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saetoru · 1 year ago

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✩ ‧₊˚ ✩ BURNER ACCOUNTS — GOJO SATORU.

contents. fem! reader, loser ex-boyfriend! satoru, exes to lovers, college! au, satoru making burners to watch your stories, miscommunications—satoru is not perfect but he’s trying okay?, gossip icons shoko & suguru <3, i had a silly idea and it turned into 2.6k words my bad

there’s a peculiar account watching your instagram stories—@user273582838, to be exact. you don’t think it’s a very well timed coincidence seeing as you and satoru have just broken up—so you decide to do some digging.

which of course, means enlisting the help of shoko.

“i think satoru is stalking me,” you mumble, making her pause in the middle of sipping on her energy drink—for a med student, her habits don’t seem every healthy. this is her third one of the day.

“okay,” she nods, “i wouldn’t put it past him, but what makes you say that?”

“look,” you turn your phone to face her, the blank, anonymous instagram account right there on the list of users who have viewed your story. she crinkles her brows, blinking for a moment before humming.

“that definitely seems like something he’d do,” she nods—and then, “i have an idea.”

“okay,” you brighten, nodding enthusiastically, “what’s the plan?”

“try and log in with that user.”

“shoko,” you look at her like she’s grown two heads. maybe the lack of sleep is finally getting to her—no amount of energy drinks can save her at this point. “we don’t have the password—”

“—and that, dummy,” she rolls her eyes, making you scowl at the name, “is why we click forgot my password and see the last four digits of the phone number that registered the account. if it’s satoru’s number, we’ll know.”

okay—you take it back. shoko is a genius and a full-blown brilliant mastermind that you could never hope to come close to. you’re glad you chose her to help—you’re even more glad she agreed because you would not have thought of that. this is fantastic. a fool-proof plan.

you grin wide, eyes lighting up as you gasp, “shoko! you’re so smart, that’s a great idea!”

“i know,” she grumbles, “took you long enough to notice.”

ignoring her, you quickly pull out your phone and try to log onto the account, typing user273582838 into the username box and clicking forgot my password. shoko is hovering over your shoulder, and your breath is held as you wait for the page to load and the number to pop up. within just a few seconds, the first few digits are censored with asterisks, but the last four show, and—

yeah. it’s satoru’s fucking number. just as you suspected—you and shoko scoff together at the same time, rolling your eyes.

“well,” you look at her, lips pursed in irritation—of course, satoru refuses to give you space and leave you alone after your break up (which was his fault, might you add), “what now?”

“send the verification code to his number,” she presses, “it’ll definitely spook him when he sees.”

she’s so good at what she does, you think in awe, staring at her with heart-eyes. nodding quickly, you press send code.

hopefully, that’ll give satoru the heart attack you want it to.

———

satoru stares at his screen in abject horror—who could be trying to log into his burner account? the only person who should possibly stumble across it is you, but surely you’re not closely inspecting your story viewers, are you? so then, who could be trying to log onto the instagram account of @user273582838?

“suguru,” he says in a trance, “are you trying to log onto the burner?”

“are you bringing that shit up again?” suguru grumbles, controller in hand as he pays attention to the screen, “i told you that was a stupid idea. a pathetic one too—”

“well, i didn’t want to keep waiting for you to send screenshots to see the stories—”

“you’re a fucking loser, do you know that? pathetic,” suguru reiterates. “move on.”

“no,” satoru hisses in disbelief, “why would i do that? now, was that you or not? you’re the only other person who knows the user.”

“as if i care to log onto your loser burner account,” suguru snorts, shaking his head in amusement. he beats satoru’s high score, turning to give him a sly grin as he adds, “i wasn’t removed, so i can view the stories all i want.”

“you’re a jerk, you know that?” satoru grunts, crossing his arms and pouting, “i’m having the worst heartbreak of my life, and you—”

“who’s fault is it that you’re dumped?”

satoru deflates.

okay, so he supposedly hasn’t been the best boyfriend. it’s not that satoru isn’t helplessly committed to you—he’s so sickeningly obsessed with you, it’s actually a bit unhealthy. suguru says so, at least. but satoru is…well, satoru, and he doesn’t always seem to take things as seriously as most people would hope.

evidently, that includes your relationship—though, he does insist on disagreeing on that. according to you, he doesn’t take you on dates often enough, and sometimes he flirts back with random strangers. that’s not true—he’s simply a bit of a tease and enjoys it when you’re jealous, but he doesn’t flirt back. that’s outrageous. you’ve even claimed he’s mean about it and makes a joke out of it all—satoru would never be mean on purpose; he only teases because the banter is always endearing.

but, unfortunately, you don’t seem to see it the way he does, and now he’s woefully single and cold and alone in bed. no cuddles, no goodnight kisses, and no head scratches.

life is so cruel sometimes.

“suguru,” he says in distress, “i’m serious. someone’s trying to hack my burner—who could it be?”

“hmm, i don’t know…maybe the one and only person who would notice the account in the first place?”

“but why try and log in if the password is unknown?”

suguru looks at satoru like he’s stupid—apparently, he is because he’s not putting two and two together.

“maybe because sending a verification code shows the last four digits of the registered phone number? you’ve probably been caught, you idiot.”

satoru pales at that—he didn’t think about that. it slipped his mind completely. fuck, he should’ve used a burner email instead. he stares down at his phone numbly—yeah, he thinks, he’s screwed.

———

after two days of continuous log in attempts into satoru’s burner account—it’s only just to spook him extra—you finally decide to confront him.

we need to talk. is all you send him.

the three bubbles appear on his end multiple times before disappearing—you and shoko get a good cackle out of that and laugh at him for a bit before he finally answers.

miss me already? knew it ;)

wow. what a dickhead.

so, because you can be equally as much of a prick, you send him a screenshot of his phone number on the log in page followed by a message that says: no. it’s so you can explain this.

the three dots show up again for a few minutes before he finally responds with: okay. you caught me. when do you wanna meet?

well, that was easy. satoru is the type to not go down without a fight no matter how cornered he is—he’s stubborn and annoying like that. you turn to shoko for help.

“meet him now,” shoko crosses her arms, “don’t give him time to come up with some ridiculous excuse.”

“what excuse could he possibly come up with?” you snort, “that he was possessed and the evil spirit in his mind made him stalk his ex like a loser?”

“true,” she concedes, taking a sip from her energy drink—seriously, how many of these does this girl drink in a day? “i just want to know what happens,” she shrugs, “so do it now.”

of course, as on brand as ever, shoko is merely in it for the drama. you roll your eyes before sighing and nodding.

“okay,” you huff.

meet me at my place. now.

on my way, he sends back almost instantly.

“he’s probably just excited to see you,” shoko snorts, “like the loser he is.”

“you’re probably right,” you purse your lips in exasperation. in all your time knowing him, you’ve definitely realized that satoru is definitely…well, a case.

———

“hey,” shoko whispers to suguru through the phone, walking out your door so you can prepare to confront satoru. “did you know satoru’s been stalking—”

“—on a burner account? yeah, i know.”

okay, she frowns to herself, that was no fun at all. suguru is already aware of the drama. but that’s no matter—surely, he can’t possibly already know that satoru has been invited over to be scolded.

“yeah, well,” she says smugly, “did you know he’s actually on his way over to—”

“—get yelled at? yeah, i’m aware. he called me panicked. what a fucking loser.”

“okay, well since you’re up to speed,” shoko grumbles bitterly, rolling her eyes. she was supposed to be the knight in shining armor with the juicy updates—but evidently, satoru is pathetic enough to already cry to suguru about his dilemma. “wanna meet up and get sushi nearby? i bet they’ll get back together in twenty minutes.”

“i bet ten. loser pays for the food?”

“you’ve got yourself a deal.”

———

satoru sits on your couch in shame, bouncing his leg nervously as you sit on the opposite end with your arms crossed and brow raised.

it’s quiet. he doesn’t have the guts to say anything, waiting for you to break the silence. maybe you’re not that mad.

“so,” you start, “it’s nice to finally meet you, user273582838.”

he rubs his neck awkwardly, chuckling through his nerves as he mumbles, “oh, hey there! it’s a small world, huh?”

“satoru.”

yeah, never mind. you seem pretty mad.

“okay, look,” he begins, “you can’t blame me. you dumped me, your sweet, loving, and unsuspecting boyfriend out of nowhere! i was heartbroken and shattered—and then you didn’t even give me a chance to work it out! i was not in the right headspace to make wise decisions so…so this is basically not my fault.”

that doesn’t seem to help his case—in fact, it only makes it worse.

“so it’s my fault?”

“wha—no!” he says quickly, “no, definitely not.”

you sigh, rubbing your forehead in defeat as you mumble, “satoru, we are broken up for a reason. you can’t overstep and—”

“it’s a pretty stupid reason,” he grumbles under his breath, crossing his arms and frowning. you glare at him from the side as you scoff in disbelief.

“of course,” you chuckle dryly, “of course you would say that. nothing is ever serious enough to you—”

“it’s pretty fucking serious to me,” he spits, shooting you a look that tells you he’s just as shocked as you, “that’s obviously why i’m the one who’s still not moved on as easily as you. how seriously did you really take it?”

“that’s not fair,” you grit, “you made it abundantly clear you didn’t care enough, so why should i—”

“i fucking cared a shit ton,” he says incredulously, “that’s bullshit, and you know it—”

“don’t curse at me, satoru—”

“well, don’t accuse me of not caring when i clearly—”

“oh, yeah cause you cared so much when you were laughing with that waitress as she hit on you,” you seethe, throwing a pillow from your couch at him. he can catch it easily—you know this for sure, but he lets it hit him out of what you’re sure is at least a little consideration to your feelings.

“i wasn’t laughing because i enjoyed it,” he crinkles his brows as if you’ve said the most ridiculous thing ever, “it was just funny because she was trying so hard. and you looked all cute when you got mad.”

“what kind of boyfriend enjoys watching his girlfriend get mad—”

“the kind of boyfriend who thinks his girlfriend is adorable when she’s mad—”

“yeah, well your idea of a date is going to the mall with shoko and suguru. what kind of date is that—”

“okay, i was a bit clueless sometimes, but you could’ve said something instead of just dumping me like i was some random guy in your dm’s—”

“you need to grow the fuck up, satoru—”

“now look at who's cursing!”

it’s silent—both you and him have your arms crossed and lips curled into scowls as you both glare at each other. you’re stubbornly convinced satoru doesn’t care as much as you do, and he’s firmly committed to the idea that you’re twisting him into some douche who doesn’t give two shits.

it’s quiet like that for a bit before he deflates and slumps against the couch, rubbing his face as he groans.

“look,” he starts, “i’m sorry. i never meant to make it seem like i enjoy attention from other girls, and i didn’t realize you wanted more dates. i’d have done things differently if you told me how you felt.”

he sounds sincere. and he’s looking at you with those eyes of his—god, those stupid little eyes that are so wide and blue and deep and full of love. even after that whole argument, satoru is clearly as painfully in love as ever.

you sigh before playing with a loose thread on your sweatpants.

“i…guess i could’ve talked it out first. i probably shouldn’t have skipped straight to breaking up,” you mutter, not meeting his eyes.

satoru stares glumly at you from the corner of his eyes before he adds bitterly, “you don’t seem to miss me. not even a little.”

“toru,” you pinch your nose, “of course i miss you. i was not gonna be mopey on instagram, though—”

“doesn’t seem like it,” he huffs. he’s a bit hurt—you can tell because he’s not meeting your eyes, and he’s not got that playful little upward curl of his lips.

you’re a bit weak, you realize—but you suppose you always have been for satoru, because you’re shuffling to his end of the couch and poking his cheek gently.

“i miss you tons, y’know,” you murmur—you smile a little at his pout before adding, “i want more dates this time around. and stop letting girls get away with being shameless flirts.”

he finally meets your eyes—it’s like a child on christmas, the way his face lights up and his lips curl into an excited grin.

“you mean i get to be your boyfriend again?”

it’s cute—the way he asks to be your boyfriend and not if you’ll be his girlfriend. maybe you’ve been a bit unfair, maybe satoru has always cared deeply in his dumb little clueless way of his own.

“fine,” you pretend to roll your eyes. he looks hopelessly excited as he wraps an arm around you and pulls you into his side, tucking you under his chin as he rests his cheek on your head.

“you should really talk to me more,” he murmurs, “i’m…things fly over my head sometimes. i’m sorry.”

“i’m sorry too,” you admit, “i’ll talk to you—but you better listen to me if i do. don’t turn it into jokes.”

“i never turn things into jokes,” he grumbles petulantly, huffing to the side as you shoot him an unimpressed raise of your brow. “does this mean i can follow you again?”

“yes,” you snort.

“and you’ll follow back, right?”

“yes, satoru,” you sigh, shaking your head in amusement. he’s already back to being a handful—but you can admit you might have missed it just a bit. “but for the love of god, please delete that burner.”

“fine,” he pouts, tugging you closer.

you giggle, he grins, and then you’re kissing—and everything feels as it should be.

———

“they’re back together,” shoko says in disbelief, staring at your text. suguru groans, pausing mid bite as he rubs over his forehead in defeat.

of course, you and satoru just have to make up in exactly fifteen minutes. not ten. not twenty. exactly fifteen.

how considerate of you both.

“are you kidding?” suguru grumbles, “so neither of us win.”

“guess not,” she says sourly, rolling her eyes.

woefully, they both agree to split the check.

suguru and shoko are so me and my friend every time our other friend argues with her boyfriend we deadass be making bets over when they make up and loser has to pay for boba LMAO

#teepods.writings #drabbles.#gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo fluff #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk fluff #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru fluff #gojo satoru x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen fluff

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taylorman2274 · 10 months ago

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We Care About You (Part IV)

Your attempts to cater to their needs only leave them confused and concerned. However, just when you think of giving up, more barriers are broken.

Content Warning(s): Xiao Story Quest Spoilers; Liyue Archon Quest Act IV Spoilers

Notes: SAGAU; GN!Reader

Word Count: 1.9k

Previous || Next

Taglist: @silverstarred; @victoria1676; @angelofdarkness2; @areaderspov; @andromeda-gay; @ash1; @mercy-not-merci; @toodledoodl3; @jellyedkazoo; @namine123; @innuwu; @agaygothicmushroom;

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When Genshin finally finished loading, you found your player character back where you originally left them before you were forced unconscious; in the bustling streets of Chihu Rock. The first thing you noticed was the red exclamation marks over the Paimon Menu, Events Menu, and Battle Pass Menu. However, you saw these exclamation marks nearly every time you logged on to Genshin, so you weren't surprised.

What does surprise you is that so far, everything appears to be... normal.

The Traveler was currently doing one of their idle animations, the NPCs were all in their familiar spots, and the leaves were subtly floating to the ground...

You began to grow suspicious.

You moved the Traveler one step to the left, cutting off their idle animation. They moved as you expected. Then you moved them right. Then up. Then down.

You looked at their face. They were staring back at you with lifeless eyes.

"But they're not lifeless..." you commented.

Next, you opened up the preceding menus. Nothing out of the ordinary happened. Even Paimon was doing her usual shtick.

Finally, you turned the Traveler away from your gaze and had them walk a few steps forward. You had them perform their normal attack combo. No signs of restraint were noticeable.

"...I guess everything is as normal as possible," you noted. "I'll still do everything I promised myself I would do. I don't want to be deceived by false appearances."

You opened the party setup and began to remove everyone from your party aside from the Traveler. You had decided that since nobody specifically asked the Traveler to join them on their travels, you should only use the Traveler from now on. Sure, that may make things harder for you, but you were willing to take on the extra challenge if it meant that everybody was happy.

However, as much as you would prefer to avoid it, you knew that fighting enemies was inevitable. You were just going to need to be extra careful while fighting to make sure that the Traveler doesn't get hit.

"It's almost like I'm doing a no-hit challenge," you chuckled.

Lastly, you were going to take your time doing long quests such as Archon and Story quests. You figure that doing so many quests in a short amount of time would be tiring to the Traveler. Especially with how grueling some of them can be.

With that being said, you took the time to quickly organize the pages of notes on your side before setting off to the first commission of the day, conveniently in Liyue Harbor of all places.

...By walking, of course. Strictly walking while inside cities should be the norm from now on.

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

The Traveler was nearly quivering in excitement.

The adrenaline rush that they got when they realized [Y/N] was back in Teyvat made them all hyper and focused. They were ready to do anything and everything with you. They wanted to sprint across the widest plains; climb atop the tallest mountains; and fight against the strongest enemies.

However, they have learned before that they need to be patient.

Over time, they have come to realize many patterns that you have while guiding them throughout Teyvat. One of these patterns was that you normally started working on the daily commissions first.

So they were a little surprised when the first thing you did was move them around, almost like you were testing to see if they would still follow your guidance.

"You don't have to worry about that, [Y/N]," they thought. "I'll always be here for you."

Not to worry though, [Y/N] went ahead and guided them to all the places where the commissions took place afterward. However, there were some things that they noticed while they were completing them.

The commissions involving the common folk and the time challenges went about the same way. It was the fighting commissions that had them asking questions.

What was the best way to describe it...? They still had no problem defeating the enemies, don't get them wrong, but they noticed that you seemed to be a little more... cautious?

Normally, [Y/N] would have them rush in and start swinging. Sure, this was reckless at times, and got themselves hit a couple of times, but that was honestly the fighting style that they were most accustomed to. However, this time they noticed that for whichever enemies they were fighting, they would focus on one at a time and balance an attack with a couple of dodges whenever their opponent attempted to strike back.

Furthermore, they also noticed that they were the only ones fighting. They know that [Y/N] is capable of guiding at most four people at once. So why were they only using them?

"Perhaps I can ask Paimon whenever [Y/N] leaves." they thought.

Not that they wanted you to leave, no no no. You had just come back to Teyvat after a whole week! They wanted to make up for lost time.

"If I counted right, that's all the commissions for today. Just got to visit Kathryne and then we can continue with our day. I wonder what we will get to do today. Are we gonna do some exploring? Fight amongst the ley lines? Meet up with old friends? I can't wait!"

They waited for their exchange with Kathryne to end so they could get back to your guidance. But suddenly, they began to feel themselves gaining control over their body.

...Wait.

... ... ...

Oh no...

...No...

No. No. No. No. NO! NO! NO! NO!

They know this feeling all too well. It was their least favorite part of the day.

...It was when you left Teyvat.

Just as their fears were confirmed, they gained control over their body again. Horrified, they quickly looked up at Celestia and prayed to the Archons that what was happening wasn't real.

Unfortunately, the light from Celestia came and went. [Y/N] was gone...

"Aww, already?" Paimon groaned, appearing out of thin air. "Paimon thought that [Y/N] would stay just a little bit longer."

The Traveler's eyes never left Celestia. They were holding on to the slim hope that the light would return. That [Y/N] would come right back and continue our adventures.

...But it never came.

"Hey, Traveler. Are you alright? You haven't moved in a while."

The Traveler finally took their eyes away from Celestia and sadly looked at Paimon. "I was so happy that [Y/N] came back. I was looking forward to spending all day with them. But in the end, they were only here for a few hours."

Paimon solemnly nodded. "Yeah, Paimon gets where you're coming from. But Paimon also says not to worry! It isn't often that [Y/N] leaves after completing the daily commissions. Maybe this is a one-time thing?"

The Traveler gave it some thought. They suppose that what Paimon is saying is true. There's no guarantee that this will happen again tomorrow.

Their mood picked up. "You're right, Paimon. Hopefully, we get to adventure with [Y/N] longer tomorrow."

Paimon smiled. "That's the spirit! Trust Paimon when she says that everything is going to be alright!"

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

Time Skip

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

...

... ...

... … …

...Three days...

It's been three days since [Y/N] first came back to Teyvat. They have since come back every day afterward.

...Three days...

It's been three days of completing commissions...

...And nothing else.

...Three days...

It's been three days since the Traveler realized that they were the only person [Y/N] used in their "adventure team".

They still remember how heartbroken Amber was when they met her.

"It wasn't something I did, was it?" she fretted with sorrowful eyes.

"Of course not!" they reassured, "You've done nothing wrong!"

However, they could tell that their words were not effective at uplifting the normally bright and cheerful outrider.

Now, [Y/N] was guiding them back to Kathryne again. Most likely the end of another day together.

... ... …

...No.

"I REFUSE!"

Going against [Y/N]'s guidance, they stopped in place. They were not going to let [Y/N] leave this time! They felt a couple of forceful nudges from [Y/N] but they were going to hold their ground for as long as it takes.

"No more commissions, [Y/N]. Let's go back to before. Explore Teyvat! Go fishing! Search for my sibling! Just don't leave again!"

...

... ...

... … …

...-hy?

..."Huh?"

"What di- ... -o wrong?"

"Is that...?" they wondered.

"I thought ... was doing ... -thing right?"

"[Y/N]?"

"I've done all the things that match their preferences. I've removed all the people who have jobs that prioritize their duties over adventuring; I've been careful while fighting enemies; I've even been spending as little time as possible to conserve their energy. So why are they still unhappy?

...So that's what has been the issue.

They wanted to tell you everything that was on their mind. But they couldn't bypass the restriction placed upon them.

This restriction in particular involved speaking freely towards [Y/N]. From what they understand, they are never able to say anything while being guided by [Y/N]. Instead, Paimon does most of the talking.

They still don't know much about it.

"...Maybe I'm not cut out for this after all. I should've known better..."

They didn't need to be told what that meant for the future.

After hearing that last sentence, they fought as hard as they could to break the speaking restriction, to tell [Y/N] something, anything, to stop them from leaving.

When they gained the slightest control over their body, they shouted: "[Y/N]! Wait! Don't leave!"

However, it didn't appear that they even heard them. Furthermore, they instantly felt a painful shock rush through their body. Punishment for breaking the rules.

The shock brought them to the ground, and they were in too much pain to notice the light from Celestia. And from what they had to guess, potentially for the last time.

"Traveler!" Paimon screamed, immediately floating down to nudge their body. "Quick! Get up! Get up! We've got to do something or else [Y/N] will be gone forever!"

Slowly but steadily, the Traveler brought themselves to their feet. They felt more defeated than ever. "It's too late, Paimon... I couldn't stop [Y/N] from leaving... It's all my fault."

Paimon was quick to shake her head. "Don't say that! You already know that we've never been able to talk with [Y/N] in the past."

"That still doesn't change the fact that [Y/N] is probably gone forever. They're never coming back."

Paimon frowned. She hadn't seen the Traveler like this since they met their sibling with Dainsleif. But as much as she wanted to cheer the Traveler up, she needed to find a way to reach [Y/N]. She quickly used all of her brain juice to come up with a solution.

"Paimon has an idea! Why don’t we ask Zhongli for help? He did assist us last time.”

The Traveler let out a weak, sad chuckle. “I doubt even Zhongli would know what to do in this scenario.”

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

"I may know something we can do."

"Really?!" "You do?!" Both Paimon and the Traveler exclaimed respectively.

They really should stop doubting the capabilities of this man.

"I have no guarantee that this will work," explained Zhongli, "but I'm curious to see the results. I believe you two are familiar with the adepti art 'dream trawling'?"

"Mhm," Paimon nodded, "We were with Xiao when he had us perform it."

"I see. That will make things easier to understand," Zhongli remarked, closing his eyes. "If [Y/N] won't come to Teyvat anymore..."

His eyes opened, filled to the brim with determination. "We'll simply have to extend them an invitation."

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Author Side Notes: Sorry this took so long to get out. I was struggling with how I wanted to write this.

Additionally, I've felt like my writing is lacking with descriptors. I feel like I keep saying words like 'said', 'asked', and 'nodded' a lot, especially in the last chapter. I've gone back and edited as much of it as I could.

I want to do my best to write all of these characters so I feel pretty bad whenever I'm unable to properly describe a character's thoughts or emotions. Maybe it's something that I'll get better at as I continue writing.

#genshin impact sagau #genshin sagau #self aware genshin #genshin self aware #sagau x reader #sagau #sagau genshin #platonic genshin x reader #platonic #gn reader #gender neutral reader #genshin impact

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laambfuzz · 4 days ago

Text

—- cat and mouse. ft schlatt. ᝰ

summary: after schlatt's audio, you had to make it known you had discovered it. all goes well and you think you finally have the upper hand, until you log back onto soundgasm to see a surprise waiting for you.

— tags: smut, lunch club!schlatt, mutual masturbation.. technically?, schlatt does porn (duh), dirty talk, degradation and light praise, open ending.. again

authors note: happy valentines my loves!! wanted to treat you with a longer post and hoped to get this out for the 14th for you all (it's still the 14th for me, so!) whether you celebrated it with someone or not, you've got some pornstar!schlatt to help you with the day. once again, credit to @fanficfox who started this lovely idea.♡

schlatt had finally came back to streaming, after a few days off

and you were going to take tonight as your chance to get him back in this game of cat and mouse you had been playing

you lurked in chat for a while, letting the stream run by as normal. you wanted to wait a little, before inevitably pouncing your prey

and so when he had mentioned a bathroom break, you decided it was your time to strike

you got your donation amount and message ready for him returning, your index finger hovering over your mouse. you wanted to get the donation in as soon as possible, before others started to do the same

you heard the clambering of schlatt almost falling into his room, drawing your attention back to the screen as he sat back on his chair, announcing his return

your finger hit the donation button instantly, and now you just had to wait for the payment to confirm, and for tts to pick up your message

it took a minute, but finally the tts bot spoke up and announced your message

"i can't believe i was soaked a few nights ago, and it was all your fault. tsk tsk, big guy."

schlatts face contorts into one of shock, face turning to his other monitor as he tried to catch who sent the donation

as soon as he saw your name he felt a shiver go through his spine

but he changed his facial expression to one of disgust, shaking his head and murmuring a "what the fuck?" to act like it was just a random thirst comment

but he knew it was more than that, and so did you

chat was on schlatt's side of course, calling out the weirdness of the donation and noticing how uncomfy schlatt had gotten

then another donation pinged through, schlatt's eyes darting to the screen to see if it was from you

and it was

"you made a bet that it was going to rain last stream, and it did."

chat is suddenly spamming OMEGALUL's and KEKW's, laughing at the misconception but still shocked at how the last donation was worded

schlatt swallowed thickly, letting out a heavy sigh as he felt relief. relief from what? he didn't know, but somehow chat not caring made him feel hidden, still

"what, were you thinking of something else? fucking pervs."

the last donation comes through, and chat just continues to laugh. they assume it's at them, and that's what you wanted

but once again, you and schlatt knew it was more than that

schlatt sent somewhat of a glare to the camera, and you felt his dark eyes peering right through you

but you felt a thrill of excitement at the same time, happy to have one-upped him after a few nights ago

however, you really weren't expecting him to get you back so soon

you got into bed later that night and had your phone already loaded onto schlatt's soundgasm page, and that's when you seen it

a new video had been uploaded tonight— desperate little thing

a heat suddenly started to pool in your belly as you read the title, and you clicked on it instantly

your free hand trailed under the covers, nudging your underwear to the side as your middle and index fingers grazed your clit

you press the start button and you're instantly greeted with a dark, low chuckle

"bet you thought you were real clever, huh sweetheart? thought you could try tease me like that and get away with it?"

a whine leaves your throat at his voice, the fact it's condescending and so much lower than you usually hear on stream

you hear a scoff, a creak of the chair before his breath is suddenly hitting the mic

he breathes deeply into the mic for a few moments, his breath hitching occasionally so you can only imagine he's once again stroking himself on the other end

"pathetic fuckin' donation messages, is what they were," he starts, inhaling through his nose before heavily exhaling. "could tell how needy you were. wanted me to see so bad you had to give me your fuckin' cash?"

your fingers toyed with your clit before you rubbed slow circles, moaning softly at his low voice, and how he was insulting you

"bet you're already touching yourself, huh? like a filthy fuckin' slut, all because im talkin' down on you," he chuckles dryly, before groaning lowly. "just pathetic. can't keep your hands off yourself when you see me. so- fuck.. so desperate."

and he was right. you were touching yourself, getting even wetter as he spoke down on you, as if you were nothing

if his words were so wrong and mean, why was it making you feel so good?

a sweet moan drops from his lips, and you can hear the wet sounds as he jerks himself off. "but don't you worry, sweetheart. i like my sluts desperate."

and something about that line drove you wild. you felt your face grow hot at the embarrassing whine you let out as he said it, but it's not as if he was here to hear it anyways

your fingers sped up, stroking the circles faster against your clit as you bucked your hips up into your fingers

anything for the extra friction

the audio continued with schlatt talking you through touching yourself, talking about how he's stroking himself and all the lovely groans, pants and grunts that comes with it

suddenly he stops all movement though, and nothing can be heard

"should i finish, hmm? should i let you hear me cum? beg for me slut, c'mon."

and it's so fucking stupid, and you shouldn't beg for an audio file

and yet..

your fingers are slipping downwards, allowing your thumb to take over the role for rubbing your clit, as the other two fingers now slide inside you

"fuck! please— please schlatt, let me— let me hear it. need to hear you— please."

the words fall from your lips without command, pouring right from your heart as you ache to hear him in return, needing to hear as he hits his climax

you hear a long, slow grunt from the audio causing you to gasp and perk up, fingers continuing their work

"i know you're a good slut f'me, letting everyone know how much you need me. and you love it, don't you? love me putting you in your place, over a fuckin' audio file? pathetic."

schlatt lets out a whine as he pants, a shuddering moan escaping him and you can tell he's cumming, judging by the higher moans and faster movements

"come on, fuckin' listen to me. you better cum now sweetheart, i'm telling you."

and as if his words had some control over you, suddenly your whole body was shaking as the orgasm overtook it, and your slick began to soak your fingers

you worked yourself through the orgasm, slowly but surely working down the pace of your fingers and thumb before you slumped into the bed, chest heaving as you closed your eyes, revelling in schlatt's own heavy breathing

"next time— next time you come to play, remember who owns you sweetheart. i'll see you next time, because i'm hoping you'll come back for more," he starts, before he cuts himself off with a chuckle

"who am i kiddin'? of course you'll come crawling back to me, you always do."

#jschlatt x reader #jschlatt x you #jschlatt x yn #jschlatt headcanons #jschlatt hcs #jschlatt smut #jschlatt fanfic

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takes1 · 9 months ago

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p.2 bratty tsukishima x manager!reader enemies to lovers

warnings. nsfw. m!masturbation at the end. midterms mentioned. minors DNI content. misinterpretation of emotions. tsukki not knowing how to handle a crush. enemies to lovers. or maybe enemies with benefits, i haven't decided yet. manager!reader. tsukki being so incredibly horny. tsukki not understanding facial expressions. sexual frustration. male masturbation + implied previous. kiyoko being a friend. yachi being a friend. 1.7k words notes. 3 more parts planned! ask to be added to the taglist if you don't want to miss one! links. PART ONE HERE. PART THREE . PART FOUR. FINAL PART. masterlist for mha. my ao3. masterlist for haikyuu

Despite your iced latte being mostly just water by now, you still sucked it down in desperation to get every ounce of caffeine you could. Midterms were just around the corner and one of your most difficult classes involved writing a 10-page scientific paper.

You had the whole semester to do it, so the dread you felt now was the amalgamation of months' worth of opportunity that you could've and should've used to work on it.

Thankfully, you didn't have to churn the majority of this thing out alone.

"What the hell does ameliorate mean." Kiyoko asked, though her soft frustration was starting to sound more like a statement now.

Yachi took every opportunity she could to stop doing her work, including this one. For her, there was less pressure to do perfectly on her finals since she had another two years to get those top marks.

She scanned her laptop screen for a moment, lips perched on the lid of her strawberry refresher: "Ameliorate means... To... make something bad or unsatisfactory better."

Kiyoko muttered something about how it still didn't make sense. Of course it wouldn't- she was taking an organic chemistry course.

The plan as it stood now was to rot in this spot all day until hunger moved you, so you all made an event out of it by putting on something cute, grabbing some coffees and pastries from a cafe nearby, and settling into this local library.

It wasn't planned, but you all simultaneously chose to wear skirts and cute summer tops. The mutual reaction of humor helped ease the pain of having to study all day. Suffering together was preferable to suffering alone.

The chance finally came again to stretch your legs and find another vaguely relevant reference to add to your bibliography.

With a rewarding, careful stretch, you rose out of your chair and took your time walking up and down the aisles to find something to support the fifth theory you'd written about so far.

Midterms were one stressor, but you weren't afforded the privilege of having tunnel vision over it.

Qualifiers were just around the corner, and you had the Tokyo training camp to prepare a load of equipment and personnel logs for.

As you selected a thick novel from a shelf above your head, you let out a small sigh.

The front matter described a concept you could start to look into and fluff up to your liking for the paper. Your mind fell back to the team, and how you wanted to do well on these exams so you'd have less to worry about going to Tokyo.

The side of your face was growing warm, probably from the East-facing window to your left, so you raised the back of a cold hand to cool yourself down.

You were just deciding to take this book back when, in the process of dropping your hand, you caught a blur of blond hair and glasses in the corner of your eye.

Your stomach jolted, heart starting to race, and an uncontrollable surprise took over your features.

Tsukishima was sitting, leaned over a table on his elbows, his head twisted all the way to the side to look at you over his shoulder.

You quickly looked back to the shelf and sucked in a breath. God, that must've looked so lame- you regretted every millisecond of that reaction and prayed he wouldn't ever bring it up.

He hated you. You didn't want anything to do with him. There was no pleasant exchange to get out of saying hello, or even acknowledging each other. It's not like you were friends.

Why was he even here? You started to get worried, but realized that he did ride the same train back with you after practice in the evenings.

Now you were really remembering. He got off one stop before yours and always moved to create the most space possible between you. You usually didn't see him again until he got off. Even then, you didn't care enough to look for him anymore.

You glanced back to him, expecting to now have to speak to him after you'd exchanged a mutual acknowledgment of each other's presence.

He was staring. But... that wasn't exactly the right word for it.

He was distracted. You wondered if he knew who you were, because you'd never seen him stare at you for more than a few seconds.

His brow wasn't pinched like usual. It was relaxed- in fact, everything about him was relaxed. The way his head was held in his hand, the loose grasp on his pencil, the subtle part of his lips. The lazy, yet measured scan of his eyes.

There was a reddish tint at the tips of his ears and highest points of his cheeks. It was astoundingly easy to notice, since he was so fair-skinned.

A strong chill ran up your spine when he finally made eye contact with you. Even then, it took a glance down to the book clasped against your chest, then back up for him to really notice your gaze and stiffen right up.

That new side of him vanished in an instant. It was replaced with a brief, stone-cold glower before he turned back to his own midterm work.

On the stiff walk back to your table, you smoothed your skirt out and pulled on the edge a bit before sitting back down.

It took a minute of silent sitting to even begin to unpack what you felt.

"Do I look stupid?"

Yachi instantly piped up, "Of course not! You're very pretty!"

"You really shouldn't waste your breath asking," Kiyoko glanced up at you.

It was brief but it rested your immediate insecurities.

"Why?" Yachi, once again, wanted nothing more than to just hang out and talk.

Another surge of chills. It was sickening.

You put your head in your hands, elbows on the table. "Mm-mm, it's just-..." You thought to tell them, but held back at the last second, "I dunno."

Another big sigh and you were back to typing to take your mind off of it. You'd have plenty of time to see what this spun into once you were free from this academic prison. It was too confusing right now.

Kiyoko didn't read into it, but Yachi lingered until 1) it was obvious you simply didn't want to disclose and 2) an abnormally tall boy from school walked past your table. She watched him watch you on his way towards the exit.

Her eyes narrowed with keen intuition.

the keen intuition in question:

Kei felt himself practically melt against the closed door of his bedroom. Breathless from a difficult and quick walk home, he fumbled with the tie of his sweatpants and the lock on the door concurrently.

"Finally," He sighed with a desperate laugh, "Fuck..."

His bag hit the floor with a sharp and careless thump. He stepped over it and fell onto his back on his mattress, a long arm stretched toward his side table for some lotion.

It was useless trying to study after that. Library or home, it didn't matter unless he could fuck this one out.

This time he didn't have to stalk your Instagram to spark his imagination; it was already running rampant with filthy ideas of what he'd do to you in that short skirt.

An ignored, aching erection sprang out of his waistband as he pushed it down and out of the way.

Light grey sweatpants had (for the first time in his life) ended up being a shit idea. All he could worry about on the 20 minute walk back was if anyone could see the tip of his cock tucked up just under his shirt.

Every shirt was too short. Every pair of pants was too big in the middle.

His slippery hand was beautiful relief. He was quick to get himself lubricated, and quicker to pump in slow, twisting motions to the image of you reaching, reaching, reaching up to that book on your tippy toes.

All the worry in his tight brow washed away in crashing waves of steady-growing pleasure.

Soon he didn't care about the harrowing journey home, the threat of midterms, nor the growing dread of that training camp.

It was just you.

It felt like fate that he got the only chance anyone might ever have to see the curve of your ass just under the hem of your skirt. You were able to get that book all too quickly.

If everything were different, he would've gotten it for you. You would've thanked him, kissed him on the cheek- he would've pulled you in for a heated, raunchy kiss with a hand palming you closer. He would've savored the view of you spread on the table for him -homework long forgotten- and his massive hand over your mouth to keep you quiet. It was a library, after all.

He seethed and stalled for a moment--, "a-ahh- Mm..."

His cock twitched hard with the need to cum, but he stopped just soon enough.

An oversized hand was holding the base; he looked at his other dry one, then closed his eyes in an eager but fruitless attempt to visualize just how they'd look on your thighs. Fuck, anywhere at this point.

Just one touch, that's all he wanted. He never let himself get close enough to even consider it, but my god, the internal struggle he made to stay away was commendable.

His tight, lightly sweaty stomach flexed with effort as he slowed down again.

You were so quick to switch up when it came to him. He could tell he had a special place in your heart, the way your lips pursed into a small frown and your eyes narrowed when he tested you.

It was out-of-this-world cute from his vantage point. A smile might just kill him.

"Mmm, fu-ck," He croaked, mind circling back to today.

His chest swelled with a shaky inhale- he smirked at the thought of you finding out about his terrible secret, how you would punish him for his unprofessional behavior. You were so pretty when you got mad.

The breath caught in his throat. He wasn't even thinking about the skirt when he finally came all over his stomach. Just that pretty face of yours did it for him.

taglist:

@hotvinimon @cyzvx @aloveablechaos @kozumesphone

thanks for the support!!

reply to be added!

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sommerregenjuniluft · 11 months ago

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@jegulus-microfic april 1 - spring - 1340 words (of domestic bliss with little harry)

Sundays are slow in the Potter household.

One would think James doesn’t like the pace of it, always having to do something usually, always active, moving around or talking, tugging at his loved ones or caressing their skin, but he does. It hasn’t always been this way but with getting older and especially since they’ve become parents James had noticed how his body and mind welcomed the one break in the week to just shut off and recharge.

They’ve fought their way through a cloudy March and with the arrival of April, spring is finally here.

James loves spring. People always assume it’s summer—and credit to them, because he does—but there’s just something about the rebirth of everything that comes after the long gloomy fall and icey winter period. The birds chirp with their return and in search for a mate, insects buzz lively and everything brightens with colour.

Like clockwork, Harry appears in the threshold of the master bedroom at around 7 am, deer plushie in a tight grip by the antlers, his dark mob of hair messy as anything. He drowsily rubs the sleep from his eyes, face squished and James sometimes thinks he might die from how adorable their four year old is.

He grabs his glasses, pushes back the sheets and plants a gentle kiss on Regulus’ cheek where he’s still knocked out like the dead and smushed into his pillow.

Harry pads wordlessly into the living room, James hot on his trail. Though while Harry goes in search of a children’s book for James to read to him, James makes a detour to the kitchen. He fills them two bottles with the tea they let out on the counter overnight, preparing one for Regulus as well for when he wakes up. He cuts up some fruit and vegetables and grabs the packets of rice cakes and crackers from the pantry, loading it all on a tray before he sets on to the living room.

Harry is already curled under the big fleece blanket they keep there, grinning when James rounds the corner with their pre-breakfast.

“Morning, dada,” he greets, sweetly.

James’ chest swells. “Morning, pumpkin,” he returns, pressing a kiss into Harry’s hair, setting down the tray. Before he takes his place next to his son he walks over to open the big terrasse glass doors.

“How’d you sleep?” James asks, plopping down next to Harry who immediately snuggles closer, plushie still in hand.

“Good,” Harry sighs contently and James can’t help himself when he brushes some of his hair back from his forehead and kisses him again. “Can you read to me?”

It’s a hidden object book but James knows what he means. He grins, “’Course, Hazza.”

They do just that for a bit, James describing what’s going on on the pages, creating a story for recurring characters. Skipping back and forth with Harry randomly pointing out another happening of the drawing while he’s munching away on his rice cakes and cucumbers and the occasional grape.

It’s still mildly cool, especially when a faint breeze picks up, moving the grass outside and swishing inside but Harry’s still wearing long pyjamas and James knows he’ll tell him if he’s too cold. He simply burrows further under the blanket and into his father’s side. James runs hot anyways.

When Harry decides they’re done with books James puts on a nature documentary for them.

They’re teaching about the strength of some rainforest ant species when Regulus shuffles into the room, arms wrapped around himself and eyes nearly closed.

“Morning, Papa,” Harry whispers excitedly, already wiggling out of James’ embrace even though he knows Regulus will join them there in just a moment.

A smile tugs at Regulus’ lips as he blinks his eyes open, dark lashes fluttering agonisingly beautifully and giving way to soft grey. James swears they get a little more blue every time right around his birthday, like Regulus is just another subject to the changes of spring.

“Mornin’,” Regulus sighs happily when he squeezes Harry against his chest, peppering the side of his head with kisses until he pulls away, tugging Regulus along to James.

His eyes are already closed again when Regulus nuzzles into the crook of James’ neck, pressing a kiss there before he gets comfortable.

“Morning, love,” James murmurs, voice thick with adoration, audible even to himself, and he strokes Regulus’ exposed arm softly.

The spell of Sunday is thick in the air, heavy in their bones.

Harry, usually the most lively child, always animatedly talking about something or the other, giggling, making jokes or doing mischief, is quiet now too. It’s routine, the way he grabs for Regulus’ arm and squeezes between his two dads, waiting for James to absently card his fingers through their hair and send them back to their slumbers.

It doesn’t take longer than five minutes before Harry’s breaths are deepening and it’s marvellous. Magical in the way that Regulus’ presence seems to calm him so much it pulls him back into another nap.

James smiles so wide, looking down at them like that for so long that his cheeks start straining.

He watches a bit more of the documentary, snaps a few obligatory pictures of them on his phone and sends them into their family group chat. Monty sends back a pixelated picture of a zoomed in shot of Effie in the garden, Sirius replies with a shaky snapshot of him running with the dogs and Remus answers with an aesthetically pleasing picture of what seems to be the breakfast he’s preparing for the two of them.

James’ belly growls hungrily at the reminder and when his gaze falls on the lone grape sitting in the bowl on the tray he decides it’s time for breakfast.

It’s nothing short of artful the way he extracts himself from besides Harry and Regulus without rousing them before he heads for the kitchen.

He grabs flour and sugar, eggs and milk for pancakes, as well as the bacon, bagles and cream cheese. It’s meditative to put together all the ingredients, set the table and assemble syrup and blueberries and chocolate chips. Halfway through James remembers the leftover quinoa in the fridge and between placing patches of batter in a sizzling pan he whips them up a quick salad as well.

The smell in the kitchen is divine and James has already made acquaintances with the joyful bluetit in the tree by the window by the time Regulus comes into the kitchen with Harry on his hip. He’s babbling now, talking Regulus’ ear off by the looks of it and Regulus hums and nods and gasps at all the right places, looking ridiculously endearing with his curls mussed and an imprint of the couch cushion lining his cheek.

“Morning, champ,” James teases, smacking a loud kiss over the line in Regulus’ cheek.

Regulus growls quietly, grinning despite himself, “You’re lucky I love your cooking so much.”

“Yeah, you’re lucky,” Harry parrots, grinning widely.

James tuts with faux affront, “What kind of sentiments are you teaching our poor child, Regulus. I’ve been standing in this kitchen for hours now. How about a ‘Thank you, daddy’?”

“Thank you, daddy,” they both reply in unison though Regulus’ has a decidedly different tone to it that makes James point the spatula at him in warning.

Regulus just smirks before he leans heavily into James’ side and rips a piece of pancake off of the ones already on a plate, blowing on it before dividing it in half and feeding it to Harry and himself.

James tasks them with setting out glasses of water and orange juice, mugs for tea. On Sundays coffee is banned in the Potter house. Regulus thinks he can wind himself out of his caffeine addiction that way.

When everyone is done and everything is in place they all sit down together, legs tangled under the table, smiling warmly at each other over their plates of delicious food, the spring breeze ruffling their hair and clothes pleasantly as it drifts through the open window.

#jegulus raising harry #jegulus #jegulus microfic #jegulus fic #starchaser #sunseeker #jegulus fluff #james potter #regulus black #kid harry potter #toddler harry potter #james potter x regulus black #regulus black x james potter #lune’s tiny fic

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corollaservant · 11 months ago

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(18+) jjk, f!reader, m.masturbation, perv-ish Choso

This might be Choso.

Bro has no idea how to navigate through socials only following your account and a kittendailyposts page for his dopamine reels so of course when the pinkorangey story pops up he opens it in a nanosecond. The picture isn't even all that, you think as you post, a sideway selfie of your face only showing bits of your arms in a tanktop, you were laid out in bed bored and snapped one to send him but the lighting was too good, it was around the time the sun set so it blurred out the background and showed less definition. He's flustered cause he thinks you look so fucking good, your face does something to him and he feels blood rush...to his cock, you have such a nice smile.

yoy look so ficking goodn here

He slides in your dms, you look at the funny text confused.

babe why are you typing like this??

You ask him and he takes a solid 4 minutes to snap back, softly grazing his fingertips across his sweatpants, his phone on his left palm between his spread thighs. His thumb is stuck on the story as it's turning white from the pressure he's applying so it doesn't go away and he is still lightly stroking himself. He feels like a perv as he groans, bringing his phone screen dirty from his fingerprints close to his boxer briefs and rubbing the face on his screen to himself.

Cho, are you there?

The notification appears and disappears quickly, he doesn't want to stop and is embarrassed to write you back at the moment, he can't stop thinking about you...He thinks of your soft kisses, your pretty lips pecking his tip, maybe? Your eyes looking up at him as his cock slides in your mouth and he fists his cock, fully out and erect, fast. His pre leaking from the slit lubricates and helps his work but it's nowhere near as pleasurable as the sensation of your warm, wet tongue and saliva on him and he hisses. He thinks of your glistening cunt, cute folds twitching for all the times you patiently waited for him to bring his cock up your entrance and push it all the way inside, he remembers your body jerking and being moved up and down the mattress as he thrusted in your sweet walls—you squeezed him inside like you didn't want to let him go and he pumps his cock faster as he allows himself to whimper; no one listens anyway. He brings his hand holding the phone close to his bare and wet cock, not caring about the fluids on the screen, the sensation of his palm and the phone's flat surface feels...oddly good, he makes a mental note, as his mind is now flooded with images of your face when you cum. Mouth slightly open and cute soft moans, teary eyes, you always kiss him as you whine on his mouth while he ruts in you sloppily, biting his lip and he always groans too loud, you tighten around him and the exchange goes back and forth until he feels you tremble and make such lewd sounds that drive him insane. Your slick on him being the final straw as he cums—loudly moaning along with you. He never holds back on his whimpers, you elicit vocal, almost primal reactions from him each time you allow him to enter you.

Without realising it, he snaps out of his wet dream panting, only to see a sticky phone screen covered in clear liquids, your instagram story still on it as his load drips down your virtual face like some hyperrealistic painting.

Fuck, he thinks.

It takes him 15 minutes to get back to you (cleaning up took half of that time) and he opens your message to respond.

You look really good.

That's what I meant baby.

#jujutsu kaisen #choso x reader #jjk choso #choso kamo #choso smut #jujutsu kaisen choso #choso x you

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nvrsaidiwasinurcloset · 11 months ago

Note

So hear me out.....reader is reading her book and Ethan is laying between her legs playing video game bur time passes and he gets bored so he then asks about her book when she so happenes to be at a smut scene and he tells her to read it out loud and then eats her out as she reads it and then just more smut (whatever else you want to add)

If I didn't write this as soon as possible I was simply going to pass away lmao. I hope you like it:)

Bedroom Talk - Ethan Landry x Fem!Reader

This contains SMUT - Minors DNI

Summary: After Ethan gets bored with the game he's playing, he get's curious about what you're reading.

Contains: Oral - f recieving, p in v, creampie(reader's on birth control)

A/N: Okay, hi. I was writing this, and I've received a few requests about Ethan with a breeding kink...but what about a reader with a breeding kink👀 If anyone wants that PLEASE let me know because I'm high-key dying to write it now lmao

“Hey, babe. How was your day?” Ethan asked, as he walked into the bedroom he shared with you. You looked up from the book you were reading, smiling at him.

“It was good, how was yours?” you asked, as he grabbed his Xbox controller off the dresser.

“It was such a long day. I missed you,” he said, as he crawled onto the bed with you.

“I missed you, too. Come here,” you said, laying your book down on the bed beside you as he hovered over you. He leaned down, placing a sweet kiss to your lips. He pulled away once he heard the sound of his game, letting him know that it had loaded.

You giggled when he turned around and settled between your legs, getting comfortable as he tried to focus on the tv. You ran your fingers through his hair for a few minutes while he played, before you pulled them away to get back to your book.

“Why’d you stop? That felt good,” he asked, as you heard his controller vibrating in his hand.

“My book was getting really good when you walked in,” you said, as he mumbled “Fine.” Once you started to read again, you placed one of your hands back in his hair, only pulling it away whenever you needed to turn the page.

Ethan was trying so hard to beat the mission he was working on, but after trying for over an hour, he started to get bored, sighing in defeat as he turned the console off.

“I’m never going to beat that game,” he sighed, relaxing into you as your hand kept moving in his hair. You mumbled a “Mhm,” not listening to a single thing he’d said.

“What are you reading?” he asked, as you pulled your hand away to turn the page. “You’ve been really invested in it.”

“Oh, it’s nothing,” you said, trying to play it off that you weren’t reading a steamy scene as he laid between your legs.

“If it’s nothing, why are you still reading it instead of talking to me?” he asked, as he sat up to look at you. You didn’t answer him, only glancing up before quickly looking back down to your book. He watched you bite your bottom lip as you read, his curiosity getting the best of him as he pulled it from your hands.

“No, babe,” you whined, “I don’t want to lose my place.”

“I just want to know what you’re reading,” he smirked, as your cheeks started to heat up.

“Can I please have it back?” you asked, as he shook his head. He glanced down and started to scan the page. You played with your fingers as you watched him read, nervous about what his reaction would be.

“So, you’re reading porn?” he asked, laughing a little as you reached over to try to take the book back from him. “Does this turn you on?”

“A little,” you said softly, finally taking your book from his hands. “I know you want to spend time with me, but can I please just finish this chapter first?”

He smirked at you, “Are you wet right now from reading that?”

“Baby, stop,” you said with a small laugh, getting a little embarrassed. He just kept looking at you, a mischievous look on his face as he ran his hands up your bare thighs, the feeling making your core throb.

“You can read,” he said, as he leaned down to place kisses to your thighs. Your breathing started to get a little heavy as his mouth got closer to your clothed pussy.

“Yeah, like I can really concentrate on reading when you’re doing that,” you groaned, putting your hand back in his hair.

“You’re going to have to, babe. I want you to read it to me,” he said, reaching up to get a grip on your pajama shorts. He slid those and your panties down your legs at the same time before he went back to kissing your thighs. “You better start reading if you want me to eat you out.”

“Fuck, okay,” you sighed, searching the page to find where you’d stopped reading. He moved so his mouth was right in front of where you needed him, his breath against your wet pussy making you squirm.

“Focus, baby,” he encouraged, as you nodded.

“He was craving the way she tasted,” you started to read, as he mumbled, “That sounds about right.” He leaned in, placing a gentle lick to your clit. You whimpered at the feeling before you started to read again. “His large hands had her thighs pulled apart, as she whined, begging him to touch her. Her breathing was getting heavier as he..fuck…as he started to trace her clit with his tongue.”

You moved your book so you could see your boyfriend, his hands gripping your thighs as his tongue lapped up the arousal dripping out of your entrance. He was so caught up in what he was doing that he almost didn’t notice you weren’t reading anymore. Almost.

“Keep reading, babe. This is so fucking hot,” he said, before he swirled his tongue over your clit, making you moan.

“Fuck, fine,” you said, trying to compose yourself, “Even though he knew he could never be with her, the sweet taste of her pussy always had him wanting more. His tongue dipped inside of her, her back arching off the bed as she whimpered.” You gasped as Ethan slid his tongue inside you. “Fuck, baby,” you moaned, “Her hips started to move against his mouth as he…shit. As he fucked her with his tongue. Her hands were tugging at his brown locks, the feeling making him moan into her..fuck, Ethan. I don’t know if I can focus on this,” you moaned, as he slid his tongue out, replacing it with two of his fingers.

He looked up at you as your hand loosely held your book, your mouth falling open when he curved his fingers just right. “You don’t have to keep reading, babe. Just focus on me making you feel good.”

You laid your open book face down on the bed, not wanting to lose your place for when you did get to finish reading it later. Your hands went to Ethan’s curls as he suckled your clit, the stimulation from his mouth and fingers making your orgasm creep up.

“Fuck, Eth. I’m getting close,” you whimpered, your hips starting to move against his hand.

He pulled his mouth away from your clit, “Do you like it when I fuck you with my fingers?” he asked, pressing them a little harder against your g-spot.

“Yes,” you mewled, your eyes starting to flutter. “It feels so good.”

He placed his tongue back against your clit, licking fat stripes as he brought you closer to the edge. He groaned against you as your grip on his hair got tighter, the vibration making your legs start to shake.

“I’m gonna cum,” you whined, your chest heaving as the feeling started to wash over you. Your pussy clenched his fingers as he kept trying to move them just right.

He always felt like he could cum just from making you cum, and the intense orgasms he gave you only made it harder for him. He loved it, though. The whimpers slipping past your lips, the way you moaned his name whenever you hit your peak, the panting when you’d try to catch your breath after. You just had this effect on him that he struggled to put into words.

He pulled his fingers out and his mouth away from your clit before he sucked your release off his fingers. You whimpered at the sight. “Your pussy tastes so fucking good, baby.”

You reached over to him, grabbing his arms to pull him towards you. He leaned down to place his lips against yours as you lifted his shirt up his body. He slid his arms out as his tongue brushed against your bottom lip, only pulling away long enough for you to get his shirt over his head. He leaned back in, his tongue easing into your mouth as you massaged his with your own. One of his hands trailed up your thigh to your pussy, collecting your wetness on his fingers before rubbing them against your clit.

You were whimpering into the kiss as his fingers kept moving against your sensitive bundle of nerves. You broke the kiss to catch your breath as he smiled at you. “That feel good, beautiful?” he asked, as you quickly nodded. “You want me to fuck you?” he asked, praying you’d say yes as his cock just kept straining in the confines of his jeans.

“Yeah, but can we do it without a condom?” you asked, as he curiously looked at you.

“Have you been taking your birth control every day?” he asked, pulling his hand away from your pussy to unbutton his jeans. You whined at the loss of contact.

“Yes, please baby. I need you to cum in me,” you said, starting to laugh a little. “That’s what happened a few chapters before you took my book from me. It’s kind of funny that you didn’t know how horny I was while you were so focused on your game.”

“Is that why your hips kept squirming?” he asked with a smirk, as he slid his jeans and boxers down his thighs.

“Yeah, I couldn’t stop thinking about you doing that to me,” you said shyly, the innocence in your tone making him groan.

He crawled back on top of you and lined up with your entrance. He slowly inched his way in, wanting to give you plenty of time to adjust to his size as he leaned down to kiss you. Once he was fully in and started to move his hips a little, he pulled away to look at you.

“Are you always reading stuff like that?” he asked, as he supported his weight with one of his hands. He placed the other on one of your breasts, squeezing it as he waited for you to answer.

“Not always,” you said, whimpering as he started to move his hips a little faster. “You should read some of the ones I have.”

“But it’s so much hotter for you to read it to me,” he said, leaning his head down to kiss your neck.

“Fuck, right there,” you moaned, as he angled his hips just right. He started to drill into you as you whimpered underneath him. “I love the way your cock fills me up.”

“Shit, baby,” he groaned, pulling away to look down at you, watching the way your tits moved as he started to go faster. “I love the way your pussy feels. It’s just so tight and perfect.”

He started to roll one of his fingers over your clit, your mouth fell open as you whined out at the feeling.

“I can feel your pussy clenching already, baby,” he groaned, rubbing your clit faster. His hips just kept snapping forward, the sounds slipping past your lips getting louder with each thrust.

“Ethannn,” you whined, as your hands reached up to massage your breasts. He went even faster, the new pace turning your brain to mush as you tried to move your hips with his.

“You getting drunk off my cock, baby?” he asked as you nodded. You tried to speak, but your words just sounded like a series of letters strung together, making no sense to Ethan as he started to laugh a little.

Your whimpers turned into cries as the wave of euphoria washed over you, your pussy squeezing him so tight that he started to cum without warning. “Oh fuck,” he groaned, trying to get you though it, but also milking his cock of every drop of cum he had to give you.

He pulled out, smiling at you as you looked at him through your hooded, glazed over eyes.

“That was perfect,” you mumbled, as your breathing started to return to normal.

“Yeah, it was.” He smiled, laying on the bed beside you.

He pulled you close, the sudden body shift making his cum start to drip out of you.

“Let’s go take a shower,” you suggested, as he nodded.

He slid off the bed and helped you up, groaning when he noticed his cum starting to drip down your thighs.

Once you made it into the bathroom, and he got the water ready for the both of you to get in, he started to get a little curious.

“Do any of those books you like to read have any steamy shower scenes?” he suggestively asked, as you rolled your eyes.

“I don’t know. I guess you’ll just have to read them to find out.”

#ethan landry #ethan landry x reader #scream smut #ethan landry smut #smut

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bangtangalicious · 7 months ago

Text

nexus (m) part 6

pairing: jungkook x reader, taehyung x reader ft. hobi x reader, namjoon x reader, yoongi x reader

smut: taehyung x reader, jungkook x reader, some hobi x reader

premise: a notorious casino conglomerate took you in when you were young. you grew up alongside their sons; inseparable from the oldest, infatuated with the middle, and engaged to the youngest. after a shocking murder, a detective with a vendetta drags you into unraveling a web of dangerous lies that cause you to question who you trust, and who you love

genre: 18+ slow burn romance mafia elite arranged marriage murder mystery thriller

characters: detective jungkook, heir taehyung, ceo namjoon, arms dealer hoseok, bartender yoongi, doctor jimin, best friend/heir seokjin

wordcount: 6.2k

warnings: 18+ multiple smut scenes, oral (f and m), fingering, sexual tension, like a lot of sexual tension, a lot of subtle touching, grinding, kisses, possessive behavior, tsundere!taehyung, implied bipolar disorder, angstttt, betrayal, light yandere undertones, taehyung gets his first kiss...and some other things too ;) breast play, hella teasing, did i mention sexual tension idk taehyung is hot ok but hes also scary do with that what you will, declarations of love, jungkook tryna be sweet we been knew ig, as you might imagine this sets the foreplay for loads of smut in the next part LOL, its a lot of slow burn build up and evident thirsting over this taehyung okay im not sorry

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“I can’t lose you”

Taehyung’s words haunted you as you stared aimlessly at the tiled ceiling. The hospital room chilly, the smell of alcohol—the sanitizing kind, unfortunately—overwhelming your senses. There were other things you could be thinking about. Namjoon in jail. Jimin dead. Hobi betraying your trust.

But no. It had been Taehyung’s eyes that were on your mind—was it concern? Worry? Taehyung with emotions was a rare sighting. You were practically cherishing the moment.

“It’s late”

The devil in question sat by the windowsill of your private hospital room, minding his own. Reading. Fingers bending the corners of a paperback novel as his eyes trailed over the pages with interest.

Even in the dark hue of the night, the faded moon seemed to hit his face just right.

“Why aren’t you sleeping?”

“I’ve got a lot on my mind.”

“Go to sleep” His answer was frank, “None of that matters until you get better”

“How can I not think about it?” You snapped. “Namjoon went to jail for me. Because I was an idiot and trusted Hobi. Bet my ass he killed Dr. Park too. I’m probably next. And if he murders me—you won’t get to, Tae”

The corners of Taehyung’s lips curled ever so slightly.

His uninterested eyes steady on the pages of his novel. Not bothering to glance your way.

“Have you ever considered just keeping yourself out of dangerous situations? Whatever it is you’re trying to prove…that you’re powerful, like your mother…that my family wronged you—all it does is show that you’re still their puppet.”

He exhaled sharply, a dismissive scoff that tore your confidence thread by thread, finally meeting your eyes.

“It’s pathetic”

You’d had just about enough of him. Fingernails digging into your palms.

“You’re an asshole Taehyung” You informed him. He shrugged.

“I’m honest” He countered. “And you’re not used to that. You’re used to being babied.” Finally setting his book aside, he walked up to your bedside, kneeling down until he was at your eye level.

“Now will you please sleep?”

The look in his eyes perplexed you. You couldn’t quite tell if he was annoyed, or if he genuinely cared about your health.

Deep down, you knew he was right. Everything you’d done had been to prove a point.

Taehyung rested his head on the armrest. Watching you intently, his eyes tired, dropping unconsciously.

“You’re the one who needs sleep, idiot” You muttered under your breath, letting your fingers run through his soft, wispy black hair. “Taehyung” You nudged him. He barely opened his eyes.

“Get in here” You shifted over, giving him space. He didn’t question it in the moment, he was probably too tired. He didn’t face you. Kept a decent distance between you both.

You were paralyzed. Aware of his every breath. Aware of the way he shifted himself to get comfortable—you could sense the intention in his avoidance of touching your skin even slightly. His scent was more prominent.

“Do you miss your mother?”

His question was so quiet, you weren’t even sure it was real.

And it occurred to you then, that you’d never thought about it. That you’d never even been asked. In the chaos of your mother’s death, your move to the Kim’s and Taehyung being sent away—you barely even processed anything. All you remembered was Jin being so patronizingly worried about you—convincing you that he was all you needed. That you moving in with him would fix everything.

You blinked wildly. Trying to piece together a coherent answer.

“I liked her” A smile creeped onto his face. Or so you thought, as you turned to see the side of his face—his eyes steady on the ceiling fan. “She’d always get me hotteok”

You watched him. Inspected the mole on his neck. The curve of his cheek. The way his long lashes merged when he’d blink. The way the night sparkled in his eyes. The same eyes that would bend your will so easily.

Young Taehyung would give you one look and you’d give him the world. And he’d known it too.

It was so quiet. But your chest was beating loud in your ears.

You must have fallen asleep despite yourself. Dreaming of Jungkook had become a standard practice. This time, he was drowning. You were him, and he couldn’t breathe. You reached out to him as he screamed for you. He was terrified. Falling. Dying.

Breathe.

You tried to tell him. Swim to the surface. Breathe. Something chained him down.

Your eyes shot open.

It was dark.

You. You couldn’t breathe.

Suffocating you, the cotton tasted bitter on your toungue. You squirmed. Thrashing, trying to grab for someone—anyone. You screamed out, for what it was worth. Scratching at the strong hands that held the pillow down over your face.

Adrenaline surged. It occurred to you to kick your legs. You did.

Suddenly the grip loosened.

Taehyung was on the floor.

Panting.

Hyperventilating.

The pillow inches from his palm.

He was quivering. Eyes shot—looking down as if he himself couldn’t believe what he was doing.

You stared at him. Trying to comprehend. Trying to rationalize.

“Taehyung” His name left your mouth in a more accusatory manner than you meant it to. Was it a question or a plea—you were unsure. He met your eyes, and you saw fear. As if he’d been pulled out of a trance.

“I—” He couldn’t form the words. He receded into himself, moving back until he was as far from your hospital bed as he could be. Back pressed against the wall as he hugged his knees to his chest. His voice was shaking, “I don’t—”

“Were you trying to kill me?” You yelped, looking around suddenly for your phone. Grabbing it you held it to your chest, ready to call for help if he tried anything. You almost wanted to laugh—thinking for a moment that you were safe around Kim fucking Taehyung.

You should’ve known better.

Taehyung’s eyes were overcome with horror. Disgust, at himself. He looked at his hands as if they weren’t a part of his own body. Then back at you.

“Princess” He was breathless, “—I swear, I didn’t mean to. I was d-dreaming, I didn’t know”

You gulped. Your fingers curling around your phone as you tried to think.

Maybe he was telling you the truth. Taehyung didn’t know to lie to you. He was honest if nothing else.

“Come back” You let your voice soften, but your body remained tense. “Go back to sleep Tae”

Taehyung gave you an uncertain look.

You rose from the bed, the hospital gown falling loosely around your curves. Kneeling down, you met his eyes at his level. Taking the pillow from the ground, you reached your other hand out to him.

“Maybe,” You sighed, “Maybe being in a hospital is triggering for you” It was a stretch, but you needed to believe there was something. Something that wasn’t that Taehyung hated your guts. Resented you, and would go as far as to kill you in your sleep because of it.

“It is”

He confessed quietly, still not meeting your gaze.

The pout on his lips, evident.

“You didn’t have to stay”

He looked at you.

He said nothing.

“Why don’t I call Yoongi, hm?” You reasoned, “He can take you home” And then you can call Jungkook and get the fuck away from him.

The phone rang.

Jungkook groaned, shoving his face into his pillow.

It kept fucking ringing.

Knowing deep down it might be the precinct, reluctantly, he put the phone to his ear.

“Hey”

Your voice was an aphrodisiac.

He felt it straight in his chest. Awake, now. Worried, seconds later.

He rubbed his eyes, checking his phone to see how late it was.

“Y/n? Baby, is everything okay? Are you still at the hospital?”

“I’m fine.” You weren’t. He could hear the tremble in your voice, “I just sent Taehyung home. Can I come to your place?”

Jungkook sighed. “Sure. I’ll be there soon”

Perks of having a police vehicle. Traffic was never an issue for him.

Entering the hospital, he noticed Yoongi and Taehyung in the lobby, heading towards the back exit. Yoongi had his hand on Taehyung’s shoulder. Seemed to be reassuring him.

Jungkook wondered what happened. You called Yoongi to the hospital so late to take Taehyung home.

He got in the elevator. He knew what room you were in. He’d been the one to bring you to the hospital, before the staff kindly reminded him he was not family—or rather, he wasn’t a Kim, and therefore couldn’t go into your room.

Then Jimin’s body was found. Duty called.

Three gunshots. He didn’t see him, but the autopsy report was eerily similar to that of his own fathers.

You were waiting at the front desk of the inpatient ward. Signing what he assumed were your discharge papers. You noticed him, eyes lighting up immediately.

Jungkook placed his calloused palm against your cheek. Your eyes were so fucking beautiful it stung him just to look at you.

“You’re okay” He breathed, reassuring himself more than anything. His voice trembled softly into a chuckle as you nodded, covering his palm with your own.

“Yeah, I’m okay” His lips neared yours, not touching, but enough for you to feel his breath scrape against your nerves.

He took your hand in his, and led you out of the hospital to his car. It was a short drive to his apartment. It occurred to him that you’d likely never stepped foot on this side of the city. The streets were narrow. Crippling houses dotted his peripheral—a faint scent of smoke through his windows.

He parked on the edge of the street, in front of an average-sized apartment complex.

“The Jeon Manor” He joked lightly.

You pouted, grabbing his hand. Fingers lacing with his.

“You know I don’t care that you’re not rich”

Jungkook wanted to scoff. But he held it back. If only you knew. If only you realized what could have been his, if it hadn’t been for—

“I don’t care where we are, I just want to be with you”

You brought his hand to your lips.

“Stop” He exhaled.

“W-what?”

“Stop saying shit like that when you won’t fucking commit”

You gulped. His stare was intense as he pulled his hand away from you, running in through his dark curls.

“Jungkook” You reached for his shirt, tugging the fabric towards you but Jungkook’s jaw hardened. He turned away. “Jungkook I’m serious”

“You won’t leave Nexus for me, you told me that. You won’t fight for me”

You tugged harder. He grabbed your wrist, harsher than he meant to. Glaring at you.

You didn’t understand. Jungkook should have known. Why would you? This was personal for you. Running Nexus was a point you had to prove, he understood that. But it was the very thing he needed you to give up. If not, then you’d never forgive him for what was coming.

“I love you”

Jungkook’s eyes clenched shut, almost out of regret. He felt tears but pushed them down.

“No.” He shook his head. Shit. He had let this go too far.

For as much as he’d wanted to hear it, it was a wake up call. The two of you couldn’t be together.

“You can’t”

Then he kissed you. His heart was erratic, breathing too. A desperate kiss, fierce with need. Your body fell limp, melting into his touch. Falling into him because he was everything and all you needed.

Somehow, he brought you to his apartment. Kicking the door closed.

He lifted you onto the counter, not letting you breathe—not letting you think, but fighting a sweet war with your lips. You were spinning. Losing yourself every passing second—seconds which passed so slowly as the moment consumed you.

His hands which rested on the sides of your hips, crawled beneath the hem of your shirt. Delicately they explored your skin, rising to the curves of your chest. Caressing your breast, he deepened the kiss, tongue pushing past yours, tangling together.

“Jungkook” You whimpered. His mouth slanting down your jaw, to your neck. Where he tasted your sweet skin and you arched into him. His fingers drawing across your nipples with intention, causing fire to pulse through you.

You could feel him pressed against you, hips locked. Rocking ever so slightly.

Your phone began to vibrate. Jungkook hissed in irritation, backing away as you answered the call.

“Y/n”

Your blood ran cold.

That voice.

“Run”

You could see Jungkook’s eyes narrow at you. The line went dead. You were too stunned to speak.

“Who was it?” Jungkook inquired, looking at your phone. Gulping, you shook your head.

“I-um—just remembered that I need to take care of something”

His fingers hovered over your waist. “Okay, I can drive you” You stiffened as he kissed your neck again. “Or we could go after 20 minutes” His voice was husky.

Run.

Jungkook’s lips dipped to your chest, pushing the hem of your t-shirt up. Leaving pronounced kisses on every inch of skin he could find.

Run. Run. Run. Run.

You squinted behind him. There was an old family photograph hanging on the wall.

Two young boys. A father.

Their suits. Well-tailored. Designer.

Your breath hitched, Jungkook’s fingers slid across your slit.

“I love you baby” He mumbled as his lips returned to yours. “So fucking much, I almost hate you for it”

Two boys. A father.

Two.

“You’re an only child, right?”

Jungkook’s actions halted.

“Yeah,” He wiped his lips, “My mom died when I was young.”

“Any, other relatives…?” You slid off the counter carefully, pieces in your mind beginning to fit together.

Jungkook’s face hardened. Jaw stiff.

“Did Jimin say some bullshit to you?”

Oh God. Jimin had been hinting at some connection between Jin and Jungkook all along. You thought it had been a joke. A way to toy with Jungkook’s head.

That day. After you fucked Jungkook for the first time. Jin saw him. Jin knew him.

What if Jimin had been right? What if he had been the only one who was truly looking out for you all along?

“Did you kill Jimin?” The question had no sound. The air was still. The two of you, frozen in time.

“Come on, Y/n.” Jungkook sighed, “Jimin got what he deserved, but no I did not. He hurt you. He’s insane”

You flinched when he reached for your wrist.

He knew you figured it out.

You stepped outside the apartment. Running down the steps until you were back on the street. Outside Yoongi stood, leaning against the stone wall across the street as though he were expecting you.

“You knew” Was all you said.

Yoongi sighed, “I knew about Jungkook, but I needed to make sure if my hunch about Jin was true.”

You laughed bitterly. “That’s why my mother hated Jin. Because,” You couldn’t even say it. It made you want to vomit.

“Jin is a Jeon”

You blinked back tears. “But, why would he kill his own father?”

“Unless, he didn’t”

“Oh my God. You think…” You exhaled, feeling weak again. Yoongi held you upright. “Taehyung?”

He shrugged lightly, “It’s possible. More believable that a mother sends away the son who killed her lover than a son who simply witnessed something”

You were silent.

“You need to be careful” He made his voice as soft and kind as he possibly could. “I know about Hobi, but I’m honestly more suspicious of Jungkook.”

You nodded. The sun seemed to peak out from the horizon. A new day. A new betrayal.

Then the sound of the voice on the phone hit you. Run. So familiar. Like a ghost.

“Yoongi?”

“Yeah love?”

“Did you call my phone earlier?”

He shook his head. “No…why?”

“You’re back early” Taehyung answered the door, “Figured you’d spend the whole night with the Detective” His bland tone seemed to have been revived. You were too bewildered to care. You pushed past him, Yoongi following behind. Taehyung greeted him nicely. “Hyung”

You slumped into the couch immediately. Hand on your forehead as if it would ease the pounding.

Yoongi watched you, concerned. Taehyung looked to him for an explanation.

“So listen,” Yoongi cleared his throat. “I know this isn’t what you want to hear right now, but we still need to stay focused on pushing Hoseok out. The shareholders will be at the casino this evening for the anniversary gala”

“Yoongi” You laughed bitterly, “I don’t want to—”

“Y/n,” He responded, adamant, “This is what it’s like. You can’t hide just because shit’s hard. You’re not Jin’s princess anymore, you have responsibilities if you want back what’s yours. Taehyung isn’t ready to handle society on his own. He needs you”

A tear rolled down your cheek.

“Get some sleep” Yoongi rested his hand on your shoulder, caressing it gently. “It’s 7 AM, you’ve got plenty of time to get yourself together” His gaze diverted to Taehyung. “Black tie formal. I’ll send a suit for you. Make sure this one starts getting dressed at least 3 hours before we leave—she takes forever”

You let out a sad laugh, knowing Yoongi was trying to cheer you up but failing epically when all you had was a broken heart and impending doom.

Yoongi left, but Taehyung remained standing in front of you. A safe distance away, he simply observed you.

“You can sit you know” You grumbled.

He didn’t react. Didn’t move an inch.

“What’s wrong?” He inquired after a moment.

“Nothing,” You chuckled, “Just another missed opportunity for you to be the cause of my misery.”

“Was it,” Taehyung took a deep breath. Pausing, considering his next words carefully, “Was it him? Did the Detective hurt you?”

His eyes seemed to flash with something you couldn’t quite read.

“No” You stood up finally, “No the Detective is just another lying, manipulative asshole like the rest of you”

You walked past him, heading towards the foyer.

“I thought you loved him”

You whirled around. How he had managed to pick that up, you had no idea.

“I’ve decided I’m done with love” You stated confidently, “I end up falling for liars anyway”

You proceeded to storm up the stairs.

You were woken up by the sound of soft footsteps. Squinting, the evening sun blaring into your room, you noticed Taehyung pacing nervously outside of your room.

He was dressed.

Yoongi must have come by with the suit. It fit him perfectly. His dark hair was styled, tousled but neater than usual. His shoulders were prominent. The tailoring was perfect for his lean figure, and long legs. A gold watch on his wrist. It looked natural. He wore it so well.

Just like his brother.

Run.

“You’re awake” Finally, Taehyung stepped inside your room.

“Get dressed” He motioned towards a dry-cleaning bag that lay on your desk.

“Taehyung,” You sat upright, wiping the drool from your lips, “You look very handsome”

He blinked at you. Then walked away.

If you had any lingering doubt in your mind that the man by your side was in fact, Kim Taehyung—they were utterly dismissed. His Kim colors were shining. Despite his typical cold nature to you, Taehyung was the embodiment of charm.

Stepping into the casino, he had been initially overwhelmed by the stimulus: the lights, the slot machining whirring with bright colors, the crowd. You could feel him visibly tense even though he remained an appropriate distance away from you at all times. Close enough that folks knew you’d come together. Far enough to show you that he hadn’t forgotten about what happened.

The first few people who’d approached you had been friends of his mothers. You knew everyone well, everyone knew you. Taehyung would be quiet, shy at first, but it was that very aspect of his personality that made him alluring. He knew exactly what to say. His observant nature allowed him to navigate the different dynamics, pick up on cues expertly.

The elders respected his aura. The young were entranced by his mystery.

Every person he talked to was ready to trust him with their life. And if that wasn’t a Kim trait, you weren’t sure what was.

The only hiccups would arise when folks would bring up the past.

“Aren’t you two getting engaged?” Mr. Lee, one of Kim Enterprises’ stakeholders, asked politely, “So tragic what happened to dear Seokjin. But have you rescheduled?”

With speedy hesitation, Taehyung slid a hand onto the small of your back, looking into your eyes. There was a genuine passing of emotion, ever so subtle. He spoke, to Mr. Lee, but really—to you.

“In time” He smiled slightly. Looking back to Mr. Lee, “We are still mourning, in our own way”

“I’m sure Jin would be so proud of you”

You felt Taehyung tense at the implication. He maintained his composure, nevertheless, but you could see the turmoil stirring within him. Mr. Lee excused himself, and you turned to Taehyung, searching his eyes.

The mere mention of Jin had been pushing him closer and closer to the edge all night.

“Tae” You sighed, caressing his arm. “Want to take a break?”

“Please” His response was curt, but you could see his other hand balled up in a fist. Jin’s name had such a radial effect on him—one that reminded you that despite his ability to play the social field, he was dangerous.

Taehyung followed you to the backrooms where a younger crowd was immersed in pool, poker, and other debauchery.

“They loved you”

Taehyung merely shrugged. “Play the man, not the game” His eyes ghosted over you, “You taught me that”

You snorted lightly, as you found a quieter spot away from the buzz, Taehyung leaned against a wall, looking at ease.

“Taehyung, do remember how to play pool?” You asked suddenly as the billiard table came into your vision.

Taehyung thought for a moment. “Not really. But I’ll learn”

“Winner makes a wish, loser fulfills it” You challenged him. You really couldn’t help yourself. Being in the casino made you crave risk. But Taehyung wasn’t ready for high stakes, you knew that.

“Fine”

You start off expertly. Taehyung handed you the pool cue, the smooth wood cool against your fingertips.

"Alright, let me show you the basics," you said, positioning yourself near the table with a practiced ease.

He watched intently, his eyes following the calculated movements of your hands as you lined up a shot.

You demonstrated the proper stance, the controlled grip, and the delicate finesse required to send a ball into the pocket. With each shot, you explained the strategy, the physics of the angles, and the importance of precision.

You hit the shot expertly. With a smirk, you put down the pool cue and motioned for Taehyung to take your place.

"Your turn, Tae."

He eyed you skeptically but took the cue, positioning himself for the shot. You stepped behind him, your hand gently guiding his.

You’d never been so close to him. Not since the day you reunited, and he hugged you. And asked: are you scared of me, Princess?

Ever since then, there were oceans between you that you could only dream of crossing. He smelled good, you couldn’t help breathing in his fresh aura. The dimly lit room seemed to fade away just for a moment, and you wondered if he was effected like you were.

"Now, focus," you whispered, your lips brushing against his ear, though you maintained a level of indifference in your tone.

Taehyung's breath hitched imperceptibly, but he composed himself, focusing on the game. With your guidance, he took the shot, sinking the ball into the pocket expertly.

"Perfect," you praised, the ghost of a smile on your lips. "See, you’re a natural yet again. A true Kim”

Taehyung turned to face you, his gaze intense. "Anything I am is because of you”

You stiffened. His words were both a compliment and an accusation. God, seeing this side of him made him even more terrifying, because you didn’t trust yourself not to buy into the fact that he was some pure, innocent version of his older brother. He wasn’t. Kim Taehyung was unhinged. Any second he could snap, and you were on eggshells.

“Your turn” He handed back the cue. A few shots later, the two of you were neck and neck. The ocean between you two drying up slowly with every exchange of banter.

“Done with love, huh?”

You circled him as he lined up his next shot.

“What exactly did the Detective do to make you say something like that?”

You pursed your lips. “Why, gonna go beat him up?”

With a flick of his shoulder, the ball went in. Taehyung stood straight. “Maybe. What’d he do?”

He leaned against the table, handing you the cue as you positioned yourself. “He lied. He betrayed me. And I’m tired of loving liars”

“Didn’t you also lie to him?” He challenged. You shot him a glare. “Why haven’t you told him everything?”

You hit your mark. You missed. Taehyung’s blatant honesty was always unnerving. He wasn’t one to play games. “It’s complicated. I didn’t trust him. I still don’t trust him”

“And you expected him to trust you” Taehyung shrugged blandly. He stole the cue from your hand and before you could blink, he snapped the final shot. “Seems fair”

Taehyung’s last ball went in.

He beat you.

“Well” Taehyung huffed, trying to hide his gleaming pleasure. You almost wanted to roll your eyes. “I suppose that’s that” He looked at you expectantly.

“Okay Kim Taehyung, what wish can I grant you?” Cue in hand, you pretended to curtsy. Taehyung grabbed the end of the stick, using it to tug you towards him.

The space between you vanished. Only the cue between you, until Taehyung pulled it from your grip and set it aside.

There was something unrecognizable in his eyes. He licked his lips unconsciously.

“Well?” You looked up at him, suddenly aware of his height.

His fingers held your chin, tilting your face upward. Except his touch wasn’t harsh. Wasn’t painful.

Taehyung inhaled.

Your eyes widened as he closed his mouth over yours. His eyes shut—kissing you with a depraved delicateness. As if he was drinking your soul like he was the devil himself.

A touch so tender, and yet it seemed to steal away every last bit of purity within you, leaving behind a raging storm. Activating something so sinful—so wicked. All due to the decadent taste of his delicate lips.

He pushed your mouth open, deepening the kiss. And you—you were lost. Still utterly shocked that—Kim Taehyung was kissing you. The Kim Taehyung that wanted you dead. The Kim Taehyung who blamed you for everything—was actually kissing you.

It wasn’t like you’d never thought about it. The two of you no longer had to get engaged, but you lived with the man. And he was gorgeous. His quiet, mesmerizing charm. Enigmatic, smoldering and yet so calm. Who knew beneath that cold demeanor there was a tsunami waiting to be unleashed?

He didn’t give you an opportunity to question him. His lips felt too good on yours for you to care. The casino around you seemed to vortex—everything spinning: the colorful lights—until you were airborne.

Floating. Dizzy. Afraid to fall but so fucking glad you were in the sky.

His mouth coaxed out your fierceness until you began to feel impatient. You placed your hand on his pounding chest, a light push until he sat down on the bench. You slid into his lap, no longer thinking—no longer caring that you were in public. That there was a room full of people in the casino who could be staring. Taking pictures. Gossiping.

They were all dead for all you cared.

You gasped audibly, a soft moan as he pulled you impossibly closer. You were losing your breath. On the verge of fainting—overwhelmed with sensations. Everything was heightened—everything felt alive.

His hand was behind your neck, the other one on the small of your back. Both yours in his wavy black—cloud like hair.

He pulled away, finally—barely. Catching his breath. His chest rising as fast as yours, offset by his erratic heartbeat. He was nervous.

Was that his first kiss?

He swallowed, uncomfortably on edge. His eyes were dark with desire. An angry kind of lust.

You searched your mind for words. Something to tell him that he did so good. That you loved it—and you wanted more. He was searching your gaze for something, but you were speechless.

So you kissed him again. Because how the hell else are you supposed to communicate.

“Taehyung” Your hands moved to cup his cheeks. You shifted, letting your body roll against his. Grinding against him slow and sensual, letting your movements mimic those of your lips. He was hard—painstakingly so. And he felt so good tucked between your legs. Throbbing for you. Both his hands lowered to your hips, then back up your back as if he couldn’t decide where he wanted to touch you—or maybe he couldn’t believe you were real.

His hold was strong—not rough. Touch intentional but not desperate. He took his time with you as if he had all the time in the world, but was still somehow starved. Drinking from you was his only salvation. You—you were his salvation. And he was your ruin.

He pushed you away, suddenly. You blinked, dizzy from the loss of touch. Sensitive and damp, heart throbbing fast. He didn’t meet your gaze.

“Fuck”

You could see the judgmental stares all around. Rolling your jaw you smirked at the crowd.

“We own this place. I’d mind your business”

The chatter dissipated. You redirected your attention back onto Taehyung.

“Taehyung?” Your voice was soft. “You okay?”

You noticed how tightly he was gripping the table. His head down, looking anywhere but up at you. Eyes wide, spiraling in thought.

“I—” He exhaled, closing his eyes again.

Was he--?

You couldn’t help yourself. You knew he’d despise you for it—but Kim Taehyung already despised you. You weren’t going to pass up a chance to feel him cum.

You shifted his chair so he was facing away from prying eyes. Carefully you snuck under the pool table, clawing at his pants.

His fingers pulled your hand away. A warning glare.

You yanked your hand away, unzipping his pants and letting his pretty cock spring free.

You clicked your tongue. Poor thing was ready to burst.

Licking your lips, you let your tongue glide from his base all the way up his length where you left a soft, sweet kiss on his tip. You slid his tip into your mouth, hollowing your cheeks as you sucked.

Flattening your tongue, you let his cock rest there. Like a dog, you waited for him to cum all over you.

Then you looked up at him.

His eyes locked onto yours—and they were wild.

He hissed, shooting into your mouth. You drank up everything he had to give—and it was quite a bit. He bucked over, knuckles turning white. The bite into his lip released blood with how hard he was trying to stay quiet. You let him push his cock into the hollow of your cheek and spurts continued to flow out of him. You rested your hand on his knee, and his hand covered yours. Holding it tenderly—as if he were thanking you.

You cleaned him up quickly, before returning to your seat, adjusting your dress inconspicuously.

You grinned at him, but he was not amused at all. Still panting.

“Was that your wish?” You beamed at him. He chuckled softly.

“I just wanted to know what it felt like”

It was an innocent intention. Almost heartwarming.

“And, what do you think?” You leaned into him, “Did I rock your world, Kim Taehyung?”

“You are my world. There was never a doubt”

His eyes glossed over. You wanted to melt in his gaze. Unravel. Instead, you were plunged into cold water.

“Fancy seeing you two here”

The hairs on your body straightened. Chills seeping over you at the familiar voice, laced with betrayal.

“Jung Hoseok” He extended a hand to Taehyung, “Pleasure’s all mine baby boy” Taehyung skeptically shook it.

Hobi was extremely amused at what he had walked in on. Of course, a whore like you would take a matter of days to wrap the young Kim boy around your finger.

“Nice job leashing the puppy” He muttered, cigarette at the edge of his lips. The smoke wisping past your unamused expression.

“I should kill you” Hobi grinned at your response.

“No need,” He tapped the cigarette ash on the edge of the ash tray. He had brough you to his private booth. Leaving Taehyung for the wolves.

“What do you want, Hobi? I don’t want to leave Taehyung alone too long”

“Why?” He leaned closer to you. His hand resting on your bare thigh. Your dress was so fucking slutty, he loved it. He always loved the way you’d dress to gamble. As if your body gave you an edge—it did. He knew you crumbled rich playboy’s resolve with one bat of your pretty eyes. “Are you so desperate for dick you’d take your lover’s little brother’s virginity?”

You rolled your eyes. “I asked you a fucking question,”

“A birdy told me that you found out about Jin’s daddy”

You squinted at him. “What about it?”

“Don’t you want to know the whole story?” Hobi’s fingers hooked under the straps of your dress, playing with them. “Of the infamous Jeon family? And your mother—the woman who tore down a legacy”

His hand slid between your legs.

“Long long ago, the entire arms distribution business lay in the hands of one famous Korean gangster. Jeon Junghyun.”

He brushed against your clit. Gentle circles while he gazed into your eyes. A wicked grin. Like he could kiss you or stab you in the back.

You latched onto his arm as he lured you towards an orgasm. His face burying against your neck, breathing you in as he continued to touch you. Nothing except your soft whimpers in the air.

The heat from his body infected your every nerve. His breath scalding over your cheek.

“Then there was this clever little bitch” You inhaled sharply, edging forward towards your high. He could tell—because he pressed a little harder.

“Who manipulated her way to the top. Gained favor of everyone under him and took him out with a stab to the back” His hands roamed your body, sliding up your dress. He pushed the fabric up until it bunched up above your breasts which he grabbed at eagerly.

Thumbs rolling over your nipples, he continued “She took everything from him, leaving him and his two sons to rot. But she wasn’t cruel. She let him stay as her right-hand”

Hobi left a soft kiss against your left breast. Then another. And another. His thumb back onto your clit, he licked and suckled you. You gasped—looking at him with big, pleading eyes. Curving into his touch.

“She grew the business. An arms distribution pipeline can be used for a lot of things. She went legit. Bought out other companies with the blood money. Began distributing just about everything.”

He licked your lips. The sensation like that of slowly sinking into absolute, soft bliss. Licking down your jaw, fluttering desperate hisses across your neck.

Then, he slipped one finger in—your face heating at the sound. You clenched around the protrusion and he reached deep inside. Working you slowly, carefully—before adding in another.

His kisses trailed back up to your mouth. His breaths were heavy, swallowing your moans. It was hauntingly intimate.

“Hobi” You pleaded, gripping onto him as you shook. Orgasm sweeping over you like an earthquake. Tremors from your heart to every finger and toe in your body. He was so wildly aroused that he couldn’t look away. His fingers were steady nevertheless, pumping you through it. “Fuck, Hobi please”

“Jeon Jungkook wants you dead sweetheart” The pain from his words pushed you over the edge. You soaked over his fingers, twitching wildly. “And so did his hyung. Kim Seokjin.”

The brisk night air bit at your skin as you seized Taehyung's wrist, pulling him outside. People were chattering, smoking cigars, the lights from the casinos madness still polluting the air. Limousines, sleek and imposing, formed a line ready to usher the remaining guests to their destinations.

Waving down a driver, you led Taehyung inside one. The plush leather seats cool against your exposed legs. The interior lit so you could see him in front of you, clear as day.

The light shut. Instead there were light sparkles on the ceiling of the limo as it began to move. The champagne swirled in your mind as you leaned back, looking out the window. The city lights blurred past the tinted windows. Like a rush, you wanted to lose yourself.

Your eyes shut for a moment. Remembering the way the light danced on your fac when you were with Jungkook that night at the club. Yearning for his touch, the look in his eyes when he told you how he felt.

You swallowed thickly, heart in too much pain to go down that road. You looked at Taehyung next to you, instinctively reaching out to touch his face. Gently, you took hold of his chin, coaxing his gaze to meet yours.

Your thumb traced over his cheek. Fingers dancing over his soft, delicate skin. His eyes fluttered close as you did. Teasing the edge of his lips ever so lightly. He really was a beautiful man. His lips looked soft. Devastating, with the way his shaken breath made them tremble.

He leaned into your touch, your fingers sliding up over his ear, pushing his hair out of his face. It felt like you were getting kicked in the chest repeatedly. Every part of you feeling numb but simultaneously sensitive to even the slightest movement of air.

He exhaled. The flow of his breath wavering. Or was it a moan, you weren’t sure.

You were about to pull your hand away, until Taehyung’s over fingers gripped your wrist. He stared at you, pupils wide. It was these moments where you felt like you could see him. His soft, vulnerable side, behind those concrete walls.

To your surprise, he brought your hand up to his face, kissing the inside of your wrist.

His lips softly melted into the sensitive area. Your breath hitched.

It was furiously intimate.

Holding your hand still, his eyes blinked back up at you. Almost as though he were asking permission.

Your throat was dry. The alcohol loosening the knots on your sense of logic.

His eyes traced over you, dipping down your entire body. The way he sat, leaning so his knees almost touched yours. The leather suddenly felt so hot against your skin. Under his flaming stare.

He inhaled, steady, before leaning into you. Tracing his nose behind your ear. You shivered. His touch making you dizzy. Needy. Quivering.

“You looked beautiful tonight”

They were plain words.

When he said them, they meant the world. Something bloomed inside you. You were spinning and breathless, mouth parting in shock. His lips barely grazing under your jaw.

He backed away, putting distance between you yet again.

Namjoon stood in the foyer, waiting for you to come home. The moment the door swung open, you darted into his embrace. It felt like a familiar haven, and he effortlessly hoisted you up, cradling you in a desperate hug, afraid you might vanish if he let go.

"I missed you," Namjoon murmured, pressing a kiss to your cheek before reluctantly releasing you. His gaze then shifted to Taehyung, pride in his voice. "You too. You look great, Taehyung. I heard you went to the casino."

Taehyung's response was measured. "Are you out on bail?"

"No," Namjoon replied with a hint of bitterness, "Yoongi blackmailed Jungkook into letting me go."

Your heart tightened at his name.

"Where is he? I want to see him”

“Absolutely not” Namjoon was firm. “We don’t know how dangerous he is. I have some of my guys looking into it with Yoongi. He sure as hell had been in contact with Jin in the weeks leading up to his murder”

Namjoon cupped your face. “But other than that, it’s over. He won’t contact you. You’re free. I don’t want you worrying about this anymore”

You wanted to laugh at the term. Free. Especially since Namjoon was already back to telling you what you could and couldn’t do.

“What about Nexus?”

Namjoon smiled, taking your hand in his. “Come with me,”

You followed him. Taehyung a few paces behind. Namjoon brought you into the garden. There were a million fireflies. Out of the corner of your eye, you glanced at Taehyung, wondering if he remembered your tender moment in this same spot.

Namjoon lowered onto one knee.

Fuck. It was one of those moments where everything was so still. So quiet yet extremely loud in your chest. He smiled. Eyes meeting yours. Brimming.

“Marry me”

Your mouth was dry. The moisture building in your eyes instead. It hurt, deep inside because your mind took you to a certain tattooed, mean and yet tender man who you had left behind.

“Let me give you everything, Y/n” Namjoon continued, “The papers. The stocks. The business. You deserve it all and I will give it to you. I’ve done you wrong, and I know you aren’t where I am. I know you loved someone else”

His proposal hung in the luminous space. His words echoed in your ears. His gaze held both sincerity and vulnerability. He waited for your response, standing up so his fingers could brush against the side of your face. The fireflies flickered like stars behind him.

“I hope someday, it can be more than an arrangement. Someday you might love me the way I love you. But for now, I wanted you to have the option. I will give you everything, I promise”

Tears blurred your vision, and you took a steadying breath. "Namjoon," you whispered, your voice fragile yet resolute. Suddenly, with the prize standing in front of you, waiting for your claim, you realized how serious your answer was. If you married Namjoon, you were signing a deal with the devil. There would be no going back.

"I need time."

His eyes reflected understanding, and he stood, pulling you into a tender embrace. "Take all the time you need," he murmured against your hair.

You could still feel Taehyung watching the scene unfold. His expression unreadable, he retreated into the shadows.

Namjoon walked you to your bedroom, and you kissed him goodnight. He urged you not to stress. To take all the time and he’d be there, waiting when you were ready. No rush. This is what you’d wanted.

So why was it so hard to say yes?

Jungkook’s face engraved into your mind. Your gut flipping. You needed to find him. Needed to talk to him without Namjoon finding out. Your phone began to buzz. Hope coursed through you. Maybe it was him.

You answered quickly, excited.

“Don’t marry him”

There was no way.

“You’re mine”

series navi | join taglist | masterlist | scream in my asks

a/n: its been a fucking MINUTE. idek how to do thia anymore, please enjoy and let me know what you think !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! TAEHYUNG omfg come scream with me pls thanks

and thank you for reading you hawtie <3

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pandorasprongs · 2 years ago

Text

JAMIE TARTT | i'd be better armed if you agreed to take it.

PAIRING: jamie tartt x fem!reader

WORD COUNT: 5.0k

SUMMARY: higgins' new assistant happens to be an old friend of the reader's, and their reunion hits jamie with major feelings of jealousy. when the team thinks that the pair of them are going on a date soon, jamie decides enough is enough.

WARNINGS: language

A/N: i actually like this story a lot better especially the dialogue! + jealous!jamie was really fun to write HAHAHA i hope that all of you enjoy this and title is from the song '(you) on my arm' by leith ross :) also i apologize in advance i'm not the best at writing kissing scenes

You loved your job, truly. This was the first time you've had a decent, no, fucking amazing boss that didn't make you want to pull your hair out every time they called you into the office.

But being Rebecca's assistant also meant that you sometimes had to help Higgins out with... well, whatever the Director of Football Operations does. It was fine in the beginning, just scheduling appointments and keeping track of ticket sales, but once Richmond got promoted, it felt like your work doubled.

It only took two weeks before you begged Rebecca to get Higgins an assistant of his own. Luckily, she obliged and asked Higgins to start interviewing possible candidates for the job.

You hoped that whatever extra load you got due to Higgins occupying himself with selecting an assistant would be worth it from how much would be lifted off you when he did. So when you got the message from Rebecca to help delegate your duties to the new assistant, you practically ran to the clubhouse that morning.

You were too excited messaging your boss that you'd be there soon that you ended up bumping into someone near the entrance.

"Shit!" You exclaim as you almost lose your balance, but are steadied by the other person who turned out to be Jamie.

"Ay, watch where you're going, yeah?" Jamie warned casually, as he let go of your arms once you recovered.

"Sorry, Jamie." You straighten up and walk in with him. "I'm just really excited. Higgins finally picked an assistant and they're here today."

"Oh yeah, you were fucking drowning in work a few weeks ago." And by drowning, he meant it literally. The football player recalled seeing you walking past the locker room carrying a stack of papers taller than you were. You refused any help from the team, partly because they had to get to training and mainly because you didn't want them to see how the tear stains on some of the pages.

"Yeah," you chuckle at the memory. "But, after a few days of helping the new kid out, I'll finally be free." You stretch your arms up in the air and cheer. You were too busy celebrating to notice how soft Jamie's expression had become.

He loved seeing you act yourself around him, a big jump from when you used to glare at him around the office. He had denied it for a while, but Jamie started to like you around the time he'd gotten back from Man City.

You knew him before then, when he was a massive prick who stepped over — even literally at times, — his teammates. But after he returned, you felt bad for the guy for how the rest of the team was treating him, no matter if he deserved it. Ted had told you about what they talked about when Jamie approached him about joining the team again, and a part of you felt like he needed at least some kind of welcoming presence in the building.

You started greeting him more often when you ran into each other in the halls and sometimes offered him the candies you keep in your desk drawer whenever he passed your desk, just small things. Jamie would usually just end up hanging out with you during his breaks because he didn’t have anyone else to spend it with. The first few times, he would just sit there in silence while you worked, but one “How’s your day going?” from you, and he was more than willing to chat.

Then, of course, he gradually regained the team’s trust and started hanging out with them, but even then, your little interactions with him didn't stop. He'd invite you whenever the team had a get-together and would sometimes drop bags of candies at your desk to "re-stock" your drawer. You just thought it was his way of returning your kindness. But what you didn't realize was that the star football player was starting to fall for you.

Jamie tried to ignore it, saying to himself that he just felt indebted to you, but then it started to manifest in different ways. How he would try and come up with reasons to approach you the next day, how he'd get distracted whenever you had to visit the pitch during practice, and how your awkward habits became something he looked forward to. It's been a while since he felt like this about anyone and was more anxious about rejection than he's felt about any of his games, so he didn't make any obvious pass at you.

So now, as you asked the receptionist where the Director of Football Operations was, Jamie decided to wait for you to spend as much time with you as possible.

You notice Jamie staying back and relayed the information to him. "Higgins is introducing them to the team, so I guess I'll be going with you to the locker room." You nudge him with your shoulder as you continue to walk through the building. You've always tried your best to ask casual with Jamie, possibly in an effort to make yourself feel normal around him and not constantly blushing every time he looked at you.

As you approach the room, you hear Higgins explaining what the new assistant would be doing for the players. "So if ever you need help with anything I've listed, you can go to Anthony Perez here, instead."

Anthony Perez. No fucking way. You and Jamie enter the locker room and are instantly greeted by the sight of an old friend.

"Anthony, you fucking bastard!" You scream enthusiastically, causing everyone in the room to turn to you, including Anthony. It takes him a second before registering who you were. The moment he does, he raises his arms and you practically leap into him for a hug.

"Oh my god!" Anthony exclaims, as he lets go of you and puts you down.

"I didn't know you were the new assistant!" You lightly smack his arm.

"I didn't know you even worked here!" He defends himself as the two of you turn to find the entire team's eyes on you, including Jamie's.

"Shit, sorry," You laugh as you make some distance between you and Anthony. "Didn't mean to make our reunion so dramatic."

"I assume you two know each other?" Higgins asks and you both nod.

"Anthony and I went to school together," You quickly explain. "From sixth form to uni. Of course, I haven't heard from him in two years." You jokingly glare, causing him to roll his eyes.

"Sorry, I got busy, okay?" He whispers an apology before you both chuckle again.

"Well, I hope your friendship will make it easier to help him get accustomed to the job." You smile at Higgins before the three of you excuse yourself to let the players get ready for training.

You're so engrossed in catching up with Anthony that you didn't even notice the look Jamie was giving him.

"They seem close!" Dani innocently says as he puts his shoes on.

"You don't think something is going on with them, do you?" Colin chimes in.

"Well, she's never even mentioned him before, so I doubt it," Sam argues, but Isaac shakes his head. "Nah bruv, that hug was way too intimate for just friends."

"I've seen her hug Keeley and Rebecca like that, too. That might just be how she greets her friends." Jan offers and the team continues to debate it, but at that point, Jamie has had enough. It was already shit having to watch that interaction, but having your teammates talk about it as you pretend not to care? It could not get any worse.

Jamie pulls out a can of body spray from his locker and slams it closed, before turning to everyone. "Can everyone just stop talking about it and get ready?"

The room goes quiet, as the football player turns around and starts getting changed. The rest of the team exchange looks, before getting ready themselves. Most of them had a hunch that something was going on between the two of you but didn't have any proof, until now. They just hoped they were wrong about you and Anthony, in an attempt to stop Mt. Jamie from erupting.

——

For most players, if something happened right before training that put them in a sour mood, it would mess up their performance on the pitch. Of course, Jamie wasn't like most players. He might be playing even better during that training period. The coaches didn't even have to give him the signal; he was already in 'prick' mode.

Maybe it was the appearance of Anthony or the fact that you had never been that excited to see him even though he thought you guys were becoming close, but he was playing aggressively and was much more focused than he needed to be for a practice game. The coaches started to take notice after he viciously tackled one of the second teams.

"Whistle!" Roy shouts, pausing their game. Ted takes a step forward and shouts, "Hey Jamie! Love the passion, but those are still your teammates. Ya'll have a game next week, so better save that attitude for the real one."

"Okay, coach!" Jamie replies through gritted teeth. He takes a deep breath as they continue to play, trying to calm himself down. Ted was right; there was no point in taking out his anger here. Not when the source of said anger was just inside the building.

Once the morning session was over and they were off for lunch, Jamie headed over to Rebecca's office, expecting to see you waiting at the desk outside like you usually were, but instead, he almost runs into the owner of the football club.

"Jamie!" Rebecca exclaims, backing away from the football player to avoid a collision. "What brings you here?" He only needed to glance at the empty table for her to know what was going on. "Oh, well, if you're looking for her, better head to Mr. Higgins' office. She's helping his new assistant get used to the system."

This causes the player's jaw to clench. Jamie mutters a quick thanks before heading to the Director of Football Operations' office, where he found you hunched over a chair and directing something on the laptop to Anthony.

You had spent the first hour of the day basically catching up with Anthony about what you've been doing the past few years. Once you ran out of stories though, you were forced to actually start teaching him what to do.

You started with the simple things like how to organize the emails, fixing the schedule, and what information to take note of, so you could ask your bosses' about it. Anthony's a quick learner, so you guys were making good progress. Once he practically mastered the routine, the two of you went to the clubhouse cafe to get some early lunch. Most of the food there was pre-packed and they’d usually just microwave it, but over the years, you've developed a fondness for them. You bring back the food to Higgins' office and continue to work on it till you hear someone clearing their throat.

You perk up when you realize who it came from. "Jamie! Hi, what're you doing here?"

Jamie's eyes bounce between the two of you, before settling on your own. "Well, I checked your desk but you weren't there, and Rebecca said you'd probably be here, so I went over here. And now I'm wondering if you wanted to get lunch?"

You move to say yes, but quickly back out when you remember the wrappers on the desk. "Oh, sorry Jamie, Anthony and I just ate something from the cafe cause we wanted to spend the lunchtime working on some emails. Maybe another time?" You try and hide the disappointment in your voice by giving Jamie a small smile.

Jamie's expression falters, but he quickly bounces back. "Sure, no problem. Bye," The football player waves at you — and just you, — before heading back downstairs. He shouldn't be acting like this. Feeling this dejected someone saying she can't have lunch with him?

You weren't fairing that well, either. Your shoulders slump once he disappears from view, then you turn back to Anthony who seems to be holding back a laugh. "What's with you?"

"Nothing, just amused at how even two years later, you still don't know how to talk to the guys you like."

You scoff at his response and hit his shoulder. "What do you mean? I do not like Jamie." You protest, which only causes Anthony to roll his eyes.

"Oh please, it's like you transformed back to a seventeen-year-old the way you got excited when he asked you to get lunch with him." You shake your head, but he continues. "It's clear as day that you have a crush on him."

“That word makes us sound like we're seventeen again," You retort, before redirecting the topic back to the task at hand.

But you knew he was right. Even back in the early days of working here, you couldn't deny that you found Jamie attractive. Anyone with eyes could see it, but he was dating Keeley and was a massive prick, so nothing ever came about from it.

Then, he started spending more time with you, checking up on you and stopping you in the halls just to chat. You realized that he was actually pretty sweet when he was off the pitch and you started to realize that you wanted to spend time with him, not just out of pity like before. Plus, you don't think he's seen anyone in a while, so there really was no reason for you to deny your feelings any longer.

Except, of course, the fear of getting rejected by him and ruining the steady and comfortable relationship you currently have. Which is a good reason, you think. You shake your head and try and continue your work in peace.

After spending your lunch writing up reports, it only took another hour to finish up both your and Anthony's duties, so the two of you update Higgins on your progress and ask if you could observe practice for a bit. He scans through your work, before happily letting the two of you go. The moment you get to the pitch, your eyes instantly look for Jamie who is doing pretty well, to no one's surprise. You join the coaches where they’re standing.

Anthony was already a big football fan, so he was able to recognize almost all of the players on the pitch. In fact, he was even saying things that you weren't aware of, despite your three years of working for the owner of a football club. He bends down to whisper a joke in your ear, but the amusement never hits because soon after, you hear O'Brien groaning in pain. You both look up to see Jamie already helping the goalkeeper up after kicking the ball right into his stomach.

"Whistle! Tartt, stop fucking injuring your teammates!" Roy shouts, to which Jamie quickly apologizes. The practice game continues, but not without you leaning to ask Beard something.

"Coach, is Jamie okay? He seemed fine when I was with him earlier," You turn your head, as Beard continues to watch the practice.

"He's been playing like that all day. Something must've pissed him off." You open your mouth to say something, but Beard reads your mind. "No, we did not give him the signal." You nod before turning back to the game.

You meet Jamie's eyes as he runs across the pitch, and you take the opportunity to give him a smile and a thumbs up, hoping it encourages him somehow. He only nods his head in acknowledgment before continuing, but you can tell in the next few plays that he seems to be calming down. After a while, you and Anthony decide to head back to the office after Rebecca asks you to send some emails on her behalf.

Jamie watched the two of you head back to the building and tried to ignore that growing feeling when Anthony leaned down and rested his arm on your shoulders. He tries and shakes himself right before continuing the game, ignoring all the possibilities of why he’d do that.

The real reason was that Anthony had decided to tease you, whispering close, "Somebody likes you," in a sing-songy voice. "And his name is Jamie Tartt doo-doo-do-doo—"

That exact remark makes you jab his side. "Shut the fuck up, Anthony. He does not." Anthony lets it go as the two of you reach your desk and he leaves you to do your work, though you can't help but feel warm inside at the thought of it being true.

—

Once he gets changed after training, Jamie practically ran upstairs to find you. Usually, he'd offer to drive you home and before Anthony, you'd be too tired to be polite and say no. He stopped himself from sending a message to you once he realized that you had already left. Maybe she's with Anthony, but Jamie shakes his head because fuck that. Jamie Tartt does not get hung over a girl. At least, the old him didn't.

New Jamie had been starting to hope that you stayed in the office longer just so he could see you again, even if you would be busy doing work. He sighs as he decides to leave the building when someone jumps in front to scare him. "Boo!"

"Jesus fucking Christ," he exclaims and steps back before seeing you losing your mind over his reaction. "What'd you do that for?"

"I'm sorry," You apologize in between your laughing fits. "I didn't realize how easily startled you were." After a few more seconds, you finally straighten up and lift two plastic bags.

Jamie gives you a confused look, before you explain, "When we went to watch training, Coach Beard said you've been playing like that the whole day which can only mean one thing; you're in a shit mood. And you don't have to tell me why, but,"

You hand him one of the bags and one whiff tells Jamie it's from that Indian restaurant he loves. "I thought some dinner would cheer you up," Jamie gives you a genuine smile, one you got used to seeing but always love when it shows up. “Because there’s nothing rich people love more than free food.” You add, causing him to roll his eyes.

"Plus, I wanted to make up for not having lunch with you, and celebrate the fact that I now actually have the time to do this again." You continue as the two of you walk over to Jamie's car.

You get in the passenger seat as Jamie turns the car on. The two of you have shared dinner there multiple times before, so you practically had a system for it, and Jamie always "pays you back" by giving you a ride home. You open all the dishes and Jamie quickly starts to devour it.

The two of you enjoy the dinner in silence, — except for the occasional "Pass the pita," or something of the sort — till Jamie decides to ask the burning question that’s been on his mind. "So, how did you and Anthony get so close?" It was an innocent question, but one whose answer could either ease Jamie's thoughts or amplify them ten-fold.

You look up at him, mid-bite, and quickly swallow the food, before replying, "Well, you already know we went to school together, but we were actually seated next to each other for a whole semester, so naturally we became close since we saw each other every day."

Jamie starts to clean up the empty containers but signals you to continue. "To be honest, I kinda liked him back then." Oblivious to how tense Jamie just got, you laugh. "But the crush didn't last long honestly, cause I realized that he wasn't really my type."

Jamie takes the opportunity. "What is your type, then?"

"Oh, hot footballers, naturally." You decide to give a somewhat honest answer, but cloak it in a layer of sarcasm to hopefully throw Jamie off. "Like Richard," You try and convince Jamie with your tone, but you can barely hold in your laughter afterward.

"Oh fuck off," Jamie rolls his eyes, causing you to laugh even harder. "I'm telling him that tomorrow."

"Jamie Tartt, you fucking wouldn't!" You spend the rest of the ride to your flat trying to get him to promise to say nothing, which ends with a pinky promise to secrecy.

—

The next few days are a mix of hanging out with Anthony, eating meals with Jamie, and finishing up work so you can spend the rest of the day chilling at your desk. You almost forgot what it felt like to have free time and actually relax during work breaks.

You arrive at the clubhouse and immediately head to the Coach's office as per Rebecca's instructions to deliver some documents for the season. There, you meet up with Anthony who also had to bring something to Ted.

When you realize the coach hasn't arrived yet, you decide to wait outside the locker room. Anthony turns to you. "Hey, I forgot to tell you yesterday, but Mina's visiting!" Mina was Anthony's girlfriend and also your former classmate, who once again, you haven't seen in two years. You perk up and ask when you’d get the chance to see her.

Anthony pulls out his phone before responding, "I can make a reservation for us somewhere at, 7 pm?" You quickly scan your mental to-do list and once you realize your schedule is free, you nod.

"Yeah, that works! We'll both be done with work, anyway."

The two of you are busy planning out your meeting with Mina that you don't notice Isaac and Colin eavesdropping as they make their way to the locker room. From the snippet that they heard, it sounded like the two of you were planning a night out, confirming their suspicions that there was something going on between the two of you.

They share this with Sam, who tries to reason with them. "Friends can go out to dinner without it meaning anything!"

But as they continue discussing it, the more it becomes harder to deny. I mean, the two of you were always together and not to mention, your shared history. They try and hide this from Jamie, — partly to save themselves from the football player's wrath during training, — but once the morning session was over, they crowd him and quickly explain the situation.

At this moment, Jamie didn't even protest their assumption of his feelings — he had accepted that he wasn’t the best at hiding it from them, — and simply stayed silent, which was incredibly worrying. They decide to leave him be and walk back to their lockers, trying to figure out a game plan. They thought you and Jamie would be great together and a guy from your past was not going to stand in the way of their teammate finding someone, not if they have anything to do with it.

Soon after, Anthony enters the locker room and calls out to Sam. The pair walk away to talk and Anthony starts, "Do you happen to have an open table at Ola's tonight? I'm planning to take someone special there and I know how great the food is."

"Well," Sam considers saying that they're fully booked — which big chance, they are, — and there's nothing he could do, but his guilt at even the thought of lying takes over. "Sure, don't worry." Anthony smiles and thanked the player before heading out, but not before promising that he'd send him the proper details later.

Sam heads back to his two teammates and explains what happened, to which Isaac suggests booking the whole restaurant for the team, crashing their date, and making sure they have no alone time together. Colin adds that they can possibly put something in Anthony's food to force him to go home earlier, which Sam quickly shuts down. They turn to Jamie to get his input, only to find an empty bench instead.

Said teammate was already making his way to your desk to talk. Maybe it was the adrenaline from practice or the fact that he drank three cups of coffee this morning after Roy's training session, but he wasn't going to let you go on that date without saying something.

Jamie makes it up the stairs and finds you typing away at your computer. You meet his eyes for a second, before warning, "Hold on, I'm just finishing this email."

The football player decidedly ignores that statement and exclaims, "Don't go on that date." That gets you to save the email as a draft and look up from your screen. Jamie walks closer to you and you stand up, and steer him to a remote corner. If this was what you thought it was, you’d rather not have the entire office witness it go down.

"I'm sorry, what?" You try and clarify.

"Look, some of the boys told me that you and Anthony are going out tonight and I," Jamie takes a breath, "I couldn't let you go through with it. At least, without admitting that I like you. I have liked you for a while now. I didn’t realize that someone could be so sweet and funny and attractive. It’s fucking insane actually, which is why if you haven’t noticed, I’ve been trying to spend as much time with you as I can. And I know it’s stupid of me to not have admitted it till it’s too late, but if by chance you feel the same, then please do not go on that date and instead, maybe go on one with me?”

You take a step back. The guy who you've secretly been pining over for how many months at this point is now trying to stop you from going on a "date,” and so the only thing you can do is stare at him. You stay like that for a second before regaining your senses and taking his hand into yours and giving him a small smile. "Jamie…"

If there was any right time to admit your feelings, this would be it. You open your mouth to continue, but hear Anthony call out to you. You peek over the corner and when Anthony spots you, he quickly shouts, "Look who stopped by!" and moves to reveal Mina.

"Oh my god, you're here!" You exclaim, but turn back to Jamie who has stopped in his tracks and is still holding your hand. You quickly excuse yourself, "It's so nice to see you, but could you actually give me a minute?"

The couple gives you a curious look before Jamie peeks his head over the corner and Anthony immediately understands. The two of them go back downstairs, and you assume Anthony uses the time to explain to Mina what’s going on.

You turn back to Jamie, hoping that the moment isn't ruined, and find the football player still looking at you intently. You decide to get on with it. "Jamie, I don't know why the team thought we were going on a date, but that couldn't be farther from the truth. The girl you just saw is Anthony's girlfriend, Mina, who we also went to school with." Jamie makes an 'o' with his mouth in realization and you lightly chuckle at his expression.

"She's visiting him for the weekend and we're planning to go out to dinner, the three of us, to catch up. I'm basically going to be a third-wheel all night." At this point, Jamie's expression is a cross of embarrassment and anger, likely directed at his gossiping teammates.

Your mind replays Jamie’s confession earlier. "Jamie, did you mean what you said?" Your voice is practically a whisper, but you just have to be sure. "Like right before we got interrupted?"

Instead of giving you a solid answer, Jamie lets go of your hand and cups your face before connecting your lips. It was a soft and gentle kiss as if the football player was still hesitant, but once you reciprocated it, Jamie's confidence came right back. Fuck, and he had every right to be as cocky as he was. He was an amazing kisser.

You're pressed up against the wall, almost getting lost in it, but you break apart to stop it from escalating further when you feel Jamie's hand travel to your thigh.

"Is that enough of an answer for you?" He asks, resting his forehead against yours as you take hold of his forearms. You simply roll your eyes at how easily Jamie returns to his usual self.

You peak down the corridor and thank the universe that no one passed by during this. The two of you separate and decide to head back downstairs — with Jamie never letting go of your hand, — so you could properly greet Mina.

As you walked, you decide to jokingly question, "Were you really that worried about me going on a date that you had to go all rom-com and tell me not to go?"

Jamie protests, "Well, it's more of the boys' fault, isn't it? They're the ones who got in my head." He pauses for a second. "And don't act like you never wanted something like that to happen to you."

You jab his side and Jamie pretends to be in pain, before laughing it off and slinging his arm on your shoulders. You wrap your arm around his torso. "Only if it's 'one in a million' Jamie Tartt doing it."

You finally find Anthony and Mina in the locker room, with the former introducing her to the players there as his girlfriend. Jamie enters to find the three culprits, looking guiltily at the couple. Minutes after Jamie left, Sam had gotten a text from Anthony saying that their reservation was for three and explained that you were coming along for a reunion dinner with his girlfriend.

The moment they see the two of you enter the room though, Colin, Isaac, and Sam can't help but share a satisfied look, only to be ruined by the glare Jamie sends their way. You laugh at the exchange and only remove yourself from Jamie to greet Mina. You give her a tight hug, confirming Jan's observation that you did greet most of your friends like that.

You pull Jamie towards you and introduce him to Mina, who shares the same teasing look as Anthony. The couple waves at the team to leave and get lunch together. They invite you to join them which you accept, but not before grabbing and squeezing Jamie's hand as a goodbye. The three of you walk away, discussing nearby cafes and restaurants. You hear some cheering from the locker room and you can't help but laugh at how easily the boys reconcile.

Once there's enough distance between yourself and the room, Anthony leans down. "Guess you finally figured out how to talk to boys."

"Who knew it would be Jamie fucking Tartt that managed to get you out of your shell?" Mina adds and you roll your eyes at the pair. They really were made for each other.

#jamie tartt #jamie tartt x reader #ted lasso #jamie tartt fanficition #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tart fic #jamie tartt fluff #ted lasso fanfic #jamie tartt fanfic

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7-wonders · 2 years ago

Text

Give Me Everything You've Got

Dream of the Endless/Morpheus x GN!Reader

Summary: After a fight, you learn that Morpheus does not have the best coping skills. Like, at all.

Word Count: 4.7k

Author's note: This is based off of a scene in Brief Lives where Morpheus dramatically stands on his balcony in the rain. Not going to say more, or else that will spoil the comics completely.

No relationship is perfect; it’s a fact as immutable as which direction the sun rises from. The first fight, though, is always a stark reminder of this. That the person you care so deeply for and have shared so much with over the past days, weeks, months isn’t perfect and has faults. The first fight, though nobody wants it to happen, will, inevitably, happen.

And your first fight with Morpheus is a bad one.

It had been three months since you and Morpheus had shared a heated first kiss in a crowded bar, three months since the man of your dreams turned out to be both real and still the man of your dreams. Those three months had been bliss, to put it simply. You looked forward to falling asleep every night, for that meant you could spend uninterrupted time with your love in his realm. He’s insanely busy, of course, being the anthropomorphic personification of dreams and nightmares. Even just being in his presence, sitting on the Shores of Creation and watching as he creates new dreams and nightmares or reading in the library in your own chair and listening to him and Lucienne discuss matters related to the realm, was a gift that you don’t think you’ll ever take for granted.

But then, of course, the other shoe had to drop. The beautiful bubble of a honeymoon phase that you were living in was bound to pop, suddenly and harshly. Foolishly, you had hoped that things between you and Morpheus would always be like this, with both of you on the same page. That, of course, was nothing more than a mere pipe dream, because two people (or, one person and one eldritch being) will never be completely on the same page for every single thing.

The first time you had seen the raven, perched on the overhang of the cafe you were currently waiting for your friends outside of, you had thought nothing more than “oh, it looks like Matthew,” before going back on your merry way. After all, ravens are pretty common birds, and Matthew seemed like a pretty important raven. Surely it wasn’t him; surely he had better things to do than to trail you. It was simply just a coincidence.

Over the next week, however, you kept seeing a raven everywhere you went. When you left the store carrying bags of groceries, one was circling overhead. When you took your lunch break outside on a particularly nice afternoon, there it was, staring at you from another picnic table. When you were finally getting around to loading the dishwasher, it was sitting on your windowsill.

It was like that mental exercise when someone tells you not to think about a yellow car and then you see yellow cars everywhere. Only, you were certain that this was the same raven, and that this raven was Matthew, due to the fact that this raven tried a little too hard to act like a normal raven. As long as you weren’t directly looking at the raven, then it would just stare at you in a way that gave you the creeps. The moment that you turned to look, then it would suddenly start pecking at the ground or preening itself. Convenient. Too convenient, in your opinion.

Finally, you decide that you’re going to confront him. You go out onto your porch to water the little garden that you’re trying to cultivate, and there he is, sitting on the railing and staring right at you. As you go about your watering, he continues to just stare. Once you’ve finished, you whip your head up, fast enough that he doesn’t have time to pretend like he wasn’t watching you.

“Matthew, I know it’s you,” you say to save him the embarrassment of having to keep up the act.

Though the raven tries not to look at you, eventually he knows that the jig is up. He hops closer to you and still doesn’t look at you, but now due to the guilt he’s obviously feeling. “Uh, hi.”

“Hi. You've been following me around.” It’s not a question, because you know that he’s been doing exactly that.

Matthew looks about as sheepish as a raven can possibly look. “You caught me.”

“Are you gonna tell me why you’re stalking me?”

“Do I have to?” You glare at him to tell him that yes, he very much has to. Realizing that he has no choice, he acquiesces. “Orders from the boss man, y’know? It’s kinda what I do.”

You can feel your blood beginning to run hot in your veins from the sudden surge of anger, and you have to breathe to keep yourself from yelling. “Morpheus is making you spy on me?”

“I wouldn’t call it spying.” Matthew can sense the beginnings of a storm brewing, and quickly goes to work at trying to mitigate the impending disaster. “Just…making sure that you’re safe, that’s all! He really cares about you, and it’s tough for him to not be able to be with you whenever he wants.”

“Okay, well, you need to stop following me.”

“I—I don’t know if I can. I’m really not supposed to disobey direct orders. I already got in enough trouble for the whole business with Hell!”

Though you’re mad about the whole situation and, by extension, Matthew himself, you don’t want your feathered friend to get in trouble when he’s not the one that’s at fault. If he’s going to get in trouble for abandoning his post, then you’ll just give him a task instead that happens to take him back to the Dreaming. After all, Morpheus had told you that you could use Matthew to reach him if the need arose.

“Fine, then,” you say. “Will you go back to the Dreaming and tell Morpheus to meet me when he gets the chance? I’d really appreciate it.”

“Yeah, I can do that!”

Matthew prepares to take off, but before he does, you stop him. “And, Matthew?”

“Mm?”

“Don’t come back.”

By the time the first month of dating had passed, you had both already exchanged declarations of love. It felt entirely natural, and you were both thrilled at the next step. Now, the true next step, that of disagreeing with your partner on a fundamental level, is here. You’re far less thrilled about this step.

When Morpheus appears in your living room, you’re already prepared to say what you’ve been practicing in your head since Matthew left. Morpheus has a way of making you forget words, and you’re not about to let that happen this time. Instead of giving him the chance, you jump to your feet and glare at him.

“What the fuck!” you spit. “How dare you!”

Morpheus simply watches you, as cool and collected as always, which only serves to piss you off even more.

“Matthew told me that you are…upset,” he says, “about my having him watch over you.”

You look at him in disbelief. “‘Upset’? I’m furious right now.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re stalking me, without my permission, through your raven!”

“It is not stalking,” he retorts.

“Really? What would you call it, then?”

Rather than answer what it is (because it is stalking), Morpheus defers to his reasoning behind his actions. “I just want to make sure that you are safe when I cannot be with you.”

In his mind, this likely makes complete sense. Of course he wants you safe, and naturally that means sending his raven to watch you at all hours of the day. Perhaps, in his eyes, this was even seen as a romantic gesture. Who this would charm, though, you’re not sure.

“I don’t need a babysitter, Morpheus. I’m an adult.”

“Yes, I am aware of that. Regardless of the immature way that you are currently acting in.”

Oh, you could hit him right now. You have to dig your nails into the palm of your hand to keep the urge at bay. “Then why did you think that you could invade my privacy in such a major way?”

“Because you are human, beloved. If something were to happen to you, if one of my enemies were to take advantage of my absence, I would never forgive myself. I cannot allow that to happen, hence, Matthew watching out for you.”

“I’m more than able to take care of myself. Especially in my own home,” you stress.

“It is for my own peace of mind.”

“Then you have him drop in every once in a while to say hi! You don’t have him playing James Bond and spying on me every minute of every day!”

It’s obvious that Morpheus doesn’t understand your anger towards him right now, and that’s probably the most frustrating thing about this whole mess. You have to close your eyes and gather your thoughts, lest you lose your cool and say something that you really regret.

When you feel just a smidge calmer, you look at Morpheus again. “I can’t deal with this right now. We physically can’t have this conversation until you can actually see why I’m so mad about this.”

His face grows stormy, and his eyes go straight from blue to black, starless pools. “You want me to leave?”

“Have you figured out why I’m mad?” He remains still, challenging you. “Then yes.”

This is just a way to call his bluff. He’s not going to leave, not in the middle of an argument. You just want him to think for a moment about his actions and their effect on you, and then you can talk like civilized adults about a little something called boundaries before making up.

His jaw clenches, as do his fists, and you realize that you may have overestimated his rationality. “Then I suppose I shall take my leave of you.”

“Wait, what?” You take a step towards him and go to grab his arm in an attempt to stop him. “Morpheus!”

He’s gone before you can even feel his coat under your hand, and you’re left staring in shock at the empty space where Morpheus just stood.

You’re distraught about just how wrong your argument with Morpheus went, enough so that you don’t visit the Dreaming that night. It's not on purpose, though. Rather, you’re so upset about the whole situation that you barely sleep, and the sleep that you do get is fitful.

You’re exhausted when your alarm goes off the next morning, and find that all of the anger of last night has dissipated. Now, you’re just sad. Sad that Morpheus couldn’t understand why you were upset, sad that he didn’t stay to finish the conversation, sad that you couldn’t go after him to try and make things right between you.

You slog through your day, so noticeably sad that multiple people ask you what’s wrong. Though saying that you had a fight with your boyfriend doesn’t really begin to encapsulate everything that Morpheus is, it’s a common enough occurrence in the world that those who you share this with immediately nod in understanding and leave you to your misery.

Sleep tries to elude you for a second night, but you refuse to go any longer without seeing Morpheus. Instead, you scrounge around in your medicine cabinet for the bottle of melatonin that you know is back there. When you find it, you down as many of the artificial berry-tasting tablets that’s safe before crawling into bed and hoping that it works.

When you do finally fall asleep and open your eyes in the Dreaming, you’re immediately thrown off by the rain. No, calling it a simple rainstorm would be underselling it. A veritable hurricane has descended on the Dreaming, and you have to brace yourself against the wind somehow blowing through the palace to keep from being blown away. Rain lashes against the windows, which are rattling heavily, in rough sheets, and lightning crackles through the sky.

Growing up around storms has you instinctually looking for a basement or cellar to get to before you remember that nothing can actually harm you in your dreams. The thought doesn’t do much to settle your nerves (you’ve never been too fond of storms), but you keep repeating to yourself that it can’t harm you in some sort of frightened mantra as you make your way to the library.

The library, unfortunately, is in worse shape than the entryway, and you immediately feel a pang of sympathy for Lucienne. All of the bookshelves have been raised on individual islands via dream-magic in an attempt to save the books from the flooding that’s beginning to encroach from the doors and windows. Even so, sandbags are being piled up at the base of each island by a variety of dreams as a failsafe.

Knowing Lucienne, she probably has a backup failsafe for the failsafe.

Dressed in a rainbow parka with the hood up over his little raven head, Matthew stands atop one of the bookshelves and directs the dreams who have been tasked with helping to protect one of the Dreaming’s most precious assets. When he notices you standing awkwardly just inside the main doors, he lets out a squawk and flies to the bookshelf closest to you.

“Oh thank God you’re here,” Matthew exclaims. “This place is gonna get washed away if he keeps up at it!”

“What’s going on?” you ask, both of you flinching at a particularly loud clap of thunder.

Lucienne appears from around a corner, stomping through puddles as she steadily marches towards you in a way that makes you worry that you’re in trouble with her. She’s wearing bright yellow rain gear, and water streams off of the plastic hat in steady rivulets.

“Has Lord Morpheus explained to you that the Dreaming’s weather is tied to his emotions?” Lucienne demands to know.

Morpheus had briefly mentioned this to you once. It was a month or so into your relationship, and you remarked on how beautiful the weather always was in his realm. In the midst of a brutal winter, the reprieve was especially appreciated.

“I am glad that you think so. After all, I am the Dreaming, and the Dreaming is me.” Morpheus replied from behind you.

You were standing on the highest balcony in the palace so that you could properly take in all of the Dreaming, and Morpheus had his arms wrapped snugly around your middle so that he could pull you into his firm chest.

“So you control the weather?” you asked.

“Yes, but I do not do so consciously. It is…like how your own heart continually beats without you needing to think about it.”

At the time, you were satisfied with the explanation. Now, you’re wondering what the hell kind of autonomic nervous system Morpheus has.

“He did,” you say. “But why is the weather so bad?”

She stares at you like you’re an idiot, and you shift uncomfortably under her pointed glare. “Because you had a fight.”

You’re going to ask how she knows such a thing, but you assume it was pretty obvious to Matthew what was going to happen when you told him to have Morpheus visit you.

“It was an argument, not a fight.” Great, now you sound like your parents when you were a kid and would catch them fighting. “Is he that upset about what happened?”

You know that Morpheus is able to hold a grudge better than most. Even though you haven’t seen him, and the storm is fierce, you can tell that this isn’t caused by some petty anger; this is genuine distress, and you’re starting to think that he’s never had to deal with his emotions in a healthy way.

Lucienne nods and says, “You have only ever seen our Lord Morpheus at his best. He—well, I will not divulge that which is not mine to share, but there is a precedent behind what has led him to react in such a way.”

Good lord, what had happened in Morpheus’s past for this to be a normal reaction for him? While you’re also still a little upset over the ‘disagreement’, your hurt comes more from the fact that he left and that you were unable to finish what you had started. Furthermore, if this is normal for him, you hate to see what an abnormal reaction from him is.

Something needs to be done, and you’re going to have to be the one to do it.

“Alright, then. Do you have any idea where he is?” you ask.

Lucienne doesn’t even need to think. “In his chambers, most likely.”

You don’t believe you’ve ever had to find your way to Morpheus’s chambers without him. The hesitation must show on your face, because Matthew flies down from the bookshelf to perch on the back of a chair.

“Just think about him while you’re walking, and the Dreaming should do the rest,” he advises.

“I’m on it.” You give your friends a mock-salute before turning and heading out the door that you came through, mind focused on Morpheus the entire time.

The way that the Dreaming works is interesting. Sometimes, you need to walk a good distance to get from one place to the next. This is often true of when you trek down the Shores to visit Morpheus, or when he takes you to Fiddler’s Green. Other times, you need only blink and take a step before reaching your destination.

This is one of those times, thankfully, because the anxiety coursing through you as you worry about Morpheus and if he’s okay is making every step that you take a shaky one. You’re standing outside of the library one second, and the next, you’re staring at the large, carved wood doors that conceal Morpheus’s chambers from you.

Will the doors be bolted, like how you would lock your own when you were an angsty teenager and wanted the world to know that absolutely nobody was privy to your misery? Will he be mad when he sees you? Mad that you sought him out, that you consulted his own subjects about how best to approach this crisis?

Though you don’t mean to lean against the door as you lose yourself in your thoughts, you do, and it swings open easily. You hope that this is Morpheus’s way of letting you know that you’re welcome here, with him.

He’s not in the large sitting room that first greets you when you enter his chambers, nor is he in the bedroom that he does not sleep in. That means that there’s only one other place that he could be, so you backtrack into the sitting room and go the opposite direction from his bedroom and towards the balcony that you stood on, with him, what feels like so long ago.

There he is, leaning steadfastly against the balcony railing like some sort of Byronic hero as the rain lashes against him and the thunder and lightning create a show for the ages above him. No matter how harshly the wind blows, he refuses to move, instead taking the full brunt of the storm as he stares out into it.

It’s his own version of self-harm, you realize, and you won’t allow him this vice any longer.

You walk out onto the balcony to stand next to Morpheus and try not to get blown away by the gale force winds. Immediately, you’re assaulted by the rain, and it quickly begins to soak through your clothes; you end up turning your back on the brunt of it and directly facing Morpheus so that you can actually see him.

“I suppose Lucienne sent you my way?” In an entirely un-Morpheus move, Morpheus scoffs.

“She told me where to find you, but only because I asked.” You have to raise your voice just to be heard over the storm. “So? Why are you standing out here?”

He laughs dryly. “As if you do not know? Before today, I did not know you to be so needlessly, brutally cruel.”

Is he on drugs? You’d check his pupils, but in the Dreaming, he doesn’t have any. “What are you talking about?”

“You no longer love me!” His voice booms around you as loud as the thunder.

This is news to you, and you’re about to tell him so, but he continues before you can.

“I have transgressed against you, terribly so, and you rightfully sent me away as a result. Now, you have come to tell me that you wish never to see me again.”

To say that you’re completely thrown for a loop would be a gross understatement. “No! What gave you that idea?”

All of the fight, all of the righteous indignity, suddenly deflates out of him, and he looks at you with a defeated look reminiscent of that of a guilty puppy. “Prior experience, I suppose.”

“Oh, Morpheus.”

This is one of the saddest things that you’ve ever heard. His prior relationships involved his lovers spurning him after one little fight? Since he obviously doesn’t know how wrong this is, your heart hurts on his behalf as you reach a hand up to cup his cheek.

“I’m not going to break up with you, and I’m sorry that you’ve been in relationships where that was something that happened.”

The relief on his face is immediate. “You still love me?”

“Yes, you silly, silly anthropomorphic personification. I still love you.”

“You still love me,” he says again in disbelief.

“It was a little fight. Just because fights happen sometimes, doesn’t mean that it’s the end of our relationship.”

“I am…sorry, for invading your privacy in such a way, and further for not understanding why you were upset with me.” It’s obvious that he’s not used to apologizing for anything, but he’s trying, and that’s what matters.

“You understand why I feel the way that I do about that?” You try not to get your hopes up, but utterly fail at it.

He nods. “You feel as though I’m attempting to exert control over you, that I don’t trust you.”

He does get it! You could cheer right now. “Exactly.”

“I do,” he says earnestly, “trust you. To make you feel otherwise was never my intention. You are just so precious to me that if something were to happen to you and I was not there to help you or come to your aid, it would kill me. That fear led me to become possessive, in a way that is healthy for neither of us. For that, I sincerely apologize.”

“Thank you, Morpheus. And I’m sorry for not properly conveying my feelings before I told you to leave.” You shrug. “You’ll have to forgive me for not really understanding; this is my first supernatural relationship.”

“Your last, too, if I have it my way.”

You smile at him and push the wet strands of hair out of your eyes, which seems to alert him to the fact that it’s still storming at a cool “wrath of God” level. He immediately lifts his hand to stop the rain from coming down around you, and an invisible umbrella forms over your heads. It’s obvious that he’s not done there, and he tries to school his face into an expression cooler and more passive than that which he’s currently sporting.

“If you will give me a moment to rein in my emotions…”

“No,” you cut Morpheus off. “Don’t. I like the rain.”

Maybe not this much rain, but you won’t tell him that right now. Because right now, you can already see him trying to slip back into the role of Dream of the Endless, who takes care of everyone and everything and lets nothing affect him. He can pretend that’s the real him all that he wants, but you’re seeing firsthand how detrimental it is to Morpheus. Not Dream, but Morpheus.

And Morpheus deserves to feel emotions, regardless of if it upsets or inconveniences the citizens of the Dreaming. Morpheus deserves to have somebody take care of him for once, instead of taking care of everyone and everything around him. Morpheus deserves a hell of a lot more than he’s previously gotten, and you’re going to be the one to give it to him.

“You do?” he asks.

“Yeah, I do. And if people don’t…then, fuck ‘em!”

His lips twitch. “I’d rather not.”

“You know that’s not what I meant.” He thinks that joke is so funny every time he uses it, and you’re determined to not let him know that it is kind of funny.

The wind begins to slow down, and the thunder starts to grow fainter. Still, the rain continues, but it’s more tolerable now that it’s falling straight down instead of directly pelting you.

“C’mon.” You grab his hand and start to lead him back inside. “Let’s go lay down for a bit.”

Morpheus immediately begins to protest. “But–”

“Shh. Tomorrow, you can ensure that everything’s back to business as usual. Today, though, I think you’ve earned the right to feel a little sad and upset.”

Though Morpheus doesn’t seem too happy about you telling him what to do, by the time you’re sitting him down on his bed, you’re both completely dry. He watches silently as you take his starry coat off for him, followed by his heavy boots. You take your own shoes off before climbing onto the bed and settling against the pillows. When you hold your arms out to him, he simply raises an eyebrow to challenge you. In response, you wiggle your fingers and try to beckon him over to you.

He begrudgingly allows you to hold him, and kiss the top of his head and try to stifle a laugh in his soft hair. Morpheus’s body begins to relax against yours, and you smile triumphantly as you run a hand up and down his spine. After a few minutes of sitting in silence and listening to the rain against the windows (now less brutal than it was when you first arrived in the Dreaming), you realize that Morpheus is matching his breaths–that he doesn’t need–to yours. Your insides go all warm and fuzzy as a result.

When Morpheus finally feels ready to talk, he picks his head up from your chest to look at you. You smile at the sight of the stars having finally returned to his beautiful eyes, and he asks, “Is this truly how humans cope with their emotions?”

“Mhm. Cry and feel sad a bit, then pick yourself up, dust yourself off, and keep going.” He hums when you begin to gently card your fingers through your hair, and you file this away as a form of care that you’re definitely going to use for him in the future. “If you’re lucky, you’ve got somebody right there with you to take care of you and help you weather that storm.”

“Sage advice.”

It really is. You just won’t tell him that it’s advice from a children’s show.

Morpheus nods and chooses to relax in your embrace for longer than you would have thought. Honestly, you were expecting more of a fight from him as he tried to plead his case to return to being Dream. Eventually, he does say what’s truly on his mind; he’s been getting better at that, the whole communication thing.

“I am not. Used to being taken care of.” Stating the obvious here, but what matters is that he said it.

“I know,” you say. “Which is why, in addition to the normal care that one gives their romantic partner that you’ll be receiving from me, I’m going to make up for all of what you should have been receiving for so long now.”

“Are you?” Morpheus smirks, amused at your determination.

“Yep. Why don’t we take a nap? That’s always helpful.”

Morpheus doesn’t sleep, per se; rather, he drifts, following you through your various dreamscapes and allowing himself to just be. As he’s described it to you, it’s rather relaxing to him, the same as napping is relaxing to you.

“That sounds…” Morpheus thinks for a moment. “Nice.”

“Good. Then after that, perhaps a warm bath?”

“You are just doing all of the things that make you feel better.” Though he says this, you can tell that he finds the concept intriguing.

You smile. “We’re starting from scratch with you, my love. Everything’s on the table at this point.”

“Very well. Nap first, then bath.”

With you by his side, Morpheus quickly learns how useful the human lesson of “cry and feel sad a bit, then pick yourself up, dust yourself off, and keep going” actually is.

#dream of the endless x reader #dream of the endless imagine #dream of the endless #morpheus x reader #morpheus imagine #morpheus #the sandman #the sandman imagine

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impulseheaven · 8 days ago

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Snapes matchmaking - Draco Malfoy

cw: fem reader , bullying , ravenclaw reader , uncannon characters wc: 3.1k synopsis: Draco always saw himself getting with a fellow Slytherin, probably a girl picked by his father. Though it came as a surprise to him whenever a Ravenclaw caught his attention.

You know who Draco Malfoy is, everyone does. He's the son of the infamous Lucius Malfoy, and a bully. Despite these things you’ve never been a target of his antics, if anything it seems he’s respects you in some way.

You're a pureblood, and your parents are both well respected auror’s which causes them to be a bit more wealthy than most families. Every year you get new books, keeping your old ones on your bookshelf that sit in your room at home. New robes every year along with new shoes that have a cleaning charm on them to prevent them from dirtying.

You kept yourself nicely groomed, getting a fresh trim to the ends of your hair every four months, always having polished nails, and hair is always done up in some way. Your friends like to tease you sometimes, saying how you're a perfectionist when it comes to anything.

Today was just another day, you woke up and did your morning skincare. Carefully applying everything evenly, then applying minimal makeup that enhances your favorite features. You put on your uniform and made sure your blue tie was perfectly straight, casting a quick charm on your skirt to get rid of any creases or wrinkles. Tying your hair back into a perfect half up half down style, you did a once over in the mirror before slipping on your shoes and grabbing your leather school bag.

You slid your wand into your robe pocket and walked down to the great hall, slipping into your usual spot next to your friend Cho Chang. She said a small ‘Hello’ before taking a bite of her toast, you smiled as you loaded some food onto your plate.

You both preferred to sit in silence in the morning, saving the gossiping for later in the day in the courtyard. Once it was time to go to class, and your first class of the day was positions. This class was a mix of Slytherins and Ravenclaws, which wasn’t a huge problem as the two houses were more peaceful together than other combinations.

You walked into the classroom and walked over to your desk, which you shared with a fellow Ravenclaw. As everyone piled into the room, Snape was standing at the front of the room seemingly waiting for everyone to arrive before speaking. “Today you will be brewing the Edurus Potion, I will be picking new partners.” At this a few groans were heard throughout the classroom, mostly from Slytherins. Snape’s eyes scanned throughout the classroom before he started listing new partners, said people moving around the room to get to their new spot.

“__ with Malfoy.” You sighed, although Malfoy had never bullied you in particular you still aren't fond of his attitude. You picked up your bag and walked over to the empty seat next to Malfoy. Despite his attitude you knew he excelled in potions, and you did too so this will be an easy grade for the both of you. As soon as everyone got into their groups, Snape wrote the page needed on the board and told everyone to get to work. You grabbed your potions book out of your bag and flipped to the page on the board, you noticed Draco stood next to you not getting his book.

You looked over at him, “do you not have your potions book?” He clicked his tongue, “left it in my dorm.” You only hummed and slid it to the space in between you two, “could you get the ingredients while i prepare the cauldron?” He hummed and read over the needed ingredients before going to gather them.

As time went on throughout the class Draco noticed how polite you were being with him despite his.. personality. So he slowly stopped being so rude and just hummed and followed your lead, not really up to being a jerk at the moment. Finally the potion turned the correct color and you raised your hand, only lowering it once Snape walked towards you two.

He looked at the both of you before looking down at the potion, “Twenty points to both Slytherin and Ravenclaw.” You couldn't help but smile as Snape rarely gave points to other houses besides Slytherin. “Thank you professor.” Snape hummed shortly before dramatically walking with his robe blowing behind him. Eventually class had ended and you said a polite ‘Bye’ to Malfoy before exiting the class.

As the day passed on Malfoy couldn’t forget about you, of course he saw small glimpses of you in the halls and in class. He knew of your blood line and your parents due to his father mentioning them one time but he couldn’t remember why.

Once all his classes were over he met up with his group of friends in the courtyard, they rarely sat outside but today was a nice day with a small gust of wind every now and then. They all sat near the tree, where that incident occurred with him becoming a ferret. As Pansy was gossiping with Enzo and Blaise he noticed you stroll in the courtyard alongside Cho Chang.

He never knew you two were friends but as he thought it over it made sense. You were quite similar but despite that his eyes stayed on you and watched you two sit down on the grass, your legs layed out crossed and you propped yourself up with your arms behind you.

He watched as you two conversed, but as you let out a laugh he noticed how loud it was. Usually this would irritate him but he felt how his stomach fluttered. He clicked his tongue and looked back over to his friends, not missing Pansy’s eyebrow raise signifying she caught him staring at the girl.

He rolled his eyes and turned back to the conversation with his friends, not noticing the new pair of eyes on him from across the courtyard.

As you and Cho caught up your eyes caught sight of the familiar platinum hair, taking a double look as you stared at him smiling with his friends. No doubt they were gossiping about something, you felt how your ears burned whenever he had a devilish smirk on his face as Blaise whispered something in his ear. Probably about some Gryffindor you thought.

You only looked away as you heard Cho let out a small gasp, turning back to her as she had her brows raised. “__ are you staring at Malfoy?” Her voice waved as she said his name, as if it was some curse. You only shrugged, “he’s pleasant to the eye.” Her shocked expression turned into a judgy look.

You sighed, knowing what was coming. “You cannot like him __ he's a bully, and it’s rumored he's a death eater .” As she said the last part he voice lowered significantly. You huffed, “Cho I appreciate the advice but I doubt i’ll even speak to him.” She hummed, “well whatever you do just remember who he is at least.” You nodded and the conversation shifted back to normal.

As the days passed on you noticed that Snape continuously paired you and Malfoy together although you didn't mind it anymore. He lost the snarky attitude and was more relaxed around you, mostly letting you take the lead in the potion making unless you needed help.

Though today you had to stay in your dorm, suddenly getting hit with a cold. You never minded getting a bit sick, using it as an excuse to take a rare break from school.

Whenever you came back the next day you were on the way to potions whenever someone fell into pace next to you. You looked over and couldn’t contain the surprised expression on your face whenever you see Malfoy next to you.

“Where were you yesterday?” His voice was smooth and firm as he spoke, looking straight ahead. You said a small ‘oh’ before readjusting the strap of your bag that was perched on your shoulder. “I had a small cold.” He clicked his tongue, “Why didn’t you get a healing potion from Madam Pomfret?” You shrugged your shoulders. “I used it as an excuse to rest, as I rarely take days off from school.

He huffed “Never miss again, I was stuck with Goyle that git made me do all the work.”

You smiled slightly, “isn't that your friend.” He rolled his eyes, “barely, he just follows me around.” As you both arrived to potions he held the door open for you, both of you walking into the class. Before you two could separate to your respective seats Snape called you both to his desk. You looked over at Malfoy with a raised brow and he shrugged slightly to show he had no idea either.

You both walked to the professor’s desk and stood in front of it, he didn’t look up from the paper he had in his hand as he spoke. “You two will be partners for the rest of the year.” Your eyes widened slightly and you glanced over at Malfoy before looking back to your professor. He waved you two off and the both of you awkwardly walked over to his desk.

“Do you know what that was about?” You turned to the blonde with a curious look, he only shook his head as he glared at Snape.

Draco knew what Snape was doing, he knew as soon as Snape met his eyes from across the room with a barely noticeable smirk. He huffed and knew to mention it to his father over winter break.

Thankfully today the work was just a two page front and back assignment, writing in detail about a potion of your choice that you've brewed in class this year. You turned to Malfoy, “what potion are you doing?” He lifted his head from looking down at his parchment, “Im doing amortentia.” You hummed, nodding “I think i’ll do that too.”

You two began to write in silence, the only sound coming from the shared table was your quill’s against parchment and the occasional tapping from you as you pondered your next sentence.

Eventually you finished your paper’s, quickly reading over it to make sure it was to your standards before standing up and handing the papers over to snape. As you walked back to your seat a foot stuck out into the walkway and before you could register it you tripped over. Letting out a gasp, you caught your on your palms as you fell so your face didn't smack against the cobble floor. As you stood you heard Snape rather loudly say “Detention to you Nott.”

You stood up, aware of how red your face had become due to embarrassment. You ran your hand’s over your uniform before quickly shuffling back over to your seat. As you sat back down Malfoy turned to you, “You alright?” You nodded, “‘m fine, just a bit embarrassed.” A sheepish smile spread on your face, Draco couldn't help as his face flushed slightly whenever you smiled.

Once the class ended you took your time packing up your bag, letting out a breath as you pushed open the door. Draco was leaning against the wall, pushing himself off of it once you exited the classroom. Once again he fell into a pace next to you, “Malfoy aren't you friends with Nott?” He clicked his tongue “Sadly.” You huffed out a small laugh, “do you know why he did that?” He only shook his head, “No but i’ll make sure he apologizes.” You looked over at him with a smile, “Thanks.” He smiled back at you, saying bye as he went down the hall to his next class.

Throughout the day your face flushed as you remembered Draco’s smile, something he rarely did towards anyone that wasn't his friends. Are you and Draco friends? You hummed to yourself and saved that question for later.

You decided you would do a bit of studying for your Transfiguration test you had next week, liking to be ahead of your studies. You collected the needed supplies from your dorm before venturing to the library, finding a secluded spot near a window. You set up all your things and took a seat, quickly getting sucked into your studies that you didn't notice the pair of footsteps coming up behind you.

Draco smirked as he noticed you weren't paying attention to your surroundings, sneaking up behind you. He lifted his hands and placed them on your shoulders “boo.” He pulled away as you yelped slightly, turning around in your chair with a glare. He only smirked at you as you glared at him, he moved to sit down in the chair across from you.

You huffed and placed your quill down, taking the opportunity to take a small break. “That was not funny Malfoy.” You shook your head as he only shrugged, “I found it funny.” You rolled your eyes, “of course you did.” He watched as you stretched your arms, taking notice that you’ve probably been here for at least an hour by now.

You picked up your quill again, looking back down at your parchment as you spoke “are we friends Malfoy?” He raised his brows at this, straightening his posture a bit. “Do you want to be friends?” You looked up at him, “If you want to, then yes.” As you spoke that ever so charming smile slid onto his face again, causing your stomach to flutter with butterflies.

From then on you called him Draco, and he addressed you by your first name rather than your last. It became a habit for the both of you to walk to and from potions, chatting about any new drama the two of you heard or about a new assignment in a class.

Of course Draco’s friends picked up on this, watching as he glanced at the Ravenclaw table during meals, how he watched you as you passed him in the halls, how he would constantly be talking to you potions no matter how many times Snape told him to be quiet.

Honestly they were a bit shocked at first, but once they all spoke about it they realized it made perfect sense. You both had well respected families, both of you were physically attractive people, your grades were as good as Draco’s and some were even better, and your personality perfectly balanced with his.

One weekend all of them were lounging in the common room, Draco sitting by himself in one of the armchairs, Pansy sitting on a pillow with her back against the couch Blaise and Theodore were on, with Enzo and Mattheo on the other couch. Pansy clicked her tongue, “Y'know Draco we would all love to meet that little Ravenclaw you always hang out with.” At this Draco tensed, he knew how his friends were and he wondered how you would react to their personalities.

Enzo hummed in agreement, “yea you're constantly staring at her during dinner, kinda creepy dude.” At this Draco rolled his eyes, “I do not, but I guess I can ask her.” He looked away as he thought it over, I mean if you can deal with him then why wouldn't you like his friends.

The next day it was a Saturday which meant no classes, so you were seated in the library reading a muggle book called ‘little women’. You never cared much about bloodstatus, although your parents were a bit more prejudiced. As you were reading you heard as Draco walked towards you, immediately knowing it was him from the way it sounded. You lifted your head as soon as he rounded the bookshelf corner, you smiled at him and made room for him on the small bay window seat. He slid into the seat next to you, not caring as your legs brushed against one another.

“Hi Draco” you closed your book but made sure to remember the page number. He offered you the soft smile that seemingly was only reserved for you. “Hi __, I have a question for you.” You hummed at this, turning your full attention to him. You noticed he was a bit hesitant so you smiled as a way to tell him to continue, “yknow my friends right?” At this you nodded, remembering how Nott tripped you in class a couple of weeks ago.

He glanced away for a moment before looking back at you, “well they’ve noticed we’re friends, and well they are nosy. They want to meet you, but if you don't want to, I completely understand.” He was silently referring to the incident with Theodore, knowing why you would be hesitant. He noticed how you drifted off into thought before nodding, “where would it be?” He couldn’t help but smile, “In our common room, tomorrow.” You smiled and nodded.

The next day you met up with Draco in the dungeons right outside the portrait to enter the Slytherin common room. He pushed off the wall once you neared, “if you want to leave just let me know alright?” You nodded, giving him a reassuring smile. If Draco was honest was a bit nervous, over the past few weeks he’s grown to like you. A bit more than he realized, and he knew that if you couldn't handle his friends he would have to forget such feelings.

He said the password as the portrait opened, you trailed behind him into the common room. Immediately it was evidently different from the Ravenclaw one, but it was nice nonetheless. You spotted Draco’s group that was sprawled around couches near the fire as you two walked over to the group.

You and him sat down on the unoccupied couch, and you looked around noticing literally all of them were staring at you. Immediately you could tell it would be hard to win over Nott, and Riddle but that didn't bother you. You turned to Pansy who was in the armchair near the couch you were, she had a curious look in her eye as she looked at you. You offered her a smile, “what lipstick do you use? It’s gorgeous.” You were being completely honest, you loved the dark red lipstick she was wearing. At this she immediately smiled as she told you the name and brand, complimenting your hair.

Once Blaise saw Pansy talking to you he butted in and joined in, along with Enzo. Draco smiled to himself, immediately recognizing that you and Pansy would get along quickly. He was nervous about her, knowing her tendency to be a bit too blunt. Theodore snickered to himself as he looked at Draco, which caught his attention. “What?” Theodore only shook his head as he smirked, “you're whipped.”

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#harry potter #draco malfoy #draco lucius malfoy #draco x reader #x reader #oneshot #draco fanfiction #harry potter series #impulseheaven #ferret #death eaters #blaise zabini #theodore nott #pansy parkinson #mattheo riddle #slytherin #ravenclaw #slytherin boys

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misshoneyimhome · 16 days ago

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What’s up, buttercups! 💕 Welcome back to chapter two of The Benchwarmer! First off—thank you so much for all the love and excitement you’ve shared for this story already. Seeing your reactions has been the absolute best, and I’m beyond excited to keep unfolding this journey with you!

Now, in case you’re wondering—will there ever be any intimate interactions between Reader and Auston? Oh, absolutely ✨ Have I made this a painfully slow burn that’s torturing even me with the suspense? Also yes🔥 Happy reading, my darlings! 💕✨

Tropes & warnings: inexperienced!reader x Auston Matthews, meet cute, strangers to friends, fake relationship, no warnings

Word count: 6.3K Chapter one

➼｡ﾟ

Chapter two: #MysteryQueen

“Dearest Toronto readers, it seems we have a mystery on our hands. Last night’s charity gala gave us glitz, glamour, and a moment that has the internet on fire. Forget the perfectly tailored suits, designer gowns, and champagne flutes—because what truly stole the show was one unexpected stumble and the instant chemistry that followed.

Our beloved Ice King, Auston Matthews, found himself caught in an uncharacteristically warm moment with an unidentified woman whose presence has ignited more conspiracy theories than a Stanley Cup drought. A fleeting touch, a lingering gaze, and now a photo has been seen around the world. Toronto can’t stop talking about it, and #MysteryQueen is trending faster than you can say, ‘Hat trick.’

Could the Ice King’s frosty demeanour finally be thawing?

Now, let’s not forget the timing, dear readers. With Matthews stepping into the captain’s role this season, his every move has been scrutinised. A new relationship would add fuel to the fire, making the stakes higher than ever. But this columnist can’t help but wonder—does the man who keeps everyone at arm’s length finally have someone worth letting in?

Stay tuned, Toronto. This season has just begun, and the story is heating up – so you know I’ll be here to bring you every detail.

Yours always,

The Benchwarmer.”

Monday -

The shrill sound of your alarm cut through the quiet of your bedroom, jolting you awake with a groggy start. You fumbled to silence it, groaning as you buried your face back into the pillow. The events of the gala were already slipping into a hazy blur—clinking glasses, polished speeches, and that awkward but fleeting moment with Auston Matthews. Another long night of work, another day ahead. Same routine, different Monday.

Except… your phone wouldn’t stop vibrating.

The incessant buzzing broke through your grogginess like a second alarm. You squinted at the screen, your vision struggling to adjust to the early morning light filtering through the blinds. Notification after notification lit up your phone, the vibration almost rattling it off your nightstand. You reached for it, dread prickling at the edges of your still-sleepy mind. Why was everyone blowing up your phone?

You swiped it open only to see your group chat with Jess and Maya was on fire.

Jess (7:23 AM): OH MY GOD, HAVE YOU SEEN THIS?

Maya (7:24 AM): You’re all over X! #MysteryQueen is trending, babe!

Your heart skipped a beat, confusion settling in your chest like a lead weight. Trending? That couldn’t be right. With trembling fingers, you tapped the link Jess had sent, a sinking feeling in your gut as the page loaded.

It took a moment—your Wi-Fi felt sluggish, though it was probably just your nerves slowing time to a crawl. When the image finally appeared, your breath caught.

There it was: the photo. The one everyone seemed to be talking about.

Auston Matthews’ hands were firmly wrapped around your torso, his smirk that perfect mix of charm and confidence, while your face betrayed every ounce of surprise and embarrassment you’d felt in that moment. Cheeks flushed, lips parted, eyes wide—you looked like you’d stumbled straight out of a romance novel and into his arms.

The lighting, the angle, the backdrop—it was all too good. Soft, golden hues framed the two of you like the culmination of a carefully planned rom-com climax. Whoever had captured the moment had turned a fleeting accident into what now appeared to be undeniable chemistry.

Above the photo, the headline read: “Has the Ice King finally been dethroned? Who is this stunning Mystery Queen?”

Your stomach churned as you scrolled through the attached comments. They were relentless.

“Who is she???”

“She’s gorgeous! Can we ship this already?”

“Ice King has a Queen! Loving this”

Memes were already circulating: the two of you photoshopped onto movie posters, side-by-side shots of you under headlines like “Toronto’s Hottest Couple?” Theories ranged from harmless to absurd—everything from claims you were his secret girlfriend to guesses about your astrological compatibility.

Your phone buzzed again.

Jess (7:26 AM): You broke the internet, Queen. Do we bow now, or…?

Maya (7:30 AM): You’re literally famous. Like, for real. Can we talk about how hot Auston Matthews looked holding you?

A groan escaped you as you tossed your phone back onto the bed, burying your face in your hands. “This can’t be happening…”

You stayed like that for a moment, letting the panic wash over you. Your mind raced as you replayed the moment in question. It had been nothing. A stumble, a quick save, a polite exchange, and you’d moved on. How had it spiralled into this?

Your laptop sat on your desk, its sleek, black screen staring back at you like it dared you to confirm just how bad things were. Hesitating, you opened it and typed in the dreaded hashtag: #MysteryQueen.

The search results were overwhelming. Page after page of posts, photos, and speculation. Your name hadn’t surfaced yet—thankfully—but that didn’t stop people from trying to piece together every detail about you. Some users had gone so far as to zoom in on your necklace, debating whether it was a gift from Auston.

You groaned again, leaning back in your chair and rubbing your temples. Stress bubbled in your chest, threatening to spill over. Jess and Maya’s texts kept pinging, a mix of teasing and encouragement that you couldn’t bring yourself to answer.

Jess: “So… when are you introducing us to Auston?”

Maya: “Not to be dramatic, but if you don’t milk this for all it’s worth, I’ll be mad.”

You snorted despite yourself, though the laugh was hollow. You opened your email, desperate for a distraction or a sense of normalcy, but the subject line at the top of your inbox snatched that hope away: “We need to talk about last night.”

It was from your boss.

Your stomach sank further as you glanced at the clock. 7:45 AM. Not even time for coffee.

“Perfect,” you muttered, slamming your laptop shut. This wasn’t just damage control anymore—this was survival. You needed to get ready for work, figure out how to salvage your career, and pray the internet had a short attention span.

The soft hum of the city buzzed faintly in the background as Auston Matthews stood in his kitchen, barefoot on the cool tile floor. He scrolled through his phone with one hand while expertly cracking an egg into a sizzling pan with the other. The aroma of coffee brewing filled the space, mingling with the faint sound of the egg frying. It was a typical morning—except for the buzzing chaos of his phone on the counter, vibrating with relentless notifications.

His phone rattled against the marble again. He leaned over, smirking as the latest messages lit up the screen.

Mitchy (7:15 AM): “Nice work, Captain. Saving PR girls in distress now?”

Auston chuckled softly, shaking his head. Mitch’s commentary was always reliable.

A second buzz followed.

Willy (7:20 AM): “Does she have a sister? Asking for a friend.”

He snorted, typing out a quick reply: “You’d have no chance, Willy.”

Sliding the eggs onto a plate, Auston grabbed a bottle of Prime from the fridge. He leaned back against the counter, sipping casually while thumbing through social media. There it was—the photo that had set the internet on fire.

The hashtags were as relentless as the messages from his teammates:

#MysteryQueen

#IceKingAndQueen

#CoupleGoals

Fans were analysing every pixel of the image: the way he leaned slightly toward you, his smirk soft and almost intimate, the subtle tilt of your head that made it seem like the two of you were the only ones in the room. It was absurd, the way a split-second interaction had been turned into a viral sensation.

His phone buzzed again.

Mitchy (7:32 AM): “So? You bringing her to practice? Or is this another ‘one night and done’ thing?”

Auston rolled his eyes and typed back, “Jealous, Marner?”

The reply came instantly.

Mitchy: “Of you? Never. Of her? Maybe.”

Auston let out a low laugh, setting his phone down with a soft clink. The teasing didn’t bother him. If anything, it amused him. Let them speculate. Let the internet obsess over the photo. He had always been good at playing into the media’s games while staying one step ahead.

He finished his breakfast in thoughtful silence, his mind briefly wandering back to the gala. The night had been standard fare: sponsors, schmoozing, and carefully crafted soundbites. But then there had been you—stumbling into his space, equal parts flustered and sharp-witted. You had been anything but predictable, and that, more than anything, had caught his attention.

The photo had turned a fleeting moment into a viral phenomenon. Now, he was caught up in the swirl of speculation, but unlike most, he didn’t mind. It was fun.

For now, though, there was training to get to. Auston grabbed his bag and headed out, smirking at his phone one last time before silencing the endless stream of notifications. The Ice King wasn’t worried—he was just getting started.

Arriving at the office felt like stepping onto a stage where you were the unwitting star of a play you hadn’t auditioned for. The usual hum of activity—clicking keyboards, ringing phones, snippets of muted conversation—was still there, but today, it had a charged edge. Every sound felt sharper, every glance lingered a second too long, and the air seemed to buzz with anticipation, like a storm brewing just beneath the surface.

You pushed through the glass doors, clutching your bag tightly as your heels clicked against the polished tile. The receptionist, a chipper woman named Clara who usually greeted you with a bright smile and a cheerful good morning, faltered for a split second before recovering. Her eyes flicked to her computer screen, her cheeks pink as if you’d caught her mid-gossip. She returned your nod with a stiff smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes, her hand nervously adjusting a stack of papers on her desk.

You offered her a polite “Morning” and continued down the hall, the weight of invisible eyes trailing you like static electricity. The whispers started almost immediately, barely muffled by the thin partitions between desks.

“Is that her?” a voice murmured, not even bothering to lower the volume much.

“I told you it was!” another hissed in reply. “She’s the one from the photo. Did you see how close they were?”

You felt your skin prickle, a flush creeping up your neck. It wasn’t just the whispers—it was the sidelong glances, the quick turns of heads as you passed, the way conversations halted the moment you entered a room. They didn’t need to say your name for you to know exactly what they were talking about.

The now-infamous image of you and Auston Matthews—locked in what looked like a moment of intimate connection—had spread through the office like wildfire. It had morphed you from a background player into the unwelcome centre of attention. Each step felt heavier than the last, your confidence sinking further as you imagined the scenarios they must be concocting. Yet, despite the murmurs, no one dared to approach you directly. They simply stared, whispered, and speculated, leaving you to endure the attention in silence.

By the time you reached your desk, your nerves were stretched taut. You dropped your bag next to the chair and slumped into the seat, staring blankly at your computer screen. The open layout of the office, which usually fostered collaboration, now felt stifling. Every glance felt like a spotlight, every quiet chuckle like it was aimed at you. Your chest tightened as if the walls were closing in.

A soft ping from your computer startled you. You opened your inbox with shaky hands, hoping for a mundane email to ground you. Instead, your heart sank as you read the subject line: “Meeting: 9:30 AM – Mr. Manion’s Office.”

Your stomach flipped. Of course. Your boss wasn’t going to let this slide without a formal discussion.

The clock read 9:30 AM sharp when you stood outside your boss’s office, taking a deep breath to steel yourself. The glass door reflected your image back at you—your blazer slightly wrinkled from the walk, your fingers clutching a tablet like a shield. You forced yourself to smooth down your hair, adjust your blouse, and plaster on a neutral expression. You knocked twice, the sound sharp and hollow.

“Come in,” came the brisk reply.

The door swung open almost immediately, revealing the imposing space. Your boss’s office was the epitome of professionalism—sharp lines, muted tones, and a sense of order that bordered on sterile. Framed photos of MLSE milestones lined the walls, alongside neatly mounted jerseys signed by players he'd worked with countless times - hockey, baseball, basketball. The desk was immaculate, save for a single folder that sat directly in the centre. You didn’t need to look closer to know what was inside it.

Mr. Manion, your boss, a no-nonsense man in his late fifties with salt-and-pepper hair and a perpetually stern expression, gestured for you to sit. You perched stiffly on the edge of the leather chair, gripping the armrests like they might keep you grounded. The silence in the room stretched, the tension palpable as he flipped open the folder and scanned its contents.

Finally, he looked up, his brows knitting together in faint disapproval. “You’re aware of the situation, I assume?”

“Yes, sir,” you said, your voice steady despite the unease twisting in your stomach. “I’ve seen the photo.”

He leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers as he studied you. “Good. Then you understand why this is an issue. This photo—and the ridiculous frenzy it’s caused—has overshadowed what was supposed to be a highlight of our season. The charity event. The teams. Not…” He gestured vaguely toward you, his gaze unyielding. “You.”

The words landed like a slap, even though you’d braced yourself for them. You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to maintain eye contact. “I understand completely.”

“Do you?” His tone sharpened, his eyes narrowing. “Because right now, this office looks less like a PR department and more like the set of a reality show. And if there’s one thing I don’t tolerate, it’s distractions. Our focus is the client. Always the client.”

You nodded quickly, your cheeks burning. “I’ll fix it.”

He leaned forward, his gaze unrelenting. “Good. I’ve organised that you'll be at the hockey game tonight. You’ll work with the MLSE media team to redirect the narrative. Shift the attention back to the players, the franchise—anything but this viral nonsense. Understood?”

“Yes,” you replied, your voice firm even as the weight of his expectations settled on your shoulders.

“And another thing,” he added, his tone softening but his expression remaining stern. “You’ll be working with Chase.”

Your stomach dropped. Of all people. Chase, the golden boy of the department who had an uncanny ability to make every situation about himself. Smug, self-assured, and relentless in his pursuit of credit for others’ work, he was the last person you wanted to be paired with.

“Chase?” you repeated, unable to keep the dismay out of your voice.

“Yes,” Mr. Manion said with finality. “He’s handled high-pressure situations before, and I expect you two to work together professionally to resolve this. No more distractions. No more headlines.”

You forced a tight smile. “Understood.”

“Good,” he said, closing the folder with a decisive snap. “Don’t let me down.”

The walk back to your desk felt even longer than the one to his office. Chase. Seriously... You could already picture his self-satisfied grin, the condescending tone he’d use to offer “advice.” The idea of spending the evening with him—let alone relying on him—made your skin crawl.

You slumped into your chair, your head spinning. The whispers around the office seemed to grow louder, like static building to a crescendo. You wanted to disappear, to crawl under your desk and wait for the world to forget the photo. But deep down, you knew that wasn’t an option.

Maybe, you thought for a brief moment, this could be an opportunity. Not the one you’d envisioned, but a chance nonetheless. If you could handle the media circus, Chase’s smugness, and the weight of your boss’s expectations, you’d prove you belonged here—not just as a worker, but as a leader.

Straightening your spine, you smoothed invisible wrinkles from your blouse. No more photos. No more moments. No more headlines. Just fix this and move forward.

Easy enough. Right?

The Maple Leafs’ locker room was alive with its usual pre-practice energy. The air buzzed with the familiar sounds of hockey prep—sticks being taped with meticulous precision, skate blades being checked and tightened, and gear bags being unzipped with sharp zings. The smell of sweat, leather, and faint traces of menthol liniment filled the room, but today, the usual pre-game hum carried an extra spark.

All eyes were on Auston Matthews.

“Yo, Tony!” Mitch’s voice broke through the din, instantly commanding attention. He was perched precariously on the bench, one foot up like a man about to deliver the Gettysburg Address. “So, do we call her your soulmate, or was she just your ‘weekend highlight’?”

The room erupted in laughter. Mitch, ever the instigator, milked the moment with exaggerated gestures, holding his heart like he’d been struck by Cupid’s arrow. Auston, unfazed, shrugged off his jacket, hanging it neatly in his stall as though Mitch hadn’t spoken at all.

“Neither,” Auston replied, his tone so smooth and casual it bordered on bored. “But thanks for your concern, Mitchy. Really warms my heart.”

“Oh, I’m concerned,” Mitch shot back, leaping down from the bench with dramatic flair. “It’s not every day our Captain makes romantic headlines off the ice.”

Matthew Knies chimed in next, leaning back lazily in his stall. His grin, wicked and knowing, spread like wildfire across his face. “You gonna share the story, or are you keeping this one all to yourself? Come on, Cappy. Did you at least get her number? Or is this just another no-strings situation?”

Auston finally glanced over, one brow arching in mock amusement. “Don’t you have a mirror to stare at, Kniesy? Go admire yourself somewhere else.”

The laughter doubled, bouncing off the walls like a puck ricocheting off the boards. Even the more reserved players smirked as the banter escalated.

Reaves, stretching out his shoulders, added in his deep baritone, “Bet her phone’s already blowing up. She’s probably sitting there right now, trying to figure out if she’s ready to handle the ‘Ice King.’”

“Or,” Mitch interjected again, holding up a finger like a professor making a critical point, “she’s trying to figure out why she’s trending while he’s already onto the next one.”

Auston rolled his eyes, dropping onto the bench as he reached for his skates. “You guys seriously need better hobbies.”

“Hobbies?” Mitch feigned outrage, clutching his chest theatrically like he’d been mortally wounded. “This is our hobby! Watching you fumble around women like it’s your first time stepping onto the ice.”

Even John Tavares, usually the stoic leader of the group, couldn’t suppress a chuckle as he taped his stick with methodical precision.

“You’re gonna need a new nickname after this,” Conor Timmins called out, grinning as he adjusted his shin guards. “Something like… Loverboy Matthews.”

“Or Prince Charming,” Max Domi suggested, leaning against the wall with a toothless grin. “You swooped in, caught her mid-fall—classic fairy-tale move. You practicing for a movie, or what?”

Auston didn’t miss a beat. “Just trying to remind you guys what grace under pressure looks like.”

The locker room erupted into hoots and cheers, players slapping their thighs or sticks against the floor in exaggerated applause. Even Auston, usually unflappable, couldn’t suppress the small grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“Let’s not forget the most important question, eh,” Mitch said, raising his voice to cut through the noise. “Did you or did you not close the deal? Because if you didn’t…” He let the sentence hang, his grin turning mischievous as the room erupted again.

Auston shook his head, leaning down to lace his skates with deliberate precision. “You guys are fucking awful. It was nothing. She’s just a PR manager doing her job. That’s it.”

Reaves shook his head, chuckling. “You’re telling me that look she gave you was part of the job? Please. If that’s her work face, I need to hire her immediately.”

“Let me guess,” William said, his grin widening. “You gave her your best smoulder, and she melted, didn’t she? Ice King strikes again.”

“Smoulder?” Mitch nearly doubled over laughing. “He probably just stood there and grunted. That’s his move. ‘I’m Auston Matthews. Be impressed.’”

“Don’t forget the eyebrow raise,” Max chimed in, waggling his own brows for emphasis. “That’s his closer.”

Auston grabbed a towel from his stall and lobbed it at Mitch, who narrowly dodged it with a dramatic yelp. “Keep dreaming, Marner. You’re just mad you’ll never have my moves.”

The room roared with laughter as Mitch held his hands up in mock surrender. “Oh, please. I don’t need your moves, buddy. I’ve got personality.”

“Personality?” Auston repeated, finally looking up with a smirk. “That what you call it now?”

Before Mitch could fire back, a sharp whistle cut through the chaos. Chief’s voice boomed from the hallway. “Alright, enough! Let’s go! Save the soap opera for after practice.”

The laughter died down, though the smirks and knowing glances lingered as the players turned their attention to gearing up.

As soon as Auston stepped onto the ice, the locker room antics faded into the background. The cool air hit his face, sharpening his focus as he took his first powerful strides across the rink. The sound of blades slicing across the ice and sticks snapping against pucks filled the arena, a symphony of precision and power.

“Alright, boys, let’s dial it in!” Auston called, his voice cutting through the hum of activity.

His every movement on the ice was fluid and deliberate, his passes snapping perfectly to his teammates like they were guided by some invisible force. He commanded the flow of drills with the confidence of a seasoned leader, his focus razor-sharp.

Even when Mitch skated past during a drill, leaning in just close enough to whisper, “Hey, Prince Charming—don’t forget to teach us those moves later,” Auston didn’t miss a beat.

“Don’t worry, Mitchy,” he replied, his tone calm and cool. “I’ll save the lessons for when you finally learn how to backcheck.”

The nearby players burst into laughter, and Mitch groaned, throwing his hands up in defeat. Auston smirked as he returned to the drill, his focus unwavering.

Back in the locker room, the banter picked up again as the players peeled off their gear and hit the showers. Auston wiped sweat from his forehead, grabbing his phone from his stall out of habit. The screen lit up with a flood of notifications, but one message stood out.

Mom: “Hola, mijo! Saw the news. You have a girlfriend now? Why didn’t you tell me? Qué sorpresa! Call me later. Besos!”

Auston groaned, leaning back in his stall as he rubbed a hand over his face. Of course, the rumours had made their way all the way to Arizona. His mother never missed a thing.

He quickly typed out a reply:

Auston: “No girlfriend. Just the media blowing things out of proportion. Promise I’ll call later.”

From the stall next to him, Mitch leaned over, his grin as wide as ever. “Let me guess—Mama Matthews wants to meet her future daughter-in-law?”

Auston groaned, tossing another damp towel at him. “Don’t you have somewhere else to be, Marner?”

“Not until I hear how you’re gonna explain this to her,” Mitch quipped, dodging the towel with a laugh.

Auston shook his head, smirking despite himself. It was going to be a long day. The Ice King wasn’t just trending—he was thriving.

“Oh, Auston. A commanding captain on the ice, a knight in shining armour at the galas—tell us, is there anything you can’t do? From blistering wrist shots to a disarming smirk that leaves reporters and fans alike spellbound, you’ve mastered the art of being Toronto’s shining star. Perhaps Mitch Marner should take notes—not just on your hockey technique, but on handling attention with your signature, infuriatingly effortless charm. And William Nylander? He might need a crash course in keeping up with your knack for drawing the spotlight without even trying.

But every kingdom needs balance, doesn’t it? A king isn’t a king without his loyal support. The rookies may watch your every move, but the city is watching, too—an entire court of adoring subjects, dissecting every detail, every headline, every photo. Careful, Matthews. It’s easy to rule the ice, but when the lines between the rink and the spotlight begin to blur, kingdoms can crumble under the weight of their own grandeur.

Your throne is solid for now, but your court is hungry for more. What will you give them next? - The Benchwarmer”

The Scotiabank Arena buzzed with pre-game anticipation, the hum of excited chatter blending with the sharp sounds of skates cutting across the ice during warm-ups. Fans clad in blue-and-white jerseys filled the air with energy, their collective excitement palpable as they streamed through the wide doors. The aroma of buttery popcorn and sizzling pretzels wafted through the concourse, mingling with the chill that radiated from the rink below.

You adjusted your blazer with a sharp tug, clutching your tablet tightly as you made your way to the media section. This was your arena of expertise—coordinating interviews, ensuring the narrative focused on the team, and staying invisible in the process. But tonight, the stakes felt impossibly high. The viral #MysteryQueen photo wasn’t just following you; it was plastered in the eyes and whispers of everyone around you.

As you approached the media room entrance, Chase was already waiting, predictably pristine in his perfectly tailored suit. His signature smirk was firmly in place, the kind that always made you want to roll your eyes. He leaned casually against the wall, looking as though he were preparing to deliver a victory speech rather than assist you in damage control.

“Well, well,” he said as you reached him, his tone dripping with mockery. “If it isn’t Toronto’s newest viral sensation. Tell me, how’s life as #MysteryQueen treating you?”

You shot him a glare, your jaw tightening. “Let’s just focus on the job,” you replied curtly.

“Oh, don’t worry,” Chase said, falling into step beside you as you walked into the room. “I’m here to make sure you don’t turn this into an even bigger mess. You’ve done enough of that already.”

You clenched your teeth, your grip on the tablet tightening. “I don’t need a lecture from you, Chase.”

“Really?” He raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening. “Because from where I’m standing, you could use a crash course in PR basics. Like staying invisible and not ending up as the story. Rookie move, don’t you think?”

You stopped in your tracks, turning to face him with an icy glare. “Are you going to help, or are you just here to gloat?”

Chase raised his hands in mock surrender, his grin unrelenting. “Relax. I’m just here to keep you in line. Wouldn’t want you tripping over Matthews again and handing the internet more fuel for their fire.”

Heat rose to your cheeks at the jab, but you forced yourself to take a deep breath, counting silently to three. “Let’s just get through tonight without any incidents,” you said, turning on your heel and walking ahead without waiting for his reply.

The pre-game interviews began in a whirlwind of camera flashes and bustling reporters. Auston Matthews entered the room right on time, his presence commanding immediate attention. Every camera lens turned toward him, capturing his perfectly composed demeanour as he prepared for the barrage of questions.

You stood to the side, tablet in hand, observing quietly as he answered each question with ease. He was a natural—calm, polished, and confident. His responses were precise yet charming, a masterclass in handling media under pressure.

Chase leaned in slightly, his voice low but laced with condescension. “Look at him—perfect posture, perfect answers. You’d think he rehearsed this a hundred times.”

“He has,” you shot back under your breath, not bothering to hide your annoyance.

Auston’s gaze flicked in your direction, his eyes catching yours for a fleeting moment. For a split second, a glimmer of amusement danced across his face, as though he’d overheard your exchange. He smirked slightly, turning back to the reporters, but somehow the gesture felt like it was meant for you.

When the interviews concluded, you stepped aside to check the evening’s schedule, your focus shifting back to logistics. Of course, Chase remained close, ready to offer unsolicited commentary.

“You know,” he began, his voice teasing as he leaned against the wall, “if you’re trying to stay out of the spotlight, you might want to stop looking at him like that.”

Your head snapped up, a frown forming on your face. “Like what?” you demanded, sharper than you intended.

“Like he’s the only person in the room,” Chase replied with a smug grin. “Just saying.”

Before you could respond, the crowd began to disperse, the pre-game atmosphere shifting as fans filed toward their seats for the national anthem. You let out a frustrated breath, forcing yourself to refocus. Chase wasn’t worth your energy. Not tonight.

As the game began, the arena roared to life, the crowd erupting with every rush down the ice and save by the goalie. From the media section, you watched the game unfold, your tablet propped on your lap as you took notes and ensured the schedule ran smoothly. Auston was, as always, in his element, commanding the ice with every stride. He directed plays with a sharpness that reminded everyone why he wore the captain’s “C.”

But even amidst the game’s intensity, you couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched. Every time you glanced up, it felt as though the whispers of fans were louder than the cheers. You caught glimpses of people pointing in your direction, their phones raised discreetly—or not so discreetly—to snap photos.

The hashtag wasn’t going anywhere. If anything, the spectacle was growing.

Chase leaned over during a break in play, his smirk firmly in place. “You’re a hit, you know. The internet can’t get enough of you.”

You didn’t dignify him with a response, keeping your eyes on the game. But his words lingered, gnawing at your already frazzled nerves. This wasn’t the kind of attention you wanted—or ever asked for. Worse, you couldn’t tell if Auston was ignoring the attention or quietly revelling in it.

As the final buzzer sounded and the crowd erupted in cheers, you exhaled deeply, the weight of the night still pressing down on you. But this was only the beginning. There was still so much more to face.

The buzz of the post-game crowd echoed faintly through the tunnel, a mix of jubilant cheers and the hum of arena staff preparing to wind down for the night. The air was thick with energy, but you barely noticed, your thoughts consumed by the task ahead. You stood just outside the media room, shifting your weight between your heels as if the motion could steady the whirlwind of nerves building inside you.

Your tablet felt heavy in your arms, not because of its weight but because of what it symbolised—your professional armour in a moment that felt far too personal. The image of the viral photo flashed through your mind for the hundredth time that day. The teasing. The whispers. The relentless #MysteryQueen hashtag that refused to die. You hadn’t asked for this spotlight, but it seemed determined to follow you.

The sound of footsteps drew your attention, and when Auston Matthews stepped out of the media room, your pulse quickened. His shirt was damped, the faint sheen of exertion still clinging to his skin. He exuded a casual confidence, as if he were entirely unfazed by the chaos swirling around him. His gaze swept the hallway before landing on you, and just like that, his professional mask slipped into something more playful.

Raising a brow, he smirked, his tone low and teasing. “Waiting for me?”

You let out a huff, trying to summon the last reserves of your professionalism. “We need to talk,” you said briskly, nodding toward a quieter corner of the hallway.

Intrigued, Auston fell into step beside you, the faint click of his shoes on the concrete floor adding to the tension. Once out of earshot from the lingering media, he leaned against the wall, crossing his arms in a relaxed pose that was the polar opposite of how you felt. His posture was casual, but his eyes were sharp, watching you with open curiosity.

“Alright,” he said, tilting his head slightly, his smirk never wavering. “What’s on your mind, Mystery Queen?”

The heat rushed to your cheeks, and you resisted the childish urge to stomp your foot. “Can you not call me that?”

“Fine,” he replied, clearly humouring you, though the amusement in his voice only grew. “What’s the issue, boss?”

Taking a steadying breath, you tightened your grip on your tablet, the hard edges grounding you. “I need you to address the rumours,” you said firmly. “Publicly. Tell everyone there’s nothing between us.”

Auston tilted his head, his smirk softening into something closer to curiosity. “Why?”

“Because,” you said, struggling to keep your frustration in check, “my boss isn’t thrilled about the attention. I’m supposed to be behind the scenes, not… trending online. I have a career to build, and this whole spectacle is not helping.”

He nodded slowly; his expression thoughtful. For a fleeting moment, you thought he might agree. But then, a different light sparked in his eyes—something calculating, almost mischievous—and his smirk returned, sharper than before.

“You want people to take you seriously, right?” he asked, his tone almost too casual.

“Yes,” you said cautiously, narrowing your eyes. “That’s what I’ve been saying.”

“And you need to stand out? Get noticed by your boss?”

The suspicion prickling at the back of your neck deepened. “What are you getting at?”

Auston straightened slightly, his relaxed stance giving way to something more deliberate. “What if… we don’t deny it?”

Your jaw dropped. “What?”

“Think about it,” he said, stepping closer, his voice dropping into that low, persuasive tone that could probably charm half the city. “The attention isn’t going away anytime soon. If anything, it’s only going to get worse. So why not use it to your advantage?”

“You’re suggesting we… fake it?”

“Exactly,” Auston said, his confidence radiating like heat from a fire. “You want people to notice you? They will. You’ll look like the PR genius who landed me. And I get the media off my back for a while. Everyone thinks I’m ‘taken,’ and they stop asking me about my personal life. Win-win.”

You blinked at him, completely stunned by the audacity of his proposal. “That’s insane.”

“Is it?” he countered, his tone steady, his expression calm. “You said you wanted to build your name. What better way to get people talking? We use this Benchwarmer columnist to our advantage - the gossip she’s writing about me. Us. It’s pure strategy - something you’d know all about. Huh?”

Logic screamed at you to walk away, to tell him he was out of his mind. But another part of you—the part that had endured Chase’s relentless teasing, your boss’s stern lecture, and the whispers of your co-workers—paused. Was this really any more ridiculous than the situation you were already in? And if you played it right, couldn’t this be an opportunity?

You chewed your lip, your gaze darting toward the hallway where the faint buzz of the arena still lingered. “If this has to work,” you said hesitantly, “it has to be believable. No half-measures.”

“Believable,” Auston repeated, his smirk widening into a full grin. “That’s my specialty.”

You let out a resigned sigh, shaking your head. “This is crazy.”

“Crazy works,” he said with a wink, leaning in just enough to make your pulse skip. “Trust me.”

You searched his face for any sign that he wasn’t serious, but all you found was confidence and a glimmer of mischief. Against every ounce of better judgment, you nodded slowly.

“Alright,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “Let’s do it.”

The grin that spread across Auston’s face was triumphant, almost wolfish. “You won’t regret it,” he said, his voice low and assured.

As you turned to walk away, your heart pounded in your chest, your thoughts racing faster than the cheers that still echoed faintly through the arena. You couldn’t help but wonder: What have I just gotten myself into?

“Dear Toronto readers, it seems we have yet another moment destined for the record books. The Ice King himself, Auston Matthews, and his so-called Mystery Queen were spotted in an intimate exchange in the depths of Scotiabank Arena, away from the roar of the crowd and the cameras—well, most of them.

Sparks, dear readers, are flying faster than pucks on a power play.

The city is buzzing louder than the boards after a hard check, and why wouldn’t it be? For a team as iconic as the Maple Leafs, even the smallest whisper of a new royal couple in their kingdom is enough to set the fandom ablaze. And this particular pairing? It has all the makings of a modern fairy tale—complete with a little mystery and a lot of chemistry.

But let’s not forget the rest of the court. The rookies may be loyal subjects, and the veteran players ever-watchful advisors, but every kingdom comes with its share of intrigue. Whispers from the locker room suggest a reign of strategy, while murmurs in the stands lean toward romance.

Whatever the truth, one thing is certain: this King and Queen have the entire city watching their every move. Will their story be one of triumph or turmoil? Only time will tell.

So, stay tuned, Toronto. The season is young, and the drama is only just beginning.

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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brilium · 1 year ago

Text

❥ K I N K T O B E R 2 0 2 3

Masterlist

➽──────────❥

❥ DAY 3. Camgirl! with Eren Jaeger

Summary. Eren got you a tulip necklace on your birthday, one that you never take off, not even during your livestreams on a secret site at night. And Eren could recognize that necklace anywhere.

Content Warning. Fem! reader, no use of y/n, all characters are adults, smut, use of a toy, overstimulation, maturbation (both receiving).

Word count. 3,056.

MINORS OR AGELESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT !!

Seeing how you get so excited by receiving something so small and simple as a necklace with the shape of a tulip makes Eren's heart throb uncontrollably from excitement.

He created all the design from zero, keeping in mind one time where you told him that your favorite flower was the tulips. Every minute of designing it and working long shifts to pay it totally worth it when you jumped on his arms giggling about how grateful you were to have a bestfriend like him.

Even though he had some girlfriends in the past, his big crush on you never disappeared completely.

Small touches and risky jokes about how it would be if you both would start dating were the farthest that he achieved to make you blush and think a little of the idea of dating him.

This was making him go crazy, but he enjoyed those moments when you kept hugging him longer and tighter than usually.

Some weeks later after giving you that gift —and loving the fact that you never take it off— he came home early from Uni tired from his assignments. All that he wanted was just to find something to distract himself a little and forget about all his final projects piling up on his desk.

Looking at the clock it was still too soon before Armin came home from work, and the games on his console were updating.

Since he was alone, stressed and single, he opened a tab with a particular logotype that he usually only opens late at night. He reminds himself that it will be quick and just to relax a little before starting working on his lab reports.

Anyways— the neckline that you chose to wear today combined with the necklace were calling for his eyes all day, almost feeling like you noticed the way his eyes darted down in the middle of your conversations.

While fighting with his inner thoughts, he starts to scroll down with a blush on his face.

There were the usual miniatures of the typical plots, maybe it was on his saturated brain but any of those titles or previews were particularly calling for his attention.

When he clicked back to the top of the page, the option of "Livestream" awakened an interest in him.

He didn't usually watch those thanks to being used to watching this kind of stuff at night since his schedule and Armin's were almost the same, which led to not having too much time alone at home.

But today things were a little bit in his favor, so he clicked on it.

There was a top ones where you could only access if you paid a fortune for it, so he scrolled more to find the ones of the "Rising stars", one of them was called "TulipGarden" which made him smile at the sudden thought of you coming to his mind.

When he checked the profile, there was only a cutted photo of a girl in a red bra. The photo only showed her smile and her breasts, which gave him a small hint that the girl was cute, so he clicked it and paid a considerably smaller amount to enter.

Eren throws his head back sighing while the charging screen loads the stream, it's the first time he does this and it feels a little weird. Connie once confessed that he spent like 200 dollars on a cam girl he used to follow. He's not the kind of guy who crushes instantly on a hot girl like his friend, so this might be a one time thing.

"Oh! Welcome to the stream, KrugerSoldier!"

The sound of that familiar soft voice drives a cold shiver through his spine, causing him to straighten on his seat and look immediately at the screen in a way that makes his head go dizzy for some seconds.

There you are. Well, a part of you, since half of your face is covered with a white burlesque mask. But he could recognize that voice anywhere, just like that hair, those lips, that skin, and specially: that necklace.

Eren has to bite his lower lip when his eyes can't get off from how that necklace swings between the curve of your clothed breasts with a white lingerie while you lean over to the screen to read the comments. Letting all the viewers see how good your tits hang almost exposed.

Thankfully, he chose as nickname the last name of a friend of the family who used to take care of him when he was a child, so you don't know yet that it's your best friend.

Sorry, Sir Kruger, hope anyone who knows you finds about this username.

"Okay, since there are some new guests on my stream I'll repeat the donation goals!" Since you were seated again on the chair, Eren's attention got back again to your masked face. "Listen carefully! I won't repeat it, okay?"

Eren nods completely stunned even if you can’t see him. At this point he doesn't even care if Armin comes and opens the door to find him in such a compromising situation.

“Well, as you know, through the donations you can control my… toy” Your face gets blushed, even if your cheeks are half covered, the viewers can notice the cute blush growing on them. They love to see your shy reactions previous to the show of how the lust gets all over you, causing the notifications to start blowing a little and make you bite your lip as you close your eyes, throwing your head back. “Yeah… Just like that”

The donations are just like one or five dollars, so the vibrations aren’t intense, but enough to have you already squirming on your seat struggling to keep talking, you can only whine and thank them for the donations with a broken voice.

Oh.

So she's into that.

Eren’s reaction is not far from yours with his head thrown back like yours, his hand is already squeezing softly his hard cock above his gray sweatpants and the soaked spot on his boxers might betray him soon.

Your voice is coming out stained, trying to keep talking through the stimulation of the small pink toy vibrating inside your core as the notifications keep coming.

“G-God! Fuck…” The notifications stopped a little, but the insane wave of them interrupted your words by leaving you breathing hard as you try to recompose and hols the border of your desk to look again at the screen. “Y-You missed me a lot, as I see. Well, as I was saying–”

Kruger Soldier has donated 30 dollars!

A louder “Ding!” resonates on the stream along with the high pitched moan coming out from your mouth as the strong vibrations invade you for some seconds.

You squirm on the gaming chair like you’re trying to escape from the small toy buzzing inside you, covering your mouth and trembling as the site blows a banner saying “Congratulations! Second goal achieved: Getting off from the underwear!”

Even if Eren’s aching cock is already being tortured by his hand stroking it harshly up and down, he’s surprised about how hard the vibrations were sent due to his high donation.

Truth has to be said, he planned to just donate 20 but his finger slipped while he was freeing his erection from his pants.

But he’s not complaining when he sees you sliding down the braces of your bra with a lustful smile, biting your lip while your body is still trembling.

“I see that the new one is a little eager, huh? If you keep that peace I might think of giving you a reward…” His eyes widen, not only by knowing that you’ll reward him if he spends his entire wallet on making you squirm in front of hundreds of strangers, but also by the sight of your bare tits on display for him.

He has fantasized a lot about seeing you naked when he’s touching himself like now. Imagining how they would bounce after taking off your bra while you ride him, and that thought can finally be checked on his list of fantasies— at half, at least.

He lets out a stained moan coming from his mouth squeezing himself a little harder seeing how you shake them in front of the camera. His mind is going more dizzy right now, he could die right now and he’d be totally happy that his last view is how good that necklace looks between your breasts.

And when you shake them on camera? God— He might fucking cum already.

Best fucking present in the world.

The notifications start to blow again, getting a little higher numbers just to get you on the sweet edge of pleasure just like always.

An idea comes to your mind since there's such a good welcome this time, and you take a quick glance to the bed behind you.

Your desk is just in front of your bed, just for ease when the streams get a little more heaty, this kinda looks like an occasion for it. But you need a little reassurance from your viewers, just to be sure.

“Y-You guys are being so good to me today… Should I– Fuck!” Eren has sent another multiple small donations that make you break the character for a little, making you tremble and see again how good those tits look when you start to shake.

The moans can't be held when the vibrations are being sent without a break for you. Your cunt is dripping on the small toy and you have to tangle your fingers on your hair while the other squeezes your breast to not, finally, rub your clit to reach the orgasm.

“You really like to tease me a lot this time…" You see the comments praising you for such a good show and you take a breath before continuing, trying to keep the character. "D-Do you want me to get on the bed for a better show? One for no, two for yes. But I'll leave the decision on our new good visitor, Kruger Soldier. Just for being so good to me, y'know."

The small body on his screen is trembling, already feeling close and you have just reached the second donation goal to get naked, but the way you still manage to keep the act makes Eren snort with a big smile.

You're so cute.

But for you he's the devil.

That damn viewer is sending you so many constant donations that at this point you could cum just by seeing his name on the screen, predicting that this might be the donation that might be getting you screaming his username.

Kruger Soldier has donated 10 dollars!

Even though the vibrations make you moan sharply on your hand, it disappoints you a little that he chose to keep it on the chair.

“O–On the chair, will be then.” You huff, still squirming but a little sad, until another wave of vibrations startles you on your seat in a cry.

The notification sound comes again, from the same user, but this time it comes with a message: “Srry. You said two for yes, right? My bad:)”

You bite your lip at the message after you recover from the intense stimulation, holding your laugh.

This person is clearly teasing you, but you’re starting to enjoy this little game. Anyways, you’re always grateful for a good tip during your streams.

Eren is already close to the orgasm when you get on the bed, letting the camera catch how good your naked boy looks. But he won’t cum now, even if his balls are begging for the release he won’t. He wants to cum with you.

No, he needs it.

When you get on the bed facing the camera, he gets a little sad of not being able to get the view of your ass in delight for him just like your tits before, but he won’t start complaining right now that his red tip is almost exploding with an orgasm.

With small donations of 5 dollars, Eren doesn’t even gives you time to get comfortable on the bed, already having you bending on the bed, with your chest pressing on the mattress as you hold the sheets on your fists, trying to hold something to repress the hard waves of pleasure covering you while your knees try to keep your ass up to give the viewers a good view of the curve of your back.

There's still a part of you that chose this position to let you enjoy the pleasure, wrinkling your eyebrows through the torture of the pleasure and being free to scream on the sheets.

Your moans are harder than ever in a stream before, due to being a “rising star”, your donations are usually small and not that constant, so you aren't used to being this stimulated.

But this new viewer is so stubborn with the notifications that you’re almost forgetting that you’re on live when your hand stops grabbing the sheet to rub almost violently on your clit to reach the sweet orgasm.

On the other side, Eren is already sweating hard, wanting to take off his hoodie to stop dropping on his clothes like he just finished working out, but that would mean stopping giving him pleasure just at the same time as you as he keeps donating.

“Fuck— Please cum, dear…” His voice is already so needy, a small tear coming out from his left eye as his hand gets a rougher and messier peace.

You both already forgot what you are doing, what page you are on or even the fact there are a lot of other people watching you.

The screams of your pleasure are being sinked on the matress but the camera still gets your legs shaking and your cunt tightening around the —fucking still vibrating— toy. You cry hard against the sheets as you ride the orgasm when the viewers start to enjoy your high.

It’s then, when you scream hard against the mattress and your body shakes and rolls on the bed, compulsing and arching of the pleasure that the vibrator is giving you. You grab your tits, thighs, hair and the sheets trying to control the intense shaking of your body as the juices of your cunt blow, soaking on the mattress and making a wet lustful mess of a squirt.

Meanwhile, Eren is cumming harder than ever in his life in a loud moan that chants your name and covering his hoodie and sweatpants with white strings and stains of cum.

He knows that this is going to be a headache to clean, mostly because it is his favorite hoodie because you gifted it to him on christmas but it’s okay.

You won't get mad if you're the reason why it's dirty, isn't it?

Seeing how you’re still laying on the bed, with spreaded shaky legs and still compulsing a little because of the hard orgasm is —even if the context is not the best— the cutest thing.

How you try to get up, holding the bed with weak arms and trying to catch your breath when you walk, trembling to the chair and sitting, fixing your hair a little and smiling shyly.

Eren is not sure if the blush on his face is because of his previous orgasm or because he's madly in love with you.

“Hey… I–I’m sorry, I think that I should…” Your voice is husky and shaky, it even gives the hint that you’ve never came like this on live since your embarrassed reaction. “I should end the stream right now, I… I’m too weak to keep going. I love you guys!”

You wave at the camera shyly and send some kisses before the screen goes black. Eren closes his eyes, still struggling to calm after what he saw and did. He didn’t expect to find you on a page like this but he also can’t complain after almost spending all his money on making you cum.

⋆·˚ ༘ *

“You should fight with your boss for a raise on your pay. Seriously.” You rest your elbows on the bar of the cafeteria, waiting for your coffee as Eren is preparing it.

“I know that you just want me to take you to watch that movie that you like.” Eren grabs your nose between his knuckles, making you whine and blush at his action.

Since he saw you on that page, he has never entered that section again. But he’s gotten more flirty with you, he wants to own you, to see that cute fucked out face again.

But only for him.

You pout at him and caress his hand when he lends you the cup, causing him to tense when your nails caress softly his veins.

“That's true but only a part of it. Come on, I miss you!” Your words make his chest throb and breathe heavy, almost making him grab your face and kiss you. “And, why do you suddenly need money? What did you spend your money on?”

Eren’s eyes glance down to your neckline, where the tulip necklace rests and slowly starts darting to your glossy lips and finally your eyes. He know that you noticed how his eyes almost ate you out but, since you didn’t leaned back from the touch, he brings his other hand up to your face and put a string of hair behind your ear, making you shiver at the contact.

"And what about you? Don't you have a job or something?" He ignores your question, looking deeply in your eyes.

You laugh softly, shaking your head, still caressing his hand with your thumb.

"No, I don't. I had one but it got boring and I dropped it." Eren chuckles at the answer, leaning a little closer to you and making your breath knot on your throat as you glup.

"That 's better. I want to be the only one who spends his entire wallet on you. No one else, okay?"

Eren has to hold himself from kissing you when you nod, biting your lip, giving you your coffee and asking you to wait for him while he changes into his normal clothes.

Maybe clicking on that stream was the best decision he could ever made.

@softlilpeachxx

#aot smut #eren jeager smut #eren smut #eren x reader #eren yaeger smut #snk smut #eren jeager x reader #eren x y/n #eren x you #eren yaeger x reader #aot x reader #attack on titan x reader #attack on titan smut #snk x reader #kinktober 2023 #kinktober #brilium

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