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tetsumie · 7 months ago

Note

heyy when you have the time to do so, can i request college!suna x reader angst to fluff where reader tries to spend time with suna but they get into an argument where he decides to spend time with his athlete friend group but then feels guilty and make up with reader through heart to heart conversation? 🫶🏻sorry if this is so long i have no idea how to make the prompt shorter but honestly i love all the fics you post so idc if you change it up a bit just thought i’d give an idea

𝐅𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐎𝐔𝐂𝐇

pairing: suna rintaro x gen!neutral reader

genre: hurt/comfort

content: you confront him about the growing distance in your relationship, something he's been dismissing for a while, until he finally grasps the seriousness of the situation

cw: suna is a bit harsh; arguments but they make up <3

a/n: hihi anon! ty for requesting and i hope it's to your liking :D i'm still accepting requests for my 1k event so feel free to send more into my inbox!

"it's like i never see you anymore!"

suna and you have been in this back and forth argument for what felt like an eternity and it's draining the life out of you.

suna has been preoccupied with the upcoming inter-collegiate volleyball tournament. as a starter on the prestigious division 1 ejp raijin volleyball team, the arduous practices and pressure have been taking a heavier toll than expected on him.

as a result of this, suna has been incredibly distant in your relationship. he was always gone before you woke up in the morning and didn't return until after you fell asleep. every time you tried to plan a date or suggest something to do together, he somehow always cancels. it's always, "sorry i have to run some extra drills. maybe another day?"

it's exhausting putting this much effort into your relationship when it all seems in vain.

you've tried bringing this up to suna before, mentioning how you would like to spend more time together. but suna, being suna, always brushed it off. but there's only so much dismissal you can take.

you really miss your boyfriend.

but you're not sure he misses you the way you miss him.

"y/n you can't expect me to drop everything for you! like fuck, i have a life outside of you," he exclaims, snapping you back to the current argument at hand.

"i didn't say that, rin."

"that's what you're trying to say," he replies, crossing his arms over his chest.

you shake you head, lowering your voice. "i know volleyball always has and always will be a top priority for you but i just wish... well, it would be nice if you could put a bit of effort into our relationship."

"what if i don't even want to anymore..." he mumbles under his breath as he walks to the closet, grabbing a coat.

the rage in your heart and mind now simmer down to a feeling of dread and heartbreak. what?

as he turns around, he sends an icy glare at you. you've never seen this side of him and you refuse to let him see you crumble apart in front of him. you refuse to break down right now.

"you don't want to what, suna?" you look at him, tone icy cold. "go on. tell me."

the heated environment is making his mind all cloudy and he wants to end this conversation now.

"you know what i mean, y/n. i'm going out. don't call me."

the door opens and slams shut.

the moment the door closes, you're completely still. you're running on autopilot. you find yourself making a cup of tea and sitting at the dining table, looking at the empty, lifeless apartment sprawled in front of you.

subconsciously, the tears started to roll. i guess that's it then. i think i better start packing my things. i should be gone by the time he comes back home.

meanwhile, suna makes his way downtown to the bar where some of his volleyball friends had invited him out for a couple drinks. he opens the door to the bar and he can hear the familiar rowdiness of his friends.

"well, well, well, if it ain't the infamous sunarin from ejp," a familiar blonde comes running to him. "been too long since i've seen ya stupid ass."

"yeah yeah whatever asshole," suna slaps the back of atsumu and nods over at osamu who's sitting on the table. "it's good to see you both."

as suna and atsumu head to the table in the back with the rest of his friends, his mind can't help but linger back to the argument that he had with you. but he decides to shake his mind off it.

he's here to have fun with his friends right now. not be worried about you.

"you didn't bring y/n tonight?" komori, suna's teammate, asks. "i haven't seen them in a hot minute. what've they been up to?"

what have you been up to? he doesn’t know. when was the last time we both had an actual conversation? he doesn’t know. he doesn’t even know what's been going on in your life lately. fuck this is what y/n meant.

he forces a smile, masking the bitter thoughts playing in his mind. "they're good. just doing their classes and stuff."

"ah right, well bring them by sometime! it's been too long since i've seen them. they never fail to light up the room with their presence."

"yeah you're right."

he nods, taking small sips from the beer in front of him.

as the conversation and chaos ensue among his friends, his mind keeps drifting back to the memories of the argument he walked out on. his mind has cooled off and a sense of guilt starts to take over his body.

here he is having fun with his friends while you're at home all alone, waiting for him. you just wanted to spend time with him and here he was, finding comfort in other people other than you.

he tries to remember the last time you both had gone out together but he's drawing a complete blank. he can't even remember the last time he's kissed you or held you in his hands.

no wonder you've been feeling so lonely.

and in response, he just kept brushing you off until you blew up today. and to make matters worse, he walked out of the argument giving you no sense of reassurance or closure on the matter.

at the realization, suna shoots up out of his seat with flushed cheeks. the group turns to him.

"i gotta head out for the night. i gotta see my baby."

"get a fuckin' room sunarin," osamu shouts. the rest of the groups howls in agreement. "see ya."

he waves goodbye and starts trudging his way back to the shared apartment. he expects to find you asleep so he can crawl into bed with you and cuddle, never intending on letting you go.

so you can imagine the surprise when he opens the door and sees the bedroom light on and hears rustling noises. "baby?" he calls out. "y/n?"

he takes off his shoes and coat and walks to the bedroom. he starts to internally panic at the sight in front of him.

you have a couple of suitcases out filled with your clothes and belongings. at a glance, he can see that your side of the closet is almost empty. you've even taken down a couple of the decor pieces in the room that you bought but he was never particularly interested in. with your headphones in, you’re focused on packing, but what breaks him the most is seeing you wipe your eyes as you do so. why are you even packing? where are you going?

and then it hits him.

not only did he make it seem like he didn’t want to make this relationship work, but his actions have been driving you away. fuck, this was bad. he didn't mean any of it. he has to fix it or he's gonna lose the best thing in his life for good.

he goes over to you and taps your shorted and you yelp, startled by the 6'2" man, hovering above you.

"what the hell are you doing?" suna asks, cocking an eyebrow at you.

you wipe your eyes. "i'm leaving."

"don't be ridiculous," he scoffs.

"ridiculous?" you laugh at the absurdity of his comment. "what's ridiculous is how you walk out of an argument not even wanting to work things out. what's ridiculous is how you just continue to put me aside like i’m some side piece."

he knows you’re hurting. and it’s all his fault.

he doesn’t know how to properly express everything he needs to say to you.

so in the heat of it all, he does what he thinks is the next best thing and kisses you.

you'd forgotten this feeling. his soft lips on yours and how they fit together just right. it's the softest kiss he's ever given to you and your heart swells at the gesture.

you pull away and you plop yourself on the floor to process what just happened.

right there and then, he looks at you. he really looks at you. he notices the way you have some baby hairs popping out and your cheeks feel warm from all that crying. he notices the way your eyes look slightly puffed out and the remnants of tears on your cheeks.

i'm the cause of this. this is all my fault.

"i’m sorry," he begins.

you sigh and look away mumbling to yourself. "you’ve said that before. it doesn’t change anything."

"and you’re right."

you look up at him, surprised by his admission. "w-what?"

"you’re absolutely right, y/n."

he crouches down to your level, resting his hand on your knee so he can look you in the eye.

"i shouldn't have made it seem i wasn't willing to put in the effort into making us work," he says, gesturing between you and him. "my actions and what i said to you a couple hours ago obviously made it seem that way and i'm an absolute dumbass for not picking up on it."

you’re silent. he searches your face, looking for any speck of emotion, but he still can’t read you. in the amount of time he's known you, you’ve always been the exception.

"i've been swamped with so much work lately and i know i need to do better. i spread myself so thin that i forgot to prioritize the things and the people that matter the most to me."

you're silent, unsure of what to say to him.

"i thought i was doing the best i could do until i realized i could be doing so much more for us and for you. i'm so sorry for not being here."

"i know rin," you whisper. finally, for the first time you look up from your lap to look at him. "it just felt like you didn't care about us anymore. you're the hardest worker i know but i just wish you were here sometimes."

"and i wouldn't be able to be that hard worker without your love and support, you know," his hand cups your cheek as he runs his thumb across the tear streaks on your face.

"i realize how absent i’ve been in our relationship lately and i can’t imagine how lonely you’ve been feeling. i want to make this relationship work with you. i know i suck at being sappy and shit but you really are my other half. no matter what it takes, i’ll make us work. i’ll fight for this relationship. i'll fight for us."

"oh, rin," you sigh and wrap your arms around his neck, bringing him in close for a hug. the tears begin to flow from your eyes.

he feels his eyes glaze over. he breathes in your familiar scent and feels a warmth he’s missed.

even after everything, you still love him.

he starts with a gentle kiss on your cheek, then starts peppering your face with soft kisses.

you let out a watery chuckle, making his heart skip a beat. he hasn't heard your laugh in forever and he swears to himself to never be the reason for your tears again.

"let's go to bed now baby. i've gotta cuddle away all the pain i've caused you."

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abbyslovergirlxo · 2 months ago

Text

Same Damn Time

Caitlyn Kiramman x Reader x Ambessa Medarda

tw; Dom!Ambessa, Dom!Caitlyn, sub!reader, rough sex but they’re not so mean towards the end, wlw, sadism (cait/bessa), choking, slapping (everywhere lol), knife usage, blood kink??,masochism (you🫵) , crying, reader has a mouth on her and then folds (typical😒), idk why i made cait psychotic but oh well, oral, degradation, crumbs of praise lmao, ALL SEXUAL INTERACTION IS CONSENSUAL, I am not someone who writes noncon

Word count: 7.8k

… = time skip

a/n; whewww! like what can I even say, this fic is crazy asl. Like I actually think they’re gonna bring back stoning people just for this. Lowkey deserved. But I know there’s someone out there who’s gonna match my freak 😭 i had tooo much fun writing this while listening to the song, made me think of them 😩lots of tw!! so plz read that before scrolling!!! I feel like this is something you’re either really going to love or really going to hate sooo idk. Also I was literally fixated on Sevika/Ambessa and one edit drove me to madness so here we are, getting double teamed by Commander Kiramman and General Merdarda 😩 They’re both evil twins in this but Caitlyn is the more evil twin but no seriously read the tw…. anyways enough of my my rumbling, this fic is long enough lol.

Your ear shot up, body reacting involuntarily to the large grey door opening. Heavy echoing footsteps, hushed whispers, and then a closed door.

“ This is the one?”

The judgemental tone would’ve sent you spiralling, had you been anywhere else. But menacing glares and sharp words would do little for you here. The lights were dim, unfavorably so, only illuminating distinctly right above your chair that you sat in.

Their voices held unyielding authority. Everyone from topside did to be fair but something about these two gave away their status. Their faces were shielded slightly, your eyes squinting in an attempt to see who they were. That attempt was shot down, the small space of darkness they stood in protecting them.

You cursed yourself for not having been smarter that day, faster. For if you had been, you’d never know what the inside of Stillwater’s interrogation room looked like.

“ Yes, General. My enforcers found her near one of Jinx’s old hideouts. From the items that were taken from her we can safely say this one knows something. She knows Jinx. My men attempted to speak to her a couple of days ago but nothing came of it.”

You thought back to the ‘men’ who questioned you, hammered you with prompts that you refused to answer. The bruises on your back proved how badly they wanted to know but you never relented.

“ I don’t know anything.” A lie. A clear one. Both of the women ignored you, tossing back and forth bits of information. You tugged at the shiny metal cuffs, now wishing you’d taken Vi up on those lock picking lessons. I’m so fucked, you thought to yourself. The room was a bit cold and you weren’t exactly dressed for the occasion when they snatched you. So, somberly you shook a little, giving up on listening to whatever they were saying.

You weren’t going to rat. You knew that much.

Your head was hung when you heard them get closer to you. Not bothering to look up, you heard two chairs groan from being pulled, until they sat down from what you assumed.

“ Name?”

Finally you peered up. Your expression faltered for a second, not expecting the sight in front of you. Their outfits clashed and blended seamlessly all at once. One sat in an all black attire, her long blue hair hanging down. The other was engrossed in clads of gold and red.

Sitting right across from you, they both had menacing glares. Well, the glares you expected. Not quite the faces. Shamefully you imagined seeing them somewhere else, maybe in The Last Drop? The younger, sharp features and pinched eyes, looked at you with a particularly hateful look. That didn’t bother you though, she was as intimidating as the drunk men you’d fought with in the undercity. Pretty though, you thought. The other one was a different story entirely.

She was tall, you could tell from how she towered even sitting down. Something about her was elegant. But she looked dangerous. Growing up it was quite necessary to assess who you could and couldn’t take on, and the moment your eyes locked with hers, you knew. The scars on her face also gave way to what she was capable of. She was a problem, even if her stare wasn’t as heinous as the woman beside her.

“ Name?” She pressed. Her voice was calm but she didn’t look like someone who didn’t know how to raise it.

“ I don’t know anything. I don’t even know who Jinx is.”

The blue haired girl scoffed, clearly unimpressed. Her companion remained analytical of you.

“ You’re a terrible liar.” Her voice came off unforgiving and brutal. You’d be lying (again) if you said you weren’t slightly offended. But you kept a neutral face, ignoring her.

“Listen, this doesn’t have to be rough. How this goes depends entirely on you, you choose. We know you know Jinx. We know that you know something. The information you have is quite important to me,”

The older woman paused for a split second, her stare unwavering and promising. She looked over to the younger one before looking back at you.

“ to us. So we’re leaving this room with something, I can assure you that. But I can also assure you that if you help us, we will help you.”

Her voice was smooth, like wine. Well according to what people say about wine, you’d never had it. She was firm in her words, almost as if she herself knew the power behind her promise. That would’ve reassured you had it not been for the fact that she was after your fucking friends.

You looked between the two of them again, assessing the scene in front of you over and over. You were unimpressed, if you were being honest, something you hadn’t been since these cuffs first touched your wrist. Sure, you could tell they meant business but this was futile as an interrogation tactic.

Good cop, bad cop?

While the older wasn’t exactly nice, you expected a missing eye, pulled nails and burnt skin. What you weren’t expecting was two, unfortunately attractive, topside pigs to do a century old method. If anything they should’ve switched, you thought to yourself.

Maybe then they’d get somewhere.

“ Still don’t know who Jinx is or why I’m here.”

“ You’re lying, again. And protecting a known fanatic and criminal. Tell us where we can find Jinx.”

You furrowed your brows, annoyed with her insults and claims. Who is she to tell you that were lying? Well, you were of course. But regardless, the tone in the blue eyed woman before you made you unsettled.

“ I’m not lying.” You gritted out. “ I’ve been detained wrongfully. You’re wasting your time. I don’t know anything.”

“ Yes, you do.” Her voice was firm, final. You scowled at her, but it was nothing in comparison to how she looked at you. Constantly her jaw flexed, on edge and angry. But she had no right to be angry in your mind, after all you were the one chained to a table being talked at rather than talked to. Secretly you wished for the older woman to speak again, at least she wasn’t such a bitch.

“ Are they your friends? Is that it? Because I promise you that we will find Jinx, it will just be a whole lot messier without your help. I don’t mind that. But I’m sure you will.”

You fought the urge to wipe that domineering tone and look off her face. You’re never going to find Jinx! You’re nothing but a power hungry topsider who doesn’t know the first thing about friends! I’m not telling you shit. Was what you wanted to say. But instead,

“ I don’t know Jinx or whatever else you people plan on asking me. Like I said, you. are. wasting. your. time.”

You put emphasis on each word, tired of repeating yourself. But to your un-satisfaction she rolled her eyes, shaking her head.

“ Look… I shouldn’t be here. I can’t give you anything because I don’t kno—“

“ Right.” She cut you off, so obviously tired of your insistent lying, even in the short minutes. “And you’re not an undercity animal.”

“ And you’re not a topside pig.”

In all fairness it came out before you could stop it. You weren’t used to being talked to like this and keeping quiet, it almost came out of pure instinct. But if you were surprised by your words you didn’t show it one bit, a small smile almost playing on your lips.

Her nostrils flared slightly, her breathing elevating. For a moment you thought she’d explode before the other woman spoke.

“ Kiramman.”

You memorized the name, not sure if it’d be useful later once you escaped but just in case. She simply collected herself, nodding at the woman who she called ‘General’. Maybe this is where you went wrong, your natural element slipping out, your ego on its way to arriving.

“ You should learn to control yourself, ya know… during interrogations and such.”

“ Shut your mouth.” It was harsh and whispered. This is when you should’ve stopped but you didn’t.

“ You must be new, since you need a supervisor to help you.”

“ Shut it.”

“ You guys have nothing on me. You’re fucking desperate. I’m n—“

Mistakenly you were so focused on Kiramman that you hadn’t been prepared for the harsh grab of your chin. It was quick, unbelievably fast and that scared you more than anything. The strength of which she used to crush your face also attributed to the pit in your stomach.

“ You’ve chosen miserably.”

Her voice was meaner now, she talked as if you were nothing. Like you were stupid. Instantly you regretted wishing for her presence.

Embarrassingly you struggled against her trying to pry away but it was useless. She effortlessly held you there, your cheeks red with humiliation and anger. You tried to ignore the victorious face planted on Kiramman.

“ She said shut your mouth so you shouldn’t be doing anything but that.”

“ Thought you w-wanted me to talk, which one is it?”

You half expected her to break your jaw or lash out like the woman beside her. Instead she remained calm, eerily calm. Anyone with such strength and patience was someone who got what they wanted. But, you weren’t going to talk, you reminded yourself.

She pulled you closer, not without the rebellious tug from you. Silently she analyzed you, staring into your eyes painstakingly long. You squirmed and averted your gaze. She let you go with a ‘hmph’.

“ She won’t talk, not like this.”

The blue haired girl whipped her head towards her, then back to you, a blue fire blazing in her eyes. From the short time they’d been in the room it was clear the older woman held a higher position, authority oozing from her undoubtedly. But now you noticed something dark about the Kiramman that you should have picked up on before.

She was angry, unreasonably so. There was something constantly threatening to set off inside of her.

“ Everyone talks. There has to be something that’ll make her.”

The General hummed. “ I agree, but not like this. She’s loyal to them and she’s prepared for a cell if not this. She’s attempting to use our anger to distract us. She needs something else.”

The goosebumps from the cold air became accompanied by ones born from anxiety. Your mind went into a dark place, worried you’d never leave Stillwater. What if they starved you? Kept you locked in some cell as your body slowly decayed while you still lived? True fear found its way to you for the first time, the unknown overwhelming.

Kiramman seemed to hold back a sigh, instead taking a moment to actually listen to her superior's words. You couldn’t tell what she was thinking but from the firm nod she let off to the General, you knew it wasn’t in your favor. The grey haired woman stood now, making your heart race. Desperately you tugged at the chain once more, attempting to repeat your overdone line.

“ Look, I really don’t know anything.” Ignored.

The blue haired girl remained seated, leaned back slightly, watching silently as the older woman walked around the table. She walked to you with a certain prowess about her. She was taller than you’d expected, to your dismay. You refused to look at her when she was finally standing beside you, face aimed at the grey table.

You pinched your eyes waiting to be hit, choked maybe, or stabbed if they didn’t mind the mess. Your breathing raised as you tried to silently comfort yourself through whatever pain soon awaited. You held back a flinch when you felt large hands pulling at your chains.

It’ll be okay. It’ll be okay. It’ll be okay. Fuck.

*clink*

You snapped your eyes open, seeing your handcuffs now undone.

“ Stand up.”

You took in a breath, silently grateful that you hadn’t been harmed. You stood now, relieved. At least whatever they were going to do wasn’t happening in the now you thought. You looked towards the giant closed metal door, expecting your arm to be snatched as she led you to your dark cell. But to your surprise she simply spoke again.

“ On the table.”

You looked between the two of them.

You shook your head, not even at them, it just shook. No way in hell were you going to lay down on some metal table while these two psychopaths did whatever they wanted to you. You weren’t exactly happy about the bruises that already resided there, definitely not hoping for extras.

“ …No.”

You hadn’t wished to say it but you couldn’t bring yourself to willingly place your body on that table before they hurt you.

“ You misunderstand the situation. You’ve chosen already. So get on the table.”

You didn’t choose shit. That’s what you wanted to shout, to scream at them until your bones betrayed you. A million emotions rushed through your head, clenching and unclenching your hands. Instead you remained silent and unmoving, your refusal to acknowledge was saying ‘no’ in its own way.

“ Fucking impossible…”

You didn’t even have a moment to react to the words before you were pulled. A grunt left your mouth as your hair was gripped painfully. Anger coursed through you upon seeing the black uniform in your peripheral. You used your now free hands to try and pry her hands from you but she only gripped impossibly tighter, your scalp beginning to burn. She was swifter than you’d imagined she’d be, strong too, grabbing both of your hands with one, pinning them. This somehow was worse than cuffs.

“ Fucki— let me go!”

Ignored. Why did they ignore everything?

“ Where do you want her?”

Her General's eyebrows raised, but you didn’t see surprise. Not even disappointment. Content, maybe? You didn’t put it past her.

“ Let's put her on her back to start.”

She moved without question or affirmation. Irritation was clear across your face now, upset at the stinging that wasn’t letting up on your scalp. But clearly the woman behind you didn’t care, roughly forcing you onto the table. She wasn’t as tall as her companion but she was taller than you and it wasn’t an advantage on your part. The force behind her movements were unsettling, you hadn’t thought she was powerless at first glance, but her grip on you was unnerving compared to what you thought she was capable of.

The cold metal wasn’t welcoming. It felt like a million needles were puncturing your skin causing you to shudder. Your tank top strap had fallen off your shoulder amidst the struggle, close enough to slipping down making you wish your hands were free.

“ Give me her wrist.”

They swiftly transferred your hands, the Generals grip matching hers but you could tell there was more strength to be given behind it. You didn’t want to imagine her really trying to squeeze you. The cuffs you were free from moments ago encased you again, and you didn't miss the two extra notches she clicked causing your bone to shift uncomfortably with the metal. You scowled.

“ It’s too fucking tight.”

Not even a pitied glance, nothing. Ignored. Again. You shifted your wrist again, overwhelmed and upset. And this bitch is still gripping my hair, using her other hand to keep your shoulder on the table casually. So easily, and that made you feel vulnerable, helpless. And your now restrained hands weren’t helping, the slight burn making something in your throat want to creep up but you wouldn’t dare allow it, deciding to instead take it out on them.

“ Let go of my hair, you bi–”

You hissed, the stinging sensation pulsating across your cheek. It wouldn’t leave a bruise but you damn sure felt it.

“ Mind your tongue.”

The General ignored the glare you sent her straight from hell, instead taking off her jacket revealing a dark sleeveless sort of top. You couldn’t begin to imagine or decipher the detailing of it, topsiders always dressed too flashy in your opinion, too stuck up. Her arms were as big as you'd thought. Both being ridiculed with scars.

Then, another sharp crack resounded through the dark room, a quick punishing tug to your scalp. This one would unfortunately leave a bruise. You could tell. You didn’t hiss this time, too stunned, on the verge of groaning from the way she used your hair as a plaything.

“ What she said.”

Kiramman finally let go of your hair, the residue of her strength still pounding through your head. You tried to sit up but she instead used both of her hands to hold you down. With only your legs to move, you kicked but the General shut that down as soon as it started. Effortlessly she used only one hand to keep them pinned down, now looking over you and at Kiramman.

What now? You thought. Cut my skin until I fess up? Break my bones until I don’t have any? Beat me bloody while I lie on this cold table? Are they going to kill me when this is all over, when I don’t say anything? I’m going to die here, aren’t I? I’m going to die and nobody’s gonna know.

It’ll be ok. It’ll be ok. It’ll be ok. I can take it. I can take it.

Eyes suddenly squeezed shut, recited echoes of wishful thinking, a scratchy throat. You braced yourself.

“ Last chance. Tell us where we can find Jinx and I’ll send you back to your cell. Untouched.”

Your voice came out a little exasperated, anxiety and anger laced into it. You kept your eyes shut.

“ I don’t know who Jinx is so I can’t tell you that. I don’t know anything.”

Your shoulder crushed more into the table, pale hands squeezing.

“ You continue to choose stupidity, insolence. No more of that.”

Suddenly the grip on your legs were let go and you opened your eyes. She was still at the head of the table staring down at you. For a moment you considered kicking again but as if she read your mind…

“ Kick me and I will break every bone in your knee.”

Her tone wasn’t intimidating, demeaning absolutely, but not intimidating. The certainty in her voice made you throw away any ideas of using your legs. You liked your knees to say the least. You peered straight up to see an upside version of Kiramman, her long blue hair creating a shadow around her neck, her jawline distinct. Even without seeing her face, only the outline of lips and nose, the anger radiated off her body.

“ What now?”

The General looked over you, straight at her.

“ We’ll need to take her pants off for the next part.”

You and Kiramman spoke at the same time.

“ Wait, what? My pants?” “ Her pants?”

The older woman simply gave a one word reply, meant to supply both of you with a firm answer, ‘yes’.

“ Wait, wait.”

She looked down at you, eyebrows raised.

“ Do you remember something about Jinx? Something you’d like to tell us?”

You listened to the flickering sound coming from the light above you. One by one you let them pop into your head. Jinx, long blue hair and wild face as she hugged you. Vi, stuffing her favorite foodsin your face. Isha, making paper airplanes with you. For a moment you thought a tear might slip but it didn’t. You drew in a shaky breath, ignoring the sting on your wrist.

“ No. I don’t know anything. I just…”

You averted your gaze.

“ Is it going to hurt?”

A stupid question in your mind. No doubt torture hurts. But something in you needed to ask, needing some sort of certainty in what was to come.

“ That depends on you entirely. I’ll give you pain when you give me insolence. But when you give me answers, I’ll give you… ”

She suddenly ghosted a hand over your calf.

“ Relief.”

You shuddered a little, her graze unexpected. But you didn’t dare move your leg, not wanting to test what qualified as a kick to her. You didn’t want to imagine what she meant by relief, because it couldn’t mean that. It couldn’t mean that.

“ How does that sound?”

“ It sounds like I have nothing else to say to you.”

She hummed. Without another word she slipped her large hands in your waistband, pulling them down to your ankles. You wanted them back the second your bare thigh touched the cold metal. A click echoed and you looked to see a blade in her hand, small in size but formidable in design. Gold snakes seemed to embroider its handle. You sucked in a harsh breath at the sight, your eyes locked on it.

Your eyes flicked up at the blue haired woman, her position now changed so that you could see her face again. Her eyes almost beamed? For the first time an expression other than anger displayed itself on her features. Now she looked almost… pleased. Excited.

It’ll be ok. It’ll be ok. I can take it. I can take it. I can take it. Hopefully.

You ignored the last words, watching as the General kept her eyes trained on your plump thighs. Opening them, she traced it right on the inside of it. Immediately you could tell it was sharp. Too sharp. It was cold against your skin, not as harsh as the table but unforgiving nonetheless. Anticipation rushed through you. Hands clenched within its restraints, the light flickering and flickering, her soft hands on your shoulder, icy metal on your skin, her hand slipping onto your thigh and then….

“ Ngnh!”

Your head pressed into the metal slightly. You’d have been embarrassed by your whimper if it wasn’t for the sudden warm drip down your thigh. Blood, you assumed. You’d been through worse but you still squirmed at the cut now adorned on your skin. She pushed down on your thigh, not fond of your squirming. Then she continued, tracing the blade across your thigh, waiting until your body finally relaxed, stopping itself from that state of bracing. And right when you did, she’d swipe a quick line across your shaky, burning legs. Always between your thighs, always.

It felt like electricity was rushing through you, it was all so overwhelming. You felt like you were being swallowed alive and they had barely done anything. The cuts burned and sent a rush of pain through your nerves and skin. Everytime you looked at Kiramman her face was becoming alive with intoxication. It’s like she couldn’t pull her eyes away, trained on the way your leg wobbled under her General’s hand, how you whimpered lowly, the light trace of blood on the expensive blade. You jolted again, particularly harder this time.

“ Relax. It's just a little cut, you're a big girl.”

It continued like this. You tried your best to stifle the whimpers coming from your mouth. The last thing you wanted was for them to hear what they were doing to you. Over and over she painted your thighs with your own crimson, and it hurt. It hurt, it did. And that's all it should be.

But your stomach kept getting that feeling. It burned, like the surface level cuts she gave you. It burned every time her calloused finger swiped across your sliced skin, collecting blood. It burned when she smiled suddenly, as if proud of her work. And it was scalding when you looked up and saw those blue eyes entranced. But it wasn’t pain. It wasn’t…anger. It was something else. Something that made you want to release that feeling in your throat, made you wish she meant something ungodly when she offered relief.

“ What's this?”

Your skin was hot to the touch now, sweaty. Trembling slightly, you looked up at her. For a moment you couldn’t begin to imagine what she was referring to until you traced her eyes. You silently prayed that it wasn’t what you thought. But from the way she asked, you knew.

“ What is it?”

Kiramman asked, curiosity clear in her voice. The older woman smirked, staring down at the wet spot in your panties.

“ It seems her body is more honest than she is. I think our little prisoner likes this. Her panties say so at least.”

Your face burned so hot that it rivaled the sun itself. You considered saying something, protesting and denying it. But what was the point? It did feel good, the burn felt good. And she had the evidence right in front of her. You couldn’t meet either of their gazes, looking to the side in shame. Kiramman laughed, the vibrations reaching you through her touch.

“ I knew it, she was whimpering like a dog. Isn’t that right?”

You shook your head, still refusing to look. But she wasn’t having it, using one of her hands to pull your chin. Even upside down, she looked menacing. She forced eye contact. Her face was rampant with mocking undertones, sadistic glares.

“ Is that why you’ve been so rude? You wanted us to give you a little pain, show you a good time? You really are pathetic.”

“ That’s not tr– n-ngh!”

A stinging pain after a quick slap to your clothed cunt made you whimper louder than anytime the blade touched you. It felt like a live wire tapping your skin, your legs snapping shut. The wet spot in your panties grew, your breathing uneven.

“ Insolence. Tell the truth.”

I can’t. You thought. Telling them that you’d enjoyed it, even a tiny bit, seemed more daunting suddenly than ratting.

“ I’m not ly– f-fuck…”

You weren’t sure if you’d ever be allowed to finish a sentence, her hand opening your legs followed by another slap coming down. Your eyes fluttered for a moment, your face squeezing with pain and pleasure. Kiramman used the hand she never removed to guide you. A smile was now on her lips, wide with genuine amusement.

“ Oh god, did you just… moan? You really are something aren’t you? Is that what it’s going to take? A few more slaps to your cunt and you’ll be blabbering? Or maybe…”

She lowered herself, close enough that her hair brushed against your face. You whined again, another unsuspecting smack from the older woman. You hadn’t even done anything, she just liked the way your panties got damper with each hit. Kiramman almost thanked her for it, relishing in hearing the noise even closer. She whispered to you.

“ If I make you cum enough times you’ll remember something. I bet you’d like that, letting a… what was it that you called me…a topside pig make your cunt cry?”

Finally, you gave way to the ache in your throat. A tear fell down your face suddenly. Another burning sensation forming in your stomach at the feeling of the General toying with the rim of your panties.

“ Please…”

It was quiet, almost matching the decibels of the wind. But you knew she’d heard it. It was obvious from how her grin widened, her eyes looking like ones of a deranged woman.

“ Please what? Please…make me cum? Please…let me go? Please fucking what?”

In this small moment of time, you almost felt like you were watching your dignity physically leave your body. You imagined telling her to let you go, that you didn’t know anything and a few cuts to your legs wasn’t going to change that. And you considered it, over and over. Then something played in your mind, a sick fantasy woven in desperation. In it, you asked her what you really wanted to. And in it they kissed you until you couldn’t breathe, made you finish until you didn’t know how to walk. You considered both. But only one of them made your core ache with desire. Your eyes were even glossier now. Suddenly you were working yourself up for a new kind of courage.

I can take it. I can take it. I can take it.

“ Make me cum please.”

“ Please who?”

I can take it.

“ Please, Kiramman.”

“ That’s it. Finally something coming out of your mouth other than horseshit. But you still need some manners…”

The grip that had left your ears ringing suddenly came back, her pale fingers peeking through your hair. She pulled your head up, forcing you to look at the General. You groaned, arms thrashing slightly, the sting of the metal never relenting.

“ I’m not the only one here. Go ahead, ask General Merdarda too.”

You gritted your teeth. This was already humiliating, and she was just reveling in it. Your legs were already spread, panties damp, dried crimson on your skin, hands bound above your stomach. You’d already asked, multiple times. And now you had to say it again, with a death-like grip on your hair and those hazel eyes peering at you, awaiting.

“ …but I already asked y—“

The slap was even stronger this time , the force of it driving your body insane. Merdarda grinned at you, even laughing a little at the noise you made. Another tear fell down your cheek but Kiramman was quick to wipe it. Right before she licked her finger.

“ But you didn’t ask me.”

If she slapped your cunt again you’d probably start grinding against the table, somehow making you look more pathetic than you do right now. So you gave in.

“ P-Please General Merdarda, will…”

I’m never speaking about this if I get out of here.

“…Will you please make me cum?”

“ Well would you look at that, that’s all you had to say little one. But what do we get in return? Surely you can’t expect us to make you cum with nothing given back.”

“ …But…I already said I don’t know anything.”

Kiramman scoffed.

“ Even after you soak your panties from a little cut, you still have the ability to lie. I’m almost impressed.”

She let your head drop back onto the table.

“ Almost.”

….

For a second you thought she’d kiss them.

At first glance it seemed so, her soft lips trailed over the red raised wounds, her nose spilling cold air on them. You reveled in it, an ember threatening to go a blaze within you. That was until she nipped at it, a hiss leaving your mouth. You couldn’t see her smile but you felt it sweeping across the throbbing skin. You cursed under your breath, the force behind her bite growing more rabid. She slapped the thigh she wasn’t ravaging, quick and harsh.

“ You like that, don’t you?”

There that voice was again, smooth and sultry. You weren’t sure if she was referencing the strike on your leg or her roaming fingers but murmured yes anyway. Yes to all of it. She had your shirt hitched up, breast exposed. Every once and awhile she’d toy with them, trace an outline around your nipple, wait and then pinch. So often though she found herself distracted, your features giving away how desperate you were.

Merdarda found enjoyment in watching your contort every time Kiramman did something to you, anything to you really. You were like a tight coiled spring, threatening to snap at any given moment. It's like every touch has you ready to risk everything. And you learned quickly they were into this a little more than you, mania clear across their faces. You were trembling, Kiramman taking advantage of how sensitive your legs were.

“ C’mere.”

You felt a little dizzy, seeing her lift her head up from between your legs. She grabbed your cuffed hands, pulling you up to meet her face. It all happened so fast and you winced from the strain in your shoulders. She was closer now and it was just now that you noticed the traces of blood on her lips. You hadn’t expected a kiss this time around, but it happened. It wasn’t gentle, if anything it felt like she was trying to cannibalize you with her tongue. Shamefully you pushed against her, sick to your stomach at how good she tasted. Hints of copper on your tastebuds, her wandering hands. She pulled back, being sure to bite your lip before doing so.

“ You taste that? It’s you.”

She dropped her eyes to your thighs, licking over her lips once more. A trance almost seemed to describe the hunger behind her stare, but you couldn’t be sure. You didn’t care either way, you just wanted her to do whatever was on her mind to you and soon.

“ fucking delicious.”

The whispered lust in her voice rivaled the reaction brought out from Medardas heavy hands.

“ You should taste her General. She’s sweeter than that filthy mouth of hers.”

Wordlessly, she captured your lips next. Her movements were more experienced, methodical and you felt as though you melted into her due to it. Ruby lipstick smeared onto you, a groan slipping from her as she made sure to taste everything you had to offer. The metallic tinge on her tongue made her pull in deeper. You whimpered, dizzy from lack of breath and insatiable roaming hands.By the time she pulled away your eyes were low, an unfocused look about you.

“ I wonder if her cunt tastes even better.”

Kiramman smiled sickly to herself, her gapped teeth giving you a warm tinge to your cheek.

“ We’ll know soon enough.”

….

Your wrist were nearly rubbed raw with all the thrashing you were doing. Time and time again you made attempts to close those abused legs of yours, in hopes of protecting your cunt. Unfortunately, Kiramman wasn’t pleased and she slapped it raw until you cried enough apologies. She mumbled something along the lines of ‘can’t be stupid and greedy’. But you somehow continued to be prove to be both, whining endlessly about the torture of her tongue. She never let up though, only unlatching from you to say obscene things or mark up your poor legs.

It seemed the pair held similar views, sick desires. Medarda would litter your neck and breast with purple marks shamelessly. She smelled of some expensive plant you’d never heard of, all you knew was that it made you whimper everytime her skin was pressed onto yours. She’d whisper siren-like words to you, etched in sin, rough kisses between them all. And yet you drank them into your ears like milk and honey.

“ You just came, didn’t you? Nasty girl.”

“ Do you remember anything now, hm?”

“ Don’t be so dramatic, keep your legs open for her.”

“ You must spread yourself open often. You’re a natural.”

“ Your cunts almost as noisy as you, dear.”

And when her tongue wasn’t making you drip onto the table, Kirammans words were just as wicked, if not more. Her posh accent was a coverup for all the nefarious things laced into it. A very, very poor coverup.

“ I said— keep. them. open. Unless you need a second pair of cuffs? … No? Then fucking listen.”

“ Go on, you can cry. I know it feels good. Yes filthy girl…just like that. ”

“ You’ve made a mess. Say you're sorry.”

“ Quit it, you can get a break when you remember something.”

“ Don’t act so sweet now— had quite a lot to say earlier. Isn’t that right?”

This was wrong, every bit of it. There was nothing exactly right about two high ranking officers of Piltover and Noxus eating you alive in the depths of Stillwater. The thought alone should send you running. It should have you drinking hot flashes of anger, leaving a bitter taste in your mouth. But it didn’t. It only made you spread your legs wider and beg shamefully for more kisses.

It all felt so good. They felt so good and a redeemable, rational part of you hated that. But every time rationality tried to sink itself into you, Commander Kiramman and General Merdarda were right there to sink into you faster. And by god, they made you feel more full than any morale.

You were so sure you were going to die before. And that thought that hadn’t been removed just yet, except now you thought you’d pass away from all the onslaught orgasms caused by the ravenous women beside and inside you.

“ a—angh! oh god…pl–please”

Kiramman held back a sly smile, seeing the way you twitched, body so sensitive. Her fingers were drenched with you, now gloveless. Initially her signature black gloves dug inside of you but the minute she tasted you she knew she didn’t want it anywhere but on her skin. Quite roughly, she had pulled three orgasms, somehow each one more intense than the last. But that wasn’t enough, not to them. Nothing was enough until those pretty lips whimpered something they could actually report back. And even then she wasn’t sure she’d want to stop.

“ Are you going to make a mess again for us?”

Pathetically, you fought back the white of your eyes before looking down at her. She couldn’t help but grip your thighs tighter at your teary face, nodding exhaustingly down at her. Medarda kept you slightly upright, your back arching into her bicep while she sucked on your breast. Honestly she hadn’t a clue how long she’d been at it but by the rate she was going you’d look a fucked out mosaic by the time they were done. She laughed to herself but you knew it was at you. And that fact only made you rut against the table more.

“ This is going to be your fourth one dear. We’re never going to leave this room if you keep being so stubborn.”

She trailed her kisses up your chest. A peck here and a peck there. The slow ascend of her affections compared to the rapid thrust of the others fingers made you bite your lip, the skin pulling between your teeth. By the time she was up to your ear you were practically panting.

“ Or is that what you want? For us to keep making you cry until you can’t anymore?”

They’d never know it and thank god for that but you almost whispered a yes.

Kiramman couldn’t hear what was spoken but she definitely felt it. You clenched around her even harder, a long mewl spilling from you. She creased her blue brows slightly as she sped up her fingers, making sure to never be gentle with that special spot, secretly itching to hear just how loud you could get whenever you came. Her counterpart was just as wanting for it out of you, a more balanced desire about her. Even in spite of the way she pulled you in for another kiss when she heard you sob, “ ‘m s-so close..”

This time Kiramman both felt and heard it, her fingers happily accepting the tight squeeze of you. She latched back onto your clit which was practically begging to be consumed again, if you asked her. Immediately you tensed, using every ounce of self restraint to not slam her cheeks with your legs. It also got devastatingly hard to keep up with Medarda’s mouth, she pressed into you like she forgot you needed air, like you only needed them. And as the coil in your belly grew and the sloppy sounds of her eating away filled the room, you did need them.

A muffled moan ricocheted into Merdarda and she invited it wholeheartedly. When she finally pulled away, you used your bound hands to grab at her hand groping you. You squeezed it the second you felt Kiramman offer a grunt inside of your cunt. She licked you like she was rabid, lost in whatever drugs your pussy clearly had laced in it. Merdarda found it all so nasty, so amusing. Seeing the renowned Caitlyn Kiramman so cruel but so feral, and you with your slick mouth gone and lips swollen, made her clench around nothing.

Even if nobody in the room spoke it, you were all enjoying this ‘interrogation’ a little too much. That manic laughter that constantly filled Kirammans head, those stupid pigtails and flashy gadgets, had even subsided for a moment. She still wanted nothing more than to rip that smile off her face, but the way the tears journeyed down your face so easily made her want something more.

Right now all she wanted was for you to cum on her face, and she nearly keeled over when she finally heard you sing that song for her. A moan that could only be replicated in the best whorehouses of Zaun left you. The pair both smiled the moment they heard you whimper what they already knew.

“ i th—‘m gonn—“

You could barely manage a single word, back practically ingraining itself in her arm the way you arched over it.

“ Let it out, make a mess.”

Your body truly was more honest than you and clearly obedient because the second she said it you did. Your self restraint abandoned you, left you on that table shaking and crying. Your bruised legs kissed her cheeks (not so gently) as she ate and thrusted at the same pace she did before, never letting up. Even with your legs shaking and around her she just drove in deeper. The pleasure slipped into overdrive making you shake your head, trying your best to pull away, use your hands, anything to make her stop. But Merdarda snatched your cuffed hands.

“ kira—kirammannn!”

Wow, that’s the only time she’s heard her last name and wanted to hear it more. But she ignored you, knowing you were begging for her to stop. By now your legs had dropped, too weak to hold up. Your whole body practically vibrated as you lost your breath. Maybe it was the burning sensation ripping through you or the cotton in your head but you stupidly turned your head to look up at Medarda.

“ help…me…gonna fu— die!”

First she looked at you, toyed with your nipple as your hands fought against hers. So pretty and so pathetic, she thought. Then looked down at Kiramman, whose eyes now opened and met hers. An amused glint was in her blue tinted stare and suddenly Medarda couldn’t think of a single reason she’d help you.

“ She’s eating child, don’t be so rude. Have some manners.”

She was looking at you when she said it, but from the mockery in her tone you knew it was meant for more than just you. And it was confirmed when a smile traced itself onto your throbbing cunt. But it quickly went away. She was eating after all.

“ i canttt! pleasee!”

Kiramman didn’t stop until you went silent, unable to speak, inconsistent babbles of nonsense here and there. You weren’t even shaking now, just twitching and breathing like the oxygen in the room had been sucked out. When she finally got up from between your legs she couldn’t help herself and gave two quick bites. A strangle mix of a hiss and moan could be heard as you watched her stand. She lifted her fingers to your mouth, shoving them inside.

You expected her to be rough and jam them down your throat but to your surprise she simply swirled them around your mouth. Despite that voice in your head you sucked at them tiredly hoping to please them. And pleased they were. They both watched as you weakly licked her fingers clean. By the time she pulled away they both knew that previous orgasm just couldn’t be the last.

“ Do you remember anything now?”

You were fucked out, but not that fucked out.

“…no”

Thank god, they both thought in unison.

“ I guess it’s my turn then.”

…

BONUS

Kiramman walked with pure candor on her face. She heard the whispers as she walked past but she ignored them. What was the point in entertaining fools? Besides, the moment her eyes met theirs they always went silent. Always. Today hadn’t been the best day for her. Most days weren’t, hunting for that psycho and her friends wasn’t an easy job or a fun one. But she wouldn’t rather be doing anything else. Well…maybe someone else…

“ Don’t let anyone in.”

The guard nodded dutifully.

By the time she reached the room, she was already imagining her sweet song. She didn’t have to wait long to hear it in person because it was practically blasting throughout the room the moment the door opened. She closed the door behind her, smiling deviously as she placed her heavy cape onto the chair.

“ She’s even wetter today, if you can believe it.”

She laughed softly, “ Oh I can believe it. How many has she got so far?”

“ Just two. Don’t worry, you didn’t take too long.”

“ God, I know. I got caught up with that fool Salo.”

Medarda laughed now, knowing all too well how annoying he could be.

“ medardaaa”

Your toes curled, struggling to handle the two large fingers inside of you. Both were devastatingly skilled with their fingers but hers were undoubtedly bigger. Way bigger. And if the size wasn’t agonizing enough, she was hitting that spot over and over. This time your hands were free, and you used them to grip her bicep.

Suddenly your throat had a new necklace. Not a very nice one. She squeezed her free hand around your throat, speeding her fingers. Clearly she wasn’t a fan of your interruption, despite the way her cunt ached when she heard her name in such a filthy way.

“ Can’t you see us talking? And you didn’t even greet your Commander. She came all this way to see you.”

You thought you were going to pass out, the squelching sounds and sultry insults becoming distant. Your mind and body gave into her once the resisting clearly wasn’t doing anything. And you loved it. Each filthy posh coated word, lingering touch, rushed collided lips left you undone. The strength behind their hands made you want to never be without it. And for the past two weeks it continued to, leaving you right here in this room on this desk, unable to breath, only able to cry and spread your legs wider.

Medarda let go, allowing Kiramman to finally slip beside you. As much as she loved the song you offered, she wanted your lips. You gasped into her, them giving you no time to actually catch a breath between the transfer. Lightheaded, you still pushed against her, wetness dripping from your face to hers. She pulled away, licked the rogue tear from the corner of your mouth.

By the time she was looking at you, you were heaving, clasping onto her bicep instead of Medardas now. She watched with such marvel as your face contorted into those beautiful expressions, such a drastic difference from the stupid girl she interrogated. Logically she knew she couldn’t call what all of you were doing an interrogation. So she opted to saying ‘some investigating work’ the few times someone inquired about her abrupt departures. It wasn’t a complete lie, her and Medarda were investigating something every couple of days. your cunt

Her gaze traced to the brown fingers moving in and out of you, then to glisten on her General's hand and finally to your thighs. They were healing nicely. Unfortunately for her they wouldn’t leave a scar according to the doctor she took you to. She almost frowned at the thought.

But then she heard you whisper a quick, “ h-hi Kiramman…”

She smiled at you, a warm thought coming to her.

“ Hi, filthy girl.”

We’ll make sure they scar next time.

P.s. They had the officers who beat you killed ��

1K notes · View notes

hwallazia · 22 days ago

Text

WARDROBE MALFUNCTIONS – 최산

⋆ synopsis. you help san in a very special way with his outfit before he gets on stage.

pairing. idol bf! san & hairstylist fem! reader.

wc. 3,1k

warnings. soft dom! san & sub! reader, cussing, semi-public sex (they fuck in a men’s restroom tehee), unprotected sex (boo 👎), creampie, cowgirl position, implied handjob & blowjob (didn’t write that part explicitly), quickie?, begging, male masturbation, accidental erection, sannie is unable to cum with just his fist so he asks reader for help <3, dirty talk, praise, pet names (sannie, princess, jagi & more), in conclusion they’re DESPERATE.

nic’s notes ⋆ the wip has been posted 🙇‍♀️ four san fics in a row tho... YES SIR !! 🗣️ dw i’ll post a hongjoong one shot soon <3

the ambience was calm, the ac provided the room with cool air, the murmurs were a bit lower than usual so it was at the ideal volume and the members were naturally getting ready to go on stage, the screams of the excited and frenetic fans that non patiently waited in the stadium bleachers belied the calm atmosphere in the room.

as you were taking care of mingi’s hair and making it your job to make it look spectacular, you saw your boyfriend’s figure on the mirror. his reflection showed a bothered san, struggling with the zip of his shiny white pants. you redirected your eyes to mingi’s scalp, spraying small bits of glitter onto it.

“all done, princess” you chanted, meeting the man’s satisfied grin in the mirror; a smile unconsciously taking place on your face.

“it’s princess indeed.” he double checked his just-styled hair before rising from the chair, rotating his body towards you; back facing the mirror. “you seriously are an artist”

“wouldn’t be working in here if i didn’t have that title” you teased a little bit, stealing a charming laugh. you continued chatting with him for a couple more minutes, looking over his shoulder from time to time to see the cute pout formed on san’s pink lips. he let out a soft huff and made his way out of the room, your iris following his every movement.

“excuse me, mingi-ah. gotta finish up the work.” you explained before hearing an overshadowed humming of their song called “work”. chuckling, you tracked your boyfriend’s course.

you walked past a closed door, but you stepped backward when you noticed its threshold beaming a clear light. you hit your knuckles against the wooden door in a funny musical rhythm before hearing and seeing the handle of it twist open, revealing san’s figure; his makeup half messed up.

his annoyed features beamed up when he saw you, a hint of relief in his orbs. ”baby! so glad you’re here. come on.” he grabbed your hand not too gently but still without hurting you and pulled you to him, closing the door behind you quickly without giving it much of a thought that you were a woman inside a men’s restroom.

“s-sannie! what happened?” you analyzed his face for a moment, noticing smuddered powder of eyeshadow along the sides of his eyelids and his foundation slightly botched.

“uhm. kinda feels like this outfit doesn’t fit in the right places, if you know what i mean.” he spoke sheepishly, his muscly thighs uncomfortably restrained against the tight fabric of the pearly white pants.

your hands reached the sides of his pants. you tugged the piece of clothing twice with enough force to feel how snug it was.

you gasped lowly. “how did this happen?”

he sighed, rising and lowering his shoulders in surrender. “i don’t know how they keep messing up my measurements.”

you couldn’t help but ask the stupid question that had struck your thoughts the moment you saw him. “how did you even manage to get yourself inside those pants?”

he whined, sulking. “i don’t knowww, just get these off me.”

a soft blush heated your cheeks. “love, you gotta be on stage in less than thirty minutes, we can’t do—”

“not what i meant, filthy girl.” he deadpanned, the red on your face deepening. “not a bad idea though.”

a rush of embarrassment made your skin hot. you landed a sharp, yet light smack on the side of his shoulders. the emitted sound exaggerated how harshly you had hit him. “choi san! focus!”

“you’re the one who gave the idea!” he defended himself, arms closing around his chest.

you sighed before humming lowly, submerged in thought, your brain already trying to scheme a solution as san dedicated himself to pout cutely, huffing softly, clearly annoyed at the uncomfortable, leg-numbing fabric.

a click sounded inside your head. “i’ll go find and see if there’s another pair of those. if not, then i’ll get you something similar. just wait here.” you uttered as you stretched your opened palm in front of you.

he nodded. “okay, go,”

you gave him a little smile before vanishing from the tiny restroom. after hearing the door clicking shut, you sprung towards the dressing room, where wooyoung and seonghwa were conversing trivialities. yunho noticed you and your fast heartbeat the moment you spawned at the door.

his eyebrow quirked up for a bit. “what’s up? why were you running just now?”

you exhaled in an exasperated sigh. “i need to find inseol”

inseol was your friend and also the head of the dressing department, she designed and planned every single one of ateez’s stunning and mind-blowing outfits. “haven’t seen her.” yunho simply responded.

“me neither.” the two other men replied in unison, the low curse you huffed going unheard by them.

“why though? we’re all dressed up already.” wooyoung questioned.

“sannie’s having a problem with his pants. they’re way too tiny and therefore, tight.”

the thought alone of san dancing his soul out on that stage with senseless, numb feet makes your head spin in the worst way. you had to help your boyfriend somehow, and inseol not being in sight was complicating things.

“are you serious?” hongjoong stepped into the room, and you felt your blood run cold.

if there was something kim hongjoong hated, it was unforeseen events.

you managed to compose yourself the best you could. “yes but i’m already taking care of it!”

your words did almost nothing to calm hongjoong’s growing boiling stress. you closed your eyes for a tiny second, already accepting your fate and mentally preparing for hongjoong’s temper tantrum, but seonghwa’s wise and soothing voice intervened. “hongjoong, she said she’s already taking care of it. so let her do what she gotta do, we’re all under the same circumstances and pressure.”

hongjoong heaved a sharp sigh, frown relaxing, limbs letting go of the way-too-quickly accumulated tension. “you’re right. sorry, go ahead.”

you smiled sweetly in an attempt to reassure hongjoong. “it’s okay. i’ll figure this out — no need to worry.” you said as you eased your way out the door, but not before mouthing a genuine ‘thank you’ to seonghwa, who only nodded politely as he gave you a tiny grin.

as you walked towards the room where your sannie was, your mind anxiously scrambled for a quick solution, but with so many limited options, your stress only grew bigger. you mumbled under your breath some possible resolutions, yet nothing ingenious came to mind.

it wasn’t until you passed by this chair, overloaded with a black and seemingly heavy and full backpack with pieces of clothing on top. your eyes flickered toward the overused chair and you instantly started roaming through the mountain of fabric, wishing for a similar pair of white pants to come into sight.

in the distance, you could hear the voices of your coworkers murmuring about how much time was left until the concert started. 20 minutes was all you had.

then, a miracle happened. the low percentage of chances of you finding the exact cloth you needed elevated drastically to one hundred the moment the almost identical pearly white pants covered your opened palm.

you almost squealed when you found it, but you had to remain collected and professional. instead, you cleared your throat and headed towards the men’s restroom with hurried steps, where your poor sannie awaited for your savior-like presence.

you twisted the door handle once you were face to face with the men’s restroom symbol, opening and closing the door behind you quickly.

you expected him to be fighting against the tightness of his pants, huffing and groaning, full of stress.

“jagi,”

you definitely weren’t expecting him to be half naked on the floor, with a throbbing cock in hand as he panted breathlessly, the snug fabric of the pants still rubbing against his covered balls. his makeup was already fucked up because of the blanket of glistening sweat his face was covered in. his half-lidded eyes and shiny lips only invited you to sink into sin with him.

but you couldn’t. not when he had a stage to be on, a performance to give.

your eyes stayed widely open like plates as you blurted out. “sannie, what are you—”

“i tried getting out of these but it just kept rubbing against my dick every time i tried to move.” he blabbered, soft sobs hitching his breath. “i really didn’t mean it but ‘m so hard, jagi. i don’t know what to do and it just doesn’t go down.”

your mouth dried as you intently stared at his velvety tip, enveloped with his big hand, fully covered in precum, pulsating and aching under his fingers.

oh, your poor sannie.

so endlessly helpless and sensitive.

“help me, please.” he begged, his voice cracking, yet so fucking cute.

and of course you’d lend him a helping hand.

you cooed at him as you approached him, the slow steps of your low heels clicking against the wooden floor.

“oh, baby. so sensitive as always,” you caressed the side of his messed-up hair. you internally sighed since you had to redo your hard work.

but that thought faded in a blur, ’cause now you had more important things to do.

and that thing was sat obediently in front of you, waiting for your magical touch to send him into another dimension in less than ten minutes.

’cause that was all you had to get the deed done.

“‘m sorry, love, but—” he gulped before pleading. “can you suck it? please.”

naturally, your sweetheart of a boyfriend hardly ever lets you suck his cock, since he prefers pleasing you first, prioritizing your release before his.

desperate times call for desperate measures, though. so of course you knew he wouldn’t be asking you this if he had another alternative, another solution that didn’t mean resorting to such a filthy act, in such a short time, and in such a place.

“of course baby.”

five minutes.

only five minutes had passed until he was practically begging you to let him fuck you.

”please, jagi, it’s the only way it comes down” he used as an excuse. it was valid, though, the clenching walls of your pussy were the ultimate method to soften up san’s girthy length.

after a brief moment of considering it, your hand movement came to a stop, his reddened cockhead slapping against his uncovered abs, a sticky line of pre-cum dirtying his happy trail.

“we’re going that far, huh?” you teased, kissing his jaw as you positioned yourself on top of him. he tried to whine out an excuse, a reason why he wanted to fuck you with only a few minutes before his show, but you shushed him quickly, grabbing his girth by the base and aligning it towards your welcoming entrance. “we gotta be quick, though.”

he exhaled, taking in the view that unraveled in front of him. “i know.”

after giving him a warm smile, you sank down slowly, your body instinctively leaning slightly forward, your palms laying flat on his firm chest, using as the perfect support. you took him inch by inch, until your pussy lips grazed his balls. a satisfied sigh left your mouth, san’s head immediately rocking back as he grunted deeply, your warming insides always felt so heavenly divine.

the way you clamped down him forced him to lock gazes with you again, his low hiss cutting through the air. then, he realized that you weren’t actually moving, so he breathed in to ask, but you were faster, replying to his untold question. “fuck me, then.” you leaned closer, your faces just a few inches apart. “take what you need, sannie.”

san stared up at you with an intoxicated, loving gaze, a silent “thank you” dripping from his sparkling eyes. his hands landed on your hips, holding you steady before lifting them up, a few inches of him withdrawing from the cozy embrace of your cunt. whilst he held your body up, you purposely squeezed his cocktip and san cursed under his breath. he started with a slow pace, driving his hardness up against your pussy, filling you all the way up.

you arched your back when his tip stroked that divine spot in you, eyes almost rolling back to your skull. “s—sannie, oh my fuck!” you kept moaning and panting breathlessly on top of him, completely powerless.

he dove his head into your breasts, nuzzling his mouth in the middle of them. your bouncing tits rubbed against his cheeks with every jump, san’s blood rushing towards his face. his half-lidded eyes and curled-up feet were the only evidence needed to prove that he was actually enjoying this.

“oh princess.” he exhaled endearingly, utterly in love with your bouncing figure. “i love how you feel.” he uttered as he massaged your sides, ramming his cock to your convulsing pussy, repeatedly hitting your g-spot. “that’s the spot, isn’t it?”

his voice penetrated deeply inside your eardrums, your trembling core almost failing to keep its balance as you came closer and closer to the edge. “y-yeah, ‘m so close, so fucking close—ugh!”

your moans grew louder with each thrust, your hands holding onto his arms as they squeezed the heart muscle of his biceps. saying that you were a mess was an understatement, your white shirt had been discarded a while ago, a trail of sweat falling in between your breasts like rain; skirt hiked up to your marked hips. your mouth hung open in satisfaction, the sensation of being filled to the brim tipped you a bit.

“fuck— how much have we got left?” san groaned, hissing breathlessly.

“i—“ you stuttered as you raised your wrist up, staring at the clock that decorated it so elegantly.

5 minutes.

“we got five minutes, san. you gotta hurry.” you exhaled, looking desperate for your boyfriend’s release. he was the one who needed to be on that stage in less than ten minutes, after all. so you prioritized him thoughtfully.

”fuck, princess — you have to come.” his fingers reached down your sensitive clit and started rubbing circles on it. you squirmed on top of him as he kept thrusting his cock up your velvety walls.

you would’ve protested, claiming that it was actually him who had to come, if he hadn’t stimulated your bundle of nerves. your core twitched nonstop as your back arched beautifully. a string of incoherent pleas and san’s name spurted out of your mouth thoughtlessly.

in a warning manner, you clenched around him once or twice before coming undone all over his hardened dick, your body surrendered and crumbled down, your cheek colliding with his shoulder as you panted nonsense.

“that’s it, just like that, princess. you did so good.” he praised before grunting lowly. “so fucking good f’me.” he hammered your hips down his pelvic bone as he kept pistoning his hardness against your overstimulated, convulsing pussy. “gonna come inside you, fill you up reaaal good—yeah, y’ want it?” he growled, grasping your ass cheeks, definitely leaving his signature mark.

you blabbered a weak “yes”, too blissed out to even formulate coherent sentences. “‘course you want it, my dirty little princess.” san squeezed his eyes shut and moaned when he felt your walls clamp down on him for the nth time, this time bringing him closer to the abyss of pleasure though. “ugh— ‘m coming, ‘m coming, baby—“ he announced in a low, gravelly groan as he emptied his heavy load deep inside, filling you with his cum to the bone; eyes dilated.

he slowed his pace down before sitting completely still, your cunt still welcoming the white shoots of cum that his cock spurted out helplessly. you encircled his neck with your weakened arms for a moment, almost forgetting about the fact that your boyfriend had a concert to give. your body jolted as the reminder hit your head. “fuck, baby — you need to go now.”

and seemed like your boyfriend had forgotten about that little detail as well. “shit, you’re right.” he uttered before sliding his arms under your thighs and back, lifting you off him and placing you on the floor again as he rose up.

his head shook incessantly, searching for the whole reason why you were there. the word “pants” left his lips quietly, like a mantra. you stared up at him and helped him, pointing where the pair of pants was at. “behind that chair, sannie.”

he turned his head abruptly to where you had pointed at, the problematic pair of white pants coming in sight. he sighed before grabbing them and putting them on at the speed of light. you got up weakly and walked your way towards him.

san looked at you and immediately rushed to help you. “baby, stay still, you can barely walk.”

you locked gazes and you replied. “and just sit down on the floor of the men’s restroom?”

you quirked your eyebrow up and san shrugged a bit. “‘m just trying to help.” he sulked cutely and it made your heart swell with love.

you giggled as your fingers reached up to his messy hair. “i know you are, sannie, ‘m just kidding.” your fingers coiled around a lock of hair, curling it up. “now let me help you.” you repeated the action with the rest, finally perfecting his hairstyle with nothing more than your skillful fingers. meanwhile, san adjusted his pants and moved his legs around, doing silly movements to test the elasticity of the fabric, humming in approval when he felt nothing but comfortable.

you stepped back, taking in your work of art, nodding and sighing proudly. “perfect” you uttered.

”thank you, princess.” he leaned closer to peck your lips before his fingers brushed the door handle. “i’ll get going.”

”go kill that stage, pretty boy.” you encouraged, pride dripping off your tone.

san puffed his cheeks cutely, his eyes turning into pretty crescent moons. “yes, ma’am.”

and with that, he disappeared through the door, carefully clicking it shut. when the door closed, you crumbled down, shaky knees keeping your core shuddering. you stared down at your dripping pussy, gushing and coating the floor with san’s heavy cum. a strong blush heated your cheeks as you took in the view.

after a few minutes, the shakiness ceased and you were able to get up and clean the mess you and san had left on the tiles of the black marble floor. in the background, you could hear the sudden shouting of thousands of atinys combined with the faint sound of their song “halazia” reverberating throughout the whole arena, a sweet smile forming on your lips.

you remembered hongjoong’s angry demeanor when he overheard that san was having a problem with his outfit. so, you muttered under your breath, imaginatively responding to him. “told ya i’d take care of it.”

| masterlist

#© hwallazia #ateez #ateez smut #san ateez #choi san #choi san ateez #san smut #choi san smut #san x reader #san scenarios #san fanfic #ateez x reader #ateez scenarios #ateez fanfic

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mattscoquette · 3 days ago

Text

reader going through perv!matt’s journal

“i’ll be back in a sec, i just need to run downstairs and help chris with something really quick.”

that’s what matt told you over ten minutes ago, and he’s still gone. you were over at the triplets place hanging out with nick, when matt insisted he show you both his new pc set up. it only took nick five minutes to be over it, but you felt bad when you saw matt’s defeatist expression after nick went back to his room. you decided to stay, but soon after matt abandoned you to go do something with chris.

you could’ve gone back upstairs with nick, but you let your curiosity get the best of you, and somehow you were going through matt’s bedside drawers, seeing what he had in there.

you knew matt had a thing for you, he made it very, very clear. although those feelings weren’t really reciprocated, it was fun to tease him. like, really fun.

before you could stop yourself, the leather binding of matt’s journal was in your hands, itching to be opened and read. you thumbed through the pages, reading matt’s chicken scratch handwriting while he wrote about whatever. you didn’t want to be too invasive, but his journal piqued your interest a lot. you wondered if he ever wrote about you, or if he only kept those thoughts in his head.

your eyes skimmed up and down the pages, nothing really standing out to you until you saw your name.

today y/n came over to see nick. she had on this rly short skirt, i think they were going out to a bar or something later. i don’t really care. i overhear her talking to nick about the guys she gets with. i could be so much better than them. i would make her feel so good, where she’d be begging me for more. god her moans are probably so fucking pretty.

your cheeks got hot as they blushed a deep red, fingers flipping to the next entry.

it’s been a few days since i saw y/n, i miss her so much. i’ve probably touched myself to her more times than i can count in the last day or two. i don’t know what it is with her, but she just gets me so worked up. she doesn’t even have to do anything and i’ll literally get hard from her. a couple weeks ago we were at her place and i heard her in the shower. it turned me on so much i couldn’t handle it. i want her so bad.

there’s gotta be something seriously deranged about me. every time that y/n sleeps over here, i always sneak up to nicks room and take a pair of her panties. she has to have noticed by now. i can’t help it though. i use them to get myself off. sometimes she has really pretty lace ones, other ones are really really skimpy. i don’t care though. i wonder what they’d look like on her. she’d probably think im a fucking creep if she ever really found out. i wonder what she’d do.

at this point, your stomach was doing somersaults, and your thighs were pressed together, trying to relieve the ache that had grown in your cunt. maybe it was weird what he was doing, but the level of obsession was turning you on. bad.

you were quick to find a pen somewhere in the bedside drawer, popping the cap off and scribbling underneath the entry in your loopy handwriting.

you naughty boy. you didn’t learn that stealing was wrong? i would probably punish you and not let you cum. i would tease you, get you all wound up and make you hold it. id use my pretty pink panties around your cock to get you off and let you cum in them after edging you for so long. maybe i’ll use my hands too, or my mouth if you’re really good for me.

you grinned to yourself as you shut the journal, drawing your bottom lip in between your teeth before returning the notebook to its rightful place, exactly how you found it.

you knew that matt wouldn’t do anything about it, either. he would see the note, and probably get off to it a million times, but never actually reach out to you. until then, he’d just have to learn how to keep pleasuring himself alone.

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬. ⋆˚꩜｡ inspired by this fic from my girl @st7rnioioss ♡︎♡︎ perv!matt is soooo back i miss that freak

#© mattscoquette #blurbs ♡ ˚₊‧#˳༄ ₊ perv!matt ୨ৎ #sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo imagine #matt sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo x reader #matt stuniolo fanfic #matthew sturniolo #sturniolo #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo x you #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo smut #sturniolo imagine

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heartsriki · 23 days ago

Text

CUPID'S CHAOS ⌇화살

FLIRT ALERT! series⌇Lee Heeseung | next

pairing ᝰ heeseung x fem!reader

— featuring.. n/a | word count: 4k+

⌇ … warnings & genre ↺ college au, fluff, bickering, misunderstandings, obliviousness, 2000’s rom com vibe, kisses, pet name use (?), reader is a writer!

synopsis — You accidentally become the campus’s cupid, delivering love letters to everyone— no exception to the one meant for Heeseung even though you had the biggest crush on him. When he asks for help finding his secret admirer, You scramble to keep your own feelings hidden… until you realize that love letter was your own.

lee's ₊˚⊹ ᰔ comment ┊I’m not sure if I like this but… I hope you guys do… guys fair warning these oneshots will be extremely corny and fluffy but its valentines month so i cant control it fr! MY FIRST HEESEUNG FIC WHO CHEERED, also happy birthday jw my baby :(

Seriously just what did you get yourself into?

The first incident or “love letter” arrived onto your doorstep on a random Wednesday. It was just a soft pink envelope sealed with a heart-shaped sticker. At first, you thought it was for you until you saw the name of the girl in your english class. Maybe someone had the wrong dorm number. But when another letter shows up the next day, and then another, you start to realize two things:

1. Someone on campus has a serious crush problem.

2. You have somehow become their personal delivery service.

By Friday, you had a whole collection of letters meant for people you barely know. With no better plan, you start slipping them into the correct mailbox, dropping them onto desks, and handing them off with a whispered, “This is for you.”

Before you know it, people started calling you the ‘Campus Cupid’.

It’s kind of fun—watching couples get together, seeing people’s eyes light up when they read something sweet. That is, until you find his letter.

Lee Heeseungs letter. The guy with the lazy smile and unfairly good hair. The guy who always seems to be exactly where you don’t need him to be. The guy you have been crushing on way more than you meant to.

It was no surprise that he would get sent a letter. He was the darling of the campus, he was a charmer, talented in sports and without a doubt extremely handsome.

You examined the letter. It was morally right to give it to him… right?

Frowning, you place the letter in his usual seat. Just because you liked him didn’t mean you can take his right of knowing that someone else does.

The day passes without you thinking too much about the letter you placed on Heeseung’s desk. Or at least, you try not to think about it. It’s not like it matters, right? Someone else likes him. No big deal.

At least, that’s what you keep telling yourself.

But then, right after your afternoon lecture, Heeseung finds you outside the lecture hall, love letter in hand.

“Hey, Cupid.” His voice is casual, but there’s a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes. He holds up the letter between two fingers. “Any idea who wrote this?”

Your heart stops.

You stare at the letter, forcing yourself to keep calm. You knew this would happen. Of course, Heeseung would be curious. You should just tell him you don’t know. That’s what you should do.

But something about the way he’s looking at you makes you hesitate.

Frowning, you take the letter from his hands, pretending to examine it like if you hadn’t stared at it for hours before handing it to him. But when you open it and your eyes scan the page, confusion settles in.

There’s no name. No initials. Nothing.

That’s strange. Most of the letters you’ve delivered always had at least a tiny clue. An initial, a signature, sometimes even a number with a name.

“What’s with that look? You must’ve seen who gave it to you, no?” Heeseung asks, raising a brow.

You look back at the letter, skimming over the heart felt words. It was weird intruding someone’s feelings like this but with Heeseungs intense stare you couldn’t say no. The letter said:

I don’t know when it started, but you’ve always been there. In the background, in the crowd, just close enough to notice, but never close enough to reach. It’s frustrating, liking someone like this. Sometimes I wish I never met you in that cafe because now you’re all I ever think about, I hope I can confront you someday.

Your stomach twists.

The handwriting. The way certain letters are slanted. The way some words are scratched out and rewritten.

It’s… familiar.

Too familiar.

Your breath catches.

Oh.

Oh no.

It was yours.

See, the first time you met Heeseung, it wasn’t in a lecture hall or at some college party—it was at a small cafe just off campus, the kind of place students flocked to for overpriced lattes and last-minute study sessions.

You had been there first, tucked into a corner seat with your laptop open and a half-empty cup of coffee beside you. The cafe was packed, the usual rush of students scrambling for caffeine before their next class, and you were too focused on your work to notice him walk in.

That is, until you heard a voice—smooth, slightly out of breath—directed at you.

“Hey, is this seat taken?”

You looked up, and that was the first time you saw Lee Heeseung up close.

Messy brown hair, a hoodie thrown over a plain t-shirt, dark eyes filled with something playful yet sleepy at the same time. You recognized him vaguely—he was in one of your general electives, though he always sat near the back, half-hidden behind his laptop. He was the kind of guy people noticed without him even trying, whether it was because of his reputation on the basketball team or just the effortless way he carried himself.

And now, he was standing in front of you, waiting for an answer.

You blinked. “Oh, um—no, go ahead.”

“Thanks,” he said, sliding into the chair across from you. He set down his coffee cup, then pulled out a notebook, flipping through the pages lazily. “You’re in my media studies class, right?”

You hadn’t expected him to recognize you, much less strike up a conversation.

“Yeah,” you admitted. “I sit near the front.”

“Right, that’s why I never see you,” he said with a lopsided grin. “I usually get there late.”

You let out a small laugh despite yourself. “Yeah, I’ve noticed.”

For some reason, that seemed to amuse him. Heeseung leaned back in his chair, tapping his pen against his notebook. “So, what’s got you looking so serious? Studying for something?”

You glanced at your laptop screen. “Not exactly. Just… trying to finish an article for the campus paper.”

That caught his interest. “You write for the paper?”

“Kind of. It’s just an opinion column. Nothing major.”

Heeseung tilted his head, considering. “I’ll have to check it out sometime. Maybe I’ll learn something.”

You rolled your eyes, but you could feel your face growing warm. Heeseung had this way of making everything sound lighthearted, but there was something about the way he was looking at you—like he actually meant it—that made your stomach flip.

You didn’t know it then, but that moment—him sitting across from you in a crowded cafe, lazily flipping through his notes while keeping light conversations, smiling at you like you were the only person worth paying attention to—that was the moment it started.

The quiet, unshakable feeling of a new beginning forming.

You blink rapidly, snapping back to reality, only to find Heeseung staring at you with a curious tilt of his head.

“You good?” He waves a hand in front of your face, and you realize you’ve been gripping the letter like it personally offended you.

“Yeah!” You blurt out, a little too quickly. “Fine. Super fine.”

Heeseung narrows his eyes, but instead of questioning your suspicious expressions, he leans against the wall next to you, arms crossed, the picture of casual confidence. “So? Any idea who my secret admirer is?”

Your stomach does a full gymnastics routine.

Yeah, actually, it’s me. Surprise!

Obviously, you can’t say that.

You force a laugh, shoving the letter back into his hands like it’s a ticking time bomb. “No clue! There are so many love letters I deal with around campus, you know? Could be anyone.”

Heeseung mockingly pouted. “Come on, Cupid. If anyone can figure it out, it’s you.”

You freeze. Oh no.

Heeseung grins, nudging your arm playfully. “Please? be my lead detective I need to know who has this much of a crush on me.”

You stare at him, trying not to look as horrified as you feel. He’s practically pleading, eyes shining with excitement. He wants to know. He’s curious.

And you?

You want the earth to swallow you whole.

But instead, you swallow down your panic and give him your most confident, totally-not-dying-inside smile. “Yeah, sure! I’ll, uh… I’ll let you know if I figure it out.”

Great. Now you’re investigating your own love letter.

Romcoms make this look so much easier.

In your defense, the love letter was never supposed to see the light of day.

It had been one of those late-night, caffeine-fueled brain dumps—the kind where your emotions got the best of you, and instead of focusing on your essay due at midnight, you had decided, hey, why not write a dramatic love confession you’ll never actually send?

It started off as a joke. A harmless what if?

What if you had the guts to tell Heeseung how you felt?

What if you weren’t just the campus Cupid, but actually someone worth writing about?

What if, for once, you weren’t just the messenger in everyone else’s love stories?

So, you had poured your heart onto the page. You wrote about how frustrating it was, liking someone from a distance—watching him laugh in the campus café, seeing him glide effortlessly through every class, always just out of reach. You let yourself be honest, because no one was ever supposed to read it.

And then? You stuffed it into your notebook, forgot about it, and went about your life like it never happened.

Until now.

Now, it was in Heeseung’s hands just because you thought it was written by someone else, and now you were stuck in the worst romcom of all time—investigating your own love letter while trying desperately to keep your crush a secret.

Honestly?

You were so, so doomed.

“So, what do you think?”

You try to keep your face neutral as Heeseung waves the letter in front of you, looking more confused than anything.

“About… what?” You ask cautiously.

“This.” He gestures to the paper. “The letter. My so-called ‘secret admirer.’”

Your spoke before you could stop yourself. “So…you figure out who it is. What happens then?”

He thinks, running a hand through his hair. “I mean, i’ll turn them down, it’s really flattering but it’s also kind of a hassle.”

A hassle?

You force out a laugh, even as your stomach twists into knots. “Oh, come on, it’s not that bad. Someone clearly put a lot of thought into this.”

“That’s the problem.” Heeseung exhales sharply. “I wasn’t expecting this. Im interested in someone else, and now I have to figure out how to let this person down without making things awkward.”

Your face heats up. You want to disappear.

“So, you’re not interested in them…? You like someone already?” You ask hesitantly, barely able to get the words out.

Heeseung shakes his head. “I don’t even know who they are. But I hope they don’t take it the wrong way, Y’know?”

You stare at him, pulse pounding in your ears.

He has no idea.

And now? You definitely can’t confess.

Not when you already know his answer.

And if there was one thing worse than knowing Heeseung didn’t want a relationship, it was actively helping him investigate your own confession.

Every day, he’d bring up new theories about who could’ve written the letter, and every day, you’d have to nod along, pretending to be just as clueless.

At first, it wasn’t so bad. Heeseung didn’t seem to be taking it too seriously, mostly brushing it off whenever it came up. But as the days passed, something shifted… just slightly.

“Okay, so hear me out,” Heeseung said, leaning against the bookshelf beside you. The library was quiet, save for the occasional rustle of papers and muffled whispers. “What if it’s someone from one of my classes?”

You kept your eyes on your laptop screen, pretending to focus on your assignment. “You already went through that theory. Twice.”

“Yeah, but I was thinking—what if they’re too nervous to say anything in person? What if it’s, like… someone who sits far away from me?”

You bit your lip. “And yet, you’re still expecting me to figure it out?”

“Well, you’re good at reading people.” Heeseung grinned, nudging your arm. “You always seem to know what’s going on with everyone.”

Your heart stuttered. If only he knew just how right he was.

Heeseung sighed, folding his arms over his chest. “I don’t get it. They wrote all this deep, meaningful stuff, but they didn’t sign their name. What’s the point of confessing if you don’t want the person to know?”

You swallowed hard. “Maybe they were scared.”

Heeseung tilted his head slightly, looking at you in that way that always made you feel like he could see through you. “Scared of what?”

You hesitated. “Of ruining what they already have.”

His expression shifted. “You think they know me?”

You forced a shrug. “Probably. Why else would they write all that?”

Something flickered in his gaze, something unreadable. He held your gaze for a second too long before clearing his throat. “Huh. I never really thought about it like that.”

You turned back to your screen, desperate to focus on anything else. But then Heeseung moved closer, his arm brushing against yours as he leaned in to look at your laptop.

“What are you even working on?” he asked, voice quieter now, like the space between you had shrunk to something more intimate.

You could barely think straight. “Just… an essay.”

“Hm.” He didn’t sound convinced.

His voice was too close. His scent—clean, with a hint of something warm—was too distracting. It was stupid, so stupid, how easily he got under your skin without even trying.

The next few days started to get a little weird.

Heeseung had always been playful, always teasing and leaning in too close, but now it felt… different.

It was in the way he started remembering the little things—how you liked your coffee, how you tapped your fingers when you were thinking, how you always fixed your hair when you were nervous.

It was in the way he kept looking at you, his gaze lingering a little too long before he caught himself.

It was in the way his teasing changed—less casual, more intentional. Like he wanted to see how you’d react.

And then, one night, things got dangerous.

You were in his dorm, flipping through the list of names you had pretended to compile for the investigation. Heeseung sat on the floor beside you, his laptop balanced on his knees, absentmindedly chewing on a pen cap as he read through the letter again.

“You know…” he said, tilting his head, “whoever wrote this is actually really good with words.”

Your blinked. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. It’s, like… weirdly personal.” He frowned slightly, scanning the page. “I feel how much they mean it.”

You held your breath.

He let out a soft laugh. “Honestly, it kinda sounds like your writing.”

Your heart stopped.

Your head snapped up so fast you nearly gave yourself whiplash. “What?”

Heeseung blinked at you, startled. “I mean—you’re good at writing, right? I read your papers, You’ve always been good with words.”

He reads your papers?

You forced out a laugh, hoping he couldn’t hear the way your voice shook. “Right— Well, I didn’t write it, obviously.”

Heeseung studied you for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then, to your horror, he smirked.

“Why do you look so guilty?”

“I don’t.”

“You do.”

“I’m literally just existing, Heeseung. Shut up.”

He laughed, but there was something behind his eyes that made your stomach flip—something like curiosity. “Stop freaking out im just kidding.”

The investigation had led you and Heeseung all over campus, following false leads, and ultimately getting nowhere. You had been walking back toward the dorms when the sky, clear just moments ago, suddenly turned gray.

And then—of course—it started to rain.

Hard.

“Are you serious?” you groaned, pulling your jacket over your head as you and Heeseung ran toward the nearest cover—a small wooden gazebo near the campus library.

You both skidded to a stop under the roof, breathless and drenched. Heeseung shook his head like a wet dog, flinging water everywhere.

“Really?” You scowled, wiping raindrops off your face.

He laughed, ruffling his already-messy hair. “My bad.”

The sound of rain drumming against the roof filled the space between you, the cool breeze making you shiver.

“Here,” Heeseung said, shrugging off his hoodie.

You blinked at him. “What?”

“You’re cold, Cupid” he pointed out, holding the hoodie out to you. “Take it.”

“I’m fine,” you said, crossing your arms.

He scoffed. “Just take it before you get sick.”

You hesitated, but he rolled his eyes and stepped closer, draping the hoodie over your shoulders himself. The warmth of it, of him, surrounded you immediately, and your breath hitched.

You looked up at him, ready to protest, but he was already watching you—his expression unreadable, the usual teasing glint in his eyes nowhere to be found.

“Why do I feel like you’re hiding something from me?” he murmured suddenly.

Your pulse spiked. “What?”

Heeseung tilted his head slightly, studying you in a way that made your stomach twist. “I don’t know. You just…” He trailed off, then shook his head. “Never mind.”

You swallowed hard, clutching the hoodie tighter around you.

The rain kept falling around you, blurring the world outside the gazebo, making this moment feel like it existed outside of everything else—outside of reality, outside of whatever mess you had gotten yourself into.

For a split second, it felt like you weren’t just Heeseung’s reluctant investigation partner. Like you weren’t the person holding onto a secret that could ruin everything.

Like, maybe, he could actually like you back.

But then he sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “We should probably wait this out before heading back.”

Just like that, the moment passed and you were left standing there in his hoodie, drowning in warmth, drowning in him, pretending you weren’t completely, helplessly falling apart.

After the rain, the campus felt quieter, the usual chatter dampened by the lingering water in the air. You walked alongside Heeseung, both of you with your hoods up, trying to shield yourselves from the leftover drizzle. It was awkward but comfortable — the kind of silence where you weren’t sure if you were supposed to talk or if it was okay just to exist in the same space.

Heeseung was the first to break it. “You know, you really don’t have to walk me all the way back to my dorm. It should be the other way around—.”

You glanced at him, trying to hide the blush creeping up your cheeks. You were worried about your own feelings, and now, Heeseung had a way of making your heart flutter with the smallest of gestures.

“I don’t mind,” you replied quickly, too quickly. “I just figured I should, you know… make sure you’re okay.”

Heeseung chuckled, a low sound that made you feel warm despite the cool rain. “You’re acting kind of weird. Usually, you’re so naggy. I thought I’d never see you get flustered.”

You looked away, trying to hide your face. “I’m not flustered.”

There was a brief pause as Heeseung watched you. His eyes softened, the usual teasing light in them dimming a little. “You’re not fooling me, you know.”

You slowed your pace, nervous now, your heart pounding as you tried to look calm. “I’m not trying to fool anyone.”

“I think you are,” he replied, stepping a little closer, his shoulder brushing yours as the two of you continued walking side by side.

You swallowed hard. The proximity felt different now, more charged. Your voice faltered. “What do you mean?”

Heeseung didn’t respond right away. Instead, he shifted his gaze to the ground, the rain creating ripples on the wet pavement. “It’s just… you’re always so careful with what you say. Always so in control. But sometimes… I wonder if you’re hiding something.”

Your stomach dropped at his words. You glanced over at him, but he wasn’t looking at you. The air between you felt heavier, and the tension seemed to stretch out longer than usual.

“I’m not hiding anything,” you murmured, even though part of you wished he could know the truth — or maybe, just maybe, that he could feel the same way.

Heeseung’s voice was quieter now, his tone almost teasing, but there was something else in it, something deeper. “Then why do you always look at me like that? Like you’re holding back?”

Your heart skipped a beat. “What?”

He finally met your eyes, his gaze intense. There was a flicker of something — was it vulnerability? — in his look. “Like you’re scared to let me in. What are you afraid of?”

Your breath hitched. For a split second, you were paralyzed, unsure of how to answer. Was it possible he was starting to see through your walls?

Heeseung’s gaze softened as he noticed the look on your face, sensing something unspoken. He took a step back, offering you a small, reassuring smile. “Maybe I’m just overthinking it. Forget it.”

But you couldn’t forget it. Not now. You could feel the space between the two of you shifting, the weight of his words lingering. Something was different, something had shifted, and you weren’t sure if it was just your heart racing or something more.

For the rest of the walk, neither of you spoke much. But every time your eyes met, it felt like there was a new understanding between you two — a shared secret that neither of you was ready to fully admit, but both were beginning to feel.

It had been a long day, but when you stepped out of your last class, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was different. It wasn’t just the cold air or the approaching dusk; something was off, and you couldn’t quite put your finger on it. That was until you spotted Heeseung standing by the bench outside the library, his gaze fixed on you as if he’d been waiting for a while.

Your heart skipped a beat.

He looked at you for a moment before he spoke. “Cupid, we need to talk.”

A nervous flutter danced in your stomach, and you forced a smile. “Uh, sure. What’s up?”

He took a deep breath, stepping toward you, and you noticed the letter in his hand — the same one you’d written to him, the one that had been slipped anonymously into his mailbox just a few days ago. Your heart pounded in your chest, the realization of what was happening dawning on you.

Heeseung didn’t say anything for a moment, just held the letter between his fingers, glancing down at it. “I know this is from you,” he said quietly, his voice gentle but filled with a soft surprise. “I figured it out after I read it again.”

You froze, your breath catching in your throat. You had hoped, prayed, that he wouldn’t find out this way. But here it was, and you couldn’t avoid it any longer.

“How… How did you know?” you asked, trying to hide the nerves creeping up your voice.

He smiled slightly, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “A few things gave it away. The way you worded everything… It just felt like it came from you.”

“Also I found some of your notebooks while we were at your dorm and I matched the handwriting…” He blurted out.

Your heart sank. You had spent so long hoping he wouldn’t realize it was you, but now it seemed impossible to hide the truth.

“I… I’m sorry,” you said, almost embarrassed. “I didn’t mean for you to find out like this. I just… didn’t know how to tell you. I didn’t want to make things awkward between us.”

Heeseung’s expression softened. “Why would it be awkward?”

“Because I’ve liked you for a while, and I didn’t know how to say it,” you admitted, looking down at your shoes. “So I thought if I wrote the letter, I could control it. But then I accidentally gave it to you and everything is just— I don’t know It was never meant to reach you.”

Heeseung’s smile widened, and something about the way he looked at you made your stomach flip. “Well, I don’t know about you, but I kind of wish you’d just told me sooner.”

Your eyes shot up to meet his. “What?”

“I mean it,” he said, stepping a little closer. “I wasn’t expecting it to be you but now that I know… It’s kind of a relief. I’ve been wondering why you’ve been acting so weird around me.”

You blinked, taken aback. “I’ve been acting weird?”

Heeseung laughed softly, his eyes twinkling. “Yeah, you’ve been avoiding me like the plague. Always a little too nervous when we talk.”

You felt a wave of warmth rise to your cheeks. “I didn’t mean to… I just…”

He took another step forward, the distance between the two of you shrinking. “You don’t need to explain. I get it.” He paused for a moment, his eyes meeting yours with an almost teasing glint in them. “Honestly, I’ve kind of had a feeling you liked me. You just never said it.”

Your heart skipped a beat. “Wait… you knew?”

He grinned. “Not for sure, but I wasn’t completely blind. I just didn’t want to make assumptions.”

A laugh bubbled up from your chest, and you felt your nerves ease a little. The tension that had been building between the two of you melted away, replaced by something lighter, something more familiar.

“So… this doesn’t make things weird?” you asked cautiously, unsure if you were reading him right. The last thing you wanted was to make things uncomfortable.

Heeseung shook his head, his smile softening. “No. Actually, I’m kind of glad. Now I don’t have to turn anyone down because I like someone else.”

Your heart raced as he closed the gap between the two of you, standing only a few inches away. He looked down at the letter in his hand, then back at you, his expression serious but warm. “I don’t think I ever really realized how much I liked you until now. I think I’ve been too caught up in my own head to notice, but hearing this from you? Yeah, I think I feel the same.”

For a moment, everything seemed to pause — the sound of people passing by, the rustling of the leaves in the breeze, even the thumping of your own heartbeat — until Heeseung’s words sank in fully. The shock of it left you speechless, and the only thing you could manage was a soft, almost breathless, “Really?”

He chuckled, the sound light and comforting. “Really. I like you too, Cupid— I mean, Y/N.”

A smile spread across your face, and you couldn’t stop it. Your heart felt lighter than it had in days, as if a weight had been lifted off your chest. You had been so afraid of how things might turn out, but now, with Heeseung standing here in front of you, it felt like everything was falling into place.

Heeseung held the letter out to you, a soft chuckle escaping his lips. “You know, you could’ve just told me. But I guess this works too.”

You took the letter from him, glancing down at the words you’d written once more, a smile tugging at your lips. “Maybe it was a bit dramatic. But… I was too scared to just say it. I didn’t want to mess things up.”

He reached for your hand, gently taking it in his. “You didn’t mess anything up, Cupid. You just… made everything clearer.”

And just like that, all the tension and uncertainty you’d been feeling seemed to dissolve. There was no more hiding, no more pretending. You were standing here, with Heeseung, both of you finally understanding the feelings that had been simmering for so long.

“So,” he said after a moment, his voice playful again, “How about we skip the letters next time and just go for a dinner date?”

You laughed, your heart full as you squeezed his hand. “That sounds perfect.”

Heeseung smiled, his gaze soft and filled with something genuine. “Good. Let’s not wait any longer, I really want some ramen.”

And with that, the two of you walked off together, the air between you light, and the promise of something more ahead.

BONUS 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

Dating Heeseung felt like stepping into something familiar but entirely new at the same time. The comfort of your friendship was still there—the teasing, the ease, the way you could talk about anything and everything—but now there was something softer, sweeter, laced between every interaction.

Like right now.

It was late, the two of you curled up on your dorm room floor with a half-finished pizza between you, an old playlist humming softly from your phone. The world outside felt quiet, like this moment only belonged to the two of you. Heeseung was leaning against the bed, his legs stretched out, while you were sitting cross-legged beside him, picking at the crust of your pizza slice.

His hand, which had been resting casually near yours, suddenly slid closer, his fingers tracing the tips of yours absentmindedly. It was such a simple thing, but it sent a shiver up your spine nonetheless.

“So,” Heeseung started, voice slow and teasing. “How’s it feel? Finally dating the guy of your dreams?”

You rolled your eyes, already knowing where this was going. “You’re impossible.”

Heeseung grinned, leaning his head back against the bed. “No, but really. You had a crush on me for so long, and now look at us.” His fingers fully laced with yours now, his touch warm and effortless.

“I wouldn’t say I had a crush that long,” you mumbled, taking a sip of your drink to avoid looking at him.

“Are you kidding? You literally wrote me a love letter.”

Your face burned. “Okay, one letter—”

“One?” Heeseung gasped dramatically, sitting up and turning toward you. “So you’re telling me there aren’t, like, ten versions of that letter somewhere in your notes app?”

You choked. “There absolutely are not.”

“Oh my god.” He laughed, eyes gleaming with amusement. “There are. You rewrote it a bunch of times, didn’t you?”

You covered your face with your hands, groaning. “I am not having this conversation.”

Heeseung was grinning now, having way too much fun at your expense. He reached over, gently prying your hands from your face. “No, no, let’s talk about it. Tell me, how long did it take you to get the perfect wording? Did you, like, pace around your room dramatically?”

You huffed, crossing your arms. “For your information, I wasn’t that dramatic.”

Heeseung smirked. “Mhm. So you didn’t dramatically sigh and go, ‘No, this isn’t right, I need to capture his essence’?”

You picked up a stray piece of crust and chucked it at him. He dodged it easily, laughing as he caught your wrist, pulling you toward him slightly.

“You’re the worst,” you mumbled, but there was no real annoyance behind it.

Heeseung was still grinning, his fingers now playing with yours absentmindedly. “You love it.”

You sighed, shaking your head. “I really don’t.”

“You do,” he countered, tugging you even closer until you were practically pressed against his side. His voice dropped, softer now, almost teasing in a different way. “Did you mean everything you said in that letter?”

You swallowed, suddenly feeling like all the air had been sucked out of the room. “What if I did?”

Heeseung tilted his head, his gaze locked onto yours, and suddenly, the playful atmosphere melted into something else—something quieter, more intense.

“Then,” he murmured, his thumb brushing lightly over your knuckles, “I’d tell you that I think about it a lot.”

You blinked. “You do?”

Heeseung nodded, his expression unusually serious now. “I mean, do you even realize how… nice it is to know someone felt that way about me? And not just anyone—you.” He exhaled, his lips curling into something softer, more affectionate. “I don’t think I ever told you, but when I first read it, before I even knew it was from you, I remember thinking… whoever wrote this really cares about me.”

Your heart was thudding so loudly you were sure he could hear it.

“And then,” he continued, “when I found out it was you? It just… it all made sense.”

Your breath hitched slightly. “It did?”

Heeseung hummed in response.

“You’ve always been there,” he said softly. “I just didn’t realize how much I wanted you to be closer.”

You felt your throat tighten, emotion bubbling up in your chest, but before you could even think of a response, Heeseung leaned in, his forehead resting lightly against yours.

His eyes flickered to your lips for just a moment before meeting your gaze again, as if silently asking permission.

You didn’t need to think twice.

Closing the small distance between you, you kissed him.

It was soft, slow—like both of you were still memorizing the feeling. Heeseung sighed against your lips, his hand sliding to your jaw, tilting your face toward him just slightly.

When you finally pulled away, breathless and heart pounding, Heeseung smiled, his forehead still pressed to yours.

“So,” he murmured, eyes twinkling, “if I ask you nicely, do I get to read those other drafts of the letter?”

You groaned, shoving him away playfully. “Absolutely not.”

Heeseung only laughed, pulling you back into his arms with ease. “Fine, fine. But at least let me know—was I always this irresistible in them?”

You rolled your eyes, but your smile gave you away. “Shut up, Heeseung.”

He grinned, pressing another soft kiss to your temple. “Love you too.”

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#Ꮺ 𝐦𝐲 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐬 #enhypen #enhypen fluff #enhypen x reader #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen fic #fanfic #fluff fic #heeseung enha #lee heeseung #heeseung #lee heesung x reader #heeseung x reader #heeseung fanfic #heeseung fluff

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chrolloluvr · 1 year ago

Note

May you please write Mammon x reader smut. Where the reader is short and has a size difference kink. If you do I give many thanks in advance (Seriously love this blog so much)

♡ Mammon w/ A Size Kink ♡

Note: AHHH TYSM BOOKIE!!! Also yes this has been on my mind for so long... and I have not made a proper NSFW fic yet until now. So here you go! (alot more NSFW coming soon, especially for this man...) So here are my thoughts! Also sorry if its a bit short...

AFAB, Female!Reader

Warnings: Size kink, belly bulge, penetration, overstimulation, size transformation, oral (female and male receiving) ★

The height difference makes him feral. He is at least a couple feet taller than you. So he likes to use this to his advantage. By manhandling you. he will pick you up, grab your waist, literally rip your legs off of its hinges when he pulls them apart, etc. So, he likes when you are shorter than him. It gives him a power influx, and it makes him feel supreme to you. So he will basically use you like a glorified sex doll.

He will purposely make himself transform into a couple feet taller. Like a big, scary spider. So he can intimidate you, and get you riled up. He wont have actual penetrative sex with you in his big spider form, but he will eat you out.

And he delivers very well. His tongue is huge. You feel like your in cloud 9 whenever he eats your pussy, especially because he does not do it very often.

his favorite position, especially due to his size, is Full Nelson. He likes how in this position, he has complete control over you. With his upper hands behind your knees, his hips under your own, and his lower arms circling your sensitive clit, and his other hand pussy slapping you. Sometimes, he will place you in front of a big mirror, while hammering his hips into your vice, little pussy. Also making you look at yourself, being utterly destroyed by his large cock. He will tie your ankles together with his webs when he does this.

His other favorite is picking you up, and putting his hands under your legs and throwing them over his shoulders. He enjoys listening to the skin slapping sounds, and how lude they sound. And seeing your reactions to his every harsh thrust to your G-spot. And how especially cramped you are between his body, his cock, and his arms, with a tight grip on your ass. This position makes you more sensitive and vulnerable, which is just where he wants you.

Belly Bulge. Need I say more? It makes him laugh, and chuckle about how 'your gonna take it- fuck, yeah, you like that don't you- little fuckin' slut-'

It makes him realize just how large he is compared to you. How much he effects you and your body. He craves this kind of dominance over you.

He is a little bastard. When he sees you have a belly bulge from his constant plummeting, he will press down onto it. This, as he is well aware of, makes you see stars. You become a moaning, drooling, babbling mess under his large self. Which is what he wants, of course.

The sheer size of his dick. He cant help but feel aroused, when he compares you and his cock side by side. Every now and then, he will have you sat right behind it, while he holds you, and just admire how small you are. He has to prep you for your first time together, and even every single time you guys do have sex. Simply because of the size of it. And its not just long, its girthy too. So if you dont have some prep, he might end up abominating your poor womb.

He especially likes seeing you struggle, especially when you give him head. you can barely fit your mouth around it. Your jaw gets sore within literal seconds of putting his member in your mouth. So you have to use your hands (which also barely touch eachother), for the rest of his cock.

Overstimulating you. His favorite way of overstimulation you is with his arms and hands. He will have you trapped in between his legs. One of his lower arms will be fingering your supple core; the other one circling harshly around your clit. One of his upper hands holding your waist up; the other one toying with your breast and sensitive, puffy nipples.

He also likes overstimulating you, by having you cock warm him. Its one of his favorite past times. Especially when you two try to be sneaky, like during his pageants ontop of the webbing. (should I make a whole other post about this??) He just loves feeling the warmth of your pussy against his cold self. And he wont let you move. Like at all. Unless he grabs your hips and forcibly bounces you up and down, which is after a while of waiting of course.

Dirty talk. He loves making you feel smaller, so he will talk down upon you. Everything he calls you starts with 'my', because he is very possessive. things like "my slut", "my whore", "my princess", etc. He will never talk about you in a truly bad connotation. So he will say things like:

"You like being my little slut, yeah?"

"C'mon, you can take more. don't be a baby."

"yeahhhh. Takin' it like a fuckin' champ. Good fuckin' girl-"

"Oh fuck... shit just like that"

"Ohh yeah- thats some good shit."

"Dont you dare fuckin' move."

"You feelin' good princess? Yeah I bet you are. Fittin' me like a glove."

"Awww you want more? Your gonna have to wait a bit, m'kay?"

"You want it inside? Ya' want daddy to fill ya' up real nice?"

So overall, he favors when you are small and meek. Just be a good girl for him, and you wont have to worry about his intimidation, okay?

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mountaesan · 2 months ago

Text

boynextdoor when their s/o is on their period

pairing. ot6 x afab!reader warnings. period mention , therefore reader has a uterus but other than that no other terms are used to specify gender , period cramps & cravings mentions , jaehyun has women in his life ? , and woonhak is a feminist ( LMAO PLS DON’T TAKE THIS SERIOUSLY IT’S A JOKE ) notes. gave up on my constipated leehan x constipated reader fic and decided to write this banger on a whim more under the cut !

sungho :

he 100% tracks your cycle with you. if you don’t have him added to your tracking app, he has his own where he makes note of your different symptoms (safe to say you were deeply impressed and got emotional when you found out). also does a lot of research about menstruation and your cycle. he wants to know everything there is to know so that he can be there for you throughout all four phases of your cycle. genuinely becomes concerned sometimes when you’re doubled over in pain and you can’t get out of bed. sungho also has a tendency to stock up on hot packs/water bottles because he absolutely hates to see the love of his life struggling. always willing to wrap you up in his arms

riwoo :

says ‘miss bitch is back’ when you’re on your period. yes, he has nicknamed your period ‘miss bitch’ (mostly because it’s a bitch to you whenever it’s that time of the month). let’s you do anything and everything you want to do. if you feel like going to the nearest convenience store at 2 in the morning because you want to eat three bowls of buldak, he’s right behind you. if you feel like crying while watching ‘The Notebook’ for the thousandth time, he’s holding the box of tissues for you. to be frank, he enjoys it when you’re on your period (not when you’re in pain ofc) because that means he can bring home the gazillion different desserts he’s been meaning to try. the two of you have a taste testing on the bed, taking bites from different tarts, cakes, donuts (duh), and other sweets to your silly little hearts’ content.

myung jaehyun :

gets upset that you have to be in pain for a week every month. curses the menstruation gods and begs for the pain to be transferred to him (half joking, half serious). so, to prove his solidarity, he bought one of those period cramp simulators and tried it on himself. afterwards, he apologized to every single woman in his life. twice. he likes to cuddle up with you and pretend to punch your abdomen, saying he’s fighting the period cramps for your honor. it’s silly but you’re too tired to say anything. will immediately fix up any absurd cravings you have because if his baby is craving bacon and chocolate, his baby will be eating bacon and chocolate!

taesan :

he can recognize your period before you do, without the help of a tracking app (sungho is seething with jealousy). you’re impressed, but taesan doesn’t think much of it; he just notices the slight changes in your diet and attitude, and acts accordingly. wordlessly stocks up on snacks and junk food a couple days prior. once it’s leak week, taesan refuses to let you do anything. you’re basically in bed arrest. if he catches you waddling out of the bedroom with the hot water bottle pressed to your abdomen, he’s ushering you right back to bed. likes to push your hair back and kiss you on the forehead. it’s weird and random, but it’s something he only does when you’re on your period. otherwise, he’s back to usual kissing regimen.

leehan :

clueless #1. he doesn’t know much about periods or menstruation cycles so he does his best to research on it. he does know a thing or two about mood swings though, so if you’re ever in a mood, he just lets himself be yelled at until you’re feeling better. afterwards, he’ll give you a kiss and swaddle you with blankets to help you unwind and relax. you noticed that leehan liked to be the little spoon when you were on your period, which is weird because he usually likes spooning you. turns out, he liked the warmth of your hot water bottle and used cuddling as an excuse to warm himself up. likes to cozy up with you in bed and do netflix marathons, re-watching all your favorite rom-coms and tv shows.

woonhak :

clueless #2. woonhak cried the first time you cried when you were on your period. you weren’t even crying because of him, you were crying because you remembered cheesepuff, your pet hamster from the third grade, was dead. regardless, he was freaking out! researches and asks around a lot, especially his hyungs, about periods and what he can do to help. steals sweets from riwoo, hot packs from taesan, and uses leehan’s netflix account. oh he also stole borrowed jaehyun’s period cramp simulator and almost cried a second time that week. becomes a feminist whenever you’re on your period and whips out his copies of Jane Eyre, Pride and Prejudice, Little Women, and The Awakening to prove that he stands with you. ig it’s the thought that counts ?

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luvtak · 4 months ago

Text

fade into you, lmh x reader

genre/tw est. relationship! suggestive, pure sugar cane fluff (like high fructose corn syrup fluff), minho only knows how to talk with his hands </3, gn!reader!! minho calls you kitty and honey <3!! seriously cavity inducing fluff be warned !! mostly unedited…

w/c 848

omg i haven’t posted a fic in so long nor have i written anything in months :(( but i’m finally a lot more settled after a busy drama filled couple of months! I hope you love this fic as much as i loved writing it. I’m not kidding when i say i wrote this in an hour on my phones notes app, don’t be afraid to tell me how you feel hehe 🩵

It’s cold outside your sleeping bag, frigid morning fog seeping into the once cozy tent. You shiver at Minho’s nose pressing into your neck, his face as cold as a dog who’s been outside too long.

You’re not sure why you let your boyfriend convince you to camp in the middle of autumn… less sure why he insisted it was just the two of you, but you could never refuse Minho when he asked you so nicely— hands easing sighs while his mouth asked the question; the only thing you could say was yes, over and over.

Unfortunately, the ecstasy of being asked was not akin to the actual experience.

Insistent rain stormed down from the second you arrived to the last minute before your eyes closed, Minho in all his excitement forgot the cooler and was forced to drive all the way back—leaving you to shiver in the tent alone. No, it was not the romantic getaway your boyfriend promised, but being here now—warm despite the wilderness’s wishes—you think it could be.

“Are you still cold, honey?” Minho asks, his voice just a whisper amongst the whistling trees.

With your eyes still closed, you can only imagine what he looks like… Soft with sleep, his eyelashes cascading shadows across the slopes of his skin, beautiful like hypnos after creating dreams. You can feel his breath against your neck and his hands clutching at your waist, so safe despite how strong he is.

“No, min, I’m just right” you say, and you can feel his laugh, rumbling through him, feel his smile against your skin.

You wish he knew how much you cherish him… how much you treasure these little moments with him. How you’ll think about this moment every time he’s away from you; rolling the memory around your tongue like it’s a piece of candy.

Sometimes, you’re sure you can see a cord running from you to him, wrapping around the two of you like cling wrap—like every moment you’ve ever had was crafted by the fates, your story weaved by the gods themselves.

“Just right huh?” he says, before he’s lifting his head to look at you, eyes open and beautiful. “Well goldilocks, look how pretty you are this morning.” His smile is mischievous and if you didn’t know better you may think he was joking, but his tone gives him away: too quiet to be anything but the truth.

“Minho!” you cry, embarrassed by compliments this early, “lay back down, I need you to keep me warm.” He smiles down at you, knowing you well enough to see that you’re flustered, it’s always too easy; one compliment, and your skin is hot, his kiss lasts a second too long and you’re pulling away shaking.

Minho doesn’t think he’ll ever get tired of making your blood rush, enjoying the chase even when he has you.

When his skin gets closer to yours again, chest to chest/heart to heart, you find yourself breathing his air like you share one pair of lungs. He’s so close to you, searing your skin even as the sleeping bag pulls awkwardly around your legs, letting cool air settle around your figure.

His lips are so close to yours, one breath away from a kiss, so close you can feel his words flow into your open mouth.

“Are you warm now, kitty?” he asks, his eyes boring into yours before flitting down to look at your skin; miles and miles of it under his hands, valleys of skin that are his as much as yours.

“I’m warm, Minho, are you?” Just a whisper.

“just right.” A smirk.

One breath, two breaths, three, and then he’s kissing you. Lips urging gasps to flow out of you, hands grasping at his tension filled spine. You’ve shared many kisses, sweet and sultry, frantic and lust filled, but something about this hunger is foreign to you.

His kiss is filled with wanting yes, but it’s almost like he’s trying to tell you something but forgot the words. His hands on your thighs urging you to listen, please please please understand, they say, clutching at the muscle like he’s afraid you’ll never know.

But you do, and so do your lips and your hands and you try your hardest to speak his language; responding to every bite with a nip of your own, gasping when his hands ask, kissing away the sleep still in his eyes. You know what he’s saying, I love you, I’m sorry you’re cold, I’m sorry I made you come on this rain coated trip, I love you I'm sorry, I love you I love you.”

Your boy, always so embarrassed to tell you how he feels, but never afraid to show you.

When you pull apart, hands locked together still, eyes gleaming with an inside joke, a shared confession; you can see he wants to say something, see he’s trying to build the courage to split his heart open. Instead he flits his eyes up to the sky and smiles.

Look honey, the suns coming out”

And you understand.

587 notes · View notes

favefandomimagines · 3 months ago

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Labyrinth (j.b)

Summary: the six most prominent moments in Joe’s relationship with Y/N Y/L/N

AN: a little combo of regular fic and an SMAU fic!! My first Joe Burrow fic too so there’s a lot of firsts going on lol

She’s a long one!!! And I hate the ending but oh well

One.

It was a sunny Tuesday afternoon at the Bengals’ practice facility, and Joe Burrow was seated next to the host of a Barstool podcast.

He didn’t do these interviews often but with the pre-season in full swing, he had a couple on his schedule. After answering a slew of football-related questions, the session took a lighter turn when the host decided to inject some fun into the conversation.

“Alright, Joe,” the host said, his voice playful. “We’ve been talking about your game on the field, but what about your game off it? Who would you say is your celebrity crush?”

Joe leaned back in his chair, scratching his neck thoughtfully. For a moment, he seemed like he was genuinely debating his answer. Then, a small, almost shy smile spread across his face.

“Celebrity crush?” he repeated. “I guess... Y/N Y/L/N from Outer Banks. She’s got this whole vibe—talented, gorgeous, and just really cool. Yeah, definitely her.”

The room erupted in laughter and teasing comments. The host muttered, “Good taste,” while the other joked, “Sliding into her DMs soon, Joe?”

Joe chuckled, shaking his head as if to brush off the attention, but the damage was done. Within hours, the clip of his admission was circulating on social media. Sports accounts, entertainment outlets, and fan pages had all picked it up. Memes popped up with captions like:

When your MVP is also a hopeless romantic, and Quarterback Joe Burrow shoots his shot.

Across the country, Y/N was sitting in her trailer on the set of Outer Banks, scrolling through her phone between takes. She hadn’t even made it halfway through her notifications before Madelyn Cline burst into the room, phone in hand.

“Did you see this?” She asked, her tone giddy.

“See what?” Y/N asked, setting her script aside.

“Joe Burrow—like, the Joe Burrow—just said you’re his celebrity crush during a press conference.”

Her brows shot up in surprise. “Wait, seriously?”

Madelyn thrust the phone toward her, showing her the clip. Y/N hit play, watching as Joe, clad in his Bengals gear, casually named her as his celebrity crush. At first, she laughed—a light, disbelieving sound—but as the video looped, she couldn’t help but notice the genuine look on his face. It wasn’t cocky or rehearsed. It was… sweet.

“Well,” Madelyn said, smirking, “looks like someone’s got a fan.”

“Yeah, a fan who’s, like, an NFL star,” Y/N quipped, trying to brush it off, though her cheeks had turned a noticeable shade of pink. “He probably says stuff like that all the time.”

“Oh, no way. That guy does not look like he just ‘says stuff.’ You should DM him. Or better yet, I’ll DM him for you!”

“Absolutely not,” Y/N said, laughing as she snatched the phone back. But later, when she was alone, she replayed the clip a few more times, unable to shake the warm, fluttery feeling in her chest.

Across social media, fans were having a field day. Football fans and Outer Banks fans joined forces, shipping Joe and Y/N like they were characters in their own romantic drama. Someone tweeted:

Joe Burrow x Y/N? A crossover episode I didn’t know I needed.

Even Y/N’s manager brought it up during a call the next day. “The press is eating this up. We could lean into it if you’re comfortable.”

Y/N sighed. “He seems nice, but… let’s not make a big deal out of it.”

“Noted,” her manager said, though the tone suggested they were already envisioning the headlines.

Still, the attention lingered. For Joe, it became an inside joke with his teammates.

“You think she’s seen it yet?” one of them teased during practice.

“She probably has,” Joe said, trying to sound casual, but the truth was, he kind of hoped she had.

And for Y/N, every time she opened Instagram or Twitter and saw a fan edit pairing her with Joe, she couldn’t help but smile. Little did either of them know, this was only the beginning.

@y//nofficial: my babes (also being the celebrity crush of a nfl player is my finest achievement in life 😉)

Two.

Months had passed since Joe casually admitted to the world that Y/N was his celebrity crush, and while the media had gradually moved on to other stories, the moment had left a lasting impression on both of them.

For Joe, it had been nothing more than a lighthearted, honest answer in the moment. But as he followed Y/N’s career—watching interviews, catching glimpses of her on magazine covers, and finally binge-watching Outer Banks during the offseason—he couldn’t deny that his admiration for her had only grown.

For Y/N, Joe’s comment was a flattering blip in her increasingly busy schedule. Between shooting a new season of Outer Banks and fielding scripts for movie roles, she hadn’t thought much about it—at least, not until their paths crossed in the most unexpected way.

It was the night of the ESPY Awards, a glittering evening celebrating the best in sports. Joe had been invited after leading the Bengals to a playoff run that cemented his reputation as one of the league’s brightest stars. Y/N, on the other hand, was there as a presenter.

The after-party buzzed with energy. Athletes, actors, and industry power players mingled in the event space. Joe wasn’t one for crowded events—he preferred the quiet camaraderie of a locker room—but tonight, he was making an exception.

As he sipped a drink and scanned the room, his eyes landed on her. Y/N was standing near the bar, wearing a sleek, gold dress that caught the light every time she moved. She was laughing at something one of her co-stars had said, her smile lighting up the space around her. Joe’s heart skipped in a way he hadn’t felt before.

“Dude, you okay?” one of his teammates asked, noticing the quarterback’s sudden silence.

“Yeah,” Joe said, setting his glass down. “Be right back.”

Joe didn’t overthink as he crossed the room, his long strides purposeful yet casual. For someone who thrived under pressure, he was oddly nervous. As he got closer, Y/N glanced up, her gaze locking with his. Recognition flickered in her eyes, followed by a warm smile.

“Hi,” Joe said, extending a hand. “I’m Joe.”

“I know,” Y/N said with a teasing glint. She took his hand, her touch firm yet delicate. “I’m Y/N.”

“I know,” he shot back, his grin widening. The exchange was simple, but it broke the ice between them.

For the next few minutes—or maybe it was hours; neither of them kept track—they talked like old friends. Joe told her about his first football game as a kid, the way his dad had coached him to stay grounded, and the chaos of his rookie year in the NFL. Y/N shared stories about her early auditions, the nerves of landing her breakout role, and the unexpected challenge of filming on a boat in stormy weather.

“So,” she said at one point, her tone light but playful, “am I really your celebrity crush, or was that just something you said for the podcast?”

Joe laughed, a deep, genuine sound that made her smile. “It wasn’t just for the podcast. You’re… incredible. I meant it.”

Y/N’s cheeks warmed, but she didn’t shy away from his gaze. “Well, thank you. That’s sweet of you.”

The night wore on, and the party began to thin out, but Joe and Y/N stayed rooted in their little corner of the room, oblivious to the time or the world around them. By the end of the evening, Joe had her number saved in his phone under her name, followed by a football emoji she insisted he add.

As they said their goodbyes, Y/N looked at him and said, “It was nice meeting you, Joe. Maybe I’ll see you around.”

“Definitely,” he replied, his smile tinged with quiet determination.

The next day, during an interview recapping the night, Y/N was asked if she had fun at the ESPYs. She smiled knowingly. “I did. I met someone who made the night memorable.”

Joe, back at the practice facility, saw the clip during a break and couldn’t help but grin. “Made her night memorable, huh?” his teammate teased.

Joe didn’t answer, but the glint in his eyes said it all. It was the beginning of something new, though neither of them fully realized it yet.

@y//nofficial: I had no business being at the ESPYs but I’m SO HAPPY I was! It was a very memorable evening! 😏

Three.

The photo that broke the internet wasn’t planned. Joe and Y/N had been dating quietly for a couple of months, their blossoming relationship tucked away from the public eye. They liked it that way.

Joe could focus on football without fielding endless questions about his personal life, and Y/N could work on her projects without worrying about being cast as “so-and-so’s girlfriend.”

That morning, they had decided to grab coffee at a small café in Cincinnati. It wasn’t one of those flashy celebrity spots—just a cozy, tucked-away place where they could sit and talk without interruption.

Y/N was in between filming seasons of the show and had some time off, so she spent it in the Midwest.

She wore an oversized hoodie and leggings, her hair pulled into a messy bun. Joe had on a Bengals cap and a casual sweatshirt. To anyone passing by, they looked like any other young couple enjoying a quiet moment together.

But someone did notice.

A fan walking out of the café spotted them holding hands as they strolled back to Joe’s car. The fan discreetly snapped a photo—not to be invasive, but because Joe Burrow and Y/N together?! It was too good to keep to themselves.

By the afternoon, the photo was everywhere.

@fanaccountt: Joe Burrow spotted with Outer Banks actress Y/N Y/L/N all coupled up! Is this the beginning of a new power couple?

Joe was in the middle of reviewing game tape when his phone buzzed incessantly. He ignored it at first, but when his teammate Ja’Marr walked in grinning, he knew something was up.

“You’re trending,” Ja’Marr said, tossing his phone onto the desk.

Joe picked it up and immediately saw the photo. There he was, arms wrapped around Y/N, the internet going wild over their apparent relationship.

“Crap,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair.

“What, you mad about it?” Ja’Marr teased. “Dude, people are shipping you two like crazy. You’re a power couple now.”

Joe sighed. “It’s not about being mad. I just… I wanted to keep it private for a little longer.”

“Well,” Ja’Marr said with a laugh, “welcome to dating a superstar.”

Y/N wasn’t faring much better. Her phone had been blowing up all day, her group chats full of messages from co-stars and friends.

“Why didn’t you tell me you’re dating Joe freaking Burrow?!”

“Is this why you’ve been smiling so much lately???”

Her manager even called. “So… about that photo…”

Y/N groaned, rubbing her temples. “I didn’t think anyone would notice us! We weren’t even in L.A.!”

“Well, they noticed. So now the question is, do we address it, or let it fizzle out?”

Y/N bit her lip. She and Joe had talked about how they’d handle going public, but they hadn’t expected it to happen like this. After a quick call to Joe, they decided to keep it simple—acknowledge it without making a spectacle.

A few days later, Joe had a press conference. The media had been chomping at the bit to ask him about the photo, and as soon as the football questions wrapped up, one brave reporter dove in.

“Joe, there’s been a lot of buzz about your personal life lately. Care to comment on the photo of you and Y/N that’s been circulating?”

Joe’s lips twitched into a small smile. “Yeah, I’ve seen the photo,” he said, his tone light but measured. “Look, I get it—it’s part of the job. But, yeah, Y/N and I are dating. She’s incredible. I’m lucky to have her in my corner.”

The room buzzed with excitement, but Joe didn’t elaborate. He kept it short and sweet, knowing anything more would only add fuel to the fire.

Meanwhile, Y/N was promoting the upcoming season of Outer Banks on a popular morning talk show. Inevitably, the host brought up the photo.

“So, Y/N, the internet is losing it over this photo of you and Joe Burrow. Can you confirm—are you guys officially a thing?”

Y/N laughed, her cheeks flushing slightly. “I guess the photo kind of confirmed it for us, didn’t it?” she said, her voice warm and genuine. “Joe’s great. He’s funny, grounded, and so supportive. I’m really lucky.”

Fans swooned. The internet exploded again, dubbing them the It Couple of the year.

That night, Joe and Y/N sat on the couch in his living room, scrolling through the headlines together.

“‘NFL’s Golden Boy and Hollywood’s Sweetheart,’” Joe read aloud, smirking. “That’s a bit much, don’t you think?”

Y/N leaned her head on his shoulder, laughing. “Get used to it, superstar. This is our life now.”

He wrapped an arm around her, pulling her close. “As long as I’ve got you, I think I can handle it.”

@y//nofficial: well…I guess it’s out there now 🧡 @joeyb_9

Four.

It was a moment that underscored just how much Joe and Y/N had come to mean to each other—not just as a couple but as a team. Their worlds were so different, but they’d found ways to support each other, even when the demands of their careers kept them apart.

The moment happened on one of the NFL’s biggest stages: the AFC Championship Game. Joe had led the Bengals to the brink of a Super Bowl appearance, and the eyes of the world were on him.

It was a freezing January evening, the kind where the air burned your lungs and every hit on the field felt twice as hard. But Joe didn’t seem fazed; he thrived in the cold.

Y/N had cleared her schedule weeks ago to make sure she could be there. She was bundled up in a Bengals hoodie and beanie, sitting in a private box with Joe’s family, but she might as well have been on the field with him.

Every play made her heart race, and she cheered as loudly as anyone when Joe threw a perfect touchdown pass or scrambled for a first down.

When the Bengals sealed the victory in the final minutes, the stadium erupted. Y/N stood and clapped, her face lighting up with pride. Cameras panned across the crowd, catching her celebration, and the broadcasters couldn’t resist a mention.

“And there’s Joe Burrow’s girlfriend, Y/N,” one of them said. “She’s been a fixture at games this season, always showing her support.”

Joe’s post-game press conference was filled with the usual football questions, but one reporter couldn’t resist asking about the glimpse of Y/N on the broadcast.

“You’ve talked a lot about your teammates being in your corner,” the reporter began, “but it seems like you’ve got a pretty special fan in your corner too. How important has Y/N’s support been during this season?”

Joe’s face softened, a rare moment of vulnerability on full display. “She’s been incredible,” he said. “We both have demanding schedules, but she always finds a way to be there when it matters. Having her support—it means everything.”

@y//nofficial: in my WAG era @joeyb_9

Later in the week, Y/N was gearing up for the premiere of her latest film, a romantic drama that was already generating Oscar buzz.

The red carpet was a dazzling frenzy of flashing cameras and shouting photographers, but Y/N glided through it with ease. Dressed in a custom gown that seemed to shimmer under the lights, she was the picture of Hollywood elegance.

When asked about her role and the film, she was all business, talking passionately about the story and her character. But, inevitably, a question about Joe came up.

“Your boyfriend, Joe Burrow, just led his team to another Super Bowl appearance,” the interviewer said. “How does it feel to be dating someone who’s at the top of his game, just like you?”

Y/N smiled, her eyes twinkling. “Joe works harder than anyone I’ve ever met. He’s so focused and driven, but he’s also incredibly humble about everything he’s accomplished. Watching him do what he loves at such a high level—it’s inspiring. I couldn’t be prouder of him.”

The clip of her response went viral almost immediately, fans swooning over her heartfelt words.

Joe couldn’t attend the film premiere because he was deep in Super Bowl preparations, but that didn’t stop him from supporting her in his own way.

On the day of the premiere, Y/N woke up to a surprise delivery at her hotel: a massive bouquet of her favorite flowers with a handwritten note.

“To my superstar,

Wish I could be there to cheer you on tonight. You’re going to be amazing—just like always.

Love, Joe.”

Y/N smiled as she read it, her heart swelling. Later that night, after walking the red carpet and enduring endless interviews, she called Joe.

“You didn’t have to do that,” she said, her voice warm with affection.

“Of course I did,” he replied. “I hate that I couldn’t be there, but I wanted you to know I’m thinking about you.”

“Well,” she said, “you’re officially the sweetest boyfriend ever.”

Their mutual support didn’t go unnoticed by fans or the media. People loved how they celebrated each other’s successes, even from a distance. Someone tweeted:

Joe Burrow sending flowers to Y/N before her premiere? That’s the kind of MVP energy we all need.

Another wrote: Y/N calling Joe’s season ‘inspiring’ is proof they’re the real deal. Power couple status confirmed.

@y//nofficial: 🤍❤️

Five.

By the time the Super Bowl rolled around, Joe and Y/N’s relationship had become a fixture in both sports and entertainment media.

They were admired not just for their individual accomplishments but for the way they seemed to amplify each other’s strengths. Fans loved their humility, their chemistry, and the quiet way they handled their fame.

But this was Joe’s moment—a chance to bring a Lombardi Trophy home to Cincinnati, something that had eluded the franchise for decades.

As game day approached, the buzz was electric. The pressure was immense, and the stakes couldn’t have been higher.

Y/N had spent the week leading up to the game in New York, doing press for the new season of Outer Banks. She wanted to fly to LA early to be with Joe, but he insisted she focus on her commitments.

“I know how much this season means to you,” he told her over the phone. “I’ll be fine. Just promise me you’ll be there on Sunday.”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” she said.

On the morning of the game, Y/N arrived in LA, joining Joe’s family in their private suite at the stadium. Dressed in a Bengals jersey with “Burrow” embroidered on the back, she was a bundle of nerves. Watching Joe on the field was always intense, but this was different. This was the Super Bowl.

The game was a nail-biter. Joe played brilliantly, showcasing his trademark composure under pressure. Every throw, every scramble, every audible sent the crowd into a frenzy.

Y/N found herself clapping, cheering, and even pacing the suite at times, her heart pounding with every play.

The Super Bowl had been everything Joe and the Bengals dreamed of—except for the ending. They fought hard, battled down to the wire, but ultimately, they fell short.

The scoreboard didn’t reflect the effort, the heart, or the grit Joe and his team had shown on the field.

As the confetti fell in the Ram’s colors, Joe stood on the field, his helmet dangling from his hand. He was stoic, as always, but those closest to him could see the weight of the moment settling on his shoulders.

In the stands, Y/N felt a pang of sadness for Joe. She had been there for his triumphs and his setbacks, but she knew how much this one hurt.

As the Ram’s celebrated, Y/N stayed rooted in her seat, watching Joe as he lingered on the field, congratulating the victors with quiet grace.

When he finally made his way toward the tunnel, she slipped past security and met him in the hallway.

Joe looked up and saw her standing there, wearing his jersey with a pair of leather pants, her eyes filled with nothing but love.

“Hey,” he said, his voice hoarse.

“Hey,” she replied softly.

Without another word, she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him. He let out a deep sigh as he held her, his chin resting on her shoulder.

“I’m so proud of you,” she whispered.

Joe pulled back slightly to look at her. “For losing?” he asked, a hint of self-deprecation in his tone.

“For leading,” she corrected. “For playing your heart out. For being the guy everyone looks up to—on and off the field.”

Her words seemed to ease some of the tension in his jaw, and he managed a small smile. “Thanks for being here,” he said.

“Always,” she promised.

Joe faced the press soon after, answering questions with his usual composure. When asked about the loss, he acknowledged the disappointment but praised his teammates for their effort and determination. Then, one reporter asked a more personal question.

“Joe, we saw Y/N in the tunnel with you after the game. How much does her support mean to you on a night like this?”

Joe’s expression softened, and for a moment, he seemed to forget the cameras and the crowd.

“It means everything,” he said simply. “Win or lose, she’s always there for me. Having someone like that in your corner—it’s more than I could ever ask for.”

Days later, Y/N was asked about the game during a podcast appearance.

“Your boyfriend played an incredible game, even though the team didn’t get the win. What did you say to him after?” the host asked.

Y/N smiled. “I told him I was proud of him. Because I was. He gave it everything he had, and that’s all anyone can ask for. Joe doesn’t measure his worth by wins and losses, and neither do I.”

Her response resonated with fans, many of whom took to social media to praise her unwavering support.

For Joe and Y/N, the Super Bowl wasn’t the ending they had hoped for, but it became a defining moment in their relationship. It reminded them that true partnership wasn’t about sharing only the victories—it was about standing together through the defeats, too.

As Joe said to Y/N that night, as they sat side by side on the couch in their hotel room, “I might not have won the trophy, but I’ve already won the most important thing in my life.”

Y/N looked at him with a soft smile. “And what’s that?”

“You,” he said, pulling her close.

And in that moment, the loss didn’t seem so heavy anymore.

@y//nofficial: so unbelievably proud of @joeyb_9 you played your heart out and left it all on the field. You never cease to amaze me. I love you always and forever 🧡🖤

Six.

The offseason after the Super Bowl had been a whirlwind for both Joe and Y/N. Between his post-season press appearances and her press tours for Outer Banks and her latest film, finding time for each other wasn’t easy. But they made it work, prioritizing quiet moments away from the spotlight.

It was during one of those moments—a secluded weekend at a lake house in Ohio—that Joe decided it was time.

Y/N had always loved the simplicity of the lake house. It was peaceful, tucked away from the chaos of their public lives.

On their second evening there, Joe suggested a sunset boat ride, something they’d done countless times before.

Y/N didn’t think anything of it, even as Joe packed a small picnic basket with her favorite snacks and a bottle of wine.

As they floated on the calm waters, the sky painted in shades of orange and pink, Joe grew quieter than usual.

“You okay?” Y/N asked, tilting her head to study him.

He smiled, but there was a hint of nervousness in his expression. “Yeah,” he said. “Just thinking about how lucky I am.”

“Lucky?” she teased. “You’re Joe Burrow. I’d say you’ve got some skill in there too.”

Joe chuckled, shaking his head. “I mean lucky to have you.”

Before Y/N could respond, he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small velvet box.

Her breath caught as he opened it, revealing a stunning, timeless diamond ring.

“Y/N,” Joe said, his voice steady but full of emotion, “you’ve been my partner through everything—the highs, the lows, the crazy schedules. I can’t imagine my life without you. Will you marry me?”

Tears filled her eyes as she nodded, a bright smile spreading across her face. “Yes, of course I will,” she said, throwing her arms around him.

The ring sparkled in the fading sunlight as he slid it onto her finger.

They decided to wait a few weeks before announcing the engagement, savoring the joy privately with close family and friends. But the news broke one sunny Monday morning when Y/N posted a picture on Instagram.

@y//nofficial: Forever ❤️💍 @joeyb_9

Within minutes, the post exploded with likes, comments, and reposts.

Joe shared his own announcement on Instagram.

@joeyb_9: She said yes and now she’s stuck with me. @y/noffical

Fans were ecstatic. Social media buzzed with excitement, and hashtags like #JoeAndYNGoals and #PowerCouple flooded timelines.

One fan tweeted: “Our QB1 is officially off the market, and honestly, we love to see it. Congrats, Joe and Y/N!”

Another wrote: “Joe Burrow just won the Super Bowl of life. Y/N, you’ve got the real MVP!”

During a press conference later that week, Joe was inevitably asked about the engagement.

“Joe, congratulations on your engagement,” a reporter said. “Can you share how you proposed?”

Joe smiled, his signature calm demeanor softening. “Thank you, I appreciate it,” He started. “But I don’t think I’m going to talk about that just yet. Let’s just stick to football.” He finished, a smirk on his face.

He wanted to keep some part of their engagement special. Keep the details and the moment just between them, something that the prying eyes can’t touch.

Y/N, appearing on a late-night talk show around the same time, was asked the same question.

“It was so Joe,” she said with a laugh. “Thoughtful, intimate, and a little bit unexpected. I couldn’t have dreamed up a better moment. That’s about all the details I’m going to give!”

As the engagement news continued to dominate headlines, one thing became clear: Joe and Y/N weren’t just admired for their individual accomplishments—they were celebrated for the love and respect they showed each other.

For their fans, the proposal announcement was a fairytale come to life. But for Joe and Y/N, it was just the beginning of a lifetime of chapters yet to be written—together.

#imagine #imagines #joe burrow bengals #joe burrow x y/n #joe burrow x you #joe burrow x reader #joe burrow imagine #cincinnati bengals #bengals #2024 nfl season

460 notes · View notes

avelera · 4 months ago

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I actually really love Mel/Jayce/Viktor as well as Jayce//Viktor and I actually think the show has a couple scenes that lend to a poly interpretation of the three of them (Mel and Jayce both literally handling Viktor’s crutch between them while talking about how much they care for him, hello?? The subtext writes itself) but I found myself staying focused on just Jayce/Viktor at first because it’s a bit simpler to write and because as much as I LOVE the implied moments of their intellectual, ambiguously romantic threesome, I’d need more of Mel and Viktor interacting to really close the loop for shipping it in my mind. As it is, it feels a bit more “This is Mel’s boyfriend, Jayce, and Jayce’s boyfriend Viktor” that Mel still cares about and respects mostly from afar.

I also think that Viktor and Jayce kind of left their relationship at “we’re partners in every sense of the word, why define it further?” And that definition maybe included romantic and sexual moments (at least for fic writer purposes lol) but the fear of losing the amazing working relationship they had, which is so rare in the academic world, kept them from seriously “defining” it as anything official on the person front, which allowed Jayce to take up with Mel without it being “cheating”.

Throw into that the rapid advancement of Viktor’s illness and I can easily see a scenario where Viktor didn’t force the issue and indeed, was happy to see that Jayce had someone else who loved him in his life, knowing he didn’t have much time left and it would take a miracle to save his own life. Basically, I don’t see Viktor as jealous of Mel as a person, even if he was wary / resigned towards Jayce’s political career and would have rather have had him in the lab more often.

There was a happy medium there, I think, where Jayce was happily balanced between the two of them without jealousy from either that the accelerating events of S1 basically prohibited as the crises began to unfold, forcing Jayce into the conflict with Zaun, and Zaun had always been a point of miscommunication and later tension between Viktor and Jayce. An inevitable one I think, since Jayce couldn’t possibly know what it was like to grow up there, and in the course of their work it probably only rarely came up and so wasn’t daily addressed until the crisis made it an ugly conflict between them.

Anyway, I’m mostly just rambling as I think my way through how I write Jayce and Viktor in the fic I’m finishing up. But mostly I wanted to make the point that I see Jayce’s relationship with Mel as real and important and not “getting in the way” of his relationship with Viktor indeed, Viktor and Mel at least seem mature enough to navigate a poly relationship and Jayce has a lot of love to give (he loves SO MUCH guys I’m emotional about it, he’s just a good kid who ended up in a shitty complex situation that went way over his head. Bro didn’t even know if his school OFFERED military history, he was such an easy target and this is why STEM kids need an introduction to liberal arts I swear).

I don’t think S2 is headed towards any sort of unambiguous happy ending for the three of them but there’s definitely a happy AU in my heart where the three of them make it work and are better together than just two out of the pair.

#jayvik #meljayvik #arcane #arcane meta

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thelov3lybookworm · 1 year ago

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As a slut for angst today “tolerate it” has been stuck on a loop and now I am imaging an angsty fic where Az just slowly begins to forget about reader and she threatens to leave but he doesn’t take her seriously and is so utterly destroyed when he comes back home and she’s gone…

Like I feel like it’s on brand with him and his duty to his job and whatnot. Plus the lyrics are so him coded “while you were out building worlds where was I” / “took this dagger in me and removed it” LIKE HELLO???

(But I also love a good happy ending so I feel like if azzy groveled hard enough… 👀)

Tolerate it.

Summary: She is fed up.

•○●⛦●○•

A/n: ehehehehehe angsttttt yummy yummyyyy

Enjoy!

•○🌑○•

Y/n laughed at Feyre's pathetic attempts at skipping the large puddle on the ground accumulated due to the rains that had Velaris freezing overnight.

Feyre failed miserably, her boots and leggings getting wet from the splash that signalled her downfall against the watery enemy of hers. But Feyre was not fazed. She simply laughed alongside Y/n, her eyes crinkling as the two of them made their way back to the river house.

It was visible already now, Y/n could even make out the grains in the wood of the door as it opened, and her brother in laws, along with her mate, spilled out.

Y/n could see from the corner of her eyes as her sister lit up at seeing her mate, her husband and the father of her child. The moment his eyes met her, she took off, her arms spread as she ran up to him and threw her arms around his neck. Rhysand did not hold back either, clutching Feyre to her chest with as much enthusiasm as she held him.

It made Y/n smile.

Y/n then glanced behind the embracing couple to her mate, the overwhelming urge to hug him too and to claim him in front of anyone watching making her start walking towards him without even realising.

Which was reckless, as the moment he realised she was walking towards him to hug him? He took a step back.

Y/n knew that he hated being affectionate in front of others, but this was cruel.

So to not get embarrassed by his rejection, Y/n turned swiftly towards Cassian, her other brother in law, who stood not too far from where Azriel did, and hugged him instead.

Cassian, Mother bless his heart, did not even question it.

He wrapped his arms around Y/n and literally lifted her off the ground, cackling when Y/n's fist made contact with his shoulder over and over again as she demanded to be put down.

Y/n had to stop herself from thinking back to that day. She did not want to relive the pain she had felt, the sadness and anger.

Y/n watched his eyes fluttering, wondering if he was dreaming. Wondering who he was dreaming about.

It definitely was not her, that was for sure.

Y/n, feeing a little sadness taking root in her heart, returned to the portrait in her hands, questioning if it would even be worth it finishing it up when he sure as hell wouldn't even acknowledge it. Or her.

Y/n glanced at the paint supplies she had placed on the coffee table next to her, having wanted to capture a moment of him letting his guard down, of him being vulnerable using her best paints, knowing he would not care.

She guessed living for as long as he had, life and the small things didn't matter as much anymore. Maybe that was why he loved to go on the missions Rhysand, Y/n's brother in law, gave him.

It probably gave him the thrill nothing else did anymore.

With Y/n's sister just having given birth to the starlight of the court, Rhys had become more and more protective, sending his brothers and anyone and everyone at his disposal to check and report about every trivial thing that made his primal mate and father side get protective.

Slowly, Y/n reached for the brush that rested in the cup half filled with coloured water, deciding to finish the half done portrait. If he did not care... she did not now what she would do then, but she did know she was tired of being tolerated by him.

But what could she even do? It was not like she could just up and leave.

Y/n blinked.

Or... could she?

Y/n shook her head, as if to dislodge the though, and with a sigh, she let herself get lost in the soft skill of painting her sister had taught her long ago, when staying up and huddling under worn blankets was the only thing bringing any warmth.

Trying not to think about the fact that the last time she remembered him caring for her, genuinely caring for her, was only when the two had been in their early stages of relation ship and the mating bond was a very new experience to a newly made fae Y/n, she continued using the soft and strong, long and short strokes to finish up her latest masterpiece.

Of course, Y/n never would call herself a creator of masterpieces, but any and all art that included her perfect mate was destined to be a masterpiece.

Time lost its meaning, and all that mattered was capturing the perfect angle for his eyes, nose, lips, shoulder.

Nothing existed but Y/n, her art, and her muse.

Nothing existed but the soft rise and fall of his back as he lay sprawled on his stomach, the effortless way his wings draped across the whole bed, taking up space three wingless fae could have slept in.

Where Y/n would have slept in, on days when everything had been filled with stars and dreams, wrapped under his warm wing like it were a living blanket.

When he pretended he was nothing, absolutely nothing but her mate. Her husband. Not a spymaster, not a shadowsinger, not a brother. Just her mate, her lover.

Those days were far gone now.

•○🌑○•

Despite the fact that she knew he would most definitely not care, Y/n was excited.

And that was downplaying what she felt.

The wait was killing her, the amount of adrenaline in her bloodstream making her want to jump around to get rid of the energy that made her shiver, her limbs going cold and warm at the same time. She had to push her fists together and shove them between her thighs to keep them from shaking, which did not help at all.

So Y/n waited, her body clenched in anticipation as she stared at the doorway that led into the living room, a big grin on her face.

She glanced once at the sketchpad in front of her on the table, admiring her artwork for a moment.

She never liked whatever she made, always feeling like it lacked something. So for her to be excited to show off her art to her mate was a huge indication to how much she loved the portrait.

The familiar scuff of worn boots drew Y/n's attention, and she shot to her feet, pressing her fists to the back of her thighs.

It had become a habit of Azriel's, to purposefully make some noise before he stepped in view so as not to startle her with his appearance.

The action melted Y/n's heart every single time.

He stepped into view, as ethereal as the day Y/n had first seen him as a human, just as beautiful as he had looked that day as he tried to get comfortable on the small chair in the manor on the other side of the wall, just as loveable as that day when she had ended up losing her heart to the low born fae that should have intimated her.

He was fumbling with his armor, making sure it was all secured properly before he left for whatever mission Rhys assigned him for that day.

He glanced up just as he walked past Y/n to the kitchen counter, a small smile gracing his face before his attention was again diverted.

Y/n tried not to deflate at his lack of enthusiasm.

"Good morning love. Look-"

"Good morning Y/n." He cut her off, his voice void of emotions, as if he was tired of saying the same thing every morning and wanted to get it over with. He didn't even glance at Y/n as he said it, and Y/n pretended not to notice that he used her name instead of whatever endearing name he would have picked before.

"I will be on a scouting trip to Illyria, and after I have a meeting and dinner scheduled with Rhys and Cass, so I will be late coming home. Don't wait up."

Y/n's smile faded. "Don't wait up or stay out of my way?"

Azriel froze. "What?"

Y/n released a humourless laugh. "Nothing. Go have fun."

Azriel turned, giving her a hard look. "You know I would rather stay at home with you."

Doubtful.

Y/n so badly wanted to say it to his face, but she did not want to fight with him so early in the morning, so she sighed, smiled and nodded.

He started walking towards the door, and despite her anger, Y/n walked forward to kiss his cheek.

She did not miss how he recoiled.

Y/n masked the hurt before he could see it, and he gave her an awkward smile before he maneuvered to walk around her, careful not to brush against her.

Y/n watched him walk away, staring hard at the door even long after he'd left.

She then glanced at the portrait she had abandoned on the table, and, her heart hardening, turned away.

She was tired of having her love be tolerated, and she would not have it be that way anymore.

Either he accept her love the way it was, loud and clear, or he go find someone else.

And so, she turned, walked up the stairs to the bedchambers she shared with Azriel, and began to turn it back into just his bedchambers.

She would no longer be tolerated only because some godly entity thought she and him would make great, powerful kids and tied them together with a string.

She deserved to be cherished.

•○🌑○•

Part 2

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