep breaths as your heart hammered from the sudden adrenaline rush, your gaze trailed up to his face. He was peering down at you, his grin faded and replaced with a stoic, serene look. He carefully set you down.

"How'd you get into my apartment?" You asked as you glanced at the closed and supposedly locked door of your home.

"You should be asking how I was able to carry you." There it was again, that snobbish look. He leered down at you with amusement, expecting you to push his face away with a scoff and head off to place the items you had purchased into the kitchen.

Instead, you stood unmoving before him, staring up at him with quiet fondness. Your fingers relaxed and a small thud was heard as the plastic bag fell, discarded on the floor. Your pupils moved to glance at each of his eyes, stammering as if unsure where to look. They both- He. Him. All of him was ineffable. 

His grin felt spindly.

The way your eyelids sat solemnly as you peered at him. And the sound of your inhales— he didn't know what it was but it was coiling around him, hindering his mobility, at least, his mental one.

Heat began to creep up his neck. He had to hold back the urge to dart his gaze away from yours, growing flustered under your fervent gleam. 

He continued to feign control, face flushed and sweating, and his mouth fell open into an empty gape, lips slightly twitching before he spoke.

"You're dying to taste me, aren't you?" His brows furrowed as he continued to forcefully stretch out his grin. Surely now you would've been tired of his stuck-up attitude. He expected a shove to his chest paired with an eye roll from you.

You cracked a soft smile instead. He felt a jolt ram into his chest when you slid your hands around his neck and hummed a nod, completely unfazed by his remarks. You pressed a firm kiss to his cheek. He squinted his right eye and frowned as you attacked the side of his face, pressing harder onto him before dramatically ending it with a prominent 'mwah' sound.

Your grin widened giddily at his expression, a mix of annoyance and stubbornness-- along with a faint cast of pink spreading to his ears. You closed the distance once more and engrossed yourself in a soft, fleeting kiss. He instinctively gripped your waist with a hand to steady you, his head tilting to the side as he contributed to your tender affection. He didn't like that it was fleeting, but he had no say as you broke the kiss and began to line pecks on the side of his lips.

"You're so sappy it's repulsing." He huffed, tugging you closer as his other hand gently pressed against your nape.

"Stop talking, you're ruining your face." You murmured before planting another kiss along his jawline.

"You don't have to talk to ruin yours." As soon as he riposted, he jerked your head to face his and pressed your lips together once more. Your eyes melted shut as you pushed further into him, your mouths swaying a passionate song, much different than his usual frantic ones. 

Your hands slipped to cup the sides of his face as you slightly deepened the kiss. In response, one of his arms wrapped around your torso, and euphoria coursed through him as he held you closer.

Faint panting hung in the air as you broke the kiss, looking into each other's eyes. You squashed his cheeks a little with your hands, flashing him a toothy grin. His face was still and adorned with bliss as he gazed into your grace.

"I'm not being serious." He breathed out, his features remaining placid. You snickered, your eyes squinting as your grin spread further.

Ugh, what the hell were you!?

"I know."

[shuenkio]

Revenge lesson - ⩇⩇:⩇⩇

Paring: Heeseung X male!reader

Cw: Smut, rough sex, curse, nsfw.

Synopsis: Co-workers rival, he's mad at you and decides to teach you a lesson.

You're responsible for what you read (⁠ ⁠˘⁠ ⁠³⁠˘⁠)

{Heeseung} The Co-Worker rivals, who like to compete with each other in order to win the employee of the month title, compete so strongly that the boss was forced to include both of them on the list together.

Late at night at the company, you work overtime as per usual, even completing the paperwork for the next day. Same goes for Heeseung, who also likes to work overtime to earn his keep with the CEO. Unexpectedly, after finishing his work, he walks to your desk, his daily routine after work being to pester and annoy you. The conversation was harsh, and full of insults, today he's gone too far.

"Now i know why you don't have a girlfriend yet because you're a fucking manipulate, two face person who like take advantage of the other, with all those things of you, nobody would want to fuck with you, Mr LEE!" You fire back, standing up from your seat and shooting him a furious gaze, death glaring at him and waiting for his response.

Heeseung's face turns red as his veins are pumping, visible on his forehead. He scoffed forcefully and slammed his bag down to the ground, dropping it in an aggressive manner.

"Nobody fuck with me? Really? Ya!-if nobody will then it'd be you, now I'm gonna teach you a lesson, getting on my nerves, deserve a consequence baby" He let his tongue slide through, poking inside his mouth,With a swift motion, he unlatched his belt and lifts it off his waist. The belt slides smoothly off his body without any effort on his part, falling down to his side where it hangs limply by his leg.

"W-what are you doing!" You nervously ask, You feel your eyes go white, and your entire body starts to shiver with fear. The hell he was about to do?!!

"To fuck you of course, just like you said nobody wanna fuck with me so I'm gonna make you take this place instead" He replies seductively and looks at you like a hungry beast. His scary aura makes you more frightened and excited at the same time. You're shivering and fearful. find yourself too stunned to move, your life was about to flash before your eyes here.

He casually unzipped his pants, His red underwear peeked through the opening, hinting at his member soon to be revealed.

With a playful smirk on his face, he slowly pulled down his boxers just enough to expose a portion of his veiny hard cock, a small droplet of precum glistened at its tip. causing you to gasps.

"Tonight will decide whether we continue as enemies or as lovers, M/N" 🫦

As Heeseung noticed your hesitation, he quickly seized control of the situation. Grabbing onto your tie, he pulled you towards him with surprising strength. Before you knew it, you were standing face-to-face with him.Without warning, he spun you around so that your back was now pressed against his chest. In swift motions, he stripped away your pants and pushed you forward until you found yourself bent over the table in front of you.

The older grabbed a condom from his bag, he slid it onto his 10 inches with practiced ease. Holding your hands in one of his, he steadied your head with the other. Without any warning, he thrust his hip inside you - filling and stretching you in a single, forceful motion. The strength of his, left you speechless, but there was also an undeniable thrill in this passionate. It felt like your insides were being stretched open wider than ever before. His long 10 inches seemed to push deeper with each thrust, filling and stretching you in ways that left you breathless.

The sight of his bulging member against your stomach served as a visual reminder of the depths he was reaching within you.

"You love it don't you, my little M/N? I know it's your first time baby, which is why your ass squeezing me so tight" He leaned down close to your ear, his rhythmic thrusts continuing unabated, he whispered huskily His hot breath sent shivers down your spine, adding another layer of excitement to the already intense experience. The sound of skin slapping against skin echoed throughout the room,in each powerful stroke.

As you struggled to contain your moans, the pleasure building within you, it seemed to ignite his passion even more. His pace quickened, each thrust driving him deeper inside you with an urgency that spoke of desires left unsatisfied for far too long.

"W-why it's feel so good, i w-want to stop him but i also don't want to---" you speak in your mind, lip bitting, lose yourself in the world of ecstasy.

"FUCK YESSS, ohhh nghhh that's it, you feel so DAMN good m/n" His breath came in ragged gasps, mirroring the tempo of his unstoppable assault.

Despite your best efforts to stay silent, soft groans escaped your lips, revealing how deeply this fervent encounter was affecting you. The sound of skin meeting skin echoed more loudly in the quiet, shadowy office. Thankfully, all windows were tightly sealed and cameras remained unmoving, shielding you from potential disturbances or repercussions.

Heeseung raised one of your leg onto his shoulder, still back facing him, altering his position for increased depth. His rapid thrusts persisted without pause, he has no plan to stop by anytime soon.

Your moans harmonized with his, both of you reveled in the ecstasy of the moment. Even though he was technically your rival, there was no denying that he was giving you the hottest fuck ever, and it's your first time, you're that strong to handle his aggressiveness.

His hips picked up speed, driving into you with greater force than before. The imprint of his veiny cock became more obvious against your stomach with each thrust.

His breathing turned ragged, coming out in short gasps. Meanwhile, you allowed yourself to be swept away by the sensations flooding your body, rolling your eyes to the back of your head and losing yourself in the moment.

"Hell ughh-ahh, I'm gonna fill~ your fucking inside with my fucking cum right!!"

As he felt the urge to release growing stronger, he started to fuck into you with increased speed. When the moment arrived, he filled you completely with his seed.

At the same time, you too were overcome by a wave of pleasure, until finally both of you came together in perfect synchronization, before he collapsed onto your back, still intimately connected to you.

His cock remained buried deep within you as you both struggled to catch their breath.

"*Catching his breath* This is your first lesson M/n, if you dare to insults me again, I'm sure there's many more to come"

🗣️ please mind my English! ><

🗣️ Reblog and like is much appreciated ♥

🗣️ crd to all pics&dividers

🗣️ My first time writing a smut 🫣 if there's some awkward moment, sorry in advance ~

Ps: I'm planning to write more content like this since my last work is blowing, comment down below who you want next 🤭.

[sunsetkerr]

KISS & TELL | s.kerr

summary: the girls find out exactly who gave you that ring [789 words]

pairing: matildas!reader x sam kerr

notes: the long-awaited second part to 'hush hush'! this was the most voted wip to work on, next piece will be too far gone which was the second most popular xx happy valentines week loves!

IT WENT ON FOR about a week.

Your teammates pestered you all throughout camp about who gave you your engagement ring, and most importantly, how you kept it a secret for so long.

You gave them bits and pieces. Oh, we've been together for a few years now, but we've just kept it private..... She's super busy lots of the time, really hectic work schedule...... We played soccer together growing up.... You just didn't relay that you still play together. That your fiancee actually captains you.

Sam was enjoying every moment of it. She loved the secrecy, she adored watching her teammates pull their hair out over it. Chids had a whole shared notes app dedicated to adding information about your dubbed, 'mystery woman'. Sam revelled in her new title.

She was feeling extra cheeky, there was no denying that. Sam was at her peak watching everyone scramble around, listening as you slipped out little pieces of information of your relationship together.

Did you feel guilty that you hadn't told your team? Sure. But you and Sam never really felt the need to. They're your family, you love them with your whole heart- but this was one thing you and Sam just wanted for yourselves.

"Well I want to help plan your hens night," Alanna shrugged. The topic of your secret engagement had come up again after dinner one night.

"No because I'm not going unless you tell us!" Macca argued from her spot on the beanbag, Harper on her lap. You laughed, crossing your arms and putting your feet up on the couch.

"We can do without the numbers, Mac" You waved her off.

"Hey Y/N?" Ellie walked into the lounge area looking for you. "Can I grab my pre-wrap from you tonight please? I wanna start packing for Queensland,"

"Always punctual as usual" Mini chirped from her place on the couch, your feet resting in her lap.

"Shut up" Ellie quipped.

You chuckled, "Yeah, let me go grab it". You headed off towards your room and managed to pinch Sam's ass on your way past her, distracting her from the in-depth conversation she was having with Steph.

You chuckled as she tried her best to ignore you, but you knew she could never. Once you got into your room, it was only a matter of seconds before Sam followed you in. She crept up behind you and snaked her arms around your waist, tickling you as she squeezed you tight.

"You're cheeky, hey" She laughed, kissing your cheek as you giggled and tried to push your way out of her grasp. She moved her way down to your neck and you tried your best not to squirm in pleasure, knowing that at any second anyone could come-

"Aunny Sammy and Y/N are kissing!"

Your heart dropped and you pulled apart from Sam. You both turned around to see Harper standing in the doorway, pointing at you and Sam who she had just caught in the act.

"Mummy!" She ran off, yelling down the hallway.

"Harps, Harper! No!" You called after her, running down the hallway. She was surprisingly fast for a near-three year old. By the time you managed to find her she was already halfway through relaying to your team what she had seen.

"They kiss! Sam and Y/N kiss like Mum and Mummy!" She smiled looking back over to you. Sam had now come up behind you, a guilty look on her face, your lipgloss smeared on her lips.

"Skip.." Mary spoke up, slowly looking from you to Sam. "Is that true? Did you kiss Y/N?" She asked a shocked look on her face. The rest of your team looked at you both in silence.

Sam begrudenly crossed her arms over her chest and nodded her head shyly, a smile breaking out on her lips. "She just got engaged, Sam.. Not cool" Mary shook her head.

"Oh my god," Alanna erupted.

"Are you serious Maz?"

"Jesus fucking Christ" Mackenzie put her head in her hands with a sigh.

"What?" Mary held up her hands, looking from everyone back to you both. Sam chuckled and stepped forwards, holding up your hand that dawned your shiny new engagement ring.

You saw the cogs turn in her head before they finally clicked. "Oh my god!" She screamed, rushing over to congratulate you both. The girls all followed suit, shouting at you both for keeping it a secret from them all for so long.

"I can't believe you!" Alanna hugged you from behind, her arms around your neck.

"I don't kiss and tell, Kennedy!" You smiled as you watched Sam explain to your team how she proposed. You were so happy to finally have your team in on your secret. It just made it all that much sweeter.

[slut4daviii]

character: t.shigaraki

pt: 01/01

cw: face-fucking, praise, degradation, yandere-themes, vibrational quirk, body worship, dark DARK themes, fingering, marathon cumshots, sexual torture, strong submissive/dom themes, sir/daddy kink, hate-fucking

summary: Shigaraki kills [names] gf then kidnaps him, wanting a relationship but gets something much more…pleasurable.

a/n: this shii is straight ass. i jus finally got over my writers block😻. i swear to you guys, the next smut i write will be 100x better. trust me pls.

title: [name]’s BITCH

wc: 1200-1700

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it was dark.

utter obscurity.

hushed voices whisked around you, echoing into the silent background that was yourself.

you tried to move— tried to undo the bindings around your wrist; they only tightened, burning your skin in an agony you wouldn’t wish on anyone.

you let loose a hiss, somehow putting the whispers to rest. you could feel eyes dart to your body, feel their sting against your revealed skin.

you turned your head away, cursing lightly. ‘where the fuck am I?’ you weren’t asking anyone in particular, just trying to calm your racing nerves.

“finally awake, hm?”

you listened intently, perking your ears to hear better. the voice sound so familiar, as if… you’d known him for years.

“not a talker, huh?”

you continued to listen; trying to make out whom you were speaking with.

“are you mad at me, [name]?”

you gritted your teeth at the question, hissing again at the increased pressure on your wrist.

“oh, please don’t be mad at me [name]! I swear I don’t mean to hurt you! I just couldn’t stand to watch her take you away from me any longer.”

you reeled back, eyes darting aimlessly around the darkness still plaguing your vision.

“I had to do it [name]! if I didn’t, she would’ve took you away from me and became your wife! then you wouldn’t realize how much you need me and not her!”

the words weren’t making sense, ramblings from a person you knew but couldn’t see. through his manic dialogue, you’d figured out one thing— he was the one who killed your girlfriend.

“Tomura Shigaraki.”

his mumbling ceased at the sound of your voice. replacing itself with a suppressed moan. “ye—yes sir?”

the words came out jumbled, unformed and quick. breathy and quiet. they made way to your ear, quelling the anger inside of you.

“you killed [gf/name]?” your tone was heavy— deep and rough, sending pleasure running down Shigaraki’s spine.

“she was taking you away from me—! I had to do something to get your attention, please don’t be mad at me!”

you stayed quiet, closing your eyes to slow your breathing.

“s—sir? are you— you mad at me?”

the word ‘sir,’ he kept using it. despite him being in control of the situation. he kept referring to you as the… dominant one; making it clear that he wanted something from you, something that seeing your girlfriend have, made him go crazy with jealousy.

“c’mere.”

Shigaraki moaned softly, his body moving without instruction. he stood over you, awaiting your next command.

“take off this mask and the ropes around my arms”

he hesitated, shaking with anticipation; “b—but sir, you’ll try to le—leave me!” he began begging you, “anything else! please! I’ll do anything for you!”

“anything?”

“yes, yes please! anything!”

“take. off. the mask. and these ropes.”

Shigaraki let out a gasp, sharply inhaling before removing the burlap sack that was attached to your shoulders.

your vision was glared, blurry and unfocused behind the florescent lights overhead. you stared up at Shigaraki, waiting for your vision to clear. when it did, Shigaraki shimmered— his eyes were lined with unspilled tears, his body shivered with emotion, and he looked… ravishing.

“now the ropes.”

tears flooded his face, and an expression of pure despair overtook took him; shoving his pride to unconscious depths.

he did as you said, pulling the ropes from your skin before standing back; waiting for you to leave.

you looked at him, watching at tears ran downwards, falling to his chest. you smirked at this— reaching for his hips and pulling him unto your lap, simultaneously activating your quirk (vibration).

he moaned breathlessly, back arching to a near perfect crescent. “why’re you crying? I haven’t even put it in yet.

before he could answer, you slid your left hand down his back— slipping your fingers into his pants and pass his already prepared hole.

“you’ve already prepared?” you began vibrating your fingers, repeatedly smashing into his prostate.

“GHAK!! [n—name]! yo—you’re nhgk! so fuhgking deeep!”

“oh? do you not like that?” you began thrusting— adding a third in the process. Shigaraki screamed into your neck, cumming instantly.

“ju—just cuhm, came! s—st—stop! too much!”

you tilted your head to the side, smiling up at the fucked out male. “I thought you wanted this? you killed my girlfriend to take her spot right? well now you have it, all to yourself babyboy.”

Shigaraki’s eyes rolled back, his head following suite. you smiled at him, placing your hand on his back and leaning forward to bite his adams’ apple.

his body convulsed, cumming inside his pants once more. “damn, again? usually [gf/name] can last longer, you know? actually make me nut first.”

you withdrew your fingers from him, pushing him onto the floor. he heaved— gasping for air. his body still shook from his previous three orgasms, twitches of pleasure running circles across his nerves.

you laughed, leaning down to grab him by his throat. he went almost completely limp, only smiling as you brought his tear stained face closer to yours.

“do you want daddy’s cum? want me to fuck your face until you pass out?”

Shigaraki eagerly nodded, hands coming up to grasp and grip at your clothed cock. “wan—wanna make s—sir p—proud.”

you felt your cock twitch at his nature— slutty and submissive, a complete 180 of his public figure: cold, heartless, and brutal. you kissed him, passionately swapping your tongue into his mouth.

“open your mouth.”

he obeyed, sticking his tongue out in the process. you grinned and spit into his mouth, “don’t swallow it.” your fingers gripped his neck, digging into the skin, “understand?”

he convulsed, on the verge of another orgasm.

“fucking slut.” your tone was dipped in laughter, mocking his lustrous appearance. you let go of his neck and moved to your own pants— undoing the jaw strings of your sweatpants and pulling out your cock.

Shigaraki looked on with awe, admiring every vein and bulge that lined your beautiful cock. you jerked yourself once or twice, feeling pleasure instantly fill your mind. you looked at Shigaraki through lidded eyes, smirking inward. “you ever taken a dick this big?”

he looked like a bitch in heat: rubbing his thighs together, panting, drool rolling down his chin, eyes glossy and tear-stained.

you clicked your tongue, motioning him closer. he obliged, moving so that your balls were touching his lips.

you lifted his chin, holding your cock at the base. “is it pretty?” he nodded impatiently, sticking his tongue out to lick your tip. “aht aht.” your slapped him with your shaft. one time on the left side of his face, then once on the right. “answer my question first.”

Shigaraki pouted, trying to connect your cock with his tongue. you rolled your eyes and pulled away, slapping your cock on his tongue instead. he moaned endlessly, trying to fit your tip between his lips. “plu—please [name]! fuck me! pound me until I can’t take it! I’m your slut! I’m your slut! pleasee!”

his desperation was evident, making it difficult to keep your composure. yet, you persisted. “how much do you want it?”

Shigaraki groaned, back arching painfully. you tsk’d and grabbed a handful of his hair, shoving your cock into his throat. he choked, spit running down your balls and up your pubes. you pulled him away, giving him a second to breathe before your shoved him back down, going even further— making him take you to your base.

“how much do you want my seed?” you pulled him off and waited for a response.

through spit and drool, he held up his hands, “I’d kill my own family for it! I’d—I’d—I’d leave all for one and the league of villains just for a taste of you! [name], I’d kill myself for your amazing— he began kissing up and down your shaft— beautiful, hard, thick, glorious— he shoved his face into your balls, sucking the skin skillfully— ghod sihzed purfecet dhick!!”

you took pride in what you could do with your cock, and Shigaraki’s begging only intensified your ego.

you pulled his hair, lifting him to your tip. he used his tongue to align it with his mouth, sinking to the base immediately. you sighed blissfully, letting your head fall back, indulging in all the thoughts of what you would do to ‘the king of villains’

you looked down at him, watching as his slid up and down your length, his tongue lapping over even inch of skin and his cheeks hallow enough to pull your soul out.

“what’s your name, Tomura?”

he slowed, coming to your tip with an echoing pop. spit and precum fell from his mouth in an adulterous fashion, a line of spit still connecting him to your tip.

“[name]’s bitch.”

[answer2jeff]

break-up, make-up.

song : post break-up sex

warnings : fem!reader, porn with some plot, smut, unprotected piv, make-up sex, lip being needy, mentions of alcohol and smoking (tobacco), reader has scumbag friends, sad pathetic banging, intentional lowercase. (lip and reader are 18.)

word count: 3,707

authors note: this is only like my 2nd time writing smut.......

your abdomen felt cold pressed against the marble of your bathroom counter. pulling at the skin of your face, running your fingers through your messy hair, and picking yourself apart in the mirror that doubled as a medicine cabinet. you didn't feel like yourself. you swung the cabinet open, reaching for a hard candy eyeshadow pallet, a black eye pencil so old the label had rubbed off, and a mauve-brownish lip liner.

your phone buzzed against your pocket. you groaned, dropping your products into the sink before snatching it from the depths of your jeans.

773-642-3719: party @ ashleys 2night. u coming? 2:36pm.

it must've been karina. ever since you gave her your number on your break during your waitressing shift at patsy's, she'd been trying to drag you out of the house. you couldn't blame her. mopey from your breakup, picking up as many hours as possible, spending your free time collecting coupons for shopping sprees you'd never go on to spend money you didn't have, she was sick of you ruining the atmosphere everywhere you went.

or, wherever you didn't go, more accurately.

"he's just a guy. just—go fuck someone else! who cares if he's a dick just like him. focus on the task at hand: getting laid," she told you, licking strawberry jam from the tip of her middle finger.

"i'm just gonna miss him more," you sighed, watching the clock tick as your 15 minutes of what was supposed to be relaxing free time, was going to waste.

"*** ******** is not some kind of sex god, okay? the sex was good. you can find good sex anywhere."

"whatever."

he was more than that. he was more than the sex. he was the kisses in the early mornings where you'd wake up with him in your sheets. he was the whispers of 'you're so beautiful,' and 'i love you,' whenever you doubted yourself. he was the shitty jokes and late night walks, splitting cigarettes and dabbling in gossip. he was your best friend.

but he was also the hands that slammed your bedroom door. he was also the alcohol on his breath. he was also the words that told you to 'get your shit together.' he was also the broken promises he could never keep.

but he was more than anything karina saw him as.

i'll be there :) 2:38pm.

773-642-3719: bring some1 cute with u! 2:40pm.

you stared blankly at her text.

👍 2:42pm.

bring someone with me? who the hell would i bring? daniel's working tonight. and he's not cute. well—he's not ugly, but...no. stop. just drop it. you don't need to bring a guy with you. jesus. you don't need anyone. relax.

i'm here. 12:37am.

you knocked about 3 times before a lanky, raven haired boy with puke all over his title fight t-shirt swung the door open. you looked past his shoulder to see a group of familiar faces behind him.

"please tell me that's not h—" a short blonde girl groaned before a redhead, eliza, butted in.

"there she is!" she yelled, calling karina over.

the warm glow of the living room complimented the post-punk rock that rang through the poster filled walls of ashley's house. you were met with waves from your friends. karina beamed and quickly made her way over to the front door to greet you. her chunky sandals boomed against the hardwood floor, her red solo cup nearly falling out of her hand.

"you made it!" she smiled, taking your hand and dragging you into the makeshift frat house, slamming the front door behind you. the atmosphere was uncomfortably warm. probably due to everyone sweating their asses off from drunkenly dancing and grinding on each other.

"uh, yeah—i'm kinda late. sorry."

"fashionably late," she corrected you as you followed her through dozens of other girls and into the kitchen.

you analyzed the space. you knew a couple people here, either from work or highschool, since it was the summer after senior graduation, but there were plenty of girls and guys you'd never seen in your life. for the first time in months, meeting new people was sickening. immediately reaching for the bottle of tito's to help ease your mind, eliza stopped you. she furrowed her strawberry blonde eyebrows at you, shaking her head.

"uh-uh. you're the designated driver, sweetie. we can't have you drunk, too!"

your mouth gaped open in disbelief. were you seriously dragged here just to play babysitter?

"but there's plenty else to do," karina peaked her head out of the kitchen and eyeing a couple of her friends that resided on the couch, beer bottles in hand. you couldn't help but turn your head to look, too.

"mikey's got weed," she pointed to a shirtless brunette, "and i think destiny brought some—fuckin, i don't know, xanax to cool your nerves."

you nodded, lips pulled tight in a painfully neutral expression that read 'okay' and 'fuck you i hope you break every bone in your body and live your life as a spiritless vegetable,' at the same time. your arms were crossed against your chest, your body pretty much caving in at the amount of sheer embarrassment that coursed through you.

"since you're, y'know, kinda losing it," eliza wiped the corner of her mouth where whiskey-soda had been dripping from it, pointing her finger at you. her messy red nail polish on healthy long nails taunted you.

you felt like a wad of pink chewing gum: slammed between teeth and tongue just to be spit out and drenched in spit. but you weren't useless enough to be thrown away. just stuck under a table for some gross, unsanitary bitch to pick it up again and stick it right back in her gossipy mouth. cursing yourself for being here, you stormed out of the kitchen and made your way toward the back porch.

if you left, you'd be a prude. but if you stayed and drank, kissing strangers and making up stories filled with little white lies, you'd be deemed a slut for the rest of the summer. your last choice was to stick around, being that annoying girl who smoked cigarettes outside of the party to freak people out.

and so, you did. you hung around outside, watching people come in and out. occasionally, someone would stop to ask if you were alright, if you wanted a drink, or just someone to talk to. you politely declined every time. almost like you were waiting for some other opportunity to spring up in front of you.

"hey," a voice behind you rasped.

it startled you. it was painfully familiar. so much it made your heart drop to your empty stomach. you turned yourself around, eyes met with blue orbs that stared directly into you.

there he was. lip. your lip.

except he wasn't yours. not here. not now. possibly not ever.

"oh, you've got to be fucking kidding me, gallagher."

your hands grabbed onto the wooden railing of the porch steps. hoisting yourself up, you brushed off any dirt that smeared onto your dark blue jeans. your eyes were glued to the ground as you tried to swiftly move past him the moment you could stand up.

"no, c'mon—" he pleaded, rolling his eyes and following you back into the house. he hadn't had a sip of booze. for once, his mind was completely in the clear.

eliza and karina sat on the kitchen counter, their shoulders pressed together while shared a beer bottle, possibly their 6th or 7th of the night. you seriously wondered what they even talked about. they didn't have much in common other than the fact that they both liked reeking havoc on innocent people. and you.

"did one of you fucking invite him?" you spat, stepping just a foot away from the two of them snatching the beer bottle from karina's hand, you held it tightly in your fist, your fingertips turning pink at the brute force.

"lip? yeah, i did! wait, did you guys break up, or something?" eliza laughed, twirling a red curl around her finger while she gave an obnoxious wave to lip as he stood behind you. he bit the inside of his cheek, his hands stuffed deep into his pockets and balled into enraged fists.

your jaw had been nailed to the floor at this point. karina looked down at the ground in shame. she didn't care about your 'healing' or 'getting laid.' all she cared about was stirring shit. it was such a middle school stunt for a 19 year old girl to pull. finally snapping, you slammed the beer bottle onto the ground, watching it shatter into a million pieces. clenching your teeth, you looked back up to see the disturbed expressions on your 'friends' faces. they weren't allowed to make this decision for you. you would decide if and when you were ready to act like a normal fucking person around lip.

a boyfriend wasn't the only thing you lost. you lost a friend, a piece of yourself.

hot tears pricked at your waterline. you spun back around and darted towards the front door. shoving through people, your hands grabbing onto their arms and not-so-gently moving them out of your path. you could feel lip's footsteps behind you, his pathetic whines calling out for your name; calling out for his friend ex-girlfriend.

"hey, would you just fucking talk to me? please?"

you finally stopped, taking a deep breath and letting the salty tears that streamed down your face smudge your mascara before turning to face him. the angry knit of his brows from earlier was gone. his face relaxed, a breath of relief escaping his mouth when he could finally just look at you. he took in the sight of your tears, your swollen lips, your shoulders that tensed under your jacket, the way your jaw trembled when you cried.

"i don't wanna talk," you muttered as you shook your head, "i just—i don't wanna talk here. can we go upstairs, or something?"

you stared back, half of your bottom lip barred behind your teeth, analyzing every inch of him. the way his hair that ended at the middle of his ear had grown a bit too thick, the line that formed between his chin and his lower lip when he frowned, his short eyebrows, how prominent his philtrum was, and his blue eyes that caught your attention the day you met in 10th grade chemistry. you missed the way the top row of his small teeth would beam whenever he laughed.

"yeah," lip nodded, "we don't have to be down here, alright? c'mon," he reached for your hand, tilting his head as he tried to stare into you.

you worried about forgetting the feeling of his hands gently caressing your face, rubbing your back when he held you close, twirling your hair around his fingers, when his palms would indent the plush of your thighs, or when he'd grab onto your waist when you kissed him.

there was no way you'd ever forget now.

"jesus, lip—" you huffed through open-mouthed kisses, your fingertips digging into the flesh of his shoulders. the cold wall against your warm back made you shiver once he tore your shirt off from over your head, along with the jacket he zipped down and gently slipped it off from your arms as he trailed kisses from your jawline to your collarbones.

in the most needy, starved way possible, you tugged at his cotton t-shirt. almost as if he'd read your mind, despite him being on a completely different planet, he pulled away from your mouth and peeled his grey t-shirt off with the same hands that rubbed those fucking circles against your hips the way he always did when he kissed you again.

some things just never changed.

your fingertips pressed against his bare abdomen until they made their way up to his chest. you missed seeing that little triangle tattoo that tyler gave him in the school bathroom. kissing it, tracing your fingernails around the perimeter, occasionally biting and soothing the mark with your lips.

"fuck this stupid party," he scoffed, his hand getting a hold of your chin and tilting your head back up to face him. you looked into him through your lashes, lids low with desire. the look in your eyes ruined him.

"yeah. fuck it."

you glanced at his lips and back into his eyes, just for him to smash his mouth into yours again. it was a mess of teeth and tongue while you entangled your hands in his hair.

"shit—" lip detached himself from your mouth to fill his lungs with hair that smelled like your perfume and sex.

his hands cradled your face so gently it was like you'd break if he ever dared to let go. your hands moved over the groves of his arms and up to his shoulders over and over again, the feeling of soft, supple skin never getting old.

"c'mere, pretty girl," lip breathed against your ear, his hand wrapping your neck gently.

he desperately began sucking and biting the tender skin, coming back to comfort it with pecks and blows of fast, cool air. tuffs of curly blonde hair tickled your jawline every time. his veiny hands roamed down the sides of your torso, never traveling up, until you tried removing your bra yourself. lip shook his head, removing his hands from your hips and reaching behind you to unclip the uncomfortable fabric while you clung to his shoulders for support.

"lip—" you protested, slowly growing impatient.

"i got it, baby," he whispered, kissing your shoulder before carefully slipping the straps over your shoulders and off of your body. that pet name hadn't bounced off of his tongue and rang through your ears in weeks.

once he tossed the bra to the floor, your body relaxed as lip backed away just an inch or two to admire you. he smiled, teeth and all. maybe he really did miss you. your hands rested on his shoulders, slowly backing him up towards the bed of the guest room.

funny. you swore what you and lip had was more than the sex. and it was. you weren't lying about that. but my god, the crave for his skin against yours was unbearable. flashes of your hookups projected over your head. the moans that erupted from you while you tugged on his blonde curls for dear life as he pounded into your weeping cunt—you missed all of it.

"i can't believe you even showed up here," you muttered, using the pads of your fingertips to shove lip onto the soft mattress, silk sheets feeling cold against his back. he glared at you through furrowed brows, propping himself up on his elbows. but his expression softened when he saw you unbuttoning your jeans, zipping the fly down and hastily kicking them off.

"me? you—" he let out a shaky breath, gnawing at the inside of his mouth and sitting up right, "you haven't been out of the house for days."

he stared down at the white lacy underwear you wore, fighting the urge to get up and tear them down your ass until they fell at your ankles.

"and how the hell would you know that?"

you raised your eyebrows, signaling to lip to fall back again so you could reveal the aching bulge in his pants. that same bright smile of excitement made your stomach stir as you were unbuttoning and unzipping the denim that imprisoned his cock.

"been spyin' on you a little bit," he joked, but he wasn't totally kidding. for the past week and a half, he'd been taking 'shortcuts' to get to any destination just so he could briefly stop in front of your place. just to see if you'd ever come out and coincidentally run into him. he even started going to your usual hangout spots to see if you'd turn up.

but you never did. him even going to this party was solely based on the off chance that you might've been here. possibly with a new guy. but you weren't. you were alone. just like he often was.

"how sweet," you teased, tracing the tattoo on his chest. caving into your urges, you tilted your head lower to pet it with a kiss, your eyes closed before trailing your lips back up to his own. he huffed through his nose, laughing at your gesture. it was cute. you were cute. lips hands moved down to your hips, his fingers slipping underneath the waist band of your panties. that little puddle of arousal shining through the white fabric of your thong only egged lip on. he looked into your eyes for permission, not wasting any time to help you remove them the moment you nodded your head.

letting him pull them down the plush of your thighs, you turned just enough where you could slip them past your calf's where they pooled at your feet before finally slipping off onto the floor. a delicate hand reached to pull down the fabric of his boxers, his leaking, pink tip practically making you drool the moment his cock sprung out. the heat and humidity of the room making the thick vein down the side of his length twitch just the slightest. you felt a yearning heat build up in your core as you wiggled your hips closer.

"now," you reached between your thighs to coil your fingers round lip's hardening cock, "i need you to fuck me like you haven't gotten laid in a thousand years."

"that's pretty much what it's felt like." lip mumbled so quietly you barely caught it. he looked up at you, his hand brushing a strand of hair behind your ear before he used his thumb to caress your cheek.

"wait, you—you haven't been with anyone else?"

lip paused, realizing he admitted to not seeing a single other person since you broke up. it almost surprised you that you weren't the only one who was sex deprived.

"fuck would that do? bring you back?" he tried to laugh, accidentally gasping at the feeling of your wet cunt brushing past his throbbing dick. you noticed this, smiling back at him and slowly trying to position yourself perfectly.

"well, you have me now."

those words were all it took. with one swift motion, lip finally caught a grip on the fat of your hips, guiding you gently down his cock, your wetness making a makeshift lubricant.

"always so fuckin' wet for me," lip praised, smiling at the sight of how easily he filled you up to the brim of your cervix. watching your face contort from slight discomfort and into full bliss was his fucking kryptonite. you gasped, the immediate stuffed feeling hitting your stomach. lip winced at the tight sensation, already cursing under his raspy breath and whispering incoherent praises. "so—so fuckin' tigh...fu–ck" you gave him some time to adjust, propping your hands behind you so you could grind against him just right.

lip began rolling your hips back and forth, wet sounds of sex filling up the room. whimpers of "fuck, yes lip," and "just like that," only made his sexual frustration worse.

"'missed you so fuckin' much, baby. shit—you make me feel amazing. so, so fuckin' good." his hands dig deeper into your hips, making their way to your ass to squeeze and occasionally slap the flesh. you flinched with a moan, his dick hitting your gummy walls at a slightly different angle each time.

"m—fuck, missed you too, lip. you have no idea," your lungs begged for air, your tits bouncing slightly at the constant movement of your hips as you chased your high. you looked down at him, tears of arousal filling up your hooded eyes. lip marveled at the sight of your pleasure, inching closer and closer to cumming inside of you right then and there—but he had to savor this. grunting

how could he have waited this long to make amends with you? his groans felt like they practically echoed and bounced off of the walls. he needed to focus on your needs tonight. he pried between your crotchets, pressing his thumb against your clit and rubbing sloppy, rough circles against the bundle of nerves.

"slower, hun," you cooed, moving up and down his cock to keep his tip pounding right into your g-spot every time. the idea of staying quiet had never been this hard—but the music and shouting from downstairs was bound to cover for the two of you. lip nodded his head, slowing down his pace and gently grinding his hips into yours as his thumb remained at work.

after the few moments of pure bliss, moans and cries of lip's name coming from you that he wished would last an eternity, he felt the knot in his stomach tighten. similarly, you started forcefully catching your breath as you stared up at the ceiling. your head went foggy, every word that fell out of your mouth turning into messy gibberish. lip could tell you were close, but he wasn't quite ready to give up.

"i don't think i'm gonna last any longer," lip clenched his teeth, his hand aching from prioritizing your pleasure while his thrusts became sloppier and sloppier. he'd been fucked out without even finishing a single time.

"me neither—"

desperately trying to get a hold of yourself, your body gave out. your thighs began to shake, your cunt contracting. trying to muffle your shrieks, you cupped a hand over your saliva-slick mouth. your hips moved as fast as you could ever dreamed was possible, forcing you to grab onto lip's shoulder blades for support. lip could literally see his dick rolling up and down your stomach as he moaned your name, his eyes screwed shut. finally, just at the very last second, he took every bit of strength left in his body to flip you over, your back pressed against the sheets while you reached your climax. he pulled out with a groan, white ropes of sticky cum coating your lower stomach and the space right under your tits.

makeup sex was not how you envisioned this night would go. but how could you complain?

[couldawouldashoulda50]

From Completely Different Worlds - The Sweden Chapter - Part Seven

Previous parts 1 2 3 4 5 6 In continuation of @misshoneyimhome's birthday celebration, here is Part 7 of The Sweden Chapter. This chapter had to be split in two, so I have entitled it "The Beginning of the End". The second part will be posted soon, and will be aptly titled "The End". Thank you, Sophia. You have been such an excellent co-creator and audience for this fic - which started out as just this random idea where I thought William and Loren would meet, he would be attracted to her and then the smut would delicious and fun and that would be it. I have so much appreciation for the engagement and notes on this fic and I have learned a great deal about the whole writing process with this story. Thanks to all who have taken the time to read these long-ass chapters.

Word count on this one - about 9k (sorry)

No real warnings except for some profanity.

The gravel crunched softly under the tires as William eased the car into the driveway of the Nylanders’ lake house. The rays from the late morning sun illuminated the deep red siding of the house, warming the south-western deck and the vibrant flower containers perched atop each support post.

In the backseat, Pablo was already on his hind legs, his tail wagging furiously, unable to contain his excitement. Banksy, always mimicking his dog sibling, had leapt into Loren’s lap the moment the car turned into the driveway, his wet nose streaking the window as he panted excitedly.

“Okay, boys—give me a sec! Jesus, you were just here not that long ago,” William said with a laugh, shifting the car into park.

Loren kissed Banksy’s head before opening the passenger door and stepping out to let Pablo free. The two dogs bolted from the car, zooming across the yard before finding a tree to lift a leg to. Their energy never failed to entertain Loren as she giggled to herself.

She stood for a moment, shielding her eyes from the sun with her hand. The light from the sun danced atop each peak of the tiny waves that formed on the lake, making the water shimmer like diamonds. This place - where William spent much of his off-season - a place that exuded fun-filled family gatherings and long-standing traditions. Loren had now been a small part of William’s off-season plans, and had fallen in love with this place, his family and friends, and dare she even think about the depths of her feelings for William. But the reality was Loren had no idea what the future might bring. Her chest heavy with emotion as the thought hit her: this might be the last time she’d ever see this view.

William rounded the car and paused when he saw her. Loren was clearly lost in thought, her gaze fixed on the lake, the sun catching her long, light brown hair and the bronze of her exposed skin. He didn’t say anything right away, just watched her quietly.

William startled her as he approached her from behind. “You ok?”

Loren could feel the pin prick of tears threatening, so she bit the inside of her lip and nodded.

William wasn’t buying it. He soothingly rubbed her shoulders and pulled her back into his chest. “What is it - what’s going on?”

Loren placed her hands over his. “Please don’t take this like I’m hinting at anything…but I’ve loved every single second that I’ve been here, and it’s just - I know I’m really going to miss it,” she said softly. “I have had the most amazing and incredible time everywhere we've gone….but I think here has been my favourite.”

William knew in his heart that he wanted Loren to come back next off-season. And the one after that, and every one beyond that stretching long into the future. Somehow though, he and Loren had ended up in this situationship. Looking back, he could see how they had evolved into it, but William knew the time had come for them to communicate what they wanted from one another. A pang of anxiousness rippled through his stomach—a rare feeling for him, and a sign that he wasn’t entirely sure of their outcome. That uncertainty alone went against everything in William’s nature.

Before William could say anything, Loren first kissed his hand, then turned towards him and kissed him lightly on the mouth. And without saying a word, she grabbed the bags of groceries from the trunk for the French versus Swedish sandwich showdown that Michael and Loren had planned.

William followed with the rest of the bags, smiling to himself as he heard Camilla’s joy-filled greeting when Loren walked through the front door.

The plan for the next handful of days before Loren’s departure was simple: they would stay put at the lake house, letting family and friends come to them to catch up and visit. That day’s social agenda would begin with lunch for four - Michael, Camilla, Loren and William. The afternoon would be free to relax and then just before dinnertime, a rather large gathering had been planned with all the siblings, extended family, and friends from far and wide.

In William’s room, Loren began to unpack a few things while William chatted with his parents. He entered the room and quietly closed the door behind him.

Gazing at her with the air of a slightly cocky smirk, he leaned against his door.

A crooked grin formed on her mouth. “Are you allowed to be alone with girls in your bedroom?”

William failed miserably at looking innocent “It’s happened once or twice….my parents haven’t said anything yet.”

Loren slowly slid her teeth along her bottom lip. “And these what - one or two girls that you were left alone with, were they well behaved or a little naughty?”

William raised an eyebrow, his smirk deepening into a grin as he pushed off the door. He stopped just short of her, his hands sliding casually into his pockets as his gaze lingered on hers. “Depends on your definition of naughty - I mean, which one are you?” he asked, his voice dropping to the low gravelly tone that always sent a shiver down her spine.

Loren slipped out of her clothing, dawning a light pink mesh bra with matching panties. William’s cock twitched and his mouth fell open. Earlier that morning, Loren was fully dressed when he returned from walking the dogs - it never occurred to him that she might be wearing something that tantalizing underneath her jeans and light sweater.

She turned to him, her fingers grazing the waistband of his jeans. “I’ll be whatever you make me in the moment - nice or naughty - whatever you want,” she purred before breaking out into a teasing smile.

William chuckled followed by a low moan. He wet his lips and swallowed as he looked down at her beautiful breasts, sliding his hands from his pockets to her waist. His hands continued to move upward along her ribcage before they landed on both mounds. “You’re making it hard - “ William paused sheepishly for effect “to decide what I want, that is.”

Loren ran her hands up under William’s shirt, her nails grazing his skin trailing a path back down over the ridges of his muscles.

“Fuck it - I want both. You can be - do - whatever you want,” William murmured against her lips before lifting her up, kissing her in the process.

William gently set her back down, adjusting the crotch of his jeans as she casually went about changing into older clothes to do some cooking in.

As she dressed, Loren’s eyes trailed down to the outline of his hardness showing by his zipper and huffed out a small laugh.

William looked down at his aroused member and looked back at Loren. “This is all on you…..”

Pulling her hair into a loose bun, Loren did her best “Poor baby” expression as she pulled on her leggings and then her sneakers. “I might’ve helped you with that but a) I’m half in charge for lunch; b) i wouldn’t want your parents to regret not putting us in separate rooms; and c) you know as well as I do that I like to take my time with…him…” Loren nodded towards William’s member.

William grinned but his heart twisted a little. He loved the banter; it was always good-natured and he loved how their humour always seemed to mesh well. But watching her move effortlessly around the room - it felt like she had always been there with him. There was something about the way she fit into his life so naturally that made him reel a little.

Loren approached him suggestively . Trying to keep the moment light, William joked “I know what you’re gonna say. You gonna tell me how gorgeous I am.”

Loren stepped closer, kissed him lightly, and let her lips linger just long enough to make him wish she hadn’t stopped. “You’re annoyingly perfect, William Nylander,” doing her best Swedish accent on his last name. “Are you coming out now?”

He chuckled at her enunciation of his last name. “Be there in a sec.”

When Loren left the room, her soft laugh blending with his dad’s voice from the kitchen, William stayed where he was for a moment.

If inviting Loren to Sweden acted as some kind of litmus test in their relationship, Loren passed it with flying colors. She hadn’t just fit into his world—she’d thrived in it.

William discovered a boundless happiness when in her presence. He was so proud to have her on his arm. It wasn’t just her classic beauty that caught people’s attention—she carried herself with an incredible grace. She was genuine, unassuming, and utterly captivating in a way that made her stand out from anyone he’d ever known.

He was intensely attracted to her—not just physically, though that part was undeniable. She matched his energy with her own kind of fire, one that burned bright and steady. She was as sexually charged as he was but with an extra layer of something that left him breathless.

The list of things he saw in her only seemed to grow the more he got to know her.

But all of those feelings were tangled up in the ache he felt whenever he thought about her leaving. It was a weight that had settled on his chest since the moment he realized how much he wanted her to stay. He hated the idea of saying goodbye—of spending the last weeks of his off-season without her here.

He knew she couldn’t stay. Loren had commitments back home, a life that was just as important to her as hockey was to him. But knowing that didn’t make it any easier.

William sighed, running a hand through his hair as he tried to process the whirlwind of emotions she stirred in him. Shaking it off, he pushed himself off the wall and headed toward the kitchen, the sound of her infection giggle making his heart swell once more.

The kitchen boasted clean lines of typical Scandinavian design with sleek white cabinetry and subtle wood accents. The large windows overlooking the lake provided the perfect amount of natural light and gave the space a calm, inviting feel. A long island with a butcher block countertop stood at the center, flanked by bar stools and lined with an assortment of ingredients for lunch.

Loren and Michael stood at the counter having a quick sip of wine as he regaled her with stories of his family and their extensive travels. They began to arrange the ingredients for their respective dishes - Michael’s signature räksmörgås—shrimp sandwiches that William had grown up loving and Loren with the Croque Monsieur that she made William during her brief stay with him at the start of the playoffs.

William leaned against the island beside Camilla, sipping a glass of wine as he watched the easy flow of conversation between Loren and his dad. The space felt alive with laughter and the clatter of utensils. This was the kind of moment William had longed for in his dating life. The object of all of his affection and desires beside the patriarch of their close knit family.

“Loren and your father get along so well,” Camilla remarked with a gentle smile, nodding toward the counter.

William huffed a soft laugh. “Yeah, they’re both in their element—it’s really awesome to see, eh?”

Camilla glanced at him, her expression thoughtful. “It is. She’s really quite something, William.”

Her tone was light, but hearing those words coming from his mother carried weight, which settled somewhere deep in his chest. He swirled the wine in his glass, the familiar ache creeping back as he thought about how temporary this moment felt.

Loren caught his eye from across the room and smiled, a soft, knowing look that made his chest both tighten and relax at the same time.

[In Swedish] “I’m going to step outside for a bit,” William quietly said, topping up the wine in his glass.

Camilla knew not to press him while he tried to work out whatever was in his head. She watched him in silence as he walked toward the deck.

William leaned against the railing, looking out over the lake as the breeze made intricate designs atop the water’s surface.

He looked around at the Edison and fairy lights that hung loosely around the branches and tree trunks throughout the property. Once dusk hits, they’re going to look fantastic he mused to himself. It seemed the family had been rather busy while William and Loren were away decorating, prepping buffet tables and the large fire pit with dry brush for the large get together that evening with friends and family.

After tossing back the remnants of wine into his mouth, he absentmindedly rolled the empty wine glass lightly between his hands as his thoughts swirled. He’d never been one to dwell on the “what ifs” in life, but with Loren, it felt impossible not to.

The soft creak of the screen door behind him broke his train of thought. He didn’t need to turn around to know it was his mom.

“Please don’t break my wine glass, William,” Camilla said teasingly. She knew William was smiling at her quip. “You’ve been a little quiet,” Camilla continued softly, stepping onto the deck with her own glass of wine. She slid onto one of the lounge chairs near him and shielded her eyes from the sun as she at William, patiently awaiting his response.

William smiled faintly, setting his empty glass down on the railing. “Just... thinking.”

Camilla nodded, her expression warm. “About?”

Glancing down at the deck boards, he repeatedly stepped on the loose board before meeting her gaze. “About Loren.”

Camilla took a sip of her wine, waiting for him to continue.

“I’m not used to this feeling - like how strong these feelings are, and how quickly it’s all happened. Even asking her to come here - when I asked her if she could come to visit... it had told her it was because I missed her,” William admitted after a moment. “And I did - but it was weird, because it felt like I had to have her come here. I was so anxious to see what it would feel like having her here with me—if she would get along with everyone…..if everyone would like her. I mean, how shitty would it be to start seeing her at the start of next season, only to bring her here next summer and she hates it here? Or worse yet, what if there were issues between you guys and her…I don’t know if I could handle that. Especially not after the last one.”

Camilla nodded as she listened to William rhyme off his thoughts.

She took a sip of wine. “And? What do you think now?” Camilla asked, her tone gentle.

William sighed as he lowered himself into an adjacent chair. “She fits in better than I ever could’ve imagined.”

Camilla nodded once again.

William continued. “But it’s more than that—it’s her. It’s like getting to spend this time with her has sort of confirmed all the good things that I thought I saw when I first met her - even more actually. At the beginning - she was pretty shy and just so…” William gestured that Loren was a bit wide-eyed when she first met him. “But God, Mom - I feel like I can relax around her. We can talk or not talk or laugh about stupid shit. She’s just—she’s so easy to be with. The only thing is that it just feels like a lot... a lot because it happened pretty quickly. I wasn’t expecting any of this, and neither was she.”

Camilla smiled knowingly, setting her glass down beside her. “I think it’s good that neither of you were expecting it. William, you’ve found someone that you genuinely enjoy being around. - that is a good thing.”

William glanced out at the lake, his voice softer now. “It feels weird to think this, let alone say it but - I don’t want her to leave. ”

Camilla’s smile faded slightly, her expression shifting to one of understanding. “It’s not a bad thing that she has her own life, William. You’ll both have to find a way to balance that as time goes on.”

“I know,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “I'm a bit worried too that my life - it’s a lot for her to have to deal with. It’s not like we started dating when we were younger so she could ease into what my life is like now. It freaks me out sometimes - I don’t want anything to screw this up.”

Camilla reached over, placing a hand on his arm. “Loren strikes me as a woman that can weather the highs and lows of being in a relationship with you, and everything in between. She sees who you are - and what you are - and I feel that is such an important thing, as the two sometimes can be very different. I’m not telling you what to do or how to feel. If you are honest with yourself of what you truly want, that’s half the battle. The other half is talking to her about how you feel….to find out if she’s wanting the same thing. But I see the way you two look at each other - the way you are around each other - I think you've found something really special.”

William glanced at her, the weight in his chest easing just slightly at her reassurance.

“Thanks, Mom,” he said quietly, a small appreciative smile spanned his face.

Camilla squeezed his arm gently before picking up her glass. “Of course, älskling.” She stood, pausing briefly before heading back inside.

William stayed on the deck a little longer, letting the lake view calm his insides, and he grinned to himself as the sounds of laughter and delicious smells wafted from inside.

As it went, the sandwich showdown was a success as it was no longer about choosing a “winner” between the two options. Michael’s shrimp sandwiches had quickly become Loren’s favorite, though Michael and Camilla couldn’t stop praising the Croque Monsieur she’d prepared, calling it a decadent, once-in-a-while treat. William indulged in it all and had to change into some looser track pants to feel a little more comfortable afterwards.

—

Cleaning up from lunch, William and Loren moved effortlessly around the kitchen, their movements in a natural rhythm as if they’d done this a hundred times before. Michael scrolled through messages on his phone at the counter, and Loren smiled to herself, thinking, like father, like son.

While sipping wine and exchanging family stories, the three of them had formed an assembly line: Loren washing, William drying, and Camilla putting away the larger pots and pans that couldn’t go into the dishwasher.

The rich aroma from the three slow cookers, each filled with Swedish meatballs, wafted through the space, making Loren’s mouth water despite still being full from lunch. There was enough to feed half of Sweden—or at least the Nylander and Altelius families, which felt just as large.

The conversation during lunch, which incidentally revolved around food, delved into Loren’s French-centric upbringing and the cuisine which went along with it. The Nylanders could understand and appreciate this element well, being very Swedish-centric themselves. Michael wanted to know more about the decadent dishes that Loren had learned to make since she was young, which incorporated an interesting fusion between traditional Quebec and Parisian cuisine. With the mere mention of a recipe for a popular side-dish that Loren often made for large gatherings in the past, dauphinoise potatoes, Camilla was convinced that it would be a wonderful addition to the buffet scheduled that evening. Loren was soon making a list of ingredients, and with the promise of making them that evening (which pleased Loren to no end to do), Camilla and Michael ventured off to run the last minute errands.

Once Michael’s car was out of sight, William turned to Loren, opening his arms for a hug. Loren stepped into his embrace and with her arms wrapping around him, her hands trailed up his muscular back. She closed her eyes, enjoyed the peace of the moment and just breathed him in.

William kissed the top of her head. “I think it’s time for a nap. Are you tired? There’s a hammock we can both squeeze into…we can watch the lake and doze.”

“Mmm….I can always sleep….and I’ll never give up a chance to nap with you.” Loren replied affectionately, tilting her head up to kiss him sweetly.

Loren meandered out to the hammock with both dogs in tow, while William fetched a blanket. Despite the warmth of the afternoon sun, there was a crispness to the breeze which implied autumn was not far off.

Although she was skeptical at first with how comfortable the hammock would be for one person, let alone two adults and two dogs, the four were soon cocooned all together under the blanket with relative ease. Loren lay on her side, her head resting on a small pliable pillow in the crook of William’s underarm. William had strategically, yet comfortably, wrapped his arms around Loren. With the lake as a serene backdrop, she felt William’s chest rise and fall with every steady breathe as sleep found him first.

As Loren lay in William’s arms, her thoughts wandered to the future. The Sweden fairytale would end tomorrow, and the uncertainty of what came next weighed heavy. She’d ignored asking all the “uncomfortable” questions with her ex, and look where that had gotten her.

Perhaps a new one would begin for her and William in Toronto, but deep down, she couldn’t bet on any of it.

Maybe he’d ghost her.

Maybe he’ll keep playing the field after she leaves.

Maybe she is just one woman out of many that he spends time with.

Maybe it’s all of the above. Maybe it’s none of it.

She knew she was too far gone with her feelings for William to ignore the questions that rattled in her head. She had ignored similar questions with her ex, suppressing every single one until it was too late. And look where that had gotten her.

William shifted, his hand which rested on her hip squeezed her playfully and then slid up her backside. She felt him pause, tilt his head downward, and pressed a long kiss against her forehead. “Are you awake?” William whispered.

Loren nodded and smiled against the warmth of his shirt, running her hand along his torso.

She asked if he was comfortable. William responded with a low chuckle “I’m so comfortable that I might consider not moving for the rest of the day.”

William lay in silence, breathing in the fresh air and Loren’s light fragrance of her hair.

Before talking herself out of it, and with a lot of hesitation and trepidation, she began asking William questions, starting off with the ones that had been circling in her mind that afternoon.

Unsure of how the Q & A would go, or where it would lead, Loren jumped in feet first with asking William about the plethora of women for pro-athletes.

She would just have to work her way back from that.

—

The next morning, Loren woke with a dry mouth and a faint headache pounding in the background, though it hadn’t fully committed yet. Squinting against the bright morning light streaming through the curtains, she turned her head just enough to spot William sprawled on his stomach, the blanket wadded up by his arm, and one leg partially hanging off the bed. His hair stuck up in every direction, and his face was smushed against the pillow in a way that made her smile.

Stretching slowly, Loren let her eyes wander over the room as the memories of the previous night came flooding back. The dancing, the singing, the laughter—it had been one of the most joy-filled evenings she could remember.

Her gaze drifted back to William, who stirred slightly as if sensing her attention. His eyes opened just a crack, dark and bleary from the night before. “Mmm... morning,” he croaked through his dry throat.

“Morning,” Loren replied, her voice raspy. She reached for the glass of water on her nightstand, only to find it empty. “Ugh. I need water.”

William’s lips curved into a sleepy grin. “Hungover? Pretty sure I saw you and Mom clearing out the wine supply last night. You two are a bad influence on each other.”

Loren laughed softly then winced, her headache starting to win the battle. She found a stray bottle of water in her bag and climbed back into bed, draping an arm across his bare back. “It’s your mom - I couldn’t keep up with her and your aunts if I tried. Did you see us? I’m shocked I even have a voice left after belting out the words to every ABBA song on the playlist.”

“Of course I saw you.” William rolled onto his side, propping his head up on one hand as his other hand rested lightly on Loren’s waist. “Dad and I were watching you guys - I think he got some footage of you and Mom, too. Fucking total maniacs.”

Loren grinned, leaning in to kiss his cheek. “She’s amazing. Honestly, the whole night was amazing. I can’t remember the last time I had that much fun.”

William chuckled, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “Well, I think the champagne punch might’ve helped. Not that it did me any favors—you passed out before you could make good on all the promises you whispered to me and Cowboy Bill.”

Loren cocked her head to the side and rolled her eyes. “It was you and your dad that kept topping up our glasses - so you sabotaged yourself.”

“It was sort of worth it, though - you get all mushy and sentimental when you’re hammered,” William teased as he buried his face in her neck. “You’re so perfect William, you could line up every man on the planet and there would none as perfect as you, perfect body, perfect mind - Cowboy Bill - perfect,” William mimicked Loren’s voice as he rhymed off her drunken musings.

Loren pretended to pout, pushing him lightly on the chest. “You’re making fun of me on my last day here? Maybe I overestimated you and your perfection. A perfect man would lay me back and tell me how good those words made him feel. No, wait - he would show me how good those words made him feel - ”

“Ohhhhhh - come here, don’t be like that,” William said, his shit-eating grin widening as he rolled her onto her back and pressed a soft kiss to her lips. “You telling me how perfect you think I am, took me out.” His eyes scanned her face. “And coming from you, phew…that’s really something.”

Loren rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress her smile. “I’m sorry I let Cowboy Bill down last night.”

William groaned, pulling her closer. “If we didn’t have my parents expecting us downstairs, you could be making it up to him right now…”

—

As noon faded into mid-afternoon, the activity around the lake house began to quiet. One by one, cars were packed, and heartfelt “until next times” were exchanged.

Many of William’s extended family gathered around Loren, each embracing her warmly as they wished her well.

One of Camilla’s sisters squeezed Loren’s hand gently. “Safe travels back to Canada, Loren. I hope we can all keep in touch and that we’ll see you again next summer. So, no goodbyes—just ‘see you soon.’”

Loren’s throat tightened as she tried to steady her voice. “I hope so too. It’s been so wonderful to meet you all.”

Even William’s youngest cousins, who Loren had spent hours playing with to give their parents a much-needed reprieve, came bounding up, forming a little line as they waited their turn to hug her.

William stood behind Loren as they watched another wave of cars disappear down the driveway. His hands rested lightly on her hips, squeezing gently - both playfully to lighten the mood, and reassuringly. He could see Loren holding back her emotions as the thoughts of her own impending departure weighed on her shoulders. His hands didn’t stray far from her as they joined his friends out on the wrap-around deck.

The mood was light despite most of the group nursing varying levels of hangovers. The previous night had been one of the last big blowouts before the end of summer, with William’s loved ones leading the charge until most had passed out in one way or another. Alex and Lisa were nowhere to be seen, seemingly sleeping off the effects of drunkenly seeing the sunrise that morning.

William and Loren shared a lounge chair, with him leaning back comfortably between her legs. Loren did her best to soak in every moment, appreciating not just the view of the lake but the warmth of William’s hands resting on her thighs and the solid weight of his body against hers. She focused on memorizing every detail—the tone of his voice as he and Rasmus discussed the upcoming hockey season, the occasional laughter that lit up his face, and the feeling of being right there with him in this fleeting moment.

As the men’s conversation deepened into offseason trades and team strategies, Malin took it upon herself to slip into the chair next to Loren and William. With a wave of her hand, she shooed William away. “Go sit with the boys so we can have some girl time.”

William chuckled, giving Loren’s thigh one last squeeze before moving to take Lisa’s spot beside Rasmus, while Loren and the women settled into their own conversations.

Lisa smiled at Loren as she made herself comfortable at the end of the lounge chair. “So, are you looking forward to going back home?”

“Hmmm,” Loren said thoughtfully. “In some ways, yes—I miss my house, and I’m excited to see my parents and friends. But honestly, you’ve all made it really hard not to want to stay. You ladies are amazing, and I’m so thankful I’ve met you.”

Malin’s bottom lip turned downward in an exaggerated pout as she leaned over and rested her head on Loren’s shoulder. “You’re making me cry,” she said with a chuckle. “So, what this all means is that you have to come back. Stay longer next time. I mean, everything I’ve seen points to you and William coming back together, but if it doesn’t work out, you can always stay with me.”

“Or me! Oh my gosh, I’d love for you to come back,” Ingrid added enthusiastically.

The women cooed and leaned in for a group hug, earning a round of mocking jeers from the men across the deck.

“I’m gonna miss you, man,” Emil declared loudly, pulling William into an exaggerated hug and pretending to shed a tear. Rasmus joined in, dabbing at his eyes dramatically as he patted William on the back.

“You guys are such assholes, honestly,” Ingrid said, rolling her eyes at their clowning.

The group traded good-natured jabs until the laughter finally died down. Emil stood and stretched, announcing he was heading home. Loren approached him with a wide grin to say goodbye, and William clapped him on the back for a quick hug.

“Thanks for coming,” William said, smiling warmly. “Let’s hit the rink later this week—then grab some lunch after.”

“Sounds good,” Emil replied before turning his attention to Loren. His feelings for her had started to fade, but he still couldn’t help admiring everything about her. As he hugged her tightly—mindful of William’s presence—he couldn’t help but think of how rare it was to meet someone like her.

“It was such a pleasure to meet you, Emil,” Loren said, her grin lighting up her face.

“Oh, I forgot to tell you—I listened to that Canadian blues guy you mentioned. Incredible guitar. Loved his voice.”

Loren’s eyes lit up with excitement. “I’m so glad you liked him! He’s not super well-known, even in Canada, but I think he’s ridiculously talented.”

“Get William to give you my number,” Emil said. “If you think of anyone else you think I might like, send me a message, okay?”

William, standing behind Loren with his hand resting at the small of her back, nodded. “Yeah, for sure…I’ll pass it along.”

Emil flashed one last warm smile at Loren before saying goodbye to the rest of the group and heading out.

Before long, the group had dwindled down to just Rasmus and Lisa. As wonderful as it was to have all of William’s closest friends and their girlfriends around, there was something comforting about the particular closeness shared between William and Rasmus, and Loren and Lisa.

As the four of them relaxed on the deck, William casually offered for Rasmus and Lisa to stay a little longer. [In Swedish] “Pasta and Rebecca are coming for dinner tonight with little Freya,” he said, referring to current NHL star David Pastrnak, affectionately known league-wide as “Pasta” and one of his closest friends, and his wife. “You’re more than welcome to stay for dinner - catch up a bit from their wedding.” William quickly translated for Loren after the fact.

[In English] “Would love to but my brother’s coming with his girlfriend for a barbeque tonight at our place. Shit - seeing Pasta would be awesome.”

“Oh - I have seen pictures of Freya,” Lisa turned to Loren “she’s so sweet, an absolute doll. So is Rebecca, she’s really nice - you’ll like her.”

Camilla stepped onto the deck from the sliding door. [In Swedish] “Sorry for interrupting. William, can you help your Dad and I carry that bookcase you asked for out to the car? We’re going to drop it off at your place and then take the girls out for dinner.”

Rasmus stood up before William and offered to help as well. Soon the four friends were hauling out a very unique and beautiful vintage Scandinavian bookcase which William had discovered tucked away in storage at the beginning of the summer.

Michael and Camilla approached Loren for a hug. “We’ll see you tomorrow for brunch, and this time, I just want you to sit and relax. You’ve got a long day ahead of you,” Michael smiled.

Loren and Camilla exchanged a knowing smile. After drinking far more than either of them was accustomed to the night before, their brief meeting earlier that morning had included a silent acknowledgment—a shared camaraderie between two women who partied hard and were now paying the price.

With the remaining family splitting up between two vehicles—including Alex and Lisa, who still looked groggy and in desperate need of more sleep—the last of the hugs were exchanged, and soon they were on their way.

Lisa approached Loren for one final hug, holding her tightly. “We’ll absolutely figure out a way to get together,” she said confidently. “After all, D.C. isn’t that far from Toronto - oooh - if William’s away, you can come down….we can keep you company.

Rasmus opened his arms for Loren as well. His embrace was sincere and full of warmth.

“If he misbehaves, you make sure you tell me. He thinks he can make my life miserable during the game, but I know a million ways to get under his skin too.” He pulled back slightly “It was awesome to meet you, Loren. And Lisa’s serious - she would love the company when I’m on the road, so maybe you ladies can figure out plans to get together.”

Loren beamed with the thought of all the newfound friendships she had made in the past two weeks. “I would absolutely love that. Honestly, you all have been so incredible. Thank you for making my time here so special.” Loren fought against the tightness in her throat. This is just getting harder and harder she thought.

After Rasmus drove off, their hands still waving out of the window as they disappeared from sight, it was just Loren, William and his furry four-legged boys.

Each of them took a deep breath as their eyes locked for a brief moment. William snaked his arm around Loren’s waist as they walked toward the house. Loren slid her hand over one of his firm ass cheeks, tapping it affectionately, and smiled when William’s grip on her hip tightened in response.

The reality that time was slipping away faster than grains of sand in an hourglass was palpable. In less than 24 hours, Loren would be awaiting the call to board at the departure gate at Arlanda Airport.

William silently resolved to make the most of Loren’s remaining hours in Sweden. Their future didn’t have to be figured out in one night, but he knew one thing for certain—he needed to make his intentions clear. It was time to find out how Loren truly felt about being in his life, not just as “romantic Interest”, but as his girlfriend.

—

“Awh—look at Pablo,” Loren said, nodding toward the dog bed. “He lays just like you when you’re passed out on your back. Legs wide open.”

William chuckled, not missing a beat. “Nothing like having a nap and airing out the boys. It’s multitasking.”

Loren nearly spit her wine out, choking on a laugh as the glass clinked against the counter. Pablo, startled by the sudden sound, perked up briefly before settling back into his sprawled position.

“Sorry, buddy,” Loren said, walking over to the makeshift perch she’d set up for the dogs to allow them a clear view of all the kitchen activities. She stood beside Pablo, scratching his belly in apology before kissing Banksy’s head for good measure. Returning to the island, she resumed chopping carrots for the evening’s dish—a Swedish beef stew called Kalops.

Loren chuckled to herself. “I can just picture it now—on a low-key day, you three, and now Alex, lounging around on the couch at your place... a bunch of furry balls being air-dried. Nice.”

“Mine aren’t furry,” William countered without hesitation. “I took care of them in the shower yesterday... but you wouldn’t know since you fed Cowboy Bill a bunch of false promises last night. He’s still upset about it too.”

Loren lifted her head, staring straight ahead as if she was deeply unimpressed with William’s teasing. “I already apologized to Cowboy Bill—face to mmm... you know—but it’s you who owes my mmm-mmm down there an apology for getting me so hammered she missed out on a wild ride.”

The kitchen settled into an easy silence, broken only by the rhythmic sound of Loren chopping vegetables and the sizzle of beef cubes browning in the skillet.

“So... how do you say ‘furry balls’ in Swedish?” Loren asked, deadpan.

William’s inner voice howled in amusement, his lips twitching as he tried to suppress a laugh. “Luddiga bollar,” he replied, his tone mock-serious, though his shoulders shook with silent amusement.

Loren’s laughter spilled out, thankfully avoiding startling the dogs once more. “I can’t tell if that’s legit or if you’re just trying to make me sound ridiculous.”

William smirked, still focused on the pan. “You’ll have to say it to my dad tomorrow at brunch to find out.”

Loren’s eyes went wide and her mouth dropped as she flung a carrot top towards him.

William turned the burner off and removed the pan from the heat. Approaching Loren, he reached out, lightly pinning her hips against the counter. She set the knife down, her expression softening as his presence enveloped her.

“Furry balls aside, there’s some more important things you should learn to say in Swedish,” he murmured, brushing his lips against hers. “Like how to answer some questions I’ll probably be asking you regularly once I'm back in Toronto—but I will be asking them in Swedish.”

Her hands slid under his shirt, grazing the toned muscles along his sides as she smiled, her voice full of both curiosity and desire. “For example?”

William’s gaze locked on hers, his tone low and sincere. “Well, I know your schedule’s crazy, so I’d probably ask when I can see you, how long I can see you for, if you can stay the night—or the whole day. Maybe if I can crash at your place instead. And then there’s ‘Can you come to any games that week?’ or ‘Can you stay a few days?’...” He paused before leaning in for a slow, lingering kiss. Breaking away just to speak softly against her lips, he added, “And, of course, ‘Do you like it when I do this to you?’” His tongue lightly grazed the tip of hers - and with that one moves, she knew he wanted to use his tongue on a spot a little lower on her body.

Loren’s cheeks flushed and her pulse quickened, her fingers pressed against his sides. She wasn’t one to jump to conclusions, but something about William’s words felt less like a list of ‘What If’s’ and more like a promise.

“But I already know the word for ‘Yes’ in Swedish,” she said softly.

William tilted his head, his mouth brushing her jawline before finding her ear. “You’re just going to answer ‘Yes’ to everything?”

“Ja,” she whispered, her lips curling into a smile as her fingers tightened around his shirt. “Most of those questions just need ‘Ja’ or ‘Nej,’ but in my case... ‘Ja, ja, ja... hmmm... Ja.’”

In the background, the opening lyrics of Post Malone’s 'Stay' filled the room, a reminder of the long make-out sessions that had marked the beginning of her and William’s connection.

For William, it encapsulated such significant meaning in that moment because it’s exactly what he wanted her to do.

Loren rested her forehead against William’s collarbone as they began to sway. William’s one hand traveled up her spine, eventually finding its way to the back of her hair, while the other pulled her in closer around her waist.

Nearing the end of the song, a car horn beeped repetitively and William and Loren quickly snapped back to reality. Sharing one more tender kiss, they washed their hands and hurriedly followed the dogs to the door to greet the Pastrnak’s.

—

“So - you finished up with all of your interviews now?” William asked, sitting across from his long-time friend, David Pastrnak, at the dining table.

The two right-wing forwards, who have been friends for almost 15 years but play for rival NHL teams, were being featured together in the first episode of a upcoming documentary series.

“All done - you did yours too, right?” David asked, as he poured more wine into his wife’s glass and subsequently Loren’s.

“Yeah, right after your wedding. Fuck dude, your wedding - that was one of the best nights man - ah Loren, I wish you could have seen it,” William said, a touch ruefully.

Loren turned to Rebecca. “I saw pictures and reels on Instagram - Croatia looks incredible. I keep on thinking of the scenery…it looked magical…like a place out of a fairy tale.”

Rebecca pulled out her phone to show her some additional pictures as Loren openly and enthusiastically admired how stunning Rebecca looked, the colour scheme, the flowers - everything.

Loren began talking to Freya. “Did you see your momma and daddy? Absolutely beautiful - just like you.” Loren walked her fingers along the tray on Freya’s high chair, punctuating “just like you” on each button of her onesie.

Freya’s face lit up with a smile and a hearty giggle, and Loren’s did the same. Soon, they were copying each other, their fits of belly laughs growing louder with each motion. No one at the table could withstand the contagious sound of their joy, and before long, everyone was joining in.

Once the laughter had died down, Rebecca rather impressively instructed the two men to clean up the table while the ladies retreated to the living room with Freya and their wine. William and David looked at each other with slight resignation.

“Yes, Boss Lady,” David said with a mix of sarcasm and defiance as they slowly rose from the table and began gathering plates and cutlery.

They were fairly efficient for about a minute before William grabbed a couple of beers from the fridge, handed one to David, and waved dismissively at the rest of the mess. “We’ll get to it later,” he stated, and with that, the two strutted out onto the deck.

Having settled on the living room sofa with Freya and their wine, Loren and Rebecca exchanged a certain look before their gaze fell on their respective men’s muscular rear-ends. In silence, they toasted each other with a knowing grin and took a long sip of their wine.

—

David motioned toward the empty chair across from him as William handed over a fresh beer. “So, she leaves tomorrow?” David asked, twisting off the cap.

William settled into the chair and leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “Yeah—flight’s at five in the afternoon. She had this insane thirty-hour return trip booked because it was the cheapest, but I rebooked her on a direct flight. Took some convincing, though. She’s stubborn as hell about letting me pay for anything.”

David leaned back, resting his bottle on the deck. “Okay, so she’s got pride and is stubborn. Anything else you figure out over the past weeks?”

William grinned, swiping condensation from his beer bottle. “Well, I think I figured out….I love hanging out with her. She’s got this - I don’t know, it’s like she’s a mix of every kind of goodness rolled into one person. It’s crazy.” David raised an eyebrow, smirking at his friend’s almost bashful admittance. “And now, seeing her with my family, with you guys - the rest of my friends—it’s just easy, you know? Like I don’t have to worry about entertaining her or think ‘oh fuck - keep her away from this person or that or else shit’s gonna happen’ - know what I mean? She wants to make a good impression but she’s so…genuine? Does that make sense?” William looked over his shoulder through the sliding glass doors. Loren was on the floor playing with Freya while Rebecca took the opportunity and enjoyed a glass of wine.

David nodded. He had only just met Loren but he could already see exactly what William was talking about. “Okay, but what’s the not-so-great stuff? She’s gotta have... what are these things... flaws? Y’know, like, she’s not gonna be perfect 24/7.” His tone was teasing—he hadn’t seen William this moony over a woman in a long time—but there was a hint of seriousness beneath it. Playing devil’s advocate, David wanted to keep his friend’s thoughts grounded.

William leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he stretched his back. “I don’t know if I’d call them flaws—she’s just... different. In a good way, if that makes sense?”

David motioned for William to keep going. “Gimme an example,” David said, reaching for another beer from the cooler that sat between them, grabbing another for William in the process.

“Okay - like she’s had some really shitty stuff go on in the past with this guy…he was pretty awful to her - like pretty fucking bad but could be worse type of guy. She got past it - she works hard - like tons of hours to pay the bills. She’s made a really nice home for herself and she keeps things simple. But sometimes she is really in her head, or she was a lot when I first met her. She worries a lot about things that I probably wouldn’t give a shit about. But, that’s what makes her, her. Sometimes simple things really stress her out, and yet other times, she’s super chill.” William took a long swig of beer and then glanced at David as he considered the traits William rhymed off about Loren.

David cocked an eyebrow. “Okay, so can you see something happening with her when you get back to Toronto? Our lives - are not easy to deal with. Especially yours - for me, people just wave and say hi, like they know me but they just go on with their day. You, my friend, have always had women that will do anything to be near you. Whatever Rebecca has seen being my girlfriend, it’s going to be much harder for Loren. Have you talked to her about that?”

William rubbed his eyes and leaned back in the chair. “That’s kind of what I’m worried the most about. Not whether she can handle it, but whether she even wants to. Like - I know how she feels about me, as a person. But yeah, she’s already had a taste of the hockey player side of things - I still can’t believe I made her feel like she was the distraction when my game sort of went to shit back in April.” William silently cringed at the memory. “But I know she’s thinking about what it will mean for her being in a relationship with me. Fuck, yesterday, we were in the hammock all afternoon, just talking and hanging out, and she came right out with it. Asked me how it worked with athletes and women.”

David raised his eyebrows, wondering what direction the conversation in the hammock went in.

“She asked - and I’m not joking - ‘Is it you guys just wanting to get your dick wet just because there’s like never-ending pussy that are accessible to you?”

David choked on his beer, laughing. “She said that?”

“Yup,” William said, shaking his head. “And not even like she was accusing me of anything—more like she was trying to understand how it all works.”

David looked over William’s shoulder at Loren, trying to connect the dots between Loren’s sweet disposition and her apparent potty mouth. “So, what did you say?”

“I told her the truth,” William replied. “That there’s a lot of factors—pressures from inside the locker room, the lifestyle, the fans... but yeah, mostly, it’s just constantly being offered.”

David made a cringe expression. “How did she answer?”

“She didn’t say anything for the longest time,” William said. “And then finally, she asked ‘But is fucking random women that amazing that you guys just want to sleep around all the time? Like, I get it - it’s sex with beautiful women - and some women will do anything you want just to get with you - but is the sex really that good?’”

David and William exchanged knowing glances. “I just said ‘Fuck - not always…I’ve regretted some for sure’” William said, a smirk tugging on his lips. Silence hung in the air for a moment until both men burst out laughing. They had exchanged a number of ‘war stories’ of their female conquests over the years.

“But fuck, as she's asking these questions, I'm getting nervous, right? Like I used to fool around and stuff years ago…I wasn't sure if she was going to ask me how many girls I've been with or if I ever cheated or what. So I just sort of asked her - does she think if we're together that I'm going to fuck around on her? Then she hit me with something and I’m still thinking about it now.”

David's eyes widened with a mix of amusement and anticipation.

“She just said she doesn’t have this “magic pussy” that would keep me from cheating - if I wanted to cheat that is. And then she said—‘You’re going to do whatever you want to do….none of it is in my control.’”

David’s brow furrowed, his grin fading. “That’s...hmmm - wow. What did you say to that?”

William hesitated, taking another sip of his beer. “I didn’t know what to say at first. But she wasn’t done. She said she doesn’t get the appeal of having a roster of women. She said instead of having a thousand women, wouldn’t it be better to have one woman a thousand ways? And then she just kissed me and said, ‘I guess that’s just me.’”

David sat back, processing William’s words. After a moment, he smiled faintly, despite being a bit taken aback by Loren’s “You’re going to do whatever you want regardless” attitude. Nevertheless, David agreed with Loren. “Well, she’s definitely got a point.”

William nodded, his voice soft. “Yeah. And I can’t stop thinking about it. A thousand women? That’s not what I want. I was dating here and there before I met her, and yeah, they’re all stacked and say all the things that they think I want to hear - whatever. But fuck, Pasta—it’s scary when you meet someone that just blows you away, you know?”

David studied him for a moment, then leaned in. “So... is it possible? A thousand ways with Loren?”

William’s grin returned, a hint of boyishness. “A thousand ways might be tame for her.”

David threw his head back, laughing. “Lucky guy.”

“Trust me, I know,” William said, his voice sounding more serious. “I’ve never met anyone like her - like I can see things going pretty far down the road with her.”

“It’s not complicated, Willy. So you take the leap and probably end up happy but if you let her leave and don’t let her know how you feel about her, you might lose out on something big.”

David suddenly shivered, rubbing his hands together. “Fucking cold man - what are we even doing out here? Going in to sit with our hot boss ladies.”

William and David eased out of their chairs and into the warmth of the house. David rounded the love seat to find his beautiful daughter sleeping on Loren’s midriff. A little stream of drool seeped from Freya’s pink lips that were smooshed against Loren’s upper chest.

David smiled and whispered to Loren and Rebecca “Ohhh - she’s out…must be tired.”

Rebecca smiled and winked at her husband. “She passed right out when Loren offered to hold her - so I took the opportunity to enjoy a glass of wine.”

William slowly lowered himself next to Loren, careful not to disturb the baby. He gazed at Freya’s face, noticing the drool and chuckled. The image before him of Loren holding a baby was yet another moment that was surprisingly exciting to William. They were nowhere near discussing babies in their future, but the momentary glimpse of one of the many possibilities did not frighten him either.

—

Life for William after Loren returned to Toronto wasn’t all that different on the surface. His days were still filled with the familiar routines of off-season life—rounds of golf and tennis with friends, grueling training sessions both at the rink and the gym, and leisurely evenings spent hopping between Stockholm’s best restaurants or lounging in with his friends for a movie or a big game.

But beneath the surface, everything felt different. Her absence weighed on him in ways he hadn’t anticipated. It wasn’t just the standard longing for someone you miss; it was much deeper. Loren wasn’t just in his thoughts—everywhere he turned, he could see her there.

The memory of her shivering from the chill of the lake while helping to fix the water line came rushing back every time he went down to the water’s edge with his dogs.

In the shower, he could almost hear her laughter and feel her body press against him by merely opening the shampoo she left for him and smelling it's familiar fragrance.

He longed for her to be beside him for meals with the family, especially when Michael made his own variation of Croque Monsieur for lunch, which he now deemed “Croque Michel”

With Loren hitting the ground running almost as soon as she landed, William made it a point to reach out regularly, given he had the time—whether through a text, a voice call, or FaceTime. He was lucky to catch her during quiet moments at home, a break at work, or even during her drive. Their conversations never disappointed; they were always filled with affection and humor, leaving him wishing they didn’t have to end—no matter if they lasted a quick minute or stretched to thirty.

One evening, during one of their FaceTime calls, Loren’s phone was mounted to her dashboard as she drove through the city. She glanced between him and the street signs outside, explaining that Chelsea, the unstoppable marketing machine, had asked her to meet with a local designer downtown. Chelsea had shown photos of Loren to the designer, and was eager to have her model pieces from a new collection being featured on a Toronto talk show. William listened, his smile fixed, but something about these new opportunities—even though she brushed it off and seemed opposed to the idea—tightened his chest. She looked so effortlessly stunning even then - her hair tousled, her still tanned complexion and deep brown eyes darting between focusing on him and navigating the streets. The thought of others noticing the same thing, of someone else being drawn in by her charm, sat heavy in his chest long after their call ended.

The busier Loren seemed, the more William found himself wanting to get back to her. He admired how hard she worked and how determined she was—it was one of the first things he’d noticed about her. But every now and then, he’d feel this strange, unexpected tug of possessiveness, like he was afraid one of the many things keeping her busy might pull her away from him. Now that he’d found her, the idea of losing her to something—or someone—else was a thought he couldn’t shake, no matter how much he tried.

Soon, September rolled around, and it was only a matter of days before William would be landing back in Toronto.

Loren, knowing how chaotic the start of the school year could be, decided to give herself some breathing room by scheduling her tutoring sessions to begin in the third week of September. It allowed her students time to settle into their routines and gave her the chance to spend time with William as soon as he got back. She knew once his season started, his schedule would take over—not just his life, but hers as well, in its own way.

As she sat on her porch one sunny afternoon, armed with a cold beer and her laptop, her phone pinged with an incoming FaceTime from William.

She smiled, setting the laptop aside and picking up her phone. Accepting the call, her screen filled with his face—and her breath caught for a moment.

William was in a tuxedo.

His blond hair was perfectly styled, slightly shorter than she remembered and a touch more polished than usual. The crisp white shirt, black bow tie, and tailored blazer fit his broad frame impeccably. He looked magnificent—beyond what she’d imagined when he first mentioned attending the event with his family.

Loren’s eyes widened, full of admiration. “William—I… wow. I’m speechless,” she gasped, her face flushed and not from the beer.

“You like?” he asked, a small, satisfied smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

She nodded, unapologetically gazing at him with wide, adoring eyes.

The rest of the Nylanders, equally as elegant, leaned into the screen and greeted Loren affectionately. She returned their greetings warmly, laughing at their playful comments about the evening ahead.

“Has anyone figured out the over/under on how many women will swoon the minute William walks in?” Loren teased, though she half meant it.

They shared a laugh, but when the moment faded, his expression softened. For a moment, neither of them spoke. Loren let herself take him in, marveling at how effortlessly handsome he looked, while William seemed content just to look back at her through the screen.

Eventually, after their goodbyes, William sent Loren a message:

Wish you were here.

Her response was almost immediate:

Me too. Although I’d probably trip over my dress and embarrass you in front of all those people.

The three bouncing dots appeared as William typed his reply:

Doubtful. Can’t wait to see you—be there soon.

Loren stared at his message, her heart skipping a beat. She was sure she had never felt so giddy or full of life, and she could hardly wait to see what the future might hold for the two of them.

—

A few days later, Loren sat curled up on her couch, her laptop balanced on the armrest as she worked on her tutoring schedule for the upcoming week. The day had been productive but long, and she welcomed the stillness of the evening. Her phone was close by, and every few minutes, her gaze drifted toward it.

William had messaged earlier, letting her know he and Alex were about to board their flight to Toronto. He’d promised to text again once they landed and he was settled. She smiled at the thought of seeing him soon, even if the past few days had left her with an unsettling feeling she couldn’t quite shake.

A notification at the top of her screen caught her attention: an Instagram DM. The account wasn’t immediately familiar, but Loren saw that Isla followed the account. A single word, “Hi.”—was simple enough to pique her curiosity. Loren tapped on it, opening a thread of several messages.

Her heart dropped as she scrolled.

“Hey Loren, I’m Margot. I know we were never introduced while you were here, but I think there are some things you need to know.”

“It’s about William.”

“You deserve to know the truth before you get hurt like I did.”

Her heart thudded, staring at the screen and debating whether to respond. A second later, another message appeared.

“William and I had a thing. I heard he told you about it. But what you don’t know is he told me I was special, but it turns out I wasn’t the only one he was with this summer before you came. Trust me, he’s really good at making women feel like they’re the only ones he sees.”

Loren’s pulse quickened, her thumb hovering over the keyboard. She quickly closed the app instead, setting her phone down on the couch beside her—screen facedown. Determined not to let her mind spiral, she tried to focus on her laptop, on the neat columns of names and times that required her attention.

But her vision was blurred and she could feel her heartbeat pounding in her throat. Her phone buzzed again, the muffled vibration against the fabric sent another blinding wave of pressure behind her eyes.

Don’t look, she told herself. Just leave it.

A minute passed. Then another. Her resolve cracked as her phone continued to vibrate. She picked it up.

More messages.

“He has a pattern, Loren. I know it because I was part of it.”

“He told me we might have something real. Then I found out about the others.”

“One of lives in Stockholm and he saw her this summer. I know because she’s in our friend group. He sees her when he needs ‘something’, understand?”

Loren’s stomach churned. Her fingers felt cold as she scrolled up, rereading Margot’s earlier messages - they were so specific, so calculated that they sliced through her trust she had developed with William.

Then came another message with a link:

“I thought this might help you understand.”

Loren hesitated before tapping the link, which opened to an article from Hänt, accompanied by a clip of William’s interview at the Grand Hotel’s 150th anniversary celebration. She pressed play, her stomach twisting as she watched.

He looked as flawless as she remembered, polished in his tuxedo, as the reporter—a very pretty brunette with wide-eyes and a bubbly personality—asked him about his personal life. His answers were in some cases vague but polite, but his other responses seemed so specific and unrehearsed, like how the truth rolls off someone’s tongue before they can stop it. But it wasn’t just his words that made Loren’s chest tighten—it was the way he looked at the reporter.

The camera caught moments where his gaze lingered on her face. Loren could see it, recognize it because he looked at her like that.

She flung the phone down and hunched over, pressing the heels of her hands against her eyes as her scattered mind tried to connect the dots.

Her phone vibrated again with another message from Margot:

“He does this with everyone. It’s part of his act. Don’t think you’re the exception, Loren.”

The final blow came with another round of photos.

One showed William at a bar, a woman leaning into him, her hand resting on his arm. The next was of him hugging another woman, his face buried near her neck. A third, blurry but unmistakably him, appeared to show a kiss on the cheek—or maybe something more. Loren couldn’t tell.

Margot’s final message landed like a punch to the gut.

“You seem like a nice girl. I just don’t want you to end up like me—thinking you’re special, only to realize you’re just one of many.”

Loren’s hands trembled as she placed her phone face down on the couch again, staring blankly at her laptop. The words burned in her mind, replaying on a loop. Just one of many.

Minutes passed, and still, she couldn’t stop herself from picking up the phone again. She scrolled through the messages once more, then opened the photos again, looking for any detail that might poke holes in Margot’s story.

The blood had drained from her face, leaving a dull ache behind. Despite how careful she tried to be this time, she had been blindsided once again by someone that she cared deeply for. Someone who had convinced her that they had a bright and loving future together.

The idea that there could be even a shred of truth in what Margot was saying was unbearable. Loren could not see how William could ever explain any of this to her and make any of it seem okay.

[ddarker-dreams]

THAT GOJO FIC THOUGH??? an absolute masterpiece and soooo beautifully written. definitely felt super in character for him - equal parts eerie, entitled, and light-hearted? loved loved loved it.

i’m curious (not necessarily a request…unless?) just want to pick your brain about what that relationship between gojo and reader might look like as adults or a few years in the future. does his yandede tendency worsen? does reader ever try to leave or just accept how things are? what, if anything, would anger your interpretation of yan!gojo? how does he keep reader under his thumb for so many years? do others understand what he’s doing and what their relationship truly is? what even is their relationship? haha i’m so sorry i just loved your gojo so much and am foaming at the mouth for any more scraps you may have to offer

THANK YOU VERY MUUUUUUUUUCH there's something about questionable men that turns my pupils into hearts each and every time.

as for your questions, let's see... first and foremost, i've decided that the fic i discussed writing is like the 'baseline' universe with 'it's graduation, isn't it?' being a branching yandere narrative (or AU i guess)?? i came up with a backstory for the darling in IGII and thought it had enough potential to be explored further. so, all this to say that i'm working on the main story right now which will flesh out reader's relationship with shoko, geto, and gojo in particular. this'll give additional context to the relationship gojo and reader have in the yandere fic! for their time in high school, i've decided to split the story into three main arcs, each one taking place during reader's time as a first year, second year, and third year. (i have ideas for post high school-to the present day in when the main events of JJK pick up, but i'll focus on that later).

here's a general overview of the start of the fic. presently, its working title is 'golden girl.'

2005 — reader's first year arc.

takes place primarily from reader's perspective with the occasional shift to omniscient perspective. reader's from another country, so she's unfamiliar with all the politics/bureaucracy in japan's jujutsu scene. in-depth look at her first day at jujutsu tech, her initial impressions of shoko, gojo, and geto. gojo does something that reader views as irresponsible, kickstarting their decades long relationship with reader disliking him 😭

exploring the quintet's dynamic with one another. reader still thinks gojo is annoying, is okay with geto but finds something about him mildly unnerving, gets along best with shoko. gojo has intense 'kindergarden boy pulling the hair of the girl he has a crush on' energy. reader sloooooooowly warms up to him.

reader at this point has a rose-tinted view of jujutsu society. while she isn't ignorant to the reality sorcerers face when going about their jobs, she assumes everyone at the top must get along so everyone can best preserve the public's safety. can't fathom why it'd be any different. as such, the story's tone up until this point has a slice of life-esque vibe.

the first real conflict in this arc comes in the form of an assignment gojo, geto, and reader receive. a zenin sorcerer got whooped on what should've been an easy job, dirtying the family's image. to rectify this, the zenins pester jujutsu tech to send in the heavy artillery (aka gojo and geto) so it looks like the job was so difficult, some of the best sorcerers had to handle it. reader is also requested to join them for reasons that'll be revealed later.

(more under the cut because whewie this got long)

gojo and geto can pretty much see through the petty politics going on. they explain the machinations to reader, who decides to take the assignment serious regardless. gojo in particular is very blasé about the entire thing because one, that big ass ego and two, he's a teen. bad combo.

the assignment itself takes place in an abandoned nursery on the outskirts of nagoya. here, the three encounter the curse 'the caretaker' and its 'little ones.' now it's psychological horror time. gojo's arrogance exacerbated by reader's insistence on following protocol clash bad. the fight ends up not being so simple after all due to the curse's abilities. they eventually realize reader's cursed technique is Suspiciously best suited to work as a counter, but at grave risk and damage to herself. thanks zenins. ultimately, reader pulls it off, but receives heavy injuries in the process. gojo and geto are pissed about this entire thing. character development for the squad that'll play into their themes into adulthood (gojo's wish to upend the higher-ups, geto's disillusionment with jujutsu society, and a secret third thing for reader).

in what will serve as a parallel for post star plasma arc, the three are able to 'overcome' the event enough and grow closer for it. everyone's coping mechanisms kinda sucks but not to the degree it'll suck after the events of post star plasma arc.

reader's like oh boy, that was an eventful first year haha! i sure hope my second year isn't anywhere near as chaotic haha! :)

as for where the narrative would branch into a yandere AU, that'd take place mostly in reader's third year. personally, i think gojo would be a bit of an unhealthy weirdo no matter what in a romantic relationship, but just not to the Full yandere extent. so you'll see him up to some questionable shenanigans even in the main fic.

i apologize, i ended up laser focusing on gojo's relationship with reader so much that i didn't really answer your other questions GJSDKLFS i just feel like the events of the main story will go on to shape yandere and non yandere gojo's behavior with reader enough that without context, it won't make as much sense.

[pubbybutch]

Towers Built, and Towers Falling Down

Medieval AU! Knight Abby x Chubby Princess Reader (Part One)

Minors, Men and general fuckheads DNI please 💚

Content Warnings: It’s pretty much just fluff… reader is thirsty for Abby’s muscles, damsel in distress type shit. No use of Y/N and lots of cutesy nicknames.  

{Yes. This is for me entirely. My chubby gay ass needs love and attention.}

⋰⋱⋰⋱⋰⋱⋰⋱⋰⋱⋰⋱⋰⋱⋰⋱⋰⋱⋰⋱⋰⋱⋰⋱⋰⋱⋰⋱

Stepping out from the door leading into your bed chambers the dim lighting of the corridor makes you blink rapidly as your eyes adjust to the darkness, the large windows on the southward facing wall of your room always let in so much natural light that the contrast between the large openness of the spaces designed for you and your ilk and those of the common folk, the staff and your lover. 

The soft footfall of leather and cloth covered feet followed by the easy swishing of smooth pink and green linens are the only sounds left to fill the winding corridors and stairwells that make up the tight and narrow servant’s passageways of the stone fortress and castle you call home. Ducking around dark corners, with only the light from the slight, almost slit, like windows in the wall at the end of each corridor, you rush as much as your slipper-clad feet will allow without tripping against the long trains and skirts of the gown that fall down from your hips. Coming around the bend, the thin wooden door that leads into the library lies shut.

She should be here. But she’s not.

The minutes you wait grow longer and longer, and an anxious pit begins to form in the depths of your stomach. The black snake of nervousness twists and turns tumultuously with no rest or break to its movements in sight. That is until the door you are leaning on is pulled backwards causing you to fall back with it and into the strong chest of the blonde woman you have been waiting restlessly for.

“Abby!” 

Her large hand instantly clasps over your mouth as she brings her lips next to your ear. 

“Shush, easy princess.”

Her hand lowers to wrap around your waist as you turn around to look up at her, eyes wide as you take her in. You always forget how little of her massive size is armour when on the field or patrolling, wide shoulders carry large muscled arms and frame a firm hardened torso. She’s the perfect parallel to the soft curves and rolls that royal life has thus far afforded you. And Abby loves it.

“I thought you weren’t coming, that perhaps you had forgotten?”

“When you’re involved and our time together is at stake, your highness, I’d sooner be dead than forget.” Her voice exudes sarcasm, and the title sends a smile across your face knowing the nature of her and her often relentless teasing.

“Oh, hush.” The hand you hold against her chest shoves into her, but it makes no difference to her stance.

She pulls your chin up so that her lips can easily collide with yours, as you kiss she takes a tentative step backwards and into the library pulling you with her. An intricately woven tapestry depicting an ancient battle from aeons past with soldiers wielding spears and bows carrying out their assault on a large grotesque creature with many limbs is all that hangs in front of the servant’s entrance. The tapestry acts as the only thing shielding you from anyone or thing in the large tome filled room. 

Large windows allow for light to flood into the room, and with the bright mornings that come as standard for the early summer, slivers of sunbeams cut through the gaps and holes that time had left in the cloth of the tapestry. Breaking away from her lips, almost immediately you miss her chapped lips and their heat against yours, but the new angle allows you to admire your love and admire what you do. The sneaking golden light of the late afternoon that pokes through those holes adds an almost ethereal glow to Abby’s sun kissed skin and freckled cheeks, the loose dirty blonde strands of her hair that have fallen out of her braid turn into a crown around her face as the sun hits it at the perfect angle. Oh how much easier this all would be if that were an actual crown adorning her head, but alas…

A smirk befalls her lips as she removes her hands from your side, and bends to fall into a deep bow

“Well, your highness, if you would be so kind as to join me by the fireplace?” Abby’s forearm is offered to you as you’re left giggling at her antics.

“Why, kind knight! I’d be honoured.” 

Allowing her to lead you over the fur rug that lies on the oak wood floor in front of the seemingly ever-roaring fire, as she moves to get comfortable on the furry mat the position she ends up in can only be described as completely lounging. With her back pressed against the birch chest used to store firewood, her legs spread as she looks up at you from her seated position. “Are you planning on standing there watching me,” A hand pats the space on the rug between her thighs, “or would you rather join me?” 

Instead of answering, you drop to your knees and crawl up into the gap she’d left for you. “Good choice, princess.” Your hands are captured in one of hers, large calloused fingers wrap around the little chubby knuckles and lily-soft fingers all the while her other hand moves to its favourite position on your lower stomach, rubbing against the soft flesh under the layers of rosy linen. 

“I do wish that you’d call me something other than ‘princess’, you know?” you mumble into her neck. 

She laughs, the chuckles causing you to jostle lightly as you lean against her chest, “I know, but even you can’t deny it’s perfectly fitting.” 

Pulling away from her warmth, icy eyes meet with yours and you frown. “True that may be, but it doesn’t pardon or excuse the teasing that comes along with it, Abigail.” 

As her name leaves your mouth a pout subconsciously dons your lips, her gaze flickers downwards at your lips before she pulls you back towards her giving her the opportunity to pepper kisses across your face. 

“Pretty girl, you expect me to not tease you? Even when we both know all too well how preciously adorable you become after such jabs.” 

“Let’s just count ourselves lucky that I haven’t fainted from your jabs, and we haven’t yet had to call upon your father and his expertise.” Your response sends her into a fit of laughter, a heavy heat comes over her cheeks and her already warmth reddened face grows even deeper with colour as she attempts to catch her breath again.

 “Okay, okay, I’ll hold back on my torture, to an extent... That is, I’ll hold back if you’ll give me a kiss.” 

Rolling your eyes you place a singular chaste kiss on her lips before getting up from her lap and stretching, your face scrunching up as you do so and allowing Abby to admire how cute you are, eyes closed and little creases appearing as lines across your skin. She watches contently as you wander away and into the rows of shelves lined with various books.

“Princess, where are you headed off to?” Asking even though she could hear you clearly, moving various books.

“Somewhere…” 

“Do you need any help?” She could hear the confusion in your voice.

“Nope, I’ll manage.”

The crackle of the wood in the fireplace and your footsteps soon were the only sounds to fill the library and Abby sighs, you’re being a lot more self-sufficient than norm-

“Abbyyyy! Help please?” 

Your whines come just as she’d anticipated.

“I’m coming, don’t worry.” As she rounds the corner she sees the cause of whining. There you are halfway up the bookcase with your arm outstretched and one leg hiked much higher than the other a couple of shelves difference between them. You had gotten yourself stuck a full four five in the air. 

She grins at you and your predicament. 

“Has her highness found herself in a bit of an awkward situation?” 

“Abby… it’s not funny. I can’t get down and I can’t reach the book I want.”

She rolls her eyes as she wraps her arms around your upper thighs and takes your full weight onto a single shoulder causing you to squeak above her, allowing her to bend at the knees and have you hop down safely. You don’t think you’ll ever not get warm in the cheeks when you feel how her muscles strain against the soft leather and linens of her casual wear, gods only know what you’d give to see her in a tunic without sleeves or a blouse that’s so thin the curves of her biceps practically burst from the cloth concealing her skin… her soft skin and her hard muscle…

“Which one?” 

Abby’s talking to you and snapping you away from your train of thought.

“Pardon?”

“Which book are you looking for?”

“Oh the new one, ‘Sir Orfeo’ I think it’s called?”

You watch as Abby scales the shelves with far greater skill and agility than you ever could and as she reaches up to the top shelf she grabs a small book, bound in a deep blue leather with engravings on the front cover. 

She drops back down to the ground, book in hand. Abby holds her arm out, “Here you go.” As you reach out to take it from her, she shoots her arm up into the air withholding the book from you by at least 2 feet. 

“Abby. Give me the book.” 

“So demanding? What if I don’t want to give it to you, besides I am the one who was able to actually get it from the shelf. I’ll give your precious book to you when I get my reward.”

You huff an exasperated sigh. “Fine.” You reach on tiptoes to plant a kiss on her cheek. And are thus granted access to your book.

You make your way to the armchair that had, up until this point, remained neglected and although its rather grand size would’ve easily let you both sit on the chair, Abby opts to take a seat on the rug by your feet, resting her head on your thigh. Opening the book you begin to read to yourself and get a full page in before being rudely interrupted.

“I wanna hear too, baby.” 

You begin again from the top of the page.

“Grief filled the air upon the death of the dear wife of the beloved bard, Sir Orfeo. His lute that normally filled the walls of the castle grew silent and abandoned as unhappiness filled his heart instead…”

Neither of you know when you had fallen asleep, Abby drooling onto your dress and hair slightly tussled and you imagine yours is much the same. The fire has been whittled down to embers and the light coming in from the windows is deeply tinted red, the setting of the sun seemingly imminent.

“Abby,” you place a hand in her hair, “you have to get up.” Your movements cause her to stir and wake, instantly she’s up and rushing to her feet and pulling you to yours. She snatched the book from the rug and places it in your hand while grabbing the free one and pulling you to stand up.

Before you can ask what she’s doing she picks you up in her arms and carries you bridal style, back past the bookshelves, behind the tapestry and through the hidden door. She’s relentless as she passes through the corridors and up the stairs leading to the servant’s door to your bed chamber. Setting you down in front of the door she tentatively opens the door and glances inside, deeming it safe enough she proceeds into the room with a hand in yours, leading you.

“Get on the bed, princess.” Still a little tired and in no mood to argue, you do as instructed. Abby’s warm hands fix the quilt and tuck you in. “If anyone asks where were you?” She kneels down to make straight on eye contact with you as she speaks.

“I was in bed, feeling a little bit sick.”

“Good. And if someone asks ‘Do you need the doctor’?” 

“I shake my head, say ‘It’s not serious enough to worry the doctor, but the doctor’s daughter might be free’ and I wait for you.” You follow through with the actions as you give her the memorised spiel.

“Atta girl.” Her hand ruffles your hair, and she stands up and turns to leave through the servant’s door once more. “Abby?” 

“Yes, your highness?” 

“I love you.”

“I know, princess, I know.”

This is my baby, my love child. I love hearing what people think about this stuff so any comments or reblogs are fondly found. 💚

Part 2 is out and on my master list

[pilesofpillows]

Primetime || Okoye x Attuma Oneshot

Read it here on AO3

Summary: Attuma's been in Talokan taking care of business and Okoye misses him. Only one thing to do... at least Mexico has some nice beaches.

Warnings: Smut (18+), NSFW, Cunnilingus, Vaginal Fingering, Multiple Orgasms, Vaginal Sex, Overstimulation, Squirting, Slight Breeding Kink, PWP

A/N: This is my first time writing smut, so if you hate it 🤷🏾‍♀️ Anyways... I hope you like it!!

Word Count: 3.5k

The ocean was calm tonight.

Quiet and tranquil, with gentle waves lapping at her toes, inviting her into the depths.

She kicked off her sandals, picked up the hem of her dress, and waded further into the surf. She stopped when the water kissed her knees, dropping her dress into the tide. 

“Attuma.” Okoye’s voice was a whisper, but she knew he heard her. He always did.

She waded further out until the water was mid-thigh. He was close; she could feel it. 

“Attuma,” she called again, voice still soft.

Not even a full minute passed before strong arms encircled her waist, pulling her body back against his broad chest. “In yakunaj.” 

Okoye smiled into the night sky, sinking into his embrace. “Sithandwa sam.”

“You are far from home, in K’iino’.” Attuma’s voice was a rumble that moved through her like thunder. She ran her hands along his wet forearms, feeling his corded muscles ripple under her touch.

She hummed and turned in his arms, staring into his dark eyes. He wasn’t wearing his armor, just his shark helm and rebreathers. She caressed his chest, running open palms over the familiar ridges of his scars, and locked her arms behind his head. Okoye pushed up on her toes, so they were face to face, trusting him to hold her up. 

“My home is with you, is it not?” she asked, staring into his dark eyes. The love she saw in them brought a peace she’d lacked in the weeks he’d been gone. “Perhaps my need for you outweighed my patience,” she smirked, shrugging.

Attuma stroked his hands across her bare back, swooping low to rest on her ass. He chuckled low in his throat. “I have been remiss in my duties. My wife should never have need of me.”

Her smirk widened into a full smile, and her heart threatened to burst from her chest at the title. His wife. There was a righteousness in that. Something pure that soothed her soul. 

“And what will you do to rectify your errors?” she asked playfully, massaging the base of his skull.

“Nothing less than what my duty requires,” he answered gruffly, squeezing her behind none-too-gently. 

“My husband is nothing if not dutiful,” she said, huffing a laugh as he scooped under her thighs and wrapped her strong, toned legs around his waist. 

Attuma turned and walked them back toward the shore, settling on a soft grassy knoll away from the sand. The airship she’d commandeered was parked further into the tree line. The moon was their only light, but it was more than enough. 

Okoye sat astride him, tracing random patterns over his shoulders and neck. Her fingers glided over his rebreather, removing it gently after a nod from her husband. Their eyes never left each other as she placed the mask carefully on the ground. His headdress was the next to go, landing softly on the grass next to them. Okoye ran her fingers through his hair, massaging his scalp gently. Attuma’s hands roamed over her body, rubbing wide circles from her thighs, up her hips and waist, around her back, and up to her nearly-bare shoulders before repeating the pattern over and over again. 

They were close, closer than they’d been in nearly a month. Their chests rose and fell in tandem as they breathed each other in. Okoye brought one of her hands from his hair to trace the shape of his face, studying the features already ingrained in her memory. The deep ridge of his brow, the bump in his nose, his full lips. He was a beautiful man. 

He was her beautiful man. 

Okoye inhaled sharply when he nipped at one of her fingers with pointed teeth. He kissed the finger in apology and pressed another kiss into her palm. She leaned forward, resting her forehead on his. Their lips met in a whisper, lightly caressing each other before it grew in intensity. His tongue delved into her mouth, reclaiming that which was already his. He held her tightly, pressing their bodies together until there wasn’t an inch of space between them. Okoye broke their kiss, chest heaving against his as she tried to catch her breath.  

“Did you come all this way to sit on my lap, K’iino’?” Attuma taunted, a breathless whisper across her lips.

“Would you mind if I did?” she whispered back, nudging his nose with her own. 

“No.” His answer was immediate. “I cherish every moment we are together. Without you, my world is dark, devoid of even the stars. When we are apart, I long for you as the desert longs for rain.” He began pressing small kisses to her lips as he spoke. “Your brilliance captivates me. Your beauty entices me. Your passion ignites mine.” Attuma rained kisses down her neck, his grip tightening on her hips as she began to roll them into his. 

Okoye buried her fingers in his hair, pulling him impossibly closer as he decorated her neck with love bites.

“You were made for me, crafted by the gods and molded by the stars. Just as I was made for you. Our souls are bound in this world and every other. There will never come a day that I don’t hunger for you. You are mine, Okoye. And I am yours.” 

She moaned his name into the night sky as he sucked a mark on the column of her throat. Her grip on his obsidian waves tightened as she dragged his head away from her neck. 

They stared at each other for a moment, breath mingling in the electrified air. Their next kiss was hard. Tongues and teeth meeting in a fervor that conveyed exactly how desperate she’d been without him. His honeyed words only fanned the flames of her desire.  He yanked the thin straps of her dress down, and she wiggled out of the top half so the dress pooled at her waist, exposing her breasts to the open air. 

Attuma wasted no time. He cupped her breasts and ran his thumbs over her pebbled nipples. Pinching and pulling them until she gasped a curse into his mouth. Her back arched, pushing her chest further into his hands. He pulled back from her lips and stared at his wife. She whined as their lips parted, and he wrapped a firm hand around her neck, preventing her from giving chase. Her eyes were glazed over, unfocused as she ground her hips into him. 

He kissed her swollen lips softly, whispering, “Hush, in yakunaj. I have you.”

Okoye ground down again, moaning at the feel of his arousal through their clothes. She threw her head back, and Attuma ducked his head to her breasts, taking a sensitive peak into his mouth and squeezing her throat with his hand.

Then suction. 

Sweet, sweet suction. 

Okoye was sure she would come undone right here. She felt like she was on fire, and Attuma’s mouth stoked the flames of her passion. She writhed in her husband’s lap as he lavished her breasts with attention. He let go of her throat and palmed the cheeks of her ass, grinding his erection into her core. He nibbled on one stiff nub, forced a cry from her, and she shuddered.

She needed more. “Attuma, please!”

He chuckled, low and dark. “Taj muk'óolal [Patience], K’iino’.”

“I- ah! I have no capacity for patience,” Okoye hissed, fisting her hand in his hair and scoring her nails into the skin of his shoulder. She undulated atop him, grinding to attain the pleasure he denied her. “I have been without you entirely too long for patience.”

Her husband bit the underside of her breast sharply in warning, bruising her hips in his grip as he flipped her onto her back. He loomed over her, arms caging her body as he stared down at her with dark eyes. Smoldering kisses stole her breath as he ground his manhood into her core. Then he was moving down her body, pressing kisses and bites to random bits of flesh. 

Okoye’s nails dug into his shoulders as he sucked a harsh bite into the top of her thigh. 

“Fuck.” She would return to Wakanda covered in evidence of his love.

Attuma licked and sucked at the bite, soothing it with his tongue. “In time, jats'uts. Allow me to worship you first.” 

Okoye could only nod in response as he bunched the wet skirt of her dress up and kneeled between her thighs. She reached up and pulled him into a wanton kiss. 

“Líik'il [Lift],” he commanded, breaking their kiss and tugging at her dress.

She lifted her hips, and he pulled the dress free, tossing it to the side. He groaned at the sight of her blue lace thong, soaked with her own arousal. He leaned down, peppering kisses from her knee to her inner thigh, nuzzling the top of her slit through her panties before descending back down the other leg. 

She opened her mouth to beg or curse him but could only choke out a strangled moan as he covered her mound with his mouth, sucking her in.

“Always so sweet, in yakunaj,” Attuma murmured, licking his lips.

He lapped at her again, swirling the wet lace around her clit. She keened at the sensation, hips bucking into her husband’s mouth. Her hands found their way back to his hair, twisting her fingers in the damp waves. Attuma pulled away, dragging her thong with him. He cast it off to the side, uncaring of where it landed. 

He pushed her thighs apart, forcing her to spread herself before him and grinning at the sight. Attuma ran the pads of his fingers up and down her slit, pressing lightly on her clit. Okoye writhed beneath him, begging sweetly in her mother tongue for more. He didn’t answer, merely pinned her down to devour her sex with focused intensity. 

Attuma drank in her pleasure, greedily moaning at the taste of her. He wanted only the sweetness of her filling his mouth. He pulled her throbbing clit into his mouth, sucking with abandon. His wife mewled and writhed beneath him. He pressed her apart further and increased the pressure on her sweet pearl, fluttering his tongue across the bundle of nerves. 

Okoye sobbed. Her nimble fingers tangled in his hair as he drove her to the cusp of her release. 

“Myeni [Husband],” she begged, breathless, “nceda! [please!]”

Pulling away from her clit, he ran his tongue up her glistening slit, swirling it around her pearl. Sucking it back into his mouth, Attuma grazed it with his teeth. Okoye cried out, a strangled, stuttered shout of his name, and flooded his mouth with her release. He continued his ministrations, hoisting her legs over his shoulders and pressing one, then two fingers into her clenching heat. 

In and out, Attuma worked his wife through her first release before curling his fingers just so, sending her spiraling into another. Her thighs clenched around his head, and she wailed her pleasure to the stars. He removed his mouth from her but didn’t stop the punishing pace of his fingers. 

Attuma surged upward, claiming Okoye’s lips in a bruising kiss. She whimpered into his mouth, tasting the remnants of her essence on his tongue. Her mind was blank, drifting in a blissful state. 

“My precious wife, so wet for me,” he murmured against her lips. “I can feel you tightening around my fingers, in yakunaj. Are you going to come for me again, diosa?”

Okoye let out a needy moan and shuddered, burying her face in his neck. Her hands grasped at him wildly, clutching his shoulders and back while her hips rose to meet his every thrust. All she could feel was him. The strength of his hips between her legs, the raised texture of his scars along his chest and shoulders, the rough rhythm of his fingers driving her to the edge of euphoria. 

“Ko'oten wo'osal [Come for me], Okoye,” Attuma commanded. 

Black spots danced at the edge of her vision as her third climax slammed into her. She keened, her body convulsing on the grass. Her nails scored his back, and Attuma hummed, pleased at the flood of her arousal that dripped down his wrist, pooling on the ground below them. 

He slowed his fingers gradually, easing her down, murmuring sweet words in Mayan, pressing sweeter kisses to her lips.

She whined as he pulled his fingers from her body. “A-Attuma.”

“K’iino’.” He peppered kisses across her face, allowing her to catch her breath.

 Attuma sat back and removed his loincloth, groaning as his wife wrapped a firm hand around his length. She stroked him languidly, pulling him toward her aching center. He hissed as Okoye dragged the tip of his member through her wetness. 

“Yatan,” he growled, squeezing her thighs, “ts'aa in polla ichil. [Put my cock in you]”

“Taj muk'óolal, wíicham,” she teased, throwing his words back in his face. But she had no more inclination to wait than he did. 

Okoye’s breath hitched as Attuma’s cock nudged her clit. She was more than ready to take him, to feel the burning stretch of him as he split her open. Tilting her hips up, she placed the weeping head of his cock at her entrance and locked her legs behind his back. Her arms wound around his neck, and Attuma groaned as he sank into Okoye’s velvet heat. 

He filled her slowly, invading every sense until she could feel nothing but him. Attuma gazed down at the other half of his soul in adoration. Her skin glistened under the pale light of the moon, shining like the earth after Chaac’s blessing. Breathy sighs of pleasure left her lips, a symphony meant only for his ears. Okoye’s eyes fluttered shut as their hips met, overwhelmed with sensation.

“Open your eyes, in yakunaj.”

Okoye blinked dazedly, her eyes unfocused. 

Attuma rocked into her, delighting in her sharp gasp. 

“Open, Okoye.”

She opened her eyes, meeting his heated gaze. Her pupils were blown wide, a thin ring of brown around endless black.

He thrust again, watching as her brows furrowed and her mouth fell open. 

“Have you missed this, in K’iino’?”

He could feel the quiver of her thighs as she tightened around him. Attuma began a shallow rhythm, working his cock inside of her. 

“Have you missed the way your husband’s cock fills you?”

His only answer was a moan as he sped up his thrusts. Attuma unwound Okoye’s arms from his neck, kissing her palms before pinning her wrists above her head. He held them there with one hand, bringing the other to toy with her nipples. His strokes never stopped, withdrawing almost entirely before plunging back in, unrelenting. 

“Have you missed the way I fuck you, in yakunaj?”

Attuma’s hips snapped into hers harshly, punching the breath out of her lungs. Her eyes slammed shut, and she threw her head back, baring the dark expanse of her throat to him. He drove into her with hard, punishing strokes, filling her completely every time. He released her wrists and took hold of her throat.

“No answers for me, hm? Has my wife lost her ability to speak?”

Okoye rode the cusp of delirium, her body feverish. He shifted one of her legs to his shoulder, delving impossibly deeper, and her pleasure rocketed to new heights. 

“Ah! At-Attuma!” She cried his name to the gods, hips bucking as she chased her next release. Her nails scorched trails of fire down his forearms. 

“There you are.” His grin was feral, white teeth glimmering in the dark night. “Cum for me, K’iino’.”

Attuma fucked Okoye through her orgasm, relishing in the sweet feel of her clenching around him. He didn’t give her the chance to come down from her high. Swift and agile like his wayob, Attuma flipped his wife onto her front, pulling her to her knees. 

He plunged back into her, giving no quarter. 

Okoye sobbed, overwhelmed at the feeling of Attuma taking her. He was relentless and thorough, and she knew he wouldn’t stop until he’d had his fill. Or she collapsed from exhaustion. 

She felt him jogging his hips searchingly, seeking that secret place inside her. Realizing what he intended, Okoye scrambled for purchase on the soft grass, pathetically attempting to pull away. She reached back in vain, hoping to stop Attuma’s efforts, but he swatted her hand away and tightened his grip on her hips. 

“At- tuma! Ple- ase! Bast, I can’t!” Okoye panted, breathless from the force of his strokes. 

“You can,” he asserted, still pistoning in and out of her, unfazed by her efforts, “You will. And once you do, I will fill you with my seed until it drips from your body.” 

Okoye could only moan as her back arched further, burying her face in her arms. Her mind was clouded, lost in the haze of ecstasy. Unconsciously, she bore down, rocking back into Attuma, fucking herself on his thick cock.

“Lelo' tuláakal, jats'uts. Ch’aik a ki' janal [That’s it, beautiful. Take your pleasure],” he praised her,  delivering a sharp slap to her ass. 

With a rough snap of his hips, Okoye keened, a bolt of white-hot pleasure racing up her spine as he found what he’d been searching for. She gasped a curse and tried to jerk away, but Attuma maintained his iron grip on her. 

He thrust his cock into her with deadly precision, establishing a brutal rhythm. Every stroke forced a cry from her lips as he fucked her with ruthless purpose. The debauched sound of skin meeting skin and Okoye’s ardent cries created a cacophony that drowned out the gentle sounds of the ocean. 

Attuma’s hand reached between her legs and began rubbing her clit in hard, fast circles. Okoye shrieked and felt every muscle in her body tensing as he propelled her to the edge. He thrust once, twice, and pinched her clit. 

An electrifying shock of blinding pleasure sliced through her, and Okoye screamed.

She thrashed, muscles spasming violently as the dam broke and a gush of wetness poured from her.

Attuma grunted, his thrusts faltering at the feel of her sex clenching around him. He came with a low, guttural groan, spilling into her, filling her with warmth.

Okoye’s body went limp beneath him, her muscles still spasming. He eased his cock from her, soothing her as she whimpered weakly. He grabbed his rebreather and laid down beside her. Attuma hauled Okoye on top of him and began massaging her undoubtedly sore muscles. He hummed a soft tune of relaxation, hoping to soothe her aches. 

Okoye nuzzled into Attuma’s chest, feeling sated and exhausted. She lay on top of him, smiling, warm, and content in his embrace, relaxed by the soft tune he hummed. 

“Have I fulfilled my duties to your satisfaction, in k’iino’?” he asked softly.

Okoye chuckled, hiding her face in his chest. “I’d certainly say so.”

“Good,” he said, and Okoye could hear the smugness in his voice. “I strive to be the best.”

She rolled her eyes playfully. “The best, hm?”

“Yes,” he answered simply, running his large hands across her back. “It’s nothing less than what you deserve.”

Okoye froze, tears pricking her eyes. Just when she thought she couldn’t love this stupid shark man anymore, he had to go and say something stupidly sentimental that made her heart soar. She blinked rapidly, fighting the urge to cry. 

“Attuma,” she breathed softly. “You don’t have-”

“I do,” he said firmly. “You are Okoye, daughter of Kioni, General of the Armies of Wakanda, the Most Fearsome Warrior on the surface world. You are the sun that brightens the sky and the other half of my soul. My perfect match in every way. There are not words for all that you deserve, but I will endeavor until my dying breath to be all that you need.”

Okoye cursed softly as the tears she fought fell without her permission. Her husband’s love was overwhelming in the best way. It filled all the holes in her armor and shielded her vulnerable pieces. The world was ruthless, and life could be cruel, but here, in Attuma of Talokan’s arm, there was safety and solace. Here, there was comfort and peace. 

Her overly-sweet husband took off his rebreather, nuzzled her cheek, and kissed away her tears. “Don’t cry, in K’iino’.”

“I can’t help it, you stupid shark. You and your ulwimi olunobusi.”

“My tongue is only honeyed because I’ve drunk from the sweetest source in this world.”

“Yeka!” she cried, covering his mouth with her hand, laughing as he kissed her palm.

He laughed with her, and she cupped his face as they sobered. Okoye stared into her husband’s eyes, stroking his cheek. 

“You are more than I could’ve thought to pray for and more than I ever dared to dream of. I am honored to be your wife and honored to have you as my husband.” She kissed him lovingly and sighed, laying back down on his chest. 

“You’re going to be an amazing father.”

Attuma hummed, savoring her words and the feel of her lips on his. Then her words hit him.

“K’iino’?”

[late-to-the-magnus-archives]

All That Glitters

John and Arthur, Lester and Doe, going mano a mano against their greatest foe: 1970s Arkham bureaucracy.

Notes:

The Very Necessary background music for this fic

In honor of Harlan’s latest interview, in which he stated he’d wanted a 1970s gritty cop-show feel for season four.

AO3

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

[FADE IN]

[CAMERA ZOOMING IN OVER NYC; BROWN FILTER ENSURES IT LOOKS RUN-DOWN, DIRTY, MILDLY UPSETTING]

[JOHN]

New York City. My city. A filthier whore than anyone’s ever seen, with crime up her ass and earwax for days. Sewers full of rats. And crime. And then, there’s us.

[ARTHUR]

(muttered) John, what the hell are you doing?

[JOHN]

Shut up. This filthy town would drown in its… filth… if not for the likes of us. We, the heart of this city. We are….

[ZOOM TOWARD THE POLICE STATION’S FRONT DOORS; ELDER ONES DOWN ON THEIR LUCK LIE ON THE SIDEWALK NEARBY, BEGGING FOR BITS OF SANITY]

[DOORS SLAM OPEN, REVEALING OUR PROTAGONISTS: JOHN, A RIDICULOUSLY LARGE MAN IN ILL-FITTING POLYESTER SUIT WHICH IS SORT OF BROWN THOUGH HE WAS GOING FOR YELLOW, AND ARTHUR, A SHORTER MAN IN HUNGOVER BLACK WHO LOOKS LIKE HE’S FORGOTTEN HOW TO LAUGH. BOTH MEN WEAR DARK SUNGLASSES]

[JOHN]

Doe and Lester, Private Eyes.

[ARTHUR]

(moving his head as though rolling his eyes) Do you have to do this every time we walk out of the station?

[JOHN]

This town never knew what hit it. In the depths of depravity—

[ARTHUR]

We got our neighbor’s wheelchair unimpounded. It wasn’t crime, it was petty shit from the—

[JOHN]

—we are all that maintains order, holding back the flood of terror and degenerate… cy!

[ARTHUR]

Degeneracy?

[JOHN]

Shut up. We’re here. (he opens the car door)

[THE CAR: “MARYGOLD,” A 1967 DODGE DART GT CONVERTIBLE, PAINTED SUCH A SHOCKING METALLIC GOLD COLOR THAT IT REFLECTS OFF THE PAVEMENT AND BLINDS ANYBODY WHO LOOKS AT IT]

[JOHN]

That’s my girl.

[ARTHUR]

Why the fuck do you talk to this thing, anyway?

[JOHN]

Just get in. It’s our symbol of justice.

[ARTHUR]

(as he is blind, and clearly has no idea the car is horrifying to look at, he gets in where angels fear to sit) Sure, John.

[JOHN]

(slides over the hood in one smooth leap and gets in the driver’s side) Wherever you are, criminals—

[ARTHUR]

I promise they can’t hear you.

[JOHN]

—whatever you’ve done… we’ll find you out… and bring you to justice. (begins to make a whch-a-kah whch-a-kah electric bass sound with his mouth)

[ARTHUR]

(smiles fondly, but out his window so John can’t see) Moron.

[CAMERA PULLING AWAY. JOHN’S HOMEMADE SOUND EFFECTS BLEND INTO THE FUNK THEME SONG AS WE RISE ABOVE THE CITY AND THE OPENING SEQUENCE BEGINS]

[TITLE CARD: ALL THAT GLITTERS , TONIGHT ON NBC]

[FADE OUT]

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

Notes:

So this car is NOT the correct era But I saw it With my own two eyes (My phone camera hated it) And, well... this fic was born

[andauril]

"Indie studios can do the same thing Larian can" = can make good RPGs that offer meaningful roleplay & in depth systems.

"Indie studios can the same thing Larian can" =/= make a cinematic experience like BG3.

I'm not pulling this out of my ass. We have examples of REALLY GOOD RPGs with a similar depth to BG3 from Indie Developers. Disco Elysium, for example. Pathfinder: Wrath of the Righteous. Warhammer: Rogue Trader. And smaller titles that are shaping up to be sth really special, like Banquet for Fools. THAT is what I'm talking about when I say that it isn't impossible for an indie studio to make an really good, in depth rpg. Or heck, even talk text based rpgs that still offer an tremendous amount of roleplay and outcomes, like The Book of Hungry Names. So how come that AAA studios don't even come CLOSE anymore to making RPGs like that? Because a lot of the time, they are afraid to take risks and prefer to play it safe even tho safe games make for mediocre experiences.

[kaitropoli]

"Louise-Marie de Bourbon, dite Mademoiselle de Tours; La fillette aux bulles de savon"

By Pierre Mignard

Oil Painting, 1681.

Château de Versailles.

PORTRAIT SUBJECT

La fillette aux bulles de savon, or the commonly found English title, Girl Blowing Soap Bubbles, is a portrait of innocence during the Franco-Dutch War.

The child shown is Louise-Marie de Bourbon, the daughter of the Sun King, Louis XIV, and his Maîtresse-en-titre, Françoise-Athénaïs de Rochechouart (Madame de Montespan). I'm sorry, I don't know why they popped off with the names like that when they're planning to reuse Marie and Louis fifty times over ptdr. Louise-Marie, affectionately known as Toutou, was an illegitimate birth (1674), later legitimized by her father when she was around two years old. She held the title of Mademoiselle de Tours from then until her untimely death in 1681.

According to sources, Mignard's painting of the six-year-old girl was finished posthumously. But, her innocence is held delicately, frozen in time on canvas.

THEMES OF CHILDHOOD INNOCENCE (TL;DR: YAPANESE)

Mignard's choice to paint Louise-Marie as an actual child was uncommon for the time (even centuries later, believe it or not; maybe not so good examples, but for argument-sake: Louis XV by Hyacinthe Rigaud, Mariana Victoria of Spain by Nicolas de Largillierre, Phillip II, Duke of Orléans, Reagent of France by Largillierre, and Élisabeth Charlotte d'Orléans, "Mademoiselle de Chartres" by Largillierre -- apologies for throwing you strays, man, I'm trying to finish writing this and your children portraits were on the same website next to each other x), as young royalty are painted either as babies (unbreeched/baptize gown) or as tiny adults (fixed in uncomfortable poses and wearing clothes a monarch would), no in between. Here, Louise-Marie is playing with bubbles, her dog jumping towards it, and she looks carefree, still with chubby cheeks of rose. It doesn't help much that children were seen as heirs to the family fortune, especially during a time when parents had multiple kids due to illness (premature death) and bringing in income (need I explain more... *cough cough* coal mines... a bit anachronistic, sorry breaker boys, some other time we'll discuss y'all).

A painting such as this one, showing a realistic human experience from a royal status and that of a child BEING a child, innocence still intact, is quite important, even in today's form. We take childhood for granted, and kids are forced to grow up despite having more rights now than before. It can be a portrait to remind us that innocence is vital (a lack of childhood is detrimental as the experience is needed in order to mature mentally and emotionally when entering the teen and adult stages of life), but also that we as humans weren't so different from back then (sure, you can claim we bathe more than they do despite your husband still not washing his ass, but my heavens, did the thought 'wait, they had bubbles back then' ever occur to you?).

Genuinely, I was going to pull a La Muse Verte (the post where I briefly explained the history of absinthe) and go into the history of bubbles... because you gotta admit, that'd be fun for the both of us. However, delving into the background and theme of this painting became more heartbreaking for me. The bubble idea isn't gone, but it'll be postponed as a full history lesson post (and, yes, Mignard's painting of the immortalized Toutou will be recycled).

FURTHER READING (EXTRA SYMBOLISTIC DETAIL)

Plenty more symbolism is present, but I highly recommend you all check out L'Art en Tête's in-depth article on Mignard's beautiful portrait. I did regurgitate some of the author's points in this because I thought they were brilliant, and you can tell they have an art-history degree, so I'm begging you to go over there for more detail if interested!

[chatgptwritesfanfiction]

Meeting the Greasers

You couldn't help but feel a wave of nervousness wash over you. As a naturally shy person, the thought of meeting a whole group of people at once made your heart race and your palms grow clammy. But with Sodapop by your side, his infectious charm providing a comforting anchor, you mustered the courage to face this new chapter.

The vibrant streets of Tulsa led you to a small park where the Greasers had gathered, their camaraderie evident in their laughter and easy banter. Sodapop's friends, each with their own unique personality and style, formed a close-knit circle that seemed impenetrable at first glance.

As you approached, Sodapop's grip on your shoulders tightened, offering reassurance. "Hey, guys!" he called out, his voice full of excitement. "I want you all to meet someone special. This is (Y/N), my incredible partner."

A chorus of greetings filled the air, but your shyness held you back from fully engaging. You tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, offering a shy smile in return. The group's vibrant energy made you feel both exhilarated and overwhelmed.

Sodapop, always attuned to your emotions, pulled you gently closer. "It's alright, (Y/N). They're gonna love you, just like I do."

As Ponyboy and Two-Bit approached, their warm smiles put you at ease. Ponyboy, with his youthful innocence, extended a welcoming hand, while Two-Bit offered a playful wink. Their kindness melted away some of your initial anxiety, allowing you to take a small step forward.

Steve and Dally were next, their rough exteriors contrasting with their genuine interest in getting to know you. Steve cracked a joke, and Dally's smirk hinted at a subtle approval. Their acceptance brought a glimmer of confidence to your shy demeanor.

Then came Johnny, the quiet and reserved member of the group. He gave you a small nod, his eyes revealing a depth of understanding. You sensed a kindred spirit in his presence, finding solace in the fact that you weren't alone in your introverted tendencies.

As you stood among them, each member of the Greasers offering their own unique greeting, you felt a sense of belonging starting to take root. Their rough edges hid genuine hearts, and their acceptance chipped away at your shyness.

Sodapop, never one to stay idle, took it upon himself to bridge the gap between you and the rest of the gang. He seamlessly weaved you into conversations, highlighting your strengths, and ensuring your voice was heard amidst the boisterous banter.

Slowly but surely, you started to open up. The shy smiles turned into genuine laughter, the nervous fidgeting transformed into relaxed gestures. It became easier to be yourself, to let your true personality shine.

As the day wore on, the sun began its descent, casting a warm glow over the park. You found yourself surrounded by a group of people who had become more than just acquaintances—they had become a family.

The Greasers had embraced you, not despite your shyness, but because of it. They saw the quiet strength within you, the beauty in your thoughtful words, and they welcomed you into their tight-knit circle with open arms.

And as you sat there, sharing stories and laughter, you realized that the shyness that once held you back had become a cherished part of who you were. The Greasers had taught you that being true to yourself was the most important thing of all.

In the embrace of the Greasers, your shyness transformed from a burden to a badge of honor. And with Sodapop by your side, supporting and guiding you every step of the way, you knew that together, you could navigate any challenge that came your way.

a/n: i changed the original title because it made me cringe. that's all i have to say except for the fact that tagging is a pain in the ass.

[nieithryn]

@strcngered:

This had been a long time coming. After years of building tension, seemingly light hearted flirting, and moments that almost held significance, their relationship had finally escalated. When he had been summoned to Maladi's private quarters, the implications of such an invite wasn't lost on Nihl. He tried to remind himself of their ongoing schemes, and that there could be an intention behind this. Whatever conviction the warlord has had all but evaporated the moment they had kissed. That first kiss had quickly led to a second, and then a third. Before either of them had a chance to even think to hesitate, clothes were being all but torn off one another. The night had been glorious, satisfying a need Nihl had suppressed for too long. It felt right to remain in her bed, to fully indulge in the vulnerability of having willingly been stripped of his title. The dawn after had arrived too swiftly, but not without its own delights. As the morning sun crept into the room, Nihl had the pleasure of seeing how it illuminated her figure. The natural red of Maladi's skin tone practically glowed in this early light, a sharp contrast to the dark tattoos marking her body. All of it feels divine, that he got to bask in such a perfect sight. It also reminded Nihl of the previous nights escapades, and the distance between the two became a problem. Wrapping an arm around her waist, Nihl pulls Maladi into his embrace. Nuzzling his face into the crook of her neck, he delights in simply getting to touch her again. A part of this came from the abrupt realization of the depth of Nihl's feelings towards the devaronian. The other reason being that pressing his hard cock against her ass brought more relief than simply fantasizing about her. "My little poisoner." He whispers in an affectionate tone of voice. Slowly pressing kisses up her neck, a smirk tugs at his lips once he feels her pulse race. "Much sweeter than such a name would imply."

The night had passed in a way she was...unused to. The comfort of a warm body beside her own was not a feeling she knew much of, Krayt's demands of her had kept her from indulging such a thing more than a scant time or two. Such relations might be allowed by the Sith, encouraged among some, even...but Krayt's spymaster was not a woman who was given to such passions under normal circumstances. She was an outsider among her fellows, in more ways than simply being born off Korriban, and she had no taste for this vice.

Not, that is, until Nihl arrived.

The sunlight crept from her window and across the open floor, over dark clothes shed in impassioned kisses the night before and up sumptuous silken sheets. She felt when the first warm rays caressed her crimson skin, the subtle added heat in her tattoos that sent a small shudder out from her spine.

Within moments, she felt him at her back, and her eyes drifted closed as she focused on the sensations around her. Felt warm breath across her throat, followed moments later by even warmer kisses. His voice at her ear, almost purring the nickname that she had come to treasure hearing.

"The sweetest poisons are frequently the most deadly," she hummed softly, turning a little to offer him more of her throat. No idle gesture...and yet she felt he would hardly need that spelled out. Such offering of weakness was not to be done lightly...not even with those one might profess to love. And yet...such trust was given. Even as a delicate, dainty hand reached back to run through his hair. "You should know that better than most."

[savage-rhi]

For the WIPs, how about Everything, Zen 😘

@seradyn AHHH BIG THANK!!! 💙 I don't have a whole lot done on this one cause I'm still plotting out things, but I do have a little snippet and a summary!

Edit: also adding the song that inspired the story, title and characters

Summary: It is said in the holy book that when Lucifer fell from heaven, he was plunged into the depths of hell and awaits the apocalypse. What if hell wasn't a firey pit of despair, but in fact, living as a human being for all of eternity?

Zen--the most recent reincarnation of Lucifer--after several lifetimes has finally pieced together a way he can break free from the reincarnation cycle. With the aid of Sawyer--a woman with her own troubles and tribulations--Zen seeks the legendary 10 crowns or "horns" of The Beast to return to heaven.

"So," Sawyer let out a sigh. "When this little road trip of ours comes to an end and you go home. What happens next?"

Zen raised a brow and shrugged. If he were more honest with himself, he hadn't thought that much ahead of the game. Not that he'd admit it out loud.

"I suppose I try and break bread with my father," Zen scoffed. He then smirked as another amusing thought came to mind. "Maybe sing kumbaya with Michael while I'm at it. Hell, maybe pops would like a souvenir from--"

He paused and frowned, looking at the inside of the diner trying in vain to find something that popped out. "Bumfuck Montana, or wherever we are right now."

"Bumfuck Montana," Sawyer repeated. She sounded so unimpressed that Zen could feel his pride take a few steps back. "That's original."

"Oh yeah?" Zen smirked. "You think you can do better?"

"I probably could," Sawyer admitted with a grin. "But I don't need Satan on my ass for the next decade or however long I got left."

"Eh," Zen's eyes scanned over Sawyer in a scrutinizing manner. "You don't have much going on there, ass wise. I wouldn't fret."

"Asshole," Sawyer growled under her breath.

"You walked into that I'm afraid." Zen snorted.

Although Sawyer smiled and laughed off his counter, Zen could sense a little more of herself closing off to him. The way her shoulders firmed and the subtle twitch of her fingers against the coffee mug had him uneasy. His therapist from the late 1800s stated such unease from physical tics was due to abandonment issues. He remembered laughing himself to death over that, but admitted perhaps they had been onto something. He hated it when someone pulled away. It demonstrated a dishonesty that infuriated him to the core.

Zen felt eager to verbally rip Sawyer apart, but reminded himself of how fragile her current state of mind was. He gave credit where it was due. She was certainly a phenomenal actor, pretending nothing got under her skin. That was a quality he had come to admire about humans over the centuries. How their resilience was impeccable. He couldn't say the same for himself as he ruminated on his earlier feelings of disgust.

What happened at the truck stop bothered him a great deal, and he wasn't the one who had been assaulted. He may had "saved the day", but the damage had been done. It was clear in Sawyers eyes and the way she had carried herself since then.

"Do you want to talk about what happened?" Zen murmured.

"Not really," Sawyer replied. Her eyes scanned over the diner, reminding Zen of a meerkat scouting the plains for hyena. "It's not the first time something like that has happened to me. I'll get over it."

He felt the hairs on his neck stand, and blinked a few times as his mind pondered more than it should've on Sawyer's remark.

"You're not alone in your misery. If it's any consolation."

Sawyer's eyes landed on him, sensing a familiarity in his cadence. It took her but a few moments to register the weight. "You too?"

Zen nodded. He sunk further into his seat as he relaxed and stretched. "You seem surprised."

"I didn't think...since you're, you know who, that you'd know what that's like--"

"I've lived many lifetimes. I'm not a stranger to bodily harm of the highest. Be it male or female." He interrupted, offering a small grin to soften the blow of his confession for her sake. Zen felt something akin to shame shortly after, and dismissively waved his right hand. Trying to tell Sawyer without words not to think too hard on anything. He focused on the birds in the parking lot outside the window. Watching them peck at stale leftover french fries someone had tossed.

"I'm sorry," Sawyer softly replied. He didn't have to see her face to tell she felt foolish for whatever assumptions she had held of him.

"It's whatever," Zen shrugged with a grin. He realized how odd that must've looked considering the circumstances, but didn't linger upon it.

Once the birds took off, having their fill, did he look at Sawyer again. He bit the inside of his cheek.

"You don't me owe me your past or anything you've been through, but I do want you to know that so long as we travel together, that won't happen again."

"How can you be certain?"

"I'm not," Zen admitted. "But contrary to popular belief, I keep my word if you'll have it."

[sadnessisavegetable]

Praying my Beta Reader Does Not Find this (love them, but no spoilers for them, even on character descriptions)

Hi, hello, I do not typically get much in the way of attention on this site, so I am not afraid of this appearing where my beloved beta, Yuki, can find this. Therefore, this is my dumping ground because I am so incredibly Autistic about my characters.

This is for my Lost Paths AU for LOZ. Lop is the Link of this story, Zyel is the Zelda of this story, Ganondorf is Ganondorf (as always), let's get into Details I Like.

Lop:

This Bastard(TM) was raised by bears. He was literally abandoned in the wilds with nothing but a brand of what he uses as a name and a strange tattoo on his face.

He's deaf because of a physical deformity. It makes everything greatly interesting in the opening of the story.

Said physical deformity made his ears floppy because they are not going to hear the whispers of the Gods, Nuh-Uh, No Ma'am.

Has no shame (much to Zyel and Ghirahim's chagrin) and Will bathe in the Castle moat. In broad daylight. Without much to hide behind. (He picked up the Hero Spirit's gremlin trait very strongly.)

His hair is fluffy and curly and a more honey-golden color, a softer and lighter blond.

Schmol. He looks very cute in everyone else's clothes because they are Too Big for him. But he is mighty enough to wield a Very Big weapon with one hand.

Zyel:

Not A Woman, but still goes by the Princess title so it's not more complicated to the public he will rule one day.

I flung Twili characteristics on this one because ain't no way some random Twili flung themselves at a white(AHEM. I'M NOT WRONG.) royal to negotiate Not Using the Twilight Realm like the British did to Australia.

The Twili blood emphasized the Zonai blood still passed through the Royal Line for Zyel. So Zyel looks somehow more Twili than he should--more like the original Twili anyways.

Nocturnal in the ways that matter, usually hopped up on sugar and caffeine to be awake during daylight and napping during weird times in a 24 hour cycle while more naturally awake at night. (It's so complicated)

Stubbornly figured out how to automate printing presses the way the ancients did, started automating more things (though yet to figure out a coffee one)

More impulsive than any Zelda prior.

Ganondorf:

Resurrected a dead language because he could not be bothered to learn a modern one among his people.

His memory and consciousness is passed through each descendant, activated whenever the previous user of his consciousness dies. Some descendants are lucky enough to get away with dying before they become him, which he doesn't mind so much because they were themselves without question.

Stubborn. Bastard. Will. Not. Lay. Down. And. Die. You can't make him and if you try, his Sheer Rage will swallow your being and make it cease to exist.

A WHORE. HE HAS A HAREM. AND NOTHING MANAGES TO FULLY SATISFY HIS ASS.

Still pissy about how the Gerudo blood got diluted and domesticated just before the Era of Wild Tears. Fully flooded the Gerudo Canyon as a river for the third time now to keep Hylians out because No Fucking More Colonization For Us, Thanks.

Sometimes, when drunk, he causes storms that he knows will hit Hylian towns just because he can (weather magic user go brrrrrrr).

(BONUS!) Ghirahim:

Duke of Hell (Hell is a region in the Land of the Dead in this version, as are the Depths and Lorule, so it's more of a dukedom thing rather than a kingdom, but several dukedoms go into a kingdom from my understanding) and (Mother? Father? Parent?) Creator of Monsters (yes, this BASTARD can actively pull the "I put you into this world, I can take you back out" on all the monsters he made).

Gender? What's that gotta do with anything? You're gay no matter how you approach me with any intent of romance. Up. Up! GAY. Siddown and be gay for me.

His demonic form is more clearly a warped angelic form in my version because he started as a failed prototype to Fi as the Goddess Sword. (Scars where wings used to be, docked ear--HYLIA DID IT IN MY VERSION, blackened, feathered wings on either side of his head, tail with the shape of his blade hidden in the tip of it, white and gold laced through his skin(gold for repairs))

Makes fun of bad historians who have no idea how it really went.

Has puppeted people around to get knowledge out of people without torturing them with waterboarding or electricity or slowly cutting body parts off.

Has five children. All of them are sword/blade demons like him. And it's funny as fuck.