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meadowfics · 3 days ago

Text

blood on your hands

kang dae ho x f!reader

in which you commit an act so unforgivable, yet reasonable

warnings: murder, death, nsfw!! 18+, minors please dni. smut with plot. oral (dh receiving). switch!daeho. switch!reader. praise. no PinV. VERY long chapter. dark chapter. original plot changes. y/n is used. reader is player 099. reader is the murderer. established relationship with dae-ho before the games. this takes place after the mingle games. the original character in this fic is player 123. I am not responsible for the content you choose to read after you hit, "keep reading"

4.6k words

the bathroom is a mess of bodies and tension.

the air thick with sweat, fear, disgusting body waste, and the sharp buzz of the overhead fluorescent lights. the guards stand at the entrance, their rifles slung carelessly over their shoulders, barely paying attention.

they know no one is dumb enough to try anything here, not after the mingle game.

a game in which you barely survived too.

anyways, you should be focusing on keeping jun-hee safe, making sure she gets in and out of here without trouble, but your mind keeps circling back to dae-ho.

your man.

the love of your life.

the marine’s voice is still fresh in your ears.

"stay safe, no heroics."

all of the women were assigned to all go to the bathroom before lights out. you had smiled at him, something small, something just for him.

"i’ll be okay,"

you had promised, squeezing his hand.

"i'll stay with jun-hee the whole time."

he hadn't liked it. you could tell by the way his jaw clenched, by the flicker of hesitation in his eyes, like he wanted to argue but knew it would only make things harder. he is super protective about you, even before the games back at home.

in the end, he let you go, but not before tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear, his touch lingering like he was trying to memorize you.

"come back to me."

you had nodded. you always would.

the two of you had been together for years. your relationship wasn’t new, wasn’t fragile. it was something built, something strong, something that had withstood everything life had thrown at you before the games.

this?

this was different.

this was a nightmare neither of you had ever prepared for.

when you first locked eyes after red light, green light, it felt like the world had cracked open. neither of you had known the other would be here.

neither of you had imagined, in your worst nightmares, that this was how you’d meet again after not seeing each other for days.

after meeting the salesman, the both of you had a plan to pay off each other's debts. unaware that the other had the same exact plan too.

the first game, dae-ho had stormed across the bloodstained ground, past the trembling bodies of the survivors, past the bodies that would never move again, and grabbed you like you were slipping through his fingers.

“why are you here?"

his voice had been raw, panicked.

"how…why…"

"why are you here?"

you had shot back, just as desperate, just as lost.

you both had kept your struggles quieter than you should have, thinking you could handle them alone. thinking you didn’t have to drag each other down.

it didn’t matter now.

now, all that mattered was surviving. together.

which was what led you here…standing in a sea of exhausted, wary women, pushing into the bathroom with jun-hee behind you and hyun-ju in front, keeping them close, like a shield.

you aren’t the only one on edge. hyun-ju’s beautiful eyes are scanning, assessing. she turns around and catches the way your fingers twitch at your sides, the way your shoulders stay stiff.

"you okay?" her voice is low, careful.

you force a small nod.

"just need to pee badly."

it’s a lie.

hyun-ju knows. she reads people too well…probably from whatever special forces training she’s had.

she doesn’t press, just gives you a look before shifting her attention elsewhere.

it’s not the bathroom that has you tense.

it’s her.

player 123.

she’s already ahead, pushing through the group like she owns the place along with her goon’s, loud and grating. she hasn’t stopped talking since mingle. hasn’t stopped running her mouth.

"you see that one triangle guard earlier?"

she crows to no one in particular, shoving her elbow into the woman next to her.

"dude was practically asleep. i bet i could’ve grabbed his gun…boom, game over."

the woman beside her gives a nervous laugh, stepping away. no one outside of her dickriding goons wants to be near her…she’s too reckless, too unpredictable.

your fingers curl into a fist at your side.

you don’t trust her. not after what happened in the six-legged penalathon.

you and player 123 had almost killed each other.

it had been an accident, but that didn’t matter. the two of you had made a mistake, a single misstep, a moment of hesitation that had nearly sent both of you crashing to your deaths. and she blamed you.

the audacity.

when jun-hee came to your group, asking to join. you gave up your spot for the woman. dae-ho protested, but you told him that the pregnant woman needs to live, so being with men will help her.

dae-ho intensely watched you as you approached 123 and her group of 4. player 123 said you could join, since she needed another woman who looked, “as fit as you.”

however, that was a mistake.. since you both nearly tripped when you were running to the finish line.

since then, she hated you..

you weren’t exactly fond of her either.

you keep jun-hee behind you as the crowd shifts into the cramped bathroom. it’s a tight space, bodies pressing in on all sides. no privacy, no safety.

you aren’t the only one feeling it…jun-hee shifts uncomfortably, pressing a protective hand over her stomach. you glance at her, lowering your voice.

"we’ll be quick. i won’t let anything happen."

she nods, trusting.

too trusting.

you can feel player 123's presence, her laughter cutting through the thick air like a blade. she’s talking again, louder now, complaining about everything.

"this is ridiculous," she groans, kicking the bottom of a stall.

"they’re treating us like animals. like we’re not even people."

you bite back the urge to snap.

because that’s the thing...she’s not wrong.

that doesn’t make you hate her any less.

hyun-ju watches you carefully from the side, tracking the way your body tenses, the way your fingers tap against your leg like you’re holding yourself back from something.

"she’s not worth it," hyun-ju mutters under her breath.

you exhale sharply, steadying yourself.

"i know."

that doesn’t stop you from keeping an eye on player 123. doesn’t stop the weight of her presence from pressing into you.

because in a place like this, grudges can get you killed.

the guards stand lazily outside of the entrance, their rifles hanging at their sides, not paying attention.

they don’t care about the many players inside one hot room.

but you do.

you keep jun-hee close, guiding her toward the stalls. she looks miserable, her hand resting over the curve of her belly, shoulders tight with exhaustion.

"y/n, i just need to sit for a second."

jun-hee pulls you towards the first stall.

she goes into one of the stalls, locking it behind her, and you let out a slow breath. your heart is still racing. not because of the guards, not because of the way the other women keep their eyes peeled for weakness…but because of player 123.

you hear her voice somewhere off to the side, barking out a laugh, too loud, too confident.

"these stalls are disgusting, i swear to god. like what do they want us to do? piss outside?"

she’s talking to no one in particular, but the woman next to her lets out a forced chuckle, clearly too nervous to ignore her.

“she is so fucking annoying!”

you think.

your jaw clenches, fingers twitching at your side.

you don’t trust her. you never have.

so when jun-hee comes out of her stall, you decide to go in after her. not because you need to pee, but because you don’t want to have to go later, when things could be worse.

“i’ll be quick," you murmur, passing by hyun-ju, who is by the sinks, watching everything like a hawk.

"stay alert," she tells you.

you nod, stepping inside the stall, locking it behind you.

you sit, but your mind is elsewhere, lost in the horrors of the game.

everything blurs together…the blood, the screams, the crack of bones snapping under pressure. you squeeze your eyes shut, pressing your palms into your thighs, trying to push the thoughts away, trying to remind yourself that you're still here. still breathing. still alive.

BANG.

your entire body jolts at the sudden impact against the stall door.

"can you hurry the fuck up?"

that voice.

your blood runs cold.

player 123.

you don’t say anything, don’t react, hoping she’ll just move on, but then

she crawls under the stall.

your breath catches in your throat, horror spiking through your veins as her hands and knees scrape against the filthy tile, her face appearing under the gap before she pulls herself inside, into your space.

"are you fucking stupid?"

you snap, scrambling to pull your joggers up as you stagger to your feet.

she just laughs.

loud, grating, obnoxious.

"oh? oh, look at that." she grins, rocking back on her heels.

"it’s the stupid bitch who almost got us killed!"

your fists clench.

"get the fuck out,"

you hiss, pushing past her to unlock the door.

she follows you.

you storm toward the sinks, your entire body thrumming with rage. she’s right on your heels, her voice sharp and mocking as she keeps egging you on.

"what’s wrong, 099? mad i called you out? mad that you’re such a weak bitch who made it this far? "

you ignore her, stepping toward the sinks where hyun-ju and jun-hee are.

she doesn’t stop.

"you think you’re some big hero? sticking with your little group like you’re different from the rest of us? newsflash, sweetheart…nobody here is safe."

your hands shake. you grip the edge of the sink, trying to steady yourself.

then she says it.

"you know... i started to notice how close you and player 388 are. are you guys together?"

123’s tone shifts, turning cruel, taunting.

you stare at her through the mirror, hoping she shuts the fuck up.

"wait, awee you guys are together! you know.. he’s such a charm. i cannot wait to steal him when you die during the next game!"

that’s it.

before you can even think, your body moves on its own.

you turn, your fist flying through the air, and the impact is satisfying to your mind and knuckles.

CRACK.

your knuckles collide with her face, sending her stumbling backward, her body hitting the ground with a hard thud.

someone gasps.

her goons rush forward, helping her up.

hyun-ju steps toward you, eyes sharp, but before she can say anything—

all hell breaks loose.

somewhere in the room, another fight erupts.

two randome women claw at each other, snarling like wild animals, hair being pulled, screams echoing off the tile.

and then, like a chain reaction, everyone starts fighting.

jun-hee stumbles back against the wall, hiding, pressing her hands over her stomach, panic flashing across her face. she knows she doesn’t stand a chance in this chaos.

hyun-ju moves quickly, diving into the mess, trying to break up fights before they get worse.

you…you don’t get the chance.

because player 123 tackles you.

you slam into the sink counter, pain exploding through your ribs.

"you wanna fucking hit me, huh?"

she seethes, grabbing onto your shirt.

"you bitch! you think you’re tough?"

you fight back, gripping her by the shoulders, trying to throw her off. but she’s strong, fueled by anger, by adrenaline.

you both go crashing to the ground.

she’s on top of you, fists flying.

one punch.

two.

three.

your face is bruised, bloodied.

your vision goes blurry, the taste of iron thick in your mouth as blood pools around your molar teeth.

you gasp, hands scrambling for anything.

you grip 123’s neck, trying to choke her, trying to stop her punches, but she just snarls, yanking at your hair, slamming your head back against the tile.

someone—se-mi—tries to pull her off.

but it’s not working.

you’re losing.

then

something presses against your thigh.

your metal fork.

the one from earlier’s meal. the one you saved, just in case something like this happened

your fingers close around it inside of your pocket.

without thinking..without hesitating..

you move your right hand quickly and plunge it into her neck.

she freezes.

123’s brown eyes go wide.

her hands, her fists, stop.

she limps, her body crumbling.

however, that was not enough.

something inside you snaps.

you stab.

again.

over and over and over until..

"STOP!"

arms pull you back… hyun-ju.

your breath is ragged, your chest heaving.

player 123 is dead.

her body is still.

her blood is everywhere.

you don’t realize what you’ve done…not really��until hyun-ju drags you into the hallway, pushing you against the wall beside a guard.

you’re hyperventilating. those pink lungs of yours cannot seem to catch a breath.

hyun-ju doesn’t yell at you. doesn’t scold you for murder since that would be hypocritical of her. she just takes the bloody fork from your hands, wipes at the blood on your face…though your 099 shirt is already soaked in red.

"breathe," she orders.

you can’t.

"what did i do?"

jun-hee stands nearby, eyes wide, face pale.

she looks at you, then at the bodies inside.

"nothing. since nothing will be mentioned to the others,"

she says quietly.

you nod.

silent.

back to the dorms.. you can barely walk.

your legs feel like they don’t belong to you, and the weight of what you just did claws at your chest, sinking deep into your ribs, making it hard to breathe.

hyun-ju keeps her arm wrapped tightly around you, holding you up, making sure you don’t collapse under your own exhaustion. your shirt is soaked in blood..

some yours, most of it hers.

player 123 is dead.

you did that.

you killed her.

yet, in this moment, all you can focus on is putting one foot in front of the other as you and the remaining women shuffle back into the dorms.

the second the doors open, the tension inside the dorm shifts.

the men had heard everything.

the screams.

the fighting.

the pounding of bodies slamming against the walls, the stalls, the sinks.

the killings.

it was a nightmare.

and dae-ho almost ran after you.

he had almost lost his mind when the first screams from multiple women echoed through the halls, his entire body lurching forward, ready to run, to fight, to protect you, before jung bae grabbed him.

"don’t." jung bae had hissed, forcing him to stay put.

"we don’t know what’s happening yet."

"it’s a fucking massacre, that’s what," young-il had muttered under his breath, his face pale as they all listened.

dae-ho couldn’t stay calm.

he was barely breathing, his hands clenching and unclenching, his mind running a thousand miles a minute.

you had told him you’d be okay.

you had promised.

but then why did the screaming keep going?

why did it sound like hell itself had broken loose in there?

at one point, it sounded like you were screaming.

it was, it was when you were repeatedly stabbing 123 over and over again.

back in the dorms, dae-ho kept trying to reason with himself.

you don’t start fights.

you aren’t reckless.

then he remembered the way you and 123 had argued after your group barely survived the six-legged penalathon…by four fucking seconds.

he remembered 123 cursing you out, yelling about how you should’ve died instead of her almost falling.

he remembered the way you just flicked her off, walking away.

she was a loose cannon.

123 was like thanos and namgyu smashed into one woman.

what if—

the doors open.

the women return.

and it’s worse than he imagined.

the ones who come back look horrible.

some are bloody. some have fresh bruises. some have torn shirts, missing shoes, swollen faces.

but not as many women return as there were when they left.

dae-ho’s stomach drops.

he scans the group frantically.

the marine’s heart hammers.

his eyes land on hyun-ju and jun-hee first…both fine, exhausted but fine.

then he sees you and his blood runs cold.

his baby. his love.

you look destroyed. your face is bloodied. your right eye is swollen. there’s a deep cut above your eyebrow, blood trailing down your cheek, dripping onto your already soaked shirt.

your lips are busted.

your knuckles are bruised and your hands are shaking.

"what the fuck happened?"

dae-ho’s voice is sharp, broken.

hyun-ju doesn’t answer right away.

instead, she tightens her grip on you, like she’s trying to shield you from his panic.

it’s too late.

he pushes forward, prying you out of hyun-ju’s arms, cradling you in his own.

his hands hover over your face, your wounds, your bruises, like he doesn’t know where to touch, where to fix, where to start.

"baby, oh my god, what did they do to you?" his voice breaks.

he lifts you into his arms, carrying you straight to his bed, settling you down gently, as if you might shatter if he moves too fast.

you don’t say anything.

you can’t.

because if you open your mouth, if you speak,you might just say what you did.

so instead, you stare at the ceiling, your breath shallow, your fingers gripping the sheets beneath you.

hyun-ju and jun-hee exchange a look.

they don’t tell him.

they don’t say what really happened.

that is your place, not theirs.

they don’t tell him that you killed player 123 in a fit of survival and rage, stabbing her over and over again until her body was lifeless.

instead, hyun-ju lies.

"a fight broke out. everyone was attacking each other."

dae-ho’s jaw tightens, his eyes flicking over every bruise, every wound, every drop of blood.

"and she was attacked?"

jun-hee nods.

"we barely made it out."

dae-ho exhales sharply, his hands trembling as he tears a piece of his 388 shirt, dipping it into some cup of water (belonging to gi-hun) before gently pressing it against your wounds.

"fuck, i should’ve been there," he mutters.

"i should’ve protected you."

you swallow.

dae-ho’s words make your chest ache in a way you can’t explain.

he doesn’t know.

he doesn’t know what you did.

he doesn’t know that you aren’t just hurt.

you are a killer now.

across the room, young-il/001/the frontman undercover watches you carefully as he sits beside a worried gi-hun and jung-bae.

his eyes linger.

he knows.

he doesn’t say anything, doesn’t make a scene, but you catch the way he scans the room, the way he takes note of who came back..and who didn’t.

123 isn’t here

he knows.

you don’t look at dae-ho.

you can’t

because then you’d have to acknowledge it. and right now, you just want to pretend.

pretend you didn’t just take a life.

pretend you’re still you.

the speaker comes on and the room freezes as everyone listens. suddenly, the names of the eliminated players in the women’s bathroom echo through the dorms.

"player 037. eliminated."

"player 272. eliminated."

"player 081. eliminated."

"player 410. eliminated."

"player 008. eliminated."

"player 072. eliminated."

and then..

"player 123. eliminated."

the second her number is called, the room shifts in your perspective.

your stomach twists.

dae-ho’s eyes snap to you.

then to hyun-ju.

hyun-ju turns away.

you tense.

but he doesn’t know.

not yet. not yet.

because lights out is coming.

during lights out, you wake up to dae-ho who is looking up at the ceiling. the ceiling where the gold pig sits with all of the money. the money from the dead players.

“baby, is everything alright?”

you ask lightly, putting your hand on his upper thigh as he looks over at you.

the man smiles lightly, brushing a piece of hair off of your forehead as you close your eyes.. taking in his touch.

“i should be asking you that.”

dae-ho responds.

of course you are still thinking about the murder you committed. however, you know that there will not be any legal consequences. the guards and this whole game is illegal itself!

however, you wonder how dae-ho will look at you.

he used to talk to you about a murder that he committed while he was in the marines. the one thing that started his PTSD while serving. however, he was forced to do that.

you were not forced.

well, that is debatable.

since you were acting in self-defense.

you brought your sore lips over dae-ho’s and started kissing him soflty, moving his hands to your ass while you sat your clothed core on top of his bulge.

“y/n.”

he groans through your lips.

“hm.”

you smirk.

“is this alright? i don’t want you to feel uncom–”

“we need a distraction, dae-ho.”

two minutes later, your lips around around his fat tip. the marine’s head laid back against the hard wall, his pants pulled down to his ankles as you took his whole length inside of your throat.

you were distracting yourself. your focus is fully on your lover’s scent, his big dick in your throat, your hands massaging his balls, and the way your lashes batted up at his eyes while you sucked his dick.

this is the only way you can distract yourself from earlier. the murder. the murder you commited.

dae-ho wrapped your hair in a ponytail with his hands while you continued to do your work. you concentrated your tongue on a particular vein on his shaft while arching your back in the process.

"fuck, you're sucking me off so perfectly."

your boyfriend of five years reaches over to massage your clothed ass, groaning softly as you deepthroated his cock.

obviously, sucking his cock during lights out, where a player can easily see you, was not ideal for most people. however, you refused to pull dae-ho into a bathroom and do it. not where you killed 123.

dae-ho’s cock twitched inside of your throat and you hummed, feeling his white load spill inside of your mouth and throat.

the man puts a pillow over his head, so the pillow can block out his loud pornographic moan he spoke out.

you were always so good at sucking his dick, oh how much he missed it while the games were happening.

you helped your boyfriend pull his boxers and pants back on. the man flipped you over and kissed all over your neck, but you cringed.

not because of dae-ho, not at all. you were so desperate for his tongue on your clit but somehow.. you started smelling the metallic blood from earlier.

123’s blood.

tears fill your eyes almost immediately.

when dae-ho realized that you were crying out of fear instead of pleasure, he stopped instantly. he pulled you into his arms as you stained his shirt with your tears.

you started to hyperventilate again.

dae-ho keeps you in his arms, but pulls your head off of his chest in order to help yourself breathe.

“baby, please breathe.”

dae-ho panics, nearly having tears in his eyes too.

“dae-ho, i-i-ca-can’t. i’m ah-a monster.”

you coughed out.

dae-ho frowns.

“no you’re not!”

he mumbles confidently, truthfully.

“you’re my angel.”

you cry more, shaking your head with a frown.

“angels don't kill people, dae-ho.”

you sob, wiping your nose with your blood stained jacket.

“what?”

dae-ho’s eyes widened.

“sh-sh-she was so close to killing me i-in there!”

you start shaking, dae-ho holds your hands as you try to recall the memory.

your lips turn pale. dae-ho holds the back of your head with his large hands as more tears fall down your face.

“dae-ho, i killed 123!!! the fork i-i ha-had when we ate the bibimbap to-together! she almost beat me to death so i stabbed her.”

your hands started shaking to the point where dae-ho had to hold them.

not only was the memory so traumatic, but you were started to think that dae-ho would leave you.

scared that he would not want someone who is a murderer.

dae-ho’s eyes are widened, he cannot say anything.

“puh-pl-please say something! i swear it was in self-defense!! she did this to me-”

you pointed at the bruises and cuts on your face.

“i-i couldn’t breathe before i felt the fork in my pocket. i had to, i am so sorry! please forgive me for being a monster!”

you forced your hands out of dae-ho’s and covered your face, ashamed of yourself.

dae-ho is everything good in this world. even here, in this twisted, merciless game, he treats you like you’re made of glass…like you’re still the same person he fell in love with before all of this.

you’re scared.. now you believe that he knows that the girl he’s holding, the girl he’s protecting so fiercely, is not the girl he fell in love with.

you’re a monster. a murderer.

the blood on your hands isn’t just yours…it’s 123s.

dae-ho holds you again.. and doesn’t let go of you. not even for a second.

the marine’s arms stay firmly around you, grounding you as your entire body shakes, as your chest heaves, struggling to pull in air. your lungs burn, your throat closes, and your vision blurs with the overwhelming flood of emotions crashing down on you all at once.

you can’t stop crying.

you can’t stop the guilt, the fear, the shame from clawing at your insides, making you feel like you’re being ripped apart from the inside out.

"i'm a monster,"

you choke out between uneven breaths.

"i don’t deserve you, dae-ho. i don’t.."

"stop."

dae-ho’s voice is gentle, but firm. the man’s hands cup your face, thumbs wiping away the hot tears streaming down your cheeks, even though they just keep coming.

"baby, listen to me. i understand."

dae-ho’s voice is steady, warm, full of something so deep and unwavering.. it only makes you cry harder.

"i know. it was self-defense."

you shake your head, gripping onto his wrists like he’s the only thing keeping you from falling apart completely in this hellhole.

"but i still did it," you whisper, voice breaking.

"i still killed her."

dae-ho doesn’t flinch.

his grip doesn’t loosen.

his expression doesn’t change.

"and it would have been you killed if you hadn’t."

his words hit hard, slicing through the noise in your head.

you inhale sharply, shuddering.

"this game… it’s bringing out the worst in all of us." his voice softens, his forehead pressing against yours.

"this isn’t your fault, baby. you were protecting yourself."

you sob, shaking your head violently.

"no–"

"yes." he pulls back just enough to look at you, really look at you, his dark eyes full of nothing but love.

"you’re not a monster. you’re still my girl… my angel."

dae-ho’svoice breaks on those last words, but he keeps going.

he wants to cry with you.

"when we get out of here, i’ll get us help." he promises.

"therapy, whatever you need, i’ll be right there with you. we’ll get through this. together."

your face crumples, your hands tightening in the fabric of his 388 shirt.

"how can you still love me after this?"

dae-ho lets out a soft, shaky breath, like he can’t believe you’d even ask that.

"how can i not? you’re the love of my life. bad or good."

your chest shakes as another sob wracks through you, but this time, it’s different.

it’s not just grief, it’s relief.

because he’s not leaving.

he’s not disgusted.

he’s not giving up on you.

"i’m not mad, baby. i’m not mad at you." his lips press against your temple, lingering.

"and we’re okay. i’m still with you. i’m still going to protect you."

"we’re okay?" you whisper, almost afraid to believe it.

he nods, pulling you closer, holding you like he never wants to let go.

"we’re okay."

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svtiddiess · 1 day ago

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Prescription For Pussy

Synopsis: With Mingyu hidden under your desk as the intern keeps you occupied, you can’t resist the urge to tease him. But your playful antics only seem to fuel his desperation, turning him into a whimpering, eager puppy beneath you.

Pairing: husband!nurse!Mingyu x wife!doctor!reader ft. medical intern!Chan

Genre: smut, established relationship, non-idol!au, medical! au, mini-series

Rating: mature

Word count: 2.2k

Warnings: petnames (puppy), public sex (Chan is in the room with them but can't see what they're doing), sub!Mingyu, dom!Y/N, oral (fem receiving), fingering, dry humping, Mingyu cumming in his pants, lemme know if I missed anything!

Note: Suprise! You thought the 1k celebration was done? Nope! Have another special bonus from me featuring the Sex Education couple. Enjoy!

Thank you so much to @seokgyuu, @gyubakeries, and @ylangelegy for beta reading!

And thank you to my twin @tomodachiii for helping me with the plot!

Click here to join my taglist!

Read on ao3

Reblogs are appreciated ♡

.ᐟMinors/blank/no age indicator blogs will be blocked.ᐟ

Raising an eyebrow, you fold your arms across your chest and fix Mingyu with a deadpan look as he casually makes himself comfortable on your desk.

"Don't you have better things to do than bother me?" you sigh.

"Nope," he replies, popping the 'p' with a playful grin, his legs swinging like a carefree child. "Finished all my tasks for my shift. The other nurses are doing their rounds, so I thought, why not spend some quality time with my lovely wife?"

Shaking your head, you let out another sigh and step closer. Placing your arms on either side of him, you trap him between you and the desk.

"Well, your lovely wife is a busy doctor with plenty to do, dear husband," you tease with a grin.

"My wife is so smart and successful," he says with a giggle. "I’m so proud she became a doctor."

You laugh softly and lean in, pressing a tender kiss to his lips. "Well, I was lucky to have the best tutor," you grin.

"And I was lucky to have a very hot student," he purrs in response.

"You were," you chuckle, wrapping your arms around his neck and resting them on the back of his head. "It was adorable how oblivious you were to my flirting," you tease, watching his cheeks flush red.

"I wasn’t oblivious," he whines.

"Then why were you acting like such a loser?" you prod, giggling.

"Because I was shy," he defends with a pout. "You were so pretty, and I didn’t want to ruin it by doing something stupid."

"You thought I was pretty?" you tilt your head, laughing softly.

"Mhm," he hums, pulling you closer by the waist. "Prettiest girl I’ve ever laid my eyes on. And luckily for me, I somehow managed to make her my wife," he whispers against your lips.

You giggle and close the distance, your lips meeting his in a warm kiss. Mingyu hums softly into it, the vibrations sending a rush of electricity through your body. You tilt your head, deepening the kiss, your tongues moving in perfect sync. The moment grows heated, the room suddenly feels much warmer. Mingyu’s hand sneaks down to your butt, giving it a playful squeeze that elicits a soft moan from you.

Just as the atmosphere turns steamy—

Knock, knock!

A sudden knock snaps you both out of the moment. You jolt apart, eyes wide in panic as the sound rings out again.

"Dr. Y/N, may I come in?"

It’s Chan, the intern. You glance at Mingyu, who looks equally alarmed, and in a flash of desperation, you grab him and push him under the desk. He shoots you a bewildered look, but you quickly whisper for him to stay put.

Smoothing out your shirt and skirt, you sit down at your desk and call out, "Come in!"

Chan peeks his head through the door, offering a sheepish smile.

"Sorry, am I interrupting something?" he asks hesitantly.

"Not at all," you reply with your most professional smile, silently praying that the blush on your cheeks has faded. "Please, come in and have a seat."

Chan, a newly assigned intern at the hospital, is a bit naive but undeniably intelligent and brimming with enthusiasm for learning. As he starts asking questions from his recent rotation, you respond with a sense of gratitude, appreciating his passion for becoming a doctor.

Midway through answering, it dawns on you that Mingyu is still hidden beneath your desk. A mischievous thought crosses your mind, and you subtly slip your foot out of your heel, resting it on Mingyu. Feeling his hand wrap around your ankle, you fight to keep a straight face, resisting the urge to smirk.

You subtly move your foot toward his crotch, feeling him tense under your touch. Applying gentle pressure, you hear a soft groan escape his lips, and you bite your bottom lip to stifle a laugh.

While maintaining your conversation with Chan, you discreetly shift your chair back just enough to catch a glimpse of Mingyu in your peripheral vision. You spot him covering his mouth with one hand to muffle any sounds while his other hand guides your foot over his crotch, his expression betraying his struggle to stay composed.

You dig your heel into Mingyu's growing bulge, and you see Mingyu shut his eyes and throw his head back. A giggle slips from your lips, but you quickly disguise it with a light cough.

"Are you okay, Doctor?" Chan asks, his voice filled with concern.

"I'm fine," you reply with a smile. "Just a dry throat."

Without hesitation, Chan springs to his feet. "I'll grab you a bottle of water," he offers earnestly before hurrying out of the room.

The moment the door closes, you push your chair back slightly and glance down at Mingyu, a sly smirk playing on your lips.

Mingyu shifts his position and starts humping your leg. You laugh at his desperate state.

"Such a pathetic puppy, using my leg to get off," you mock him, and he responds with a soft whine. His movements get faster and faster, desperate to reach his high.

When you hear the door unlock, you quickly shift back to your original position, but Mingyu doesn't let up, continuing to hump your leg. Chan returns with a bottle of water, which you accept with a grateful smile. Taking a quick sip, you nod and encourage him to continue with his question.

Chan continues his questions, completely unaware of what's happening below your desk. Mingyu's movement starts to become erratic, accidental whimpers and moans escape his lips.

Chan pauses, looking around the room with a puzzled expression. "Dr. Y/N, did you hear that?" he asks.

"Hear what?" you respond, trying to brush it off.

"N-Never mind, I think I just imagined it," he says after a moment of hesitation.

You quickly shift the topic of conversation, and Chan soon forgets about the sound. You press your foot against Mingyu's groin as a warning, earning a muffled groan from him.

You feel Mingyu's hand kneading your thigh, and when you subtly glance down, you catch sight of a very hot and flustered Mingyu looking up at you with a pleading expression, silently begging you to wrap up the conversation and send Chan away. But you only smirk in return and move your leg against his crotch, causing his eyes to roll back and a silent moan to leave his lips.

As you glance back at Chan, your leg continues to brush against Mingyu's crotch, feeling his growing desperation for release. Suddenly, without warning, Mingyu's hands spread your legs apart. Your eyebrows knit together in confusion, but you maintain a calm demeanor. A shiver runs through you as his hand trails up your leg, leaving goosebumps in its wake, and you shift slightly, caught between surprise and anticipation.

You bite your bottom lip as Mingyu shifts your panties to the side, suppressing a shiver when the cool air brushes against your exposed core. Without warning, his fingers slide into you, drawing a sharp, surprised gasp from your lips.

"Dr. Y/N? Is everything okay?" Chan asks, his voice tinged with concern.

"N-No! It's nothing," you stammer, your voice trembling. "I just thought…I left the stove on at home. But then I remembered I didn't." Mingyu lets out a quiet chuckle at your pathetic excuse while Chan gives you a puzzled look. Thankfully, he seems to buy your lie and moves on with his questions, leaving you to deal with the heat rising in your cheeks.

Mingyu slowly slips his fingers in and out of your pussy, and you bite your bottom lip to try and prevent yourself from moaning. You try to close your legs but Mingyu's strong hand holds them open. He slowly picks up his pace, and you feel your body heat up; you really hope that Chan doesn't see the blush dusting your cheeks.

A soft whimper nearly slips past your lips as Mingyu slides another finger inside you. Your hands grip the edge of the desk, nails digging into the wood as you silently hope Chan doesn't notice the faint, wet sounds coming from beneath the desk. Your body tenses when Mingyu’s fingers brush against your G-spot, sending a jolt of pleasure through you that leaves you craving more.

"C-Chan!" you blurt out, cutting him off mid-sentence, then quickly clear your throat, flustered. "Can we, um, continue this discussion another time? There are a few things I need to take care of soon," you say, trying to sound composed as you urge him to leave.

"Oh! Of course, Dr. Y/N. I’m so sorry for taking up your time," Chan replies apologetically, quickly gathering his things and exiting the room. The moment the door clicks shut, you’re left alone with Mingyu once again, the tension between you palpable.

You immediately roll your chair back and grab Mingyu by his hair, yanking him closer as you lean down with a scowl. He meets your glare with a playful smirk, unfazed by your irritation.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" you snap, your voice low and sharp.

"Just helping you get rid of Chan," he replies with a grin, his tone dripping with mischief. "And it worked, didn't it?"

You let out a scoff, tightening your grip on his hair until he lets out a soft whimper. "You're such an idiot," you mutter, though there’s a flicker of amusement in your voice.

"Maybe," he says, his smirk widening. "But hey, I might not be a gynaecologist, babe, but I know my way around your pussy."

Rolling your eyes, you tug harder on his hair, earning another whimper. "Oh yeah? Prove it, then, puppy. Make me cum with your fingers."

With a devilish grin, Mingyu picks up the pace, his fingers relentlessly targeting that spongy spot that turns your mind to mush. A string of curses spills from your lips as you throw your head back, spreading your legs wider to give him better access. The tension in your stomach coils tighter and tighter with every thrust of his fingers, the room echoing with the lewd, wet sounds of your arousal.

"I-I'm close," you whimper, your body trembling as it edges toward release.

Mingyu's free hand sneaks to your clit, tracing slow, deliberate circles over the sensitive nub. The sensation sends a sharp moan tearing from your throat as you finally tip over the edge, your body convulsing with waves of euphoria.

After a few more pumps, Mingyu pulls his fingers out and brings them to his mouth, sucking your juices off with a satisfied hum. "Always so sweet," he murmurs, his smirk widening.

"Yeah? Then you should have more," you growl, snatching his glasses off and tossing them onto the desk. Grabbing a fistful of his hair, you yank him forward, pressing his face firmly against your cunt.

Without hesitation, Mingyu dives in, eagerly lapping up your juices as his hands grip your thighs, spreading them even wider. Despite still being sensitive from your last orgasm, you tug sharply on his hair, pulling him closer as your body arches and writhes under his touch.

Shaky moans and breathless whimpers escape your lips as his tongue teases and prods at your entrance. Mingyu’s own muffled moans vibrate against you, sending jolts of electricity coursing through your body. Feeling the familiar coil of pleasure tightening once more, you lose yourself in the sensation, grinding against his face as if he’s nothing more than your personal fuck toy, desperate for that second release.

With a low growl, Mingyu hooks your legs over his shoulders, burying his face deeper into your slick cunt, determined to make you cum on his tongue. Your moans grow louder, his name spilling from your lips like a mantra as you teeter on the edge of release. Just as you’re about to tip over, his nose brushes against your clit, and that’s all it takes to send you spiralling.

His name becomes a chant, a desperate prayer, as your second orgasm crashes over you. Waves of pleasure ripple through your body, leaving you trembling and breathless. Mingyu moans against you, savoring every drop as he laps up your arousal, refusing to let a single one go to waste.

After a few final, lingering licks, he gently sets your legs down, pressing a soft kiss to your inner thigh before tugging your panties back into place. You glance down at him, noticing the unmistakable damp spot on his pants, and a sly grin spreads across your face.

"Looks like someone came in their pants without even being touched," you tease, your voice dripping with amusement.

Mingyu smirks up at you, unashamed. "Can't help it when I've got such a pretty pussy in my mouth." You let out a soft chuckle as you reach for Mingyu’s glasses, carefully placing them back on his face. With a gentle touch, you smooth down his disheveled hair and wipe away the remnants of your arousal from his skin.

The two of you sit there, catching your breath, exchanging fucked-out smiles. But just as the moment settles, a sharp knock at the door shatters the quiet.

"Dr. Y/N, may I come in?"

Your eyes meet Mingyu's, and the two of you share a mischievous grin. In a flash, he ducks back under the desk, and you quickly smooth out your skirt, scooting your chair closer to the desk.

"Come in," you call out, your voice steady despite the smirk playing on your lips. As the door opens, you feel Mingyu's lips already trailing kisses along your leg, and you can’t help but grin.

Taglist: @tinyelfperson @gyuguys @stay-tiny-things @unlikelysublimekryptonite @miyx-amour @iamawkwardandshy @codeinebelle @brownbunnyb @do-you-remember-summer-127 @sclovreina @theidontknowmehn @toplinehyunjin @gyuhao365 @mysticfairies @cherrylovescheol @cookiearmy @4shypotato @lxnnrobin @sashaaahh @xueisaaa17 @aeriyell @eshia16 @dreamingofpcy @archivistworld @kyeomiis @iwannakisspoutycheol @aliiikareed @jennwonwoo @cherrybb96

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suiana · 2 days ago

Text

thinking of a guilt ridden reader and a silly manipulative yandere who looks exactly like someone from reader's past.

maybe you did something bad to a friend, perhaps ended a relationship on bad terms with someone who never deserved to be treated badly. whatever it is, just the mere thought of that person causes you to physically curl up and pray for forgiveness.

so you spend the rest of your days like a dead man walking, the guilt of your actions clawing at the depths of your heart. it makes it hard to do anything, let alone think. because when you are left alone with your thoughts, all you can imagine is their expression when everything went wrong. oh how you'd give up anything just to change the past and your actions.

as if your guilt wasn't enough, he just had to skip into your life looking exactly like that person. like them.

at first, you thought of this as a curse. this... this stupid guy? looking exactly like them? then as you sort of warmed up to him, you still think it's a curse. because what gave him the audacity to come into your life, looking like them, and telling you how much he wants you? especially claiming that it was love at first sight and that you two were fated to be?

"i love you."

"can i be yours?"

"we'd be so good together."

you keep pushing him away. you know how this will end up, with you messing up just like last time. wouldn't it be better to just keep him at a distance? unfortunately for you he doesn't seem to think so. and it's like a curse. a demon from your past coming back to haunt you in the form of your greatest mistake.

if anything, your costant rejections only seem to keep him wanting... more?

"please, just one chance. that is all I'm asking for."

"no? you don't want to entertain me even the slightest bit?"

"how cruel, i never realised you were this heartless."

you eventually end up giving in. he just has that sort of effect you suppose. or maybe it's the guilt that's constantly eating you alive that's causing you to make this decision. after all, he looks so much like them and... you don't know what you'd do if he looked at you like that. not ever, not again. maybe this would be your way of making up for your wrong doings.

he couldn't be happier obviously. finally! the person he's been pining over finally accepted his confession! even if it took a long time, it all worked out. you're happy, his happy, everyone's happy!

until he found out you're not actually happy and you're just doing this because you feel guilty.

"what do you mean? am i just a replacement to you? a way to correct your mistakes?"

"hah! you're so- ugh, I don't even want to think about you anymore."

"save it, those are just excuses."

he's always been a manipulative person. he knows. and he knows that you know it too. yet he continues to manipulate you through it all. i mean, it's your fault for even treating him like a second option in the first place! what? he's the one that's been pestering you? no no, you could've just rejected him. it's not his fault, it's yours. you're not stopping him anyway so like, you're basically admitting you're in the wrong.

"yeah you should be sorry. how mean do you have to be to think of me just as someone you've hurt? I'm my own person too."

he says that but continues to use the fact that his familiarity elicits something in you. and he'll continue abusing it, continue taking advantage of your weakened state. why? because he can and because he wants to.

plus, it's amusing in it's own right to see you bending head over heels just to appease him. huh, guess the guilt runs deep, doesn't it?

oh it's whatever. he'll slowly condition you to start showing him the affection he so desperately craves anyway. he just needs to hold on a little longer. break you down a tiny bit more and then you'll be all his. he can feel it.

you two will be truly happy together. no other people, no guilt in your heart. just you and him, alone and content with one another.

that would simply be salvation, wouldn't it?

#yandere #tw yandere #yandere drabbles #yandere x reader #yandere scenarios #yandere imagines #yandere concepts #manipulative yandere #manipulative yandere x reader #suiana rambling #suiana brainrotting

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tangerineastronaut · 19 hours ago

Note

hello can I get ateez members as doms? how they act with there subs in these relationship.

Dom!ATEEZ and Sub!Reader individual dynamics | ot8

Pairing: ot8 and their Dom!style Genre: ot8 reactions Requested: Yes w.c. 2.5k Warnings: BDSM dynamics, mentions of smut/sex/etc, discussion of punishments, dacryphilia A/N: what even is this I am so sorry this is so bad omg Please remember this is just my take. If you disagree, you're more than welcome to make your own! Don't take it personally 🫶🏽 Requests: Open (link below)

Requests | WIPs Masterlists: BTS | ATEEZ | GOT7 | Stray Kids

Hongjoong

Be afraid

^ When you’re bad (most of the time, u little shit)

Hard!Dom, strictest of the members

Brat tamer 100000% but doesn't want to be

Genuinely gets angry when you’re a brat, would prefer if you’d just listen to him

Punishments are meant to break you emotionally

Worst of all the members in that regard tbh

Will deny you things rather than physical discipline ~ praise, orgasms, affection

Wants you desperate and needy, it gives him control over you

Can forget to give you praise at times, does not get angry if you ask/remind him

“Ah, sorry. I’ve been busy, baby. Yes, I’m proud of you for going out today, I know you’ve been struggling recently. Did you eat at that cafe you liked? Did you remember to use my card? Why not? That's what it's for, love."

Blows money on you

Cannot stop buying you pretty things, especially clothes

Makes you try on the things he's purchased for you - usually ends with you getting fucked in whatever you had on last

Wants you to wear nice things when you go out to fancy dinners

Not very physically affectionate but will be if you need him to be

Will not punish you for being insecure, just wants to reassure you and make you feel beautiful

Sex is either quick and dirty or long and passionate

Fav positions are standing or missionary with your legs over his shoulders

Shower sex >>>

He's so damn busy there's not much other choice

Looks so fucking hot when he's got you pinned to the tile wall

Biting/marking - he loves to use his teeth on you

Don't you dare bite him back

Likes foreplay but prefers sex, is good at eating you out but would rather use his cock than his tongue

Is good at aftercare, though it's more of a standard, doesn't like pillow talk unless you need it

Will still make sure you're safe/comfy/loved and will do anything for you

Is rough, but can turn it off when he knows you need a softer side.

Seonghwa

Soft!dom

Gentle until he isn't

Strict, but not the strictest

Does not enjoy punishments as much as the others, but still wants to make sure you know your place

Does not understand the concept of being a brat, you're so good for him

"What do you mean no? Like no...what? I just asked you to come here, silly."

Rarely has to punish you anyway, he doesn’t have many rules

You break the rules on purpose sometimes

He’ll punish you harder if he thinks that’s the case vs you accidentally breaking a rule

Very snuggly

Will want you to just sit with him while he works with his legos

Loves to be held by you

Asks you for compliments

“Do you like this color on me?”

Will not scold you in public

Expect gentle touches and verbal correction

Hates seeing you cry, even if it's from an intense orgasm

Obsessed with aftercare

Will shower you with praise and tell you how well you did

"I'm sorry baby, I was rough today. Took me so well though, so pretty. Love it when you get on your back for me. Want me to wash your hair?"

Likes taking care of you in general, will mother you like his members (but worse)

"Why didn't you eat today?! C'mon, let's go to that noodle shop you like."

Sex is not super kinky but is almost always emotional

Pretty straightforward, wants you both to feel good and snuggle after

Likes getting head and giving head, but prefers sex over foreplay

Fav positions are spooning and intimate spaces like in a comfy chair with you in his lap

Soft kisses + him stroking your hair + thanking you for always being his good girl

Yunho

Cocky and playful

Neither soft nor hard, just likes to keep you guessing

Is silly unless he's in a bad mood

Likes to make you sit in his lap while he games

You like it too, he knows it

Will get pouty if you don't praise his efforts

Don't tease him while he plays

Fr don't

If you value your cervix, you will not tease this man when he's not in the mood for sex

"What's wrong, baby? You were whining for my attention, now you're whining that it doesn't fit? That's a fucking lie."

Size kink

Likes feeling bigger/taller/stronger than you

Expect to be teased over this, even if you're not that short

Loves taking selfies with you

A big puppy

Can be a big scary puppy

Doesn't scold you in public

Likes it when you know you're in trouble

Sweetheart but will do a 180

When he's stressed or in a bad mood he can be too rough

Sometimes it's hard to tell when it's okay to be silly and not

He will let you know

Breeding kink at its finest

Size kink + breeding kink = RIP ur ability to walk

"I know it's deep baby, shh...almost there..."

Likes making you beg

Loves to degrade you and then praise you in the same breath

Talks you through it

Very sweet, silly aftercare

Sex is not complete until you're a giggling, sleepy mess in his arms

Fav position is anything where he can manhandle you beneath him

Yeosang

Quiet dom

But not soft

Very strict but is not loud about it

Perfect brat tamer, but isn't one (you can't rile him up—most intuitive of the members and rarely rises to the occasion)

Most of his dominant side is only seen when you're alone

Does not scold you in public

Expects you to follow the rules and does not remind you

Goes straight to punishment

You cannot catch him off guard

Knows your moods before you do

Terrifyingly calm

"Is that how we're acting today? Okay."

Likes to edge you

Loves when you orgasm as soon as his cock goes in due to overstimulation

^ will continue fucking you anyway

Thinks you're prettiest when you're crying

"That good, huh? You're blushing baby...such pretty tears."

Fucks you sitting up, likes it when you cling to him and wants to feel your tears on his shoulders

Eye contact >>>

So fucking calm it's scary, truly

Like imagine you've fucked up in public and you know it, this mf just gives you the gentlest of smiles

He likes you anxious

Sex is deceptively rough

You would not expect it but he likes it to hurt

He wants you to fight back

That grip strength is not to be taken lightly

Fav position is missionary or in a car with you in his lap

Aftercare is pretty strict, he has a routine

Bathroom, water, bed, letting him hold you

Prioritizes you afterwards since he knows he can be rough

Wants you to tell him about your day as though he didn't just rail you into next tuesday

San

Very traditional dom vibes

Does not hold back on punishments like hwa

Expect an equal amount of praise and correction, heavily values both

Big on body worship, either you on him or vice versa

Will want you to kiss his chest and shoulders and remind him how safe he makes you feel

Protective, but not possessive

Best dom for daddy issues

Will tell you he's proud of you but fuck you into the mattress a few minutes later

^ while still telling you he's proud of you

Most fair punishments, typically physical but not cruel

Spankings, being made to take it on the floor, being tied down, etc etc

Loooooves tying you up

Huge on boundaries and safewords

All the members are but San prefers constant check ins

"How are we, baby? Can you still take it? Use your words, pretty girl."

Sex lasts a loooooong time from foreplay to aftercare

Like, expect to spend an entire evening in the bedroom

Only because he loves to warm you up beforehand with a few orgasms

Loves it when you orgasm

Edging is not necessary, he wants you to have as many as possible until you're overstimulated

Follows your lead during aftercare, whatever you need

"Did so good for me. What do you need from me, baby? A massage? I can do that. Love you so much. Did so well tonight."

Will let you sit in his lap while he works

Likes it when you tease him, but won't punish you right away

Makes you wait for it

"Hi baby. Remember what you did earlier? Let's figure out how to make you say sorry without words."

Fav positions are you in his lap or lying on the counter/table

Mingi

BRAT TAMER

and loves it

Will encourage you to act out just so he can punish you

Literally begging for a reason

"Please baby. Tell me no one more fucking time. The kitchen table is right there and I'm hard as fuck."

Mean and you love it

Is going to bend you over any surface when you give him the slightest inclination that you're about to act up

Effortlessly attractive, actually unfair

Genuinely does not know how wet you are simply because he's pinning you down

Lives for his own pleasure and you're along for the ride

DO NOT think he doesn't care about you getting off tho—

—and do not let that man's mouth near your pussy if you know what's good for your health

Addicted to eating you out

Mingi demands few things of you as his sub, but allowing him to ravish your pussy is a requirement

You WILL sit on his face and you WILL cry and he WILL hold your hips so you can't squirm away while he sucks your clit and makes you cum for the third time

Uses it as both a reward and punishment

That overstimulation will have you in tears

He does not care

Sex lasts a little longer than average simply because you have to pry him off of you

Impatient when it comes to you and your attitude

Punishment is always physical

Loves to spank you for misbehaving

Not the kinkiest but probably the most hypersexual of the members

LOUD sex

Aftercare is not really organized but still very involved. Expect kisses, a very clingy man, and cuddling

Loves you with your clothes on too

Can forget to give you praise, but shows you he's proud in his own ways

"You made this? Holy shit, it's amazing. My baby can cook??"

Kissing the top of your head, just because he can >>>>

Does not scold you in public—probably has not realized you've done something that warrants scolding

Is possessive and VERY jealous

Like Hongjoong, he knows when to turn it off if you need him to be gentle with you

Wooyoung

A fucking? brat dom?

Will ignore you for attention

You can't outbrat the brat

Big on silent treatment as long as he thinks you can emotionally handle it

Very touchy feely, likes grabbing you and holding you against him

Has a range of looks to give you to tell you when you've fucked up

Hates when other men stare at you, will absolutely stare back

Loves PDA the most out of the members

Does not care if you're in public, will scold you when needed

Will also tease you just to see you squirm

Is not above things like vibrating panties when you've been acting up

Loves to use his hands during punishment or praise

Expect handprints on your ass

May as well get them tattooed on there tbh

Whiny when he wants your attention

Can sometimes be too much

"Are you okay? Was that too hard?"

Likes to make you cry

Enjoys pissing you off since you can't do anything about it

Imagine getting fucked daily by your biggest opp

"Aww, are you mad? Huh? I can tell. Cry me a river while you take this cock, baby."

a menace, tbh

Sex is kinky af

DIRTY TALK mf won't shut up as it is and rambles when he's inside you

"Take it, baby. That's it, just like that. So fucking pretty. You just open those legs when I come near, huh? An obedient little slut when she expects cock."

Not super long sex but can happen multiple times a day

Possessive and jealous

Takes lots of pictures of you

^ Doing anything

"Hold still, I'm taking a pic. Can you tilt your head? Your toothbrush is in the way."

Aftercare is forehead kisses and praise, whining when you have to get up.

Big heart, loves giving you compliments and seeing you shine

Is infinitely proud of you and will not stop telling you so

Likes to do domestic things with you like cooking

Takes you on cute little dates rather than big fancy dinners

Do NOT let him hear you talking bad about yourself

Jongho

Loves being a dom the most

Similar to San, very straightforward, traditional dom

Unlike San, has a cruel streak

Basically a combination of Hongjoong and San

He feels the best when he spoils you

Wants you to buy anything you want

Obsessed with you fr

Wants to make love to you any time he can

Will pin you down but...romantically??

Master of seduction, likes you warm and ready for him

Takes you to fancy dinners and then fucks you in the car on the way home

Loves having his cock worshipped by you

Can eat pussy but prefers seeing your lips wrapped around him

Calls you good girl more than anything

"Did you take your medicine this morning? Good girl."

Isn't jealous at all

Doesn't have to be, he knows you're his

When he catches other men staring at you he feels proud like "yeah, she's mine."

Extremely physically affectionate but only in private

Gentlemanly in public, his hand is usually at the small of your back

In private he just wants to hold you

Loves picking you up

Will pet your hair and pull you in for kisses while he asks about your day

Loves your hair btw

Like, wrapped around his insane grip while he fucks you from behind

Dirty talk

"That's it, baby. Look so pretty like this. You've been wet all day, huh? Just waiting for me to get home and make it better? How many times did you touch that pussy thinking of me?"

Not super kinky, but sex is still intense

Does like to blindfold you occasionally

Likes it when he comes home from work to find you naked in bed, where you're supposed to be

"Is this for me?" he'll ask, sliding his hand over your bare ass.

Doesn't even get fully undressed before he's inside you, he's only impatient when it comes to you

Breeding kink but AUTHENTIC. Like, wants you pregnant (only when you're ready) will probably find you absolutely irresistible when pregnant

Aftercare is whatever you need but will always include water and cuddles

Very protective of you, scolds you for being clueless at times

"Why the hell did you take an uber? You should've just called me. Who knows what kind of people are out there!"

Will get angry with you but you're literally the gem of his life, he treasures you more than anything

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luvsubbymen · 2 days ago

Text

Eat me out

I lower myself onto your face slowly, taking my time, watching as you look up at me with a mix of anticipation and obedience. Your hands rest lightly on my thighs as you open your mouth eagerly and your tongue immediately parts my folds.

You moan softly beneath me as I rock my hips gently against your mouth, guiding you exactly where I want you.

I reach down, tangling my fingers in your hair, holding you in place as you work to please me. Your tongue licking and swirling, desperate to earn my approval as you suck on my clit softly.

“Good job” I murmur, my voice low, and I could feel your response in the way your tongue quickens, flicking over my clit.

I lean forward slightly, pressing down harder against your mouth and you react quickly, your tongue moving with desperation, sending shivers through me. Your nose brushes against me with every movement, adding a teasing friction that makes my thighs tremble as I ground myself against your face.

You moan again and I tug on your hair, tilting your head just enough to make you hit the perfect angle. Your hands stay where they were, gripping my thighs, making me gasp.

“Don’t stop” I whisper and you obey without hesitation, your tongue moving faster now, sucking on my clit with more intensity, your mouth completely devoted to bringing me pleasure.

I tilt my hips slightly, adjusting the angle, and your tongue follows effortlessly, finding the exact spot that makes my breath hitch. Your tongue grows more confident, dragging along my folds before circling my clit as I moan for you.

Looking down at you, I could see the flush on your cheeks, the wetness glistening on your lips and chin, your eyes half lidded with focus, the sight sending a rush of heat through me and I roll my hips harder, your tongue never faltering as you adjust to meet my every need.

“You look so pretty like this” I say, my voice shaky as your hands hold my thighs firmly to keep me steady.

I grip your hair tighter, encouraging you and you latch on more hungrily, sucking and licking in a way that sends sparks shooting through me.

“You’re such a good boy” I gasp, my words broken by a moan as the pleasure overwhelms me. I rock my hips against you, grinding harder now, and I hear your muffled moan that sends another jolt through my body.

Your tongue licks with an urgency that matches my own, our moans growing louder as I move faster, grinding myself against you, letting you feel how close I am.

“You make me feel so good, love” I say between moans and my thighs clench around your head, moments before I cum all over your face, screaming your name. My body shudders as you draw out every wave of pleasure and your hands loosen on my thighs as I collapse against you, utterly spent.

When I finally look down at you, I notice your swollen lips, your flushed face glistening and your expression full of satisfaction.

My fingers in your hair loosen, shifting instead to stroke gently along your damp forehead. I lift my hips to ease off of you and I take a moment to admire how dazed and hazy you look.

I reach down, tracing my thumb over your bottom lip, watching as you instinctively part your mouth for me.

“You did so well, I love you and now it’s my turn to make you feel good” I whisper and place a long kiss on your forehead.

#male sub #dom mommy #subby men #femdxm #dom/sub #sub men #domme mommy #fem domme #subby boys #hornyposting #mommy’s good boy #mommy k!nk

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planet-hwa · 2 days ago

Text

୨୧ bad boy facade masterlist – 산

୨୧ summary sometimes the good boys are actually bad, and the bad boys are actually good — but sometimes they're exactly as they seem. choi san was the stereotypical definition of a bad boy: arrogant, careless, manipulative, seductive fuckboy who could have any girl wrapped around his finger with a wink of his eye. i mean... they do say "all good boys go to heaven, but bad boys bring heaven to you". so when the infamous bad boy of the town got transferred to your school, he was surrounded by girls desperate for his attention within minutes, all wanting the chance to "fix him" — every single one but you. your best friend, yeosang, warned you to never get mixed up with san, knowing it would end with him picking up pieces of your broken heart. but how could you stay away once he looked at you with so much emotion behind his cold eyes?

pairing badboy!san x reader genre high school au, strangers to lovers slow burn word count — status incomplete

‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹

general warnings MDNI !! mentions of gang affiliations, drugs, drinking and smoking, criminal behaviour, family issues, toxic relationships, smut (♨ on chapters that include smut) — more extent warnings will be on each post

↳ navigation ◦ full masterlist ◦ san masterlist ◦ requests

chapter 1 the writing on the wall [due feb 16th] chapter 2 honesty vs. dishonesty [due feb 23rd] chapter 3 jealousy is a disease [due mar 2nd] chapter 4 liberation is a cure [due mar 9th] chapter 5 a romantic homicide [due mar 16th] chapter 6 you’re gonna wish [due mar 23rd] chapter 7 you never met me [due mar 30th] chapter 8 smoke and fire [due apr 6th] chapter 9 show me who you are [due apr 13th] chapter 10 trick or treat [due apr 20th] chapter 11 remorse can’t hide [due apr 27th] chapter 12 remission can be found [due may 4th] chapter 13 bringing heaven [due may 11th] chapter 14 why am i staying? [due may 18th] chapter 15 you’re why i must stay [due may 25th] chapter 16 said you’re a wild mistake [due jun 1st] chapter 17.1 i love you, so? [due jun 8th] chapter 17.2 please, let me go [due jun 15th] chapter 18 fatal trouble [due jun 22nd] chapter 19 cuts always bleed [due jun 29th] chapter 20 moonstruck [due jul 6th] chapter 21 starstruck [due jul 13th] chapter 22 is it casual now? [due jul 20th] chapter 23 lust for love [due jul 27th] chapter 24 lust for life [due aug 3rd] chapter 25 has been erased [due aug 10th]

↳ releases at 10:07pm AEDT

୨୧ taglist @morethingsfandom @solaris-amethyst @felixs-voice-makes-me-wanna @baby-stay92 @autieofthevalley @liveloveseonghwa @dejatiny @mortal-advocate @dreamsoffanfics @my-atiny-kookie-rkive @dalsuwaha @nevieatiny @woateez @choizlover @foreveryxunggg @woosmaid @yeosannie4 @auroras-colors @mintchocosan @jjongbearsies @frzzenfrxg @sanniebabes @cyberpvnk-enthusiast @eyesonlyformingi @sannies-tiddies @honeyjongie @rainteez02 @robertsbbygirl @mingisgf999 @atzz8 @moonlight-hwa @chrryjoong @sanhwalvr @cloudysannie @atxxzist @choisansplushie @starz-choisanii @slowitdownmakeitb0uncy @jerseygirlzzzxx @mzngi (tell me if you want to be added or removed | tagged in each chapter)

#written by planet hwa ༉‧₊˚✧#bad boy facade series 🕸♥✟🕷#ateez #choi san #ateez series #ateez x reader #ateez imagines #ateez fanfic #ateez fluff #ateez angst #ateez smut #san series #san x reader #san imagines #san fanfic #san fluff #san angst #san smut

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onebadassunicorn · 3 days ago

Text

Love Lies

pairing: Azriel x Reader

content warnings: angst

word count: 4k

Taglist @motheroffae @tele86 @sinfully-yoursss @kathren1sky-blog @demon-master-zero @sillyfreakfanparty @phoenix666stuff @ quiet-because-it-is-a-secret @fr0stf4ll @yourdarkrose @dnfhascorruptedme

If I have missed anyone on the tag list, please leave me a comment here and I will add you! There are more chapters to come, two alternate endings, and a Lucien spinoff story!

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

********

Chapter 11

Two days.

For two days, the world had been nothing but darkness, thick and heavy, like drowning in a deep, endless sea.

And then—

Light.

Your body ached, your head swam, your limbs felt leaden, but your eyelids finally fluttered open, and the first thing you saw was wooden beams stretching over you, the faint golden glow of a fire casting shadows along the walls.

Your heart pounded.

The cabin.

You were in the cabin you shared with Azriel.

Confusion crashed into you, cold and sharp, panic lacing through your veins as your eyes darted around the familiar room—the home you had built with Azriel, the place that had once been your sanctuary, your safe haven.

But this place had not been safe for you in a long time.

You shifted slightly—and that’s when you felt it.

Warmth.

A hand wrapped around yours, fingers entwined as if clinging to you.

Your breath caught.

Slowly, you turned your head—

And there he was.

Azriel.

Lying beside you, his scarred fingers curled around yours, his wings tucked in close, his face etched with something raw, haunted, exhausted. His lips were slightly parted, his breathing deep and even, but as soon as you stirred—

His lashes fluttered open.

Golden-brown eyes, swirling with shadows and pain, locked onto yours.

Relief—pure, unfiltered relief—flooded his features, his fingers tightening around yours, his voice rasping with emotion as he whispered, “You’re awake.”

A deep, unbearable ache spread through your chest.

You snatched your hand away as if his touch had burned you.

And when you did—

Azriel flinched.

His throat worked, his jaw clenching, as if physically pained by the loss of contact.

“Why…” Your voice came out hoarse, shaky. You swallowed hard, staring at him, at the cabin, at the fire still burning in the hearth. “Why am I here?”

His eyes softened, but his body remained rigid, as if preparing for the inevitable blow.

“I brought you back,” he admitted.

Panic surged inside you.

Your mind whirled, remembering Alatar, the warlock, the price you had been willing to pay to break the bond—

You shot up, nearly stumbling as you threw the blankets off you and climbed out of bed, pacing.

“No,” you breathed, panic rising like a tide, your hands trembling. “No, no, this—this doesn’t make sense.” You whirled to face him. “You let me go.” Your voice cracked, hysteria creeping in. “You left me.”

Azriel sat up slowly, his wings slightly flaring, his chest heaving, but he didn’t move toward you.

“I know,” he said, his voice thick, heavy with guilt, regret, sorrow.

“You left me dying in an alley,” you spat, your breathing uneven, your heart slamming against your ribs. “You told me you loved Elain, that you didn’t love me anymore. You said I was an embarrassment—that you never wanted to see me again.” Your voice broke on the last word, the memory of his letter like a blade in your chest.

Azriel flinched again, his face twisting with pain. “I didn’t write that letter.”

You let out a hysterical, hollow laugh, your hands shaking at your sides. “So what? You just magically forgot the last few months? Forgot choosing her?” Your voice was rising, cracking. “Forgot letting me rot in my own grief?”

Azriel stood now, stepping closer, his hand outstretched. “I was—”

You slapped his hand away, your body trembling uncontrollably.

“I love you,” he said, pleading, desperate, his golden eyes shining in the firelight.

You let out a broken sob, your vision blurring with tears. “No,” you whispered, shaking your head. “No—you’re a liar.”

Azriel’s throat bobbed, his own eyes glistening, his hands shaking as if he wanted to touch you, pull you close, hold you together, but he didn’t dare.

“Why are you doing this to me?” You stepped forward and pounded your fists against his chest, voice rising into a shattered scream. “Why are you making me suffer all over again?”

Azriel shuddered beneath your blows, his wings drooping, his breath coming in uneven, ragged gasps.

“I can’t stop loving you,” you sobbed, pounding his chest again, your entire body wracked with tremors. “And it hurts, Az. It hurts so much.” You pushed him away, tears spilling down your cheeks. “And I can’t stop hurting until the bond is gone.”

Azriel snapped then, his own body shaking, his own pain crashing through him like a storm.

“I can’t let you do that,” he rasped, suddenly grabbing your wrists, holding them firmly but gently, his forehead nearly touching yours.

You tried to pull away, but he held you steady. “Let me go,” you sobbed.

“I can’t,” Azriel whispered, voice breaking, his face contorted in pure, raw devastation. “I can’t let you go. I won’t.”

You shook your head violently, struggling in his hold. “You don’t love me. You chose her. You told me you didn’t love me.”

Azriel’s entire body trembled, his wings sagging, his hands shaking as they gripped your wrists.

His breath was shaky, his face torn apart with sorrow. “I never loved Elain. I love you,” he choked out, his voice raw, desperate. “I never stopped.”

Your knees buckled.

Azriel caught you before you could collapse, scooping you into his arms, pressing you against his chest, his face buried in your hair as he finally broke.

“I love you,” he sobbed, his voice wrecked, raw, desperate. “I love you. I have only ever loved you.”

You let out a shattered wail, your body shaking as you sobbed into him, finally breaking completely.

Azriel held you tighter, closer, his arms wrapped around you like a shield, as if he could keep the world from touching you, from hurting you ever again.

“I can’t lose you,” he whispered against your skin, his voice a prayer, a plea, a broken vow. “I won’t.”

You sobbed harder, clutching at his tunic, your hands fisting into the fabric as if letting go meant you would disappear again.

Azriel picked you up, cradling you as if you were something fragile, precious, and carried you back to the bed.

None of this made any sense.

Why now?

After everything he had said and done, he was finally rid of you.

Finally free to be with Elain.

Why drag you back just to break you all over again?

Was it the bond telling him he should do this?

Or was it something more?

You couldn’t let your mind wander there because he once told you he would never leave.

And then…the goodbye that followed almost killed you.

He held you as you cried your heart out, whispering broken apologies over and over.

As your tears had finally begun to slow, though your body still trembled, exhaustion pulling at your limbs like the weight of a thousand shattered promises.

Azriel still held you, his arms a protective cage around you, as if he could keep the past from ever touching you again.

But the past was already seared into your soul, carved into the very fabric of your existence.

And you weren’t done speaking.

Your voice was hoarse, worn from sobbing, from grief, from the agony of the last few months, but you forced yourself to say it anyway.

“I went through a maze of men to find you,” you whispered, the words torn from somewhere deep inside you.

Azriel tensed, but he didn’t say a word. He just held you, his fingers tightening around your body as though he already knew what was coming.

You pulled back slightly, just enough to look into his tormented, golden-brown eyes, searching them for something—anything—that would ease the deep, endless ache inside you.

“Most people never find their mate,” you continued, your voice trembling, “they go their whole lives searching for the one the Mother made for them, and they never get that chance.” Your breath hitched, your vision blurring again. “But I did.” You let out a shaky laugh. “I found you.”

Azriel’s throat bobbed, his wings drooping, his expression shattered and helpless.

“And do you know what I did?” Your hands clenched at your sides. “I gave you everything. Every piece of me, every ounce of love I had to give—I gave it all to you.”

His hands shook where they rested against your back.

“And now,” you whispered, hollow and broken, “all I gave you is gone.”

Azriel let out a pained breath, his forehead dropping against your shoulder as if the weight of your words was too much to bear.

“We built a life together,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. “A life so beautiful, a bond so unbreakable that I thought even the gods themselves couldn’t rip it apart.” A sharp, ragged breath escaped you. “Something that even forever couldn’t break up.”

Azriel’s body shuddered, his grip on you tightening, as if holding onto you was the only thing keeping him from collapsing under the weight of what he’d done.

“And when you left me in that alley to die,” you breathed, voice shaking uncontrollably, “you took the last little piece of me.”

Azriel made a broken sound, something low and guttural, as if the words had physically gutted him.

“And walked away.”

Azriel flinched violently, as if you had stabbed him straight through the heart.

“I wasn’t—” His voice caught, his body shaking with emotion. He swallowed hard, his eyes wild with grief, and rasped, “I wasn’t in my right mind.”

Your brows furrowed, confusion cutting through your grief.

Azriel’s breathing was uneven, his jaw tight as he forced himself to meet your eyes. “I was poisoned.”

You stilled.

He swallowed thickly, his wings tucking in close, his voice low and raw.

“Elain,” he whispered, his throat bobbing. “She… she confessed to the Inner Circle.” His hands curled into fists, his voice thick with disgust, regret, self-loathing. “Amren figured it out first.”

The room tilted around you.

You had thought your heart could not break anymore than it already had.

You had thought the worst pain you had ever known was the moment Azriel had told you he no longer loved you, the moment he had walked away, leaving you to shatter into a thousand irreparable pieces.

You had been so wrong.

Because nothing—nothing—could have prepared you for the utter devastation that came with hearing the truth.

Elain had poisoned him.

For weeks, she had slipped something into his food, his drinks, into the very things that kept him alive, until she had pulled him so far away from you that he had forgotten who he was, who you were, what you meant to each other.

Your mate.

Your Azriel.

Not lost to fate. Not lost to choice.

But stolen from you.

Ripped from you by careful, calculated hands, by a woman you had once trusted.

It didn’t feel real.

Your heart slammed wildly against your ribs, your lungs tightening, your stomach roiling like you might be sick.

“She… she poisoned you?” you whispered, your voice barely audible, barely yours.

Azriel gave a tight, broken nod, his jaw clenching, as if admitting it was painful for him too.

Something inside you cracked open, and all the rage, all the fury, all the grief that had been dormant inside you for months came pouring out.

She had stolen him from you.

She had torn you apart, piece by piece, day by day, while you had agonized over what you did wrong, while you had begged the Mother, the Cauldron, the gods themselves to help you understand why you weren’t enough for him anymore.

And all the while—

All the while, he had been slipping away against his will.

Your hands clenched into fists, your nails digging into your palms, blood rushing through your veins like fire, like war drums, like the kind of rage that could burn entire worlds down.

You had spent months drowning in heartbreak, in the unrelenting pain of losing him, in the desperate, futile attempts to sever the bond—

And all along, it had never been his choice.

You had thought you were weak, you had thought you weren’t enough, that you were too much, too jealous, too ridiculous for feeling so abandoned.

But it wasn’t you.

It was never you.

It was her.

The girl with the soft voice and the gentle hands and the garden full of flowers, the girl who had looked so harmless—and had become a snake in your bed, a thief of your love, your future, your happiness.

It felt like you couldn’t breathe, like there was not enough air in the world to fill your lungs, like the weight of everything you had lost was collapsing onto you all over again.

Your mind replayed every painful memory, every cold glance, every dismissive word, every time Azriel had turned away from you, every night you had cried yourself to sleep alone in the bed that had once been yours and his.

And she had stood by, watching it happen, knowing exactly what she was doing.

Your body shook, your vision swimming with tears, but now—now, those tears weren’t just for heartbreak.

They were for rage.

For betrayal.

For every piece of you she had stolen, along with the man who was supposed to be yours.

Your fists clenched tighter, and you shot to your feet, a burning, searing fury flooding every inch of your body.

“Where is she?” you whispered, the words barely more than a breath.

Azriel’s fingers tightened around your wrist, gently but firmly, pulling you back before you could leave.

“Not now,” he pleaded, his voice hoarse, desperate. “Please—just talk to me first.”

Your breath came faster, harder, your heart slamming violently against your ribs.

“She took you from me,” you whispered, voice trembling with fury, with rage so visceral you could taste it on your tongue. “She watched me break, Az. She stood there and watched me suffer, knowing exactly what she had done.”

Azriel swallowed hard, his expression pained, tormented, but he didn’t let go of your wrist.

“She will answer for it,” he promised, his voice quiet but firm.

It wasn’t enough.

It would never be enough.

But still—you let him pull you back, let yourself collapse onto the bed again, because if you didn’t, you might have winnowed straight to her, might have torn her apart with your bare hands.

Azriel stayed close, his shadows curling restlessly around him, his eyes dark with remorse, with pain, with something that looked dangerously close to self-hatred.

You let out a shaky breath, your hands still trembling.

“Why?” you finally whispered, your voice thick with emotion, with the weight of everything that had been taken from you.

Azriel’s brows furrowed. “Why what?”

Your chest ached, your throat tightening as you tried to force the words out.

“Why did it even have to be you?” Your voice cracked, your body still shaking with adrenaline, with anger, with the remnants of grief that had yet to leave you.

Azriel’s lips parted slightly, confusion flickering across his face.

“Elain had Feyre,” you continued, your voice rising with bitterness, “she had Nesta. She had two sisters who could have helped her through whatever she was going through.” You stared at him, your expression hard and unreadable. “Why did it have to be you?”

Azriel hesitated, his jaw clenching. “Because Feyre asked me to help her.”

You let out a sharp, bitter laugh, shaking your head.

“And you didn’t think to suggest Lucien?” you shot back. “Her mate?”

Azriel flinched slightly, guilt washing over his features.

“She didn’t want to be around him,” he admitted quietly. “And so I felt… obligated.”

Obligated.

The word twisted like a knife in your gut.

You closed your eyes, exhaling sharply, trying to fight back the storm raging inside you.

“That’s all it took?” you whispered, shaking your head. “That’s all it took for you to start slipping away from me?”

Azriel’s eyes darkened, his expression pained, anguished, his wings sagging.

“No,” he murmured, stepping closer, his voice filled with raw torment. “It was never about her. I never—” He broke off, his voice cracking. “I never wanted her.”

You stared at him, searching his face, trying to understand.

And maybe—maybe—you did.

But that didn’t erase the damage done.

Didn’t erase the months of neglect, the nights you spent crying alone, the love you had poured into him only for him to let it slip through his fingers.

Didn’t erase the way he had left you to die in that alley.

You let out a shaky breath, pressing your fingers against your temples.

“I understand your duty to your High Lord and High Lady,” you murmured, your voice quiet but raw. “But I should have come first.”

Azriel stilled, his entire body going tense.

“I should have come first, way before Elain and your sense of duty,” you whispered, your throat tight with emotion, with anger, with betrayal.

His eyes shone with something devastating, something that looked suspiciously close to a man who had just realized the depth of his mistake.

“How did you even know I went to see a warlock?”

Azriel swallowed hard. “Lucien.”

Your eyes snapped to his, brows furrowing. “Lucien?”

He nodded, exhaling heavily. “Lucien came to Hewn City to stop you.”

You stilled.

Lucien had come to find you?

“He was worried about you,” Azriel admitted. “He told me he regretted even mentioning the warlock to you in the first place.”

You exhaled sharply, shaking your head.

“Why didn’t you go to Cassian or Rhys?” Azriel murmured.

You let out a bitter laugh, staring at the floor. “Because Elain’s sisters are mated to them. I knew it wouldn’t accomplish anything.” You lifted your gaze back to his, your expression tight with exhaustion. “Besides, it would have been inappropriate.”

Azriel let out a ragged breath, his throat working, his hands shaking as he hesitantly stepped toward you.

And then—

He pulled you into his arms.

By now, he was sobbing, his entire body shuddering against yours, his hands clutching at you as if letting go would destroy him.

“I love you,” he whispered, desperate, pleading. “And I choose you. Every single time.” His voice broke completely.

You let out a shaky breath, closing your eyes as tears slid down your cheeks once more.

“I don’t know how to fix this,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

Azriel’s hands trembled as his hands cupped your cheeks, his golden eyes shining with emotion.

“I do,” he murmured, voice steady, certain. “If you let me, I will spend the rest of my life fixing it.”

You wanted to believe him.

But you couldn’t.

Not yet.

“I want to see Lucien. And if I’m going to move forward,” you murmured, voice barely above a whisper, “I need to talk to the Inner Circle.” Your throat bobbed, your hands shaking. “I need to confront them all.”

Azriel’s wings tensed, his expression anxious, but he said nothing.

“And I need to confront Elain.” Your voice was deadly calm now, your hands still trembling at your sides. “Because if I don’t, I will never heal from this.”

And because, deep down—

You wanted her to see what she had done to you.

Wanted her to understand the damage she had caused.

Wanted her to know that you weren’t the same woman who had once welcomed her into your home, into your life.

You weren’t the same woman she had broken.

And you never would be again.

*****

Azriel had thought he knew pain.

He had spent centuries swallowing it down, drowning in it, letting it settle into his bones like an old companion. He had lived through war, through torture, through lifetimes of wounds that never fully healed.

But this—

This was worse.

Because there was nothing more excruciating than watching the person he loved fall apart right in front of him—and knowing that he had been the one to cause it.

He had thought your sobs would be the worst of it, thought that holding you as you broke completely in his arms would be the most unbearable thing he would ever experience.

He had been wrong.

Because now, you weren’t sobbing.

You weren’t falling apart.

Now—you were raging.

And that rage was more devastating than any tear you had shed.

Azriel had never seen you so furious, never seen you so utterly broken by betrayal, and he knew—he knew—that this wasn’t just heartbreak.

This was something deeper, darker.

This was betrayal at its most vicious form.

And he had been the weapon used to break you.

He watched the realization dawn across your face—watched as the truth of what Elain had done settled in your soul, dug its claws into you, changed you irrevocably.

He watched as anger began to replace grief, as the weight of what she had stolen from you hit with full force.

And gods, it destroyed him.

It destroyed him to know that you had spent months blaming yourself, that you had laid awake at night wondering what you had done wrong, that you had been drowning in self-doubt and heartbreak while he had been slowly slipping away, poisoned against you.

It made him want to rip himself apart, made him want to burn the entire world down for what had been done to you, made him want to go back and shake himself, demand that he wake up, that he see what was happening before it was too late.

But it was too late.

Because he had left you.

Because he had let you think he didn’t love you anymore.

Because he had let you believe that you weren’t enough.

And now, as he sat before you, as he watched you tremble with rage and grief and disbelief, he realized—

You weren’t the same.

Elain had taken something from you, something precious, something that had been bright and unbreakable.

And Azriel had helped her do it.

His own hands had been the ones to tear you apart, his own words the ones that had made you doubt everything you had built together.

And Mother help him, he didn’t know if he would ever be able to fix it.

So he just sat there, his hands shaking, his wings drooping, his voice stuck in his throat as he watched you process everything.

Watched you as you realized just how much had been taken from you.

And then—

Your voice turned cold.

You demanded to know why it had been him, why he had been the one to help her, why he hadn’t turned to Lucien, why he had let himself be the one to fall into Elain’s web.

And Azriel—Azriel had never felt smaller, weaker, more ashamed in his entire life.

Because he had no good answer.

Because all he had was regret, and guilt, and a weight in his chest that would never go away.

Because you were right.

He should have chosen you.

He should have seen that something was wrong.

He should have realized what was happening before it was too late.

But he hadn’t.

And now, the woman he loved more than anything in the world was looking at him like she wasn’t sure she would ever be able to love him the same way again.

That look—**that doubt in your eyes—**was enough to break him completely.

So when you stood, when you demanded to confront the Inner Circle and Elain, when you told him that before you could even think of moving forward, you needed to face the people who had let this happen—

And to talk to Lucien, the only person you now trusted.

Azriel knew.

This was only the beginning of your healing, of your reckoning, of the path that might lead to forgiveness.

But gods, he was so terrified that no matter what he did—

No matter how hard he fought to prove himself—

You may never look at him the same way again.

Chapter 12

#acotar #acotar fanfiction #azriel acotar #azriel shadowsinger #azriel spymaster #azriel fanfic #azriel x reader #azriel fanfiction #azriel #azriel x you #azriel fic #azriel angst #azriel x y/n #azriel x female!reader

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maroonshirt81 · 1 day ago

Note

omggg what about a carcar cruise au?? Like they meet on the boat 😭🫶

thank you for the great request <3

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carcar, 2k words, rated m for language

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When Carlos arrived at his McLarenCruise luxury suite, his luggage was already waiting for him on the bed, next to a young man in a bright orange uniform, who was standing there with his hands folded behind his back. As soon as the door fell shut behind Carlos, the man started to speak like a robot who’d been waiting for its activation command.

“Welcome to your private luxury suite aboard McLarenCruise, where your comfort is our priority,” he drawled in what Carlos guessed to be an Australian accent. “I am Oscar, your personal steward, and I’m here to assist with anything you may need during your voyage.”

“Hello, Oscar,” Carlos said, flashing him a cheeky grin. “What if I need a little more enthusiasm?”

“I’m afraid that is not a service provided by the McLarenCruise stewards' crew,” Oscar prattled on, if possible even more monotone than before. “If you are unsure of how to make use of the steward appointed to you, I can print out a list of appropriate requests. It includes things like unpacking and storing your luggage, stocking your suite with toiletries and other amenities, and delivering room service.”

“Relax, Oscar.” Carlos laughed, plopping down on the bed. “I was only joking. Don’t act like I asked you to take off your pants.”

“I can also print out a list of actions that aren’t appropriate,” Oscar said. “It includes sitting on the bed while joking about your steward taking off his pants.”

Carlos’s mouth dropped open to tell him that he would never, in a million years, ask someone like Oscar to take off his pants, because… well—have you seen Carlos? But he realized in time that the inappropriateness of such a reply was probably even worse than the joke had been to begin with, so he said nothing.

Oscar seemed to take this as his dismissal. He nodded, as if he had provided exceptional service, and then left the suite before Carlos could ask him to unpack his luggage.

****

“Hello, Oscar,” Carlos tried again once evening came around. He had ordered a Risotto al Tartufo Bianco over the comm and then spent 20 minutes checking his hair in the mirror to make sure his charm was turned up to eleven.

He wasn’t the type to treat service staff poorly. In fact, he prided himself on being well-liked by all his subordinates—whether at his own firm, in restaurants, or within his household. He could crack a slightly grumpy Australian, no problem.

“Good evening, sir,” Oscar replied as he wheeled the cart into the suite. “Will you be eating at the table by the window?”

“Yes, please,” Carlos said, following behind to watch Oscar set the dishes on the smaller table in the suite. He looked a little out of place, with his bright orange cap, bright orange polo shirt, black shorts, and white tennis socks, serving a $100 dish to a high-end luxury suite.

“The cruise company forces you to wear this outfit, or is it a personal choice?” Carlos asked as he sat down in the chair Oscar had pulled out for him. He made sure Oscar saw his bright grin and knew that he was joking this time.

But Oscar didn’t laugh. Instead, he heaved a slightly disappointed sigh.

“Please, sir. I know this is a famously hard lesson to learn for old white men. But it is never appropriate to comment on the outfits of people in your service. Please reconsider letting me print out that list for you.”

Carlos was reeling.

Had this guy seriously just called him an old white man? He was thirty!

He must have been reeling for a moment too long because, once again, Oscar nodded at him as if he had just been dismissed after doing an amazing job and left without looking back. He hadn’t even poured Carlos a glass of wine.

And Carlos desperately needed it now.

****

“Hello, Oscar,” Carlos said the next morning, upon opening the door to what he first mistook for a wandering corpse. He had not bothered with trying to be charming today, but the even pastier-than-usual color of Oscar’s round, unremarkable face made him soften a little. “Are you seasick?”

“No, just sick of this job,” Oscar mumbled, barely audible. “What could you possibly want at six in the morning?”

Carlos arched his eyebrows high, surprised by the sudden lack of robot-like professional speech.

“You were asleep?”

“What gave it away?” Oscar asked. There were pillow lines etched into his cheeks, highlighting the truly terrible, blotchy stubble vegetating between the acne scars. Carlos didn’t point that out, though, since the question had clearly been rhetorical anyway.

Despite looking like he had just rolled out of bed, Oscar was wearing his trusty orange hat and orange polo.

“Do you just sleep in these clothes?” Carlos blurted, remembering Oscar’s lecture about outfit comments too late.

Predictably, Oscar started, “I get that at your age, memory might begin to fail, but—”

Carlos threw the door in his face.

Fuck it. He could find the early morning spin class by himself.

****

Oscar continued to be the most infuriating, judgmental, and frankly useless service personnel Carlos had ever dealt with. The charm offensive was not working, just like Oscar’s eyes, apparently, because he kept insinuating Carlos was some geriatric creep with a power kink. All week, he made Carlos feel like the biggest asshole who ever lived, hinting again and again at printing out a list of appropriate and inappropriate behavior toward his luxury cruise stewards.

Carlos even started to have nightmares about a monster with an orange for a head and unblinking, dead eyes, accusing him of wanting to fuck it.

And yet.

And yet, when he was lounging on a sun chair on the deck by the pool one afternoon, sending a request for a hopefully spit-less cocktail to be delivered to him, he felt an odd pang of disappointment when a different, much more chipper-looking orange-capped young man appeared to deliver it to him.

“Where’s Oscar?” he asked.

“Oh, he has the afternoon off,” the guy informed him, somehow managing to directly answer his question without implying Carlos was a sick freak who should be arrested for indecent behavior.

“I see,” Carlos said.

“I’ll be at your beck and call until he’s back, sir,” the chipper guy said cheerfully. After a week of Oscar’s flat stare, this guy’s energy felt borderline manic.

“That’s fine, I won’t be needing you again,” Carlos sighed, waving him away.

Damn. He had come on this trip to wind down from his stressful job, maybe have a little summer fling with a hot twink—not to be haunted by a prickly, orange steward.

Letting his eyes wander over the various people surrounding the pool dressed only in the tiniest swimwear possible, he found himself utterly uninterested in any kind of fling. Until…

Until a soft, high giggle caught his ear from a few deckchairs away, where a group of young men were gathered, towels wrapped around their hips or draped over their shoulders.

Carlos immediately perked up. Now that was the kind of laugh he would like to elicit from someone. Honest and unguarded, as if they weren’t used to it but just couldn’t help their good mood in his presence.

Glancing past the various people obstructing his view, Carlos finally found the source of that special giggle, and felt like the air got punched out of his chest for a second.

Because standing there was a guy who could only be an actual, honest-to-God prince. Light brown hair with almost reddish highlights from the sun, falling over his forehead in the most perfect, gravity-defying curl. Crinkly eyes, pale skin with rosy cheeks and a fine peppering of moles spread across his whole body. He was obviously fit, but not in the kind of anabolically enhanced bodybuilder way. His arms had a nice shape to them, as he stood in a cute little pose, hand on his hips, accentuating a tiny waist. And outlined by a wet pair of black shorts was the most perfectly round, biteable ass Carlos had ever seen.

Now that was a guy Carlos would ask to take his pants off!

He kept observing the guy, waiting for the right moment to make his move, and the instant the prince sank into one of the free deckchairs while his friends wandered off toward the pool or the bar, he seized his chance.

Leaving his untouched cocktail behind, Carlos grabbed his bottle of sunscreen instead, master plan already forming in his head.

The guy was lying on his stomach when Carlos reached him, wet drops of water glittering compellingly on his back, face hidden in the nook of his elbow.

Carlos cleared his throat twice before the pretty guy turned his head, blinking one eye open.

“Sorry,” Carlos said, all casual-like. “I noticed your back is starting to be a little red.” Showing off his bottle of sunscreen, he added, “Do you want some of this?”

The guy just stared at him, until Carlos started to sweat a little.

“I could… ah… I could put it on, if you want?”

Finally, the beautiful man pushed himself up on his elbows, his brows furrowing in mild irritation.

And then.

And then he started to speak.

In a very familiar, incredibly judgmental Australian drawl.

“Top subject on the list of inappropriate interactions with your stewards,” he said. “Has to be approaching them on their afternoon off and offering to rub sunscreen all over their body!”

Carlos dropped his bottle of sunscreen without even noticing.

“Oscar?” he croaked, eyes snapping open so wide, he felt they were in danger of rolling right out of their sockets.

“Yes?” Oscar said, as if it was incredibly obvious that this… this God of a man was the same sickly pale steward who kept pestering Carlos’s every waking and sleeping moment with his thinly-veiled insults and scathing remarks. The same orange little traffic light figure. The same bad-mannered human Cheeto who complained about being woken up too early up to eleven o’clock, despite being tasked with bringing Carlos his breakfast.

Carlos turned around, not bothering to pick up his sunscreen, and launched himself right into the pool.

Because that was the closest he came to throwing himself overboard the ship.

****

He was surprised to actually find Oscar by the door come dinner time, wearing the same orange cap and polo and unimpressed expression as always. Carlos had almost expected to be permanently switched to the borderline-manic guy.

“Hello, Oscar,” Carlos said contritely, and stepped away to let him wheel in his little cart.

“Spaghetti Carbonara—the classic Italian version, per your request,” Oscar narrated, as he put down the dishes on the little table by the window. Carlos noticed the additional plate with a cloche over it, hiding its content, before Oscar even pointed it out.

“There’s a special little something for dessert under there. On the house. Bon appétit!”

And with that, he left, once again without pouring Carlos any wine.

Carlos waited until the door had fallen shut behind him, then lunged for the cloche, lifting it up.

As he had expected, there wasn’t actually any dessert under there.

Instead, it was a piece of paper.

Carlos took it and read through it, groaning louder the further he read.

Once he was done, he balled the piece of paper up and threw it across the room. Then he went over to the comm and dialed the steward’s office.

“Mr. Sainz! How can we help you?” a female voice asked from the other side.

“I have a message to leave for Oscar, please. Do you have something for writing?”

“Sure,” the woman said. “Go on.”

“Please write down: Carlos Sainz, 055-8155…”

****

#carcar #oscarlos #carloscar #f1 rpf #oscar piastri #carlos sainz #carlos sainz jr

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little-diable · 1 day ago

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Think I'm in love with you - Dean Winchester (smut)

Requested by lovely @foxyjwls007 for my birthday bash. The lyrics are from Chris Stapleton's song "Think I'm in love with you". Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: Pwp, the reader confesses her love for Dean in the middle of a fight

Warnings: 18+, smut, oral (m), idiots in love

Pairing: Dean Winchester x fem!reader (800 words)

“You don’t get it, do you? You don’t fucking get it!” Her voice filled the motel room, angry eyes set on Dean’s frowning features. He kept quiet, pondering over her words while caught up in a storm of emotions he had tried to run from ever since he had met (y/n) all those months ago. For a second, his eyes flickered towards the door, something she easily picked up on. “Don’t you dare run again, Dean. Not this time.”

“(Y/n),” he mumbled her name like a silent plea, begging her to stop rambling. But the damage was done, there was no way out of the grave she had dug for them, unable to forget the words she had tried to hold back for too long now. “What do you want from me?”

“What I want? Jesus, Dean. Everything, I want it all. And I am so sick and tired of you ignoring it. Don’t you see it? I wanna make your dreams come true, I think I'm in love with you, you fucking idiot.” It took Dean exactly three seconds to move, to cross the short distance between them. His lips were soft against hers, even though the kiss was anything but soft or sweet - no, it was fuelled by the desire both had tried to tame for the past months.

Without breaking the kiss, Dean pushed her down on the old bed they had been sharing for two nights now. He pressed himself close, weight shifted onto his forearm while his tongue met hers over and over again. She didn’t give him a warning before shuffling around, set on straddling his waist.

“Say something, please, Dean.” He cupped her warm cheeks, staring up at her with a gaze filled with adoration. Her trembling fingers clung to his shirt, tugging on the fabric but not moving it off his body just yet, desperately wanting to hear his raspy voice.

“I love you too, sweetheart. Always have.” It was all she needed, a confession that made her heart skip a beat or two. Dean’s shirt was ripped from his frame, with (y/n)’s following moments later. His big hands felt all too unfamiliar on her skin, but she couldn’t worry about it now, all she could focus on was freeing his cock and getting her mouth on him just like she had dreamt of doing for years.

Dean raised his hips for her, allowing (y/n) to pull his trousers and underwear down his strong legs before straddling his thighs. Just the sight alone drew heat down to her core, watching Dean lay below her, spread out and naked - all for her. A dream come true, something she had never dared to speak of until this very day.

Her lips kissed their way down his stomach, trying to ignore the numerous freckles she swore to eventually count, all until she reached his hardening cock. Their eyes met as she spat down on him, letting her saliva drip down his length to lube up her movements. For a second, (y/n) thought about teasing him and taking her sweet time, but the impatient jerks of his hips forced her to move faster.

“Christ, sweetheart, if you keep up this pace this will be over very soon.” She could only chuckle at his words, too mesmerized by the feeling of his skin pressed against her, by the short breaths leaving him over and over again, and the unmistaken love swimming in his pupils. (Y/n) brought her mouth down to his cock, licking at his tip to get a taste of him for the first time, before slowly taking more of him.

The second she gagged around him, Dean let his head fall back against the pillow. The deep groan he let go of could have made her cum right at that moment, instantly spiralling from the way he exposed his every emotion to her, something she interpreted as a clear sign of trust. (Y/n) was fully mesmerized by Dean, staring at him with glassy eyes as she bobbed her head, set on making him cum with her mouth.

“(Y/n),” he panted her name, eyes rolling back into his head to get swallowed by a blanket of darkness. He jerked against her tongue, about to cum down her throat with another raspy moan, something she found herself aching for. (Y/n) gagged around him again, letting her tears roll down her cheeks all while Dean was overpowered by his orgasm.

He came down her throat, choking on his moan while she didn’t dare move away. She greedily swallowed every drop, parting with a pout as Dean pulled her away from his cock to kiss her.

“Fuck, I love you, sweetheart.”

#Dean Winchester smut #chi's birthday bash #Dean Winchester x reader #Dean Winchester imagine #supernatural

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luvrsrck · 3 days ago

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first post! pre gaia battle angst cause i was listening to triassic love song by paris paloma and kept thinking about jason

⎯ ☆ ⎯

cw: fluffy smut, unprotected piv (use protection this is solely fictional!), sprinkle of angst

jason grace x reader (964 words!)

you frantically poked your boyfriend awake from his slumber.

"jason?"

"yeah sweetheart?" his voice was raspy from being woken up so late.

"do you think we’ll make it tomorrow?" your voice broke as your upper lip trembled. he rose up, turning on the lamp that sat on the bedside table.

he slowly leaned forward, like you were a deer in the middle of the road. when he cupped your face the dam broke. tears spilled as you looked up at him with pleading eyes.

"i just have this gut feeling that everything’s going to go wrong when we fight gaia" you hiccuped through sobs that broke his heart.

there was a second where no words were exchanged. it was just the two of you, jason stroking your cheeks with his thumbs in gentle, soothing motions.

he emphasized his breathing, taking deep breaths in and out until you followed him and your breathing evened out.

jason pulled you closer to him, away from your kneeling position and into him.

he kissed you so softly, like you were made of glass. there was no lust in it. just love and desperation.

you deepened the kiss, pulling him closer by his shirt and climbing into his lap. after pulling away, jason’s hands were still holding your face. you slowly took one of his hands off of your cheek and placed it under your shirt to squeeze your tit. he blushed.

"i need you. please."

his eyes widened.

"are you sure?"

a curt nodded confirmed it. he placed his other hand on your waist and ran his fingers over the warm skin.

you took it a step further, reaching under your shirt to pull it off entirely.

"you’re so beautiful…"

he laid you down and moved to leave wet kisses down your jaw and down to your neck. everything was so gentle and intimate.

you whined and tugged at his shirt, wanting it off. he complied and slid it off his body to reveal his muscles that you loved so much.

the tears were still falling, but your mind was more focused on your handsome boyfriend kissing and sucking at your neck.

he revelled in your soft whimpers as you pressed your thighs together. jason smirked against your neck and wedged his thigh in between your legs, gasping when you teasingly grinded against his hardon.

"kiss me again." you pleaded.

he wasted no time in pressing his lips to yours again, with more feverity this time. he kissed you like you were his last breath.

he then pulled away to kiss down your sternum all the way to your stomach, pulling your pajama pants and panties down in one go.

you impatiently kicked them somewhere across the room. jason pulled down his sweatpants, his dick aching to be inside you. if this was the last time he would ever feel you, he needed it to count.

you pulled away from the kiss to whine at him, glancing down to his pants that were still on. he got the hint and pulled them off, discarding them on the floor.

he rubbed his tip against your folds, until he deemed you wet enough to take him without prep. you were already stretched out to his size anyway.

you pulled him back into your chest to kiss him over and over again while he slowly pushed into you.

he paused for a minute to let you adjust, and when he thrusted in and out you felt like absolute heaven.

you hugged him close to you and locked your legs around his waist.

he wasn’t fucking you. no, this was different. he was making love to you.

you loved him so much. nothing could ever take jason grace from you.

he began to speed up his thrusts and you could feel how deep he was in you. your higher pitched whimpers and his groans were in tandem, you tracing the toned muscles on his back from years of training and fighting.

"do you know how lucky i am to be with you?" you choked out through moans.

you needed to have him as close to you as possible. he was putting his full body weight on your chest but you didn’t care. you needed him.

his thrusts were at a fast speed, but still not rough or hard. the tears of fear were gone now, all that were left were tears of pleasure falling from your eyes.

he could feel himself getting closer to filling you up. he grunted in your ear to warn you.

suddenly you pulled him in front of you and looked him directly in the eye.

"i love you so much jason. don’t you ever leave me."

you whispered before pulling him into a searing kiss to muffle your moans as the coil in your stomach snapped.

he fucking whimpered into your mouth, cumming inside of you with a gasp. the two of you were panting as he gently slid out.

you tackled him backwards onto the mattress, enveloping him into a hug, holding onto him as if he were gravity itself.

he chuckled raspily and wrapped his arm around your waist, placing a hand in your hair. after laying there holding you for a few minutes, he noticed your breathing had evened out and you were fast asleep in the crook of his neck: jason then hooked his hands under your thighs and gently hoisted you back under the covers.

his cum was dripping down your thigh but in your state you didn’t care. you needed to be as close to him as possible.

he slid himself under you and you subconsciously snuggled into his side, moving to lay your head on his chest.

he kissed your forehead before turning off the lamp and falling asleep himself.

⎯ ☆ ⎯

reblogs appreciated!!

#jason grace #luvrsrck #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo #pjo smut #jason grace smut #jason grace x reader #jason grace x you

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choccy-zefirka · 2 days ago

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Letter from a Concerned Citizen

Most esteemed Professor Volkarin,

I hope my humble missive finds you well. I am proud to own a bakery on Garden Street in Nevarra City, and count your fellow Mourn Watchers among my elite clientele. While I was not personally present during a certain… incident at my establishment, when my clerks relayed it to me, I was most appalled and horrified at the besmirching of your good name, and felt compelled to warn you. Please do not be alarmed; I am certain a renowned necromancer such as yourself will be able to handle any danger! I merely wish to keep you informed.

Yesterday, a highly disturbed individual of a most foul countenance, quite unfitting for my reputable place of business, disturbed my employees’ peace and attempted to order a wedding cake. Despite, as I just noted, looking like a grotesque creature from the darkest recesses of the Fade — morbidly obese and wish a thuggish, disfigured face — the woman claimed that she was betrothed to none other than your illustrious self. Which, as you will certainly agree, is preposterous! I am well aware of your shining reputation in Nevarran high society as an elegant and refined gentleman, and it goes without saying that you would never stoop down to breathing the same air as this wicked abomination, let alone taking her as a monstrous mockery of a bride. Why she would approach my store with such a blatantly obvious lie, is beyond all reason, though it might be possible that she was desperately seeking an excuse to gorge her waddling, bloated self on one of my precious cakes.

Naturally, my clerks swiftly and resolutely showed her the door, and hastened to relay the incident to me. Whereas I, in turn, must pass the knowledge on to you, dear sir. Now you are armed with the knowledge that a, pardon the alliteration, lardy lunatic is shambling through the city, pretending to share a sacred, Maker-blessed bond with you —

The letter goes on, but the bottom half of the sheet has crumpled into a dark, brittle sliver of curling rags, as if singed by a sudden, angry burst of magic. The response has been scribbled hastily on its reverse side, in rapid, slanting quill strokes that have stabbed through the paper in multiple places.

Dear sir,

Your “missive” found me devastated — that I allowed myself to be called away on other business, and my dearest fiancée went to your “establishment” on her own. Were I beside her, I would have let you know what I think of you, then and there. As it stands, I shall merely say that myself and the love of my life would rather have our good friend Lace Harding make a cake for us, than ever set foot in your store — or indeed breathe the same air as you — ever again.

Good day.

In lieu of a signature, the paper has been inscribed with an elaborate glyph that, once beheld, would subject the reader to a haunting. The haunting is to last seven weeks, corresponding to the number of insults the addressee has highlighted in bold while reading.

#dragon age #da:tv #emmrich volkarin #emmrook #lenore aldwir #this is referring to her #you can browse her tag to see what she looks like #cue johanna's skull hooting and hollering in the background #this is loosely based on a situation i observed on twitter #where a plus-size blogger in my local community was accused of making up her upcoming wedding as an excuse to wear pretty dresses #so yeah #tw fatphobia #original things

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misshoneyimhome · 24 hours ago

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What's up buttercups! 💕

Chapter three is here, and things are starting to take shape! I know, we’re still keeping a steady pace, but trust me—good things take time (at least that’s what I keep telling myself while writing this f-ing slow burn…🙈).

As always, I hope you enjoy it. Happy reading, darlings! 😊✨

Tropes & warnings: inexperienced!reader x Auston Matthews, meet cute, strangers to friends, fake relationship, smut 18+, Auston x unknown female character, protected vaginal penetration

Word count: 6.8k Chapter one ; Chapter two

➼｡ﾟ

Chapter Three: Pucks, Plans, and Pretences*

“Dearest Toronto readers, it seems our Ice King has traded his signature cool for something decidedly warmer. A newly surfaced photo from the depths of the Scotiabank Arena has set the internet alight, capturing Auston Matthews and his now-infamous Mystery Queen in a moment that could rival any story.

The city can’t stop talking.

But what’s the real story? Is this the beginning of something genuine or a strategic distraction for Toronto’s captain? Matthews, ever the enigma, isn’t saying much—but that smirk of his has done little to quell the rumours.

As for his Mystery Queen, she’s still just that—a mystery. Ambitious, poised, and undeniably captivating, she’s become the city’s obsession overnight.

Whether this is love, strategy, or something in between, Toronto is hooked. And with Matthews at the helm of this unfolding drama, one thing is certain: it’s going to be a season to remember.

Yours always,

The Benchwarmer”

Tuesday –

Sitting by the high table in the compact kitchen of your small studio flat, you traced the rim of your coffee mug absentmindedly. The faint hum of the city outside was a comforting white noise, a familiar backdrop to your mornings. But the fragile peace didn’t last long.

Your phone buzzed sharply, shattering the moment. You groaned, setting down your mug to glance at the screen. Of course, it was Jess and Maya. The two of them had wasted no time diving into what was clearly the hot topic of the day.

Jess (7:13 AM): “Spotted: You and Auston. AGAIN. Girl, explain.”

Maya (7:15 AM): “We need a FULL breakdown. Coffee tonight. No excuses!”

You sighed, gripping the warm mug a little tighter as you composed a response. Your fingers hovered over the screen, hesitating.

You (7:18 AM): “There’s really nothing to explain.”

The reply came almost instantly.

Maya (7:19 AM): “Oh, please. You’re trending AGAIN. #MysteryQueen is still going strong. Spill.”

Jess (7:20 AM): “You can’t brush this off. Coffee tonight after work, our usual spot. Don’t make me come to your place.”

You let out a soft laugh despite the tension knotting in your chest. Jess and Maya were relentless, but their concern came from a good place. They were your best friends—your constants in a world that felt increasingly chaotic.

Still, the guilt nagged at you. They were cheering for you, defending you, believing you were swept up in some whirlwind romance. And here you were, dodging their excitement with half-truths and carefully constructed vagueness.

You (7:22 AM): “Fine. Coffee tonight. But it’s really not as exciting as you think, ladies.”

Jess (7:23 AM): “We’ll be the judges of that.”

Maya (7:24 AM): “Don’t forget the juicy details. We need to know EVERYTHING.”

You set your phone down with a heavy sigh, your appetite fading as stress settled over you like an unwelcome houseguest. It wasn’t just the messages. It was the weight of everything that had piled up over the past few days.

You stirred your coffee absentmindedly, watching the liquid swirl. The events of the gala played on a loop in your mind, every moment amplified now that the media had latched onto you. And then there was Auston.

Had you really agreed to fake-date Auston Matthews, the Ice King himself? The words “Let’s do it” echoed in your mind, making you wince. What had possessed you?

You knew the answer: desperation.

Auston’s reasons were crystal clear. He wanted control over the narrative. He needed a way to silence the incessant speculation about his personal life. His pitch had been logical, almost clinical. And you, standing at the crossroads of your career, had agreed.

You rolled your eyes at the thought. If his biggest problem is dodging rumours about his love life, he’s got it easy.

Your problems felt heavier. Tangible. Your boss’s voice rang in your ears, his warnings cutting through your thoughts: “No distractions. No drama. No more headlines.” The gala had already pushed you to the edge of his patience. And now? Now you were willingly diving into a situation that could unravel everything you’d worked for.

But wasn’t this what you wanted? A chance to make your mark, to prove you weren’t just another cog in the machine? Maybe this was the universe’s way of throwing you a lifeline—wrapped in chaos, sure, but a lifeline, nonetheless.

Or maybe you were just grasping at straws.

You sighed, pushing your barely touched breakfast aside. The decision had been made. There was no turning back now. Auston had given you an option, and you’d taken it.

Your to-do list for the day felt overwhelming. Face your boss. Navigate the fallout. And later, coffee with Jess and Maya. They’d want answers—real ones, not the half-hearted deflections you’d been giving them.

You weren’t sure how much you could—or should—tell them. But one thing was certain: you needed to pull yourself together. Time was ticking, and the last thing you could afford was to let it all spiral out of control.

Auston Matthews awoke with nothing but a grin on his face. The kind of grin that wasn’t about a win or a goal, but about the sheer satisfaction of knowing he’d set the board perfectly for the game ahead. Sunlight filtered through his bedroom window, casting warm, golden rays across the room. Felix, his Australien Bernedoodle, was already wagging his tail eagerly, sensing that his human was in a particularly good mood.

“Alright, Snuff” Auston muttered, stretching as he reached for the dog’s leash. “Let’s go.”

The grin stayed fixed on his face as he walked Felix through the quiet morning streets of Toronto, hidden just slightly under the brim of his cap. The rhythm of his steps matched the upbeat hum in his chest. Felix trotted ahead, pausing every so often to sniff a tree or a fire hydrant. Auston’s thoughts, however, were far from their usual pre-game routine.

You’d said yes. The moment replayed in his mind, not because he doubted it had happened, but because of the satisfying sense of control it gave him. You had agreed to his plan. Fake dating. It was genius, really. It ticked every box: no questions about his personal life, no endless media speculation about who he was seeing, and the cherry on top—it made him unavailable. Off the market. And if anything, it made him even more unattainable.

Felix barked once, pulling him out of his thoughts. “Alright, alright,” Auston chuckled, tugging the leash gently to keep his dog moving. “Don’t get too excited.”

Back at home, Felix flopped onto his dog bed with a satisfied huff while Auston grabbed his duffel bag and packed for the day. The grin still hadn’t faded. Tonight was a game night, and he had an away trip to Columbus. Normally, his thoughts would already be on the ice, visualising plays, but today his mind kept drifting back to you and the whirlwind of events from the past few days.

Auston wasn’t an idiot. He knew how the media worked. They’d dissect every glance, every move, every word exchanged between the two of you. That was the world he lived in—a world of scrutiny, where even his most mundane actions were twisted into headlines. And yet, for once, he didn’t mind. You weren’t like the others who had flitted through his orbit.

Most women in this position would’ve jumped at the chance to bask in the glow of his fame. But you? You seemed determined to avoid it entirely, almost as if the spotlight burned too bright for your liking. That was refreshing. It intrigued him. And maybe—just maybe—it was part of why this plan felt so right.

He paused mid-pack, considering for a moment if he should bring his PR manager into the loop. Ultimately, he decided against it. The man hadn’t even batted an eye at the first photo. For someone like Auston, these kinds of headlines were par for the course. A fake relationship wouldn’t even register as a blip on his radar. And besides, Auston didn’t want anyone meddling. This was his game, and he intended to play it his way.

His teammates? They didn’t need to know. Not yet, anyway. They’d complicate things with relentless teasing, and Auston wasn’t in the mood to deal with Mitch Marner’s inevitable barrage of questions. And his family? Absolutely not. All they needed to know was that he wasn’t available. End of story.

The airport was bustling with the usual pre-travel chaos. Players joked and jostled each other, tossing bags into overhead bins and making playful bets about who would score the first goal of the night. Auston moved through the commotion with his usual calm, but the grin remained—a subtle, smug reminder to himself that he had everything under control.

“Yo, Tony!” Mitch’s voice rang out as he flopped into the seat beside Auston. “What’s with the face? You win the lottery or something?”

Auston smirked, adjusting his noise-cancelling headphones. “Something like that.”

Mitch squinted at him suspiciously. “This have anything to do with the latest post? You know, the one that’s got X losing its mind?”

“Don’t start, Marner,” Auston replied, his voice even but amused.

“Oh, I’m starting,” Mitch said, leaning closer with a conspiratorial grin. “Come on, man. Spill. Who is she? I mean we know what she works with, but… She’s not another one of those random girls you keep fucking, is she?”

Auston sighed, pulling one side of his headphones down. “She’s just someone I’m getting to know. Relax.”

“Someone you’re getting to know?” Mitch echoed, his grin widening. “That’s all we get? Not even a compliment about her ass?”

“Drop it,” Auston said, though his tone lacked any real bite.

Across the aisle, William piped up. “If she’s just someone you’re getting to know, why’s she all over your social media? You’re usually better at keeping things under wraps.”

Auston shrugged, playing it cool. “She’s not all over my social media. That’s the media doing what they do.”

But Mitch wasn’t about to let it go. “You don’t talk about the other girls, but you’re dodging questions about her? That’s new.”

Auston shot him a look. “Maybe because it’s none of your business, Mitchy.”

The banter continued as the plane took off, Mitch throwing playful jabs from across the aisle and William chiming in with his usual teasing smirk. Auston brushed it off with ease, keeping his replies curt and nonchalant. But their questions lingered in his mind, nagging at the edges of his thoughts like a loose thread.

If his teammates were already this curious, what would happen when the media started digging deeper? And they would dig deeper. It wasn’t a matter of if but when. They’d dissect every detail, every inconsistency, every crack in the story. That’s when it hit him—he didn’t know enough about you. Not the kind of things that would make a fabricated relationship believable, at least.

Your favourite coffee order. Your go-to excuse for leaving a party early. The kind of music you liked to blast when no one else was around.

He needed to know something—anything—that could make this story feel authentic. His teammates might have been satisfied with the vague details he’d given them for now, but they nor the media wouldn’t let it slide. This had to look real. And for it to look real, he had to be able to talk about you like he’d known you for longer than a fleeting gala moment.

Auston leaned back in his seat, letting out a small breath. The team’s chatter faded into the background as he turned his focus inward. He’d have to talk to you, but it couldn’t feel forced. It had to be casual, natural. Just enough to set things straight and make sure the narrative stayed intact.

Satisfied with the plan forming in his mind, Auston allowed himself to relax, the familiar hum of the plane’s engines lulling him into a moment of calm. He adjusted his noise-cancelling headphones and gazed out the window as the city faded into the distance. The grin he’d worn all morning crept back onto his face, a mixture of confidence and anticipation.

This was going to work. It had to.

You might not realise it yet, but Auston Matthews had chosen you for a reason. You weren’t just a pawn in his game. You were the perfect partner in crime for the plan he was about to execute.

As you walked into the office, you held your chin high, shoulders back, just like Jess always encouraged during your frantic late-night phone calls. Her voice still echoed in your head: “Own it. Whatever you do, don’t let them see you sweat.” Easier said than done.

Your heels clicked against the polished floor with a rhythm that you hoped exuded confidence. Each step felt heavier than the last, the weight of the charade pressing against your chest. The office buzzed with its usual energy—keyboards clacking, phones ringing, snippets of conversations floating through the air. But today, the atmosphere seemed to hum with something sharper, something just shy of gossip. Again, you didn’t have to hear the whispers to know they were about you.

You felt their eyes on you as you passed, a few heads turning slightly as you walked by. It was subtle—an extra glance, a barely concealed smirk, a phone quickly tucked away as if you’d interrupted someone mid-scroll through the latest viral photos. You’d expected this, but that didn’t make it any easier.

Your phone vibrated in your bag, but you ignored it. No doubt Jess or Maya was checking in to remind you of your coffee date later. Or worse, your boss with a sharp-edged “we need to talk.” Neither option felt appealing.

By the time you reached your desk, the tension in your chest had settled into a dull ache. You sat down, carefully placing your bag at your feet, and took a steadying breath. The screen of your laptop glowed to life as you opened it, the familiar sight of your inbox providing a small sense of normalcy.

But even as you sifted through emails, your thoughts kept circling back to the lie you were living. You felt bad for keeping Jess and Maya in the dark. They were your best friends, your ride-or-die crew, the people who’d been there for you through every triumph and heartbreak. But you couldn’t risk telling them the truth.

What would happen if anyone found out? The question lingered in your mind like a persistent shadow. Even the smallest crack in the story you and Auston would be concocting could lead to an avalanche. If word got back to your boss that this wasn’t just an accidental photo op but a deliberate ruse? You didn’t even want to imagine the fallout.

So, you kept your cards close to your chest, smiling politely when a co-worker passed by, nodding along to the faint hum of office chatter. It wasn’t that you didn’t trust Jess and Maya—it was that you didn't want to burden them with this. The stakes were too high. Or maybe, just maybe, you felt a bit embarrassed about having agreed to it?

For now, your best move was to stick to the plan: keep your head down, stay professional, and pray the whirlwind around you would eventually settle.

But as the day stretched on and the whispers persisted, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were walking a tightrope with no safety net.

During the workday, you did your best to stay under the radar, skirting through the office with a practiced air of nonchalance. Your strategy was simple: avoid your boss at all costs. Fortunately, his schedule was jam-packed with back-to-back meetings, giving you a much-needed buffer.

Still, you weren’t entirely off the hook. You’d barely rounded the corner when he appeared, laptop in hand, his expression sharp and unreadable.

“Y/N,” he called out, his tone clipped.

Your stomach flipped, but you kept your face neutral. “Good day, Mr. Manion.”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. “Yes, well. Care to explain why half the office is suddenly fixated on some hockey romance conspiracy theories? Or why your face seems to be at the centre of it, again?”

You swallowed hard, scrambling for a response that sounded calm and collected. “Just media being media,” you said lightly, forcing a small shrug. “They’re spinning something out of nothing. It’ll die down soon enough.”

Manion stared at you for a long moment, his eyes narrowing as if he were trying to dissect the truth. “It better. We’ll discuss this later. My office, tomorrow morning. Or… when I have time for this mess.”

Before you could respond, he turned on his heel and walked away, leaving you with the sinking feeling that you’d just delayed the inevitable.

The rest of the day dragged on in a blur of emails and half-hearted attempts at productivity. No matter how much you tried to focus, the looming conversation with your boss weighed heavily on your mind.

By the time the clock struck five, you were almost relieved to escape the office and head to the coffee shop where Jess and Maya were waiting.

The café was warm and bustling, the scent of freshly brewed espresso mingling with the faint sweetness of baked goods. Jess and Maya were already seated in the corner, their expressions a mix of curiosity and impatience as they spotted you walking in.

“Well, well,” Maya teased, her grin widening as you slid into the chair opposite her. “Look who finally decided to show up.”

Jess smirked, crossing her arms. “Let’s skip the pleasantries, Y/N. Spill. Now.”

You sighed, wrapping your hands around the mug the barista had just placed in front of you. “Please, calm down. It’s not as exciting as you think. I promise.”

“Bullshit,” Jess said bluntly. “You’re trending. You don’t just get to brush this off.”

Maya leaned in, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “Come on. We’re your best friends. If you can’t tell us, who can you tell?”

There it was—the guilt. It crept into your chest like a cold weight, but you couldn’t let it show. You had to stick to the story.

“We met at the gala,” you began, keeping your voice as casual as possible. “He was… well, exactly how you’d expect. Arrogant, cocky, a total smartass.”

Jess arched a brow. “So, what? He just walked up to you and swept you off your feet?”

You hesitated for a fraction of a second before nodding. “Not exactly. I sort of… tripped, and he caught me. It was all very cliché.”

Maya gasped, her hands flying to her chest. “Like something out of a movie! I knew it!”

“It wasn’t like that,” you said quickly, laughing nervously. “He was just being polite. Honestly, I thought he’d forget about me the second I walked away.”

Jess tilted her head, her gaze sharp. “But he didn’t.”

You shook your head, taking a sip of your coffee to buy yourself a moment. “No, he didn’t. He’s been… persistent. But it’s not what you’re thinking. He’s not really my type.”

Maya’s jaw dropped. “Not your type? Are you serious? He’s Auston Matthews. Literal perfection.”

“Perfection isn’t exactly charming when it comes with an ego the size of the CN Tower,” you shot back, earning a laugh from Jess.

“Fair,” she said, smirking. “But don’t pretend you’re immune. Something about him must’ve worked if he’s got you responding.”

You shrugged, feigning indifference. “Maybe. Or maybe it’s just the media doing what it does best—blowing things out of proportion.”

Maya studied you for a moment, her expression softening. “You’re really into him, aren’t you?”

You nearly choked on your coffee. “What? No. Absolutely not.”

Jess leaned forward, her grin devilish. “You’re blushing.”

“I am not,” you protested, but the heat rising to your cheeks betrayed you.

The conversation continued, a whirlwind of teasing and speculation, but you managed to hold your ground, weaving just enough truth into your story to keep them from digging deeper. By the time you left the café, your nerves were frayed, but at least you’d survived the first round of questions.

As you stepped into the cool night air, you couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling that this was only the beginning.

The training rink in Columbus carried the usual buzz of pre-game preparation: the slap of pucks against the boards, the hum of skates carving into the ice, and the low murmur of coaches directing drills. But something about the energy felt off. Auston could sense it in the way passes missed by inches and shots rang off the crossbar instead of finding the back of the net.

The Leafs were coming off a high, but the weight of expectations clung to the team like an anchor. By the time practice wrapped up, the locker room was filled with subdued chatter, players trying to shake off the tension as they prepared for the night’s game.

Auston, ever the focal point, felt the weight more than most. Captaincy wasn’t just about leading on the ice—it was about carrying the team’s hopes and shielding them from criticism when things went sideways. And tonight, things went very sideways.

The game was a mess from start to finish. Columbus exploited every crack in the Leafs’ defence, while Toronto’s offense sputtered, unable to capitalise on power plays or momentum. Auston had his moments—a slick assist here, a near-miss there—but it wasn’t enough. By the time the final buzzer sounded, the scoreboard told the story: a 4-1 loss.

Auston’s jaw tightened as he skated off the ice, his grip on his stick like a vice. The locker room was eerily quiet post-game, the usual camaraderie replaced with a heavy silence. Players peeled off their gear in near silence, a few murmuring frustrations under their breath. Auston exchanged a few words with the coaches, but the sting of defeat lingered long after he left the rink.

Back at the hotel, the air in Auston’s room felt heavy—thick with the weight of the night’s loss and the expectations that always seemed to grow louder in defeat. He sat on the edge of the bed, his duffel bag still untouched by the door, scrolling aimlessly through his phone.

Down the hall, his teammates were decompressing in their own ways—some glued to their gaming consoles, others nursing quiet drinks in the lounge—but none of those options appealed to him. Auston’s frustration needed a different outlet.

Without much thought, he opened his DMs, the endless flood of messages a familiar distraction. His name was a magnet, his inbox teeming with invitations, compliments, and the occasional overly bold proposition. One message caught his eye—a familiar face from Columbus. They’d met on a previous trip, a fleeting encounter that left no lasting impression, which was exactly what he needed now.

Auston: “In town for the night. What’s up?”

Her: “Still waiting for you to call. Thought you forgot about me ;)”

Auston: “Never.”

The exchange was simple, transactional, and within the hour, she was knocking on his door.

Auston opened it, leaning casually against the frame. His expression was unreadable, save for the faint smirk that tugged at the corner of his lips. She smiled up at him, dressed to impress—or undress. As always, no pleasantries were exchanged; none were necessary. She stepped inside, and the door clicked shut behind her, sealing off the outside world.

It was exactly what Auston needed—a reprieve from the relentless noise in his head. She was eager, uncomplicated, and predictable, offering a distraction that required nothing from him emotionally. He let himself sink into the physicality of it, her hands trailing across his chest as she whispered something flirtatious. But her words barely registered. His thoughts were elsewhere.

They were on the ice, replaying the game in relentless detail: the missed chances, the failed plays, the sting of another loss. They drifted to the media frenzy surrounding his so-called “Mystery Queen” and the elaborate charade he was now orchestrating with you. No matter how much he tried to focus on the present, the weight of everything he was juggling refused to let go.

Still, he allowed her to take the lead, lying back as she straddled him with practiced confidence. The friction, the heat, the rhythm—it was enough to stoke his hardening member. She felt good, but it was a fleeting, surface-level pleasure. The connection was purely physical, and Auston was fine with that.

Her fingers dug into his chest, as she rode him expertly. Auston felt his climax slowly building, her tight cunt wrapped so neatly around his throbbing cock. He didn’t need more than this. Shutting his eyes he could imagine her to be anyone he’d like. His mind wandered as he heard himself let out a moan. She was good to him, picking up her pace as she too chased her own high.

Her moans filled the room, crescendoing as she announced her climax with exaggerated fervour. Auston stayed silent, his body tense beneath her, waiting for the moment to pass. And when she slumped forward, her chest rising and falling against his, he decided to take control in order to reach the rush.

Flipping her onto her back, he moved with renewed intensity, chasing his own release. His hips slammed against hers in a steady, unrelenting rhythm. His fingers clenched the sheets as he gave up holding back. He was merciless. Ruthless. Her cries of his name echoed in his ears, a mantra that boosted his ego but did little to penetrate the hollow space inside him.

And when his climax finally hit, it was like a tidal wave, crashing through him with a force that left him momentarily breathless. His low, guttural grunt filled the air as he spilled into the condom, his movements slowing until they finally stopped.

For a moment, the room was quiet, save for their heavy breathing. She brushed her fingers through his hair, her touch lingering as though she hoped it might spark something deeper. But Auston rolled away, reaching for his phone on the nightstand. The message was clear, though unspoken.

So, within minutes, she was dressed, smoothing her hair and offering a coy smile as she slung her bag over her shoulder. “See you around,” she said lightly, though they both knew she wouldn’t.

“Yeah,” Auston replied, his tone indifferent as he closed the door behind her. The lock clicked, and just like that, she was gone.

He sank back onto the bed, staring at the ceiling as the hollow feeling settled in—a familiar, unwelcome companion. The release had been satisfying enough, but it hadn’t erased the gnawing frustration or the pressure weighing on his shoulders. It never did.

His phone buzzed again, and he glanced at the screen. Notifications flooded in: highlights from the game, speculative articles dissecting the team’s loss, and the ever-present hashtag: #MysteryQueen.

A small, wry smirk tugged at his lips despite himself. The plan was working, and that was something. For all the chaos, for all the noise, the narrative was moving exactly as he’d intended. Now all he had to do was keep it that way.

He set his phone back on the nightstand and let out a long sigh, running a hand through his hair. Tomorrow, he’d regroup. Tomorrow, he’d strategise with you, fine-tune the story you were selling. For tonight, survival was enough.

As exhaustion finally crept in, Auston closed his eyes, his thoughts drifting to you once more. You weren’t like the others—too smart, too grounded to fall for someone like him. That was part of the appeal, he realised. You weren’t here for him, not really. And maybe that made you the most intriguing person he’d met in a long time.

But that was a problem for another day. Tonight, all that mattered was that the noise had faded, if only for a moment.

“Oh, Toronto, isn’t it fascinating how our beloved Ice King chooses to thaw? While the Leafs are licking their wounds after a tough night in Columbus, it seems Auston Matthews is sticking to his tried-and-true method of post-game ‘recovery.’ Word on the street—or rather, whispers through the grapevine—suggests that our captain might not be as unavailable as the Mystery Queen narrative wants us to believe. Curious, isn’t it?

But here’s the thing, dear readers—there’s always more beneath the surface. Matthews might play the media like a maestro, but even the best orchestrations can hit a sour note. Will the cracks start to show? Or will our Ice King’s dual life—both on and off the rink—continue to skate by unscathed?

As for his Mystery Queen? One has to wonder how she fits into this symphony of appearances. Is she just another carefully placed pawn in Auston’s game, or is there something more stirring beneath the headlines?

For now, Toronto, we’re left with a tantalising mix of speculation and intrigue. The season is still young, and the drama is only just beginning. - The Benchwarmer”

Wednesday -

Auston tried to enjoy the breakfast with his teammates. A hotel was a part of their routines, yet it never truly felt like home. His phone buzzed relentlessly with notifications, but one headline in particular caught his eye: “The Ice King’s Double Life? Drama Heats Up Around Toronto’s Star Captain and His #MysteryQueen.”

Auston clicked the link and was greeted by The Benchwarmer’s latest post. The commentary was sharp, hinting at cracks in his narrative and questioning whether the supposed romance with you was genuine—or just another fleeting distraction. The subtext was clear: his actions in Columbus hadn’t gone unnoticed.

He let out a groan, running a hand down his face. Reckless, Matthews. Really reckless. Sure, the plan with you was still in its infancy, but if this was going to work, it needed direction—intent. Otherwise, it would just look like every other shallow story he’d been a part of.

He needed to fix this. Fast.

Grabbing his phone, Auston scrolled to your contact—“PR Genius”—and fired off a quick text.

Auston: “Coffee today? We need to strategize.”

You: “Agreed. When and where?”

Auston: “3 PM. A café on Yonge. I’ll message the address later. Bring your game face.”

As the message was sent, Auston stared at the screen for a moment longer. This wasn’t just about keeping the media at bay—it was about keeping you on his side. If this plan unravelled, it would take both of you down with it.

A bit further North, your morning was no less chaotic than Auston’s. Jess, ever the early riser, was already on fire by the time your phone buzzed with the first notification.

Jess (7:15 AM): “HOW DARE HE???”

Maya (7:16 AM): “Is he seriously doing this to you? I’m ready to slash some tires.”

You couldn’t help but laugh softly, even as you groaned at their intensity. To them, it was a betrayal of epic proportions. To you, it was just another complication in the tangled web of your arrangement with Auston. But how could they know that? All they saw was a man seemingly toying with your feelings, and as your best friends, they were ready to go to war on your behalf.

You (7:18 AM): “Guys, relax. It’s not like we’re official or anything.”

Maya (7:19 AM): “Not official?! You’re trending as #MysteryQueen, Y/N! That’s practically a royal engagement!”

Jess (7:20 AM): “I swear, if he breaks your heart… bad things will happen!”

You chuckled despite yourself, shaking your head at their over-the-top reactions. It was sweet how protective they were, but you couldn’t let them spiral into full-blown outrage.

You (7:22 AM): “Look, it’s still early. He can do whatever he wants—we haven’t even been on a real date yet.”

The group chat fell silent for a moment, long enough for you to think maybe they’d finally let it go. But Jess’s response proved otherwise.

Jess (7:30 AM): “Fine. But he better get his shit together, or I’m hunting him down.”

You rolled your eyes affectionately, setting your phone down as you leaned back in your chair with a sigh. Jess and Maya were reacting the way anyone would if they thought their friend was being strung along. You couldn’t exactly blame them for jumping to conclusions—it wasn’t like they knew the truth.

Still, it left you with a heavy feeling you couldn’t quite shake. Sure, you weren’t dating Auston—not really. But even you couldn’t ignore how bad it looked. His actions might not have stung personally, but they made everything feel messier, more complicated. You were suddenly questioning whether this whole arrangement was as foolproof as he’d made it seem.

You stared into your half-empty coffee mug, the quiet of your kitchen contrasting sharply with the chaos in your head. By now, the plan you and Auston had agreed on felt more like a house of cards, ready to collapse at the slightest push.

The afternoon coffee with him couldn’t come soon enough. If this ridiculous plan was going to work, you needed to lay everything out on the table and get on the same page—and fast.

The coffee shop was bathed in the golden light of late afternoon when you arrived, your workday still clinging to you in the form of a slight tension in your shoulders. You pushed open the door, letting the comforting aroma of roasted beans and the soft murmur of conversation wash over you. The café was the perfect midpoint between your home and Auston’s—a cosy, unassuming spot where you could blend in without drawing too much attention.

You spotted him immediately, leaning casually against the counter, waiting for his order. He was dressed in dark jeans and a simple hoodie, a baseball cap pulled low over his face. Felix, his ever-loyal best friend, sat patiently by his side, drawing a few admiring glances from other patrons. Auston, as always, looked like he belonged anywhere and nowhere at once, exuding an ease that made people take notice without realising they were doing so.

Auston caught sight of you as the barista handed him his drink. He gave you a quick nod, that trademark smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Hey,” he greeted as you approached. “Long day?”

“You could say that,” you replied, offering a small smile as you ordered your coffee.

As Auston watched you at the counter, his gaze lingered longer than he’d intended. You were dressed in your workday attire—professional yet effortless, like you hadn’t spent a second longer than necessary pulling yourself together. But it was the way you carried yourself that intrigued him. Even with the slight tension in your shoulders, there was a quiet determination in your movements, a resilience that he couldn’t help but notice.

Once you had your drinks, you stepped outside, where Felix immediately perked up, tail wagging enthusiastically. “He’s got more energy than I do,” you said, watching the dog sniff at a nearby patch of grass.

“Good thing he burns it off fast,” Auston replied, handing you Felix’s leash with an easy confidence that caught you off guard. “Here, you take him for a bit.”

“Me?” You stared at the leash, then at Felix, who was now looking at you with expectant eyes.

“Yeah, you,” Auston said, his grin widening. “It’s not that hard. Just don’t let him drag you into traffic.”

You rolled your eyes but took the leash, letting Felix lead the way as the three of you started down the quiet street. Auston glanced at you out of the corner of his eye, amused by the way you held the leash like it might bite you. Despite your initial awkwardness, he had a feeling Felix would win you over in no time.

“You’re stiff,” Auston said after a few moments, his tone casual but observant. “Relax. It’s just a walk.”

“It’s not just a walk,” you muttered, glancing around. “There are probably a dozen people ready to take a picture right now.”

“And what if there are?” He shrugged, taking a sip of his coffee. “That’s kind of the point, isn’t it?”

You huffed but didn’t argue. He wasn’t wrong. Still, the weight of being “seen” felt heavier than you’d anticipated.

“You’re overthinking it,” Auston said after a moment. “We’re just two people, walking a dog. Act like it.”

“I’m trying,” you shot back, but the edge in your voice made him smirk.

“Try harder,” he teased.

As Felix tugged you toward a nearby lamppost, Auston found himself studying you again. You didn’t fit the mold of the people who usually surrounded him. There was no pretense, no calculated charm. You were genuine—maybe to a fault, given how uncomfortable you seemed in the spotlight. He found it oddly refreshing.

“He’s really into this whole sniffing thing,” you said, changing the subject as Felix investigated another patch of grass.

“He’s thorough,” Auston said with a chuckle. “Doesn’t miss a single blade of grass.”

The light banter helped ease the awkwardness, and soon, the conversation shifted to more neutral topics. He asked about your day, and to his surprise, you opened up with a candid rundown of your work. You asked him about his travel schedule and the demands of his career, your questions more thoughtful than the usual superficial ones he was used to. And for the first time in a while, he felt like someone was genuinely interested in him, not the player or the famous persona.

“You’re used to it, though, right?” you asked. “The attention?”

“Yeah,” he said, his tone almost dismissive. “It comes with the job. You get good at tuning it out.”

“Must be nice,” you muttered, more to yourself than to him.

He caught it anyway. “You’ll get there,” he said simply.

You raised an eyebrow. “You sound awfully confident.”

He smirked. “Someone has to be.”

The conversation gradually turned more personal as you walked, Felix weaving between the two of you. Auston told you about growing up in Scottsdale, his early days in hockey, and how he adjusted to life in Toronto. In return, you shared snippets of your own life—your family, your job, your goals.

Yet, as you spoke, Auston couldn’t help but notice how you deflected any kind of praise. If he complimented your work ethic, you’d shrug it off. If he mentioned your ambition, you’d redirect the conversation. It was clear you weren’t comfortable taking credit for your own strengths, and that baffled him. In his world, confidence was currency, and yours seemed to be in short supply.

By the time you circled back toward the coffee shop, the awkwardness from earlier had all but evaporated. Felix was panting happily, his energy finally burned off, and you felt a little lighter too.

As you handed the leash back to Auston, he gave you a considering look. “You should come to the game tomorrow.”

“The home game?” you asked, caught off guard.

“Yeah,” he said, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. “You’re supposed to be my…” He trailed off, his smirk turning playful. “It’ll look good. You know, for the act.”

You hesitated, unsure, but he pressed on. “Come on. VIP seats, good company. What’s there to think about?”

You rolled your eyes but found yourself nodding. “Fine. I’ll be there.”

“Good,” he said, pulling Felix closer as he grinned down at you. “And don’t forget your game face.”

As he walked away, Auston couldn’t help but glance back, his thoughts lingering on you longer than he expected. For all your insecurities, there was something undeniably compelling about you. This arrangement might have started as a strategy, but he was beginning to wonder if it could be something else too.

“Oh, Toronto. What a tangled web our Ice King is weaving. One moment he’s dominating the ice (or, well, trying to), and the next, he’s walking through the city with his Mystery Queen by his side—dog in tow, coffee in hand, and cameras lurking around every corner.

It’s a scene straight out of a romance novel: casual smiles, shared laughs, and the kind of chemistry that can’t be ignored (even if it’s staged, we see you, Matthews). Yet, there’s something undeniably intriguing about this pairing. She’s poised, seemingly unbothered by the chaos surrounding him, and he? Well, let’s just say he doesn’t seem to mind the added spotlight when she’s in the frame.

But don’t get too comfortable, dear readers. There are cracks in every façade, and this one is no exception. The whispers in the hockey world are growing louder, and if there’s one thing we know, it’s that the truth has a funny way of coming to light—especially when the stakes are this high.

So, what’s the endgame here? Is this truly a strategic pairing, or are we witnessing the beginning of something that neither of them saw coming? Whatever the answer, you can bet your last sip of Tim’s coffee that I’ll be here to spill the tea.

Until next time, Toronto. Keep your eyes on the ice—and the streets. The season is young, and this story is just getting started.

Yours always,

The Benchwarmer”

#The Benchwarmer #inexperienced!reader x Auston #auston matthews fanfic #Toronto maple leafs fanfic #nhl fanfiction #nhl romance #nhl imagines

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