#I don’t even know what to say except I love you | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

wcnderlnds · 2 days ago

Text

love dust | kwon ji-yong (g dragon)

・❥・summary: jiyong has been your closest friend for many years but what he doesn't know is you like him a lot more than that. ・❥・word count: 1.4k ・❥・warnings: none! ・❥・authors note: first time writing for gd so go easy on me <3

“You should let me borrow this one when you’re finished with it.” Your delicate fingers played around with the rings decorating Jiyong’s hands. His accessory game was always on point — you were always asking if you could borrow the things he wore and he would always very happily oblige. Something about seeing you in the things he wore made him feel things he hadn’t felt in a very long time.

His arm was wrapped around your shoulders as the two of you laid out on the couch in his dressing room, legs stretched out. Jiyong's other hand lay on his stomach where you were playing around with his fingers. It was soothing, putting him in a calm frame of mind before he had to go out and perform later in the day. Nobody could calm him better than you. He gently rested his head on top of yours, squeezing his eyes shut as he laughed softly.

“I should start charging you for the amount of things you take from me,” he joked.

“You’d double your fortune at this rate,” you grinned over at him, tilting your head. “Not my fault you always have the best stuff. Stop being such a style icon and I wouldn’t have to.”

A comfortable silence settled between the two of you. Jiyong’s fingers playing with a strand of your hair, soaking in the quiet. It had always been like this with you. Jiyong was your closest friend — you’d known him before he’d even debuted. Every step of the way you had been by his side. Nobody knew him better than you and vice versa. He had been there at your lowest, you had been there at his. There wasn’t anything you hadn’t experienced together. It was easy to say that without each other, neither of you would be the person you were. It wasn’t often in life people found someone they connected with so easily, so deeply which is why Jiyong could never know how you really felt about him.

Over the last couple of years, your feelings for him had shifted. At first you’d brushed it off as just a crush, a silly little thing that would pass as time went on. Except it didn’t pass. It only got stronger. Every single day it was like a weight on your chest knowing that you could never tell him. Not only would it be humiliating but he definitely wouldn’t feel the same and that would be it. The friendship would be over and he’d be out of your life.

A sigh escaped your lips before you could even realise. Immediately, it caught Jiyong’s attention. His eyes that had been closed now opening to look at you with concern. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, don’t worry about me,” you assured him. He looked at you as if he was examining you, trying to figure out if you were lying to him but as he opened his mouth to speak, the door to the room opened.

Daesung and Youngbae walked in, laughing at something. Their eyes caught the position the two of you were in, mischievous grins slowly creeping onto their faces. Oh no. You know what was coming next. It had been like this for years now. They’d catch you and Jiyong cuddling or being close to each other and never let either of you live it down.

“Did we interrupt something?” Daesung raised a brow. Jiyong rolled his eyes, sitting up with you and giving his friend the middle finger.

“I think we did. You know, next time put a sock on the door or something so we know you’re busy,” Youngbae teased. Your cheeks flushed red as you hid your face in your hands. This only caused the two men to laugh.

Jiyong got to his feet, holding his hand out to help you to yours. “You two are a pain in my ass.” He turned to you, his hand lingering on yours for a beat longer than normal. “I need to go get ready but I’ll see you after the show? We can go get food or something.”

You simply nodded your head, waving goodbye as he and Youngbae left the room. Daesung remained behind, looking at you with a soft smile. “You should tell him, you know.”

“Huh?”

“You should tell Jiyong how you feel.”

“No idea what you’re talking about,” you said, trying to hide the blush on your cheeks. How had Daesung even figured it out? He really was more attentive than you gave him credit for.

“Sure but I’m just saying, I think you’d be pleasantly surprised if you told him,” Daesung shot a wink your way, running out of the room to meet up with his friends.

Now, what the hell did that mean?

——

The show had gone amazing. It was like Jiyong had never been gone. Each show he performed he got more and more confident, G Dragon coming out in full force. Honestly, seeing him on stage and fully embracing his G Dragon person was hot as hell. Nobody did it like him. He was the king of K Pop for a reason.

You had slid away to the dressing room as the show ended, giving the three boys time to thank the crew. It was Taeyang’s tour but you knew how much all of them appreciated the people who helped them. It was one of the most endearing qualities — it’s what made them some of the most loved boys in the industry.

The door to the room opened and in came Jiyong. He hand a towel in his hand, dabbing at the sweat on his face. The second he laid eyes on you, he smiled. His heartbeat speeding up everytime he looked at you. He had it bad. So damn bad.

“You did so good out there!” You beamed, throwing your arms around him in a hug. Without hesitation, he dropped the towel, wrapping his arms around you. If he could keep you this close to him forever, he would. Hopefully you couldn’t feel how hard his heart was beating right now. The best feeling in the world was you waiting for him after a show. It felt like he was on cloud nine knowing that he had the most supportive, loyal and kind person by his side.

He pulled back, only slightly, his hot breath fanning across your face. You couldn’t place the look in his eyes but it cause a shiver to run down your spine. When he spoke, his voice was soft. “Couldn’t do any of it without you.”

Time seemed to stand still as you locked eyes with each other. Was this it? Was this the right moment to tell him how you felt?

“Jiyong, I….” You started but he cut you off.

“I’m sorry for cutting you off, I need to say something to you and if I don’t do it now, I never will,” he cupped your cheek, taking a deep breath as he found the words that had been on the tip of his tongue for so long now. “I’m crazy about you. I have been for a very long time but you are so important to me that I didn’t want to ruin the friendship. I can’t lie to myself or you anymore. I understand if you don’t feel the same way but I owed it to myself to at least tell you.”

Your heart skipped a beat as you listened to his soft, rushed words. You could tell how nervous he was, how much he wanted to probably run out of the door and pretend he never said anything but he didn’t. He was stood here being brave so you had to be too. “Jiyong, I’m crazy about you, too. You drive me insane. It’s kind of terrifying how much I like you as more than a friend. I just… didn’t think you’d feel the same so I never said anything.”

“What? Are you crazy? Why wouldn’t I feel the same? You’re the most incredible person I’ve ever met.”

“You’re biased.”

“Yeah, well,” he grinned one of those signature Jiyong grins. His eyes flickered down to your lips then back to your eyes as if asking for permission. You nodded your head and that was all he needed. He leaned forward, closing the distance to meet your lips. The kiss was gentle, a declaration of his feelings for you without actually giving them words.

It was short and sweet. It was perfect.

Pulling back, he smiled at you. Seeing you stood there with your flushed cheeks and nervous smile, he felt like he could burst from joy. He was so head over heels for you. “Come on,” he said, linking his fingers with yours. “I believe I promised you some food.”

But before he could pull you off, you wrapped your hand around the back of his neck and pulled him back down to meet your lips. Food could wait for now.

taglist (ask to be added): @ldydeath

#kwon ji yong #g dragon #g dragon x reader #kwon jiyong x reader #bigbang x reader #my fics

226 notes · View notes

heartsriki · 1 day 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.”

Series Taglist — next

@saphiranishimurashan @m1kkso @taesanoreohair @elairah @baribaaari @letwiiparkjay @jellyluv4eva @mbsnow @moontyun @manuosorioh

- if you weren’t tagged you need to fix your visibility!

#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

166 notes · View notes

girl4music · 4 hours ago

Text

“She’s not burning just one paper, she has an entire fire going.”

What an analogy!

A+ meta on Vi OP.

Girl hasn’t even had chance to catch up with herself.

Let alone anyone else.

And yet she constantly puts others before herself. You’d think someone that closed off would be a little selfish.

Nope. She’s the last person to “me” the narrative.

And we love her for it but at the same time…

We just want her to get a break.

And she does in the end.

“Anti-climatic” or not… this was appropriate for her.

And if people can’t deal with that, then they don’t care about the character and her wants and needs at all.

And do you know what’s upsetting but also admirable?

Vi would be fine with that. I think it’s nice seeing the badass warrior woman be the selfless one for once.

It subverts the trope that tormented warriors aren’t capable of feeling empathy or having compassion.

Because at the end of the day the reason why they fight so hard and so much is because they’re deeply experienced in and sensitive to loss and grief and pain.

That’s what makes them true warriors and heroes.

JINX: “Vi was strong because she was afraid. Her fear of losing us is what made her fight so hard.”

I find it fascinating all the different interpretations (some of them way off when it comes to characterization BUT nevertheless entertaining) on Arcane. Sometimes it seems like people aren’t actually SEEING what they’re watching. HEARING what they’re listening to. FEELING what’s they’re touched by.

It’s almost like they’re the actual closed off ones.

They’ve got the entire experience right in front of them and yet… it’s not reaching them. Not getting through.

It’s mad. Sometimes I have to ask myself: “Am I just unusually perceptive and receptive?”

I don’t think so. 🫤

I mean there’s no reason why I would be.

I think the problem is on their end because the creators did all they could to illustrate the complexity of Arcane.

If people aren’t picking that up, there’s a problem there.

And I think it’s the difference between driving the vehicle and riding shotgun. Entirely different intake.

When you’re not in it, you don’t easily understand it.

But if you’ve been there, you sort of filter it that way.

And the result is what is cultivating the divisiveness.

But hey, that’s the key to exceptional storytelling and representation if you can get so many different intakes.

I find it fascinating. I am as equally entertained and fulfilled in watching the reactions over Arcane as I am watching Arcane itself. I think it’s one hell of a show.

I don’t say much. I just sit in the backseat observing.

And what I’ve experienced from doing that has been enlightening to say the least. But that’s just how I roll.

Vi’s ending is so important to me actually

Her life isn’t better without Jinx. That misconception drives me insane. Losing her sister is just adding more grief to the mountain she already has. But it is better that shes been allowed to just sit for once. She was an object in motion for basically the entire show, she was losing people constantly, she grew up in jail for fucks sake- shes never been allowed to just rest.

Her ending up in a safe home with someone who loves her and the time to finally process all the grief she’s been holding onto? She hasn’t had the chance to deal with the loss of anyone since Felicia and Connel. Her parents were the last people she had the chance to grieve in a safe environment.

She’s not burning just one paper, she has an entire fire going. That’s significant. Her getting to just sit for once, with no urgency, and watch the fire is so significant. It would be better if she had her sister there, and since it’s been confirmed that Jinx is alive I hope they reconnect bc they both deserve it, but just. Fuck. Healing is so bittersweet and I’m glad they allowed her that.

290 notes · View notes

holylulusworld · 1 day ago

Text

Not my Logan (1)

Summary: Problems with the Multiverse suck. Even more when it brings someone back who has been long gone.

Pairing: Worst Wolverine x Immortal!Reader, Deadpool x Reader (platonic or not. You know him.)

Warnings: angst, language, mentions of loss of loved ones, grief, cocky reader, Deadpool being a pain in the ass, violence, mentions of killings, multiverse chaos, world building

A/N: For my story, all X-Men died, except for the reader. She lives in the same universe as Deadpool from DP & Wolverine. I don’t follow canon. Live with it.

Square filled for the Wolverine bingo @buck-star created for me: Square 1: Claws

“WADE! Wade Wilson! Stop right there!” You growl, ready to shoot the bastard breaking into your property. Well, technically it’s not your property. Or it is. Charles left it to you in his will. Not because you were his favorite X-Men, but because you are the last one standing.

You huff before jumping out of the window. Wade would’ve loved to stop and admire your superhero landing, but he’s busy chasing after a very pissed Wolverine.

“Wolvie, stop! She won’t understand! Fuck. Shit. I said, Stop!” Wade takes off his mask. He wheezes because all he did all day was chase after the worst Wolverine. Logan’s words, not his. “HEY! I didn’t tell you about her for you to run off. We still have a job to do!”

“WADE WILSON!” You start to run, seeing Wade kneel on the ground. He still tries to catch his breath as you storm toward him. “I’d kill you but watching you grow legs and arms is disgusting!”

Instead of decapitating his head or stabbing Wade, you slap the back of his head.

“Ouch, Y/N.” He complains loudly. Wade got stabbed and shot; he lost body parts but whines like a baby when you slap him.

“What are you doing here? No one is allowed to come here any longer. You know that.” You sniff when he slowly gets up. “Not since…”

“I get it, I get it!” Wade raises his hands in surrender before turning around to face you. His face is a mess as always, but you can’t help but smile, seeing a familiar face. If you’re honest, he’s the only friend (if you want to call the cocky motherfucker a friend) you’ve got left. “Extinction is hard.”

“What did you say?” You slap him across the face, earning another whine. “You are an insensitive asshole.”

“Sweetheart, we both know you would have outlived all of them, no matter what. It just happened a little earlier this way.” Wade shrugs before putting his mask back on.

You run one hand down your face and huff. “What do you want, Wade? Is the world on fire, or did you lose a ball again?”

“No jokes about a man’s balls,” he points a gloved finger at you. “But yes, the world is ending once again. Or not. I mean… It depends.” Wade babbles as you put your hands on your hips.

“What did you do? I bet you messed with the timeline again, huh?” you snap at Wade. “Because that worked out so well last time. I told you to not fuck with timelines and shit. The dead shouldn’t come back.”

“Oh, about that,” Wade nervously chuckles. “I swear I didn’t resurrect anyone, but…uh…you see. Maybe, and I’m not saying it happened. But maybe I was hopping through different universes to find an anchor to save our universe from destruction.”

“Wade.” You close your eyes and inhale sharply. “Whom did you bring here, and do I have to kill them?”

“No, no! You cannot kill him,” Wade hastily says. “I came here for a short break. You see, bad guys are after our cute asses, and this is the safest place I know.”

“Christ on a cracker, WADE!” You kick his shin. “I’ve been out of this business for years.” You dip your head, hearing someone sneak closer. “Why would you bring anyone here? This is a lost place. Dead and forgotten. Just like me and the rest of the X-Men. Just like—”

Twirling around, you ready yourself to attack the person sneaking toward you and Wade.

Your body goes stiff, and you whimper, facing the man you lost so many years ago.

“No…” You step back and shake your head. “No…no. Wade. Out of all the people you could bring here…you do this to me?!”

“I swear, if I had a choice, I’d never do this to you. But—” Wade sighs and points at the worst Logan, he brought to your universe. “He wouldn’t believe me. Logan said you must be dead here too.”

You wrinkle your nose. “I cannot die. I am…immortal. My Wolverine would know that.”

The man, looking so much like your one true love, dips his head. He has the same body, the same eyes, and the same claws. Hell, he even wears the same fucking suit. But he’s not your Logan. He’ll never be your Logan.

“Go away. Both of you. Whatever will happen to this universe is not my problem. Maybe I can finally rest then too.”

You turn around to walk away, leaving Wade and Logan’s clone behind.

“Wait, Y/N!” Wade jogs after you. “I know you’re angry, but I couldn’t stop him. If there’s only a tiny piece of the undefeatable Y/N still inside of you, help us. Help me save my friends and this world.”

“Your friends,” you say, your heart heavy with sadness and grief. You glance at the photo Wade shows you, swallowing thickly.

“If there was a way to save your friends, you’d do anything, right?” Wade presses on. Even though he knows it’s a low blow, he cannot shelter you or your feelings. You’re his only chance to convince Logan to help him and get his clones off his back. “Please help me…”

“What the fuck is that?” You dip your head to look at the ugliest dog you have ever seen. “Uh—is that thing even alive?” Crouching down, you poke the dog’s nose with your index finger. “Who did this to you, little pug?”

“I think he was born this way?” Wade chuckles while picking the dog up. “And he’s not ugly. Dogpool is the sweetest.”

“Y/N. How?” Logan finally found his voice. He steps closer to you and Wade, not looking you in the eyes. “Why did you do it?!” He yells before jumping at you.

Logan tackles you to the ground to ram his claws into your sides. He growls like an animal, stabbing you again and again.

“What’s his problem?” You laugh as Logan tries to kill you. His claws dig deep into your flesh, but it doesn’t do much damage.

“Uh—from what I heard, you killed his people because he didn’t love you or shit?” Wade shrugs before letting the dog lick his face.

“YOU!” Logan growls. He slides his claws back in to slam his fists into the ground. Again, and again, and again. You can hear bones crack and flesh tear. “Why don’t you die?”

Logan looks at you, shaking his head. “You’re not her…”

“I assume in your world, I was mortal,” you sit up and push Logan away. While you slowly get up, he watches you with tears in his eyes. “In this world, my Logan would’ve cut your head off for touching me.”

“After we introduced ourselves, we should talk about the guys wanting to end this world. Come on, sweetheart. You know you want to help your Deadpool.”

“You’re annoying as fuck,” you huff while rubbing dirt off your ass. “If you keep that thing in line.” You jerk your head toward Logan kneeling on the ground. “We can talk.”

“She’s not her…” Logan repeats. “Not her…”

“You sound like a broken record,” you say and slap the back of Logan’s head. “And for the record, you’re not my Logan either…”

Tags in reblog.

#wolverine #deadpool #wolverine x reader #logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x you #Not my Logan (1)#wolverine angst

129 notes · View notes

bravo666 · 3 days ago

Text

insecurity

price x reader

you don’t really get why he picked you.

it’s not really his fault that you’re confused. when you manage to ask why you—letting insecurity fizzle up and rise like ginger beer in your stomach—john tells you all the right things, the things that you would expect: you’re beautiful, a sight for sore eyes, his one and only. “oh, sweetheart,” he says, and his soft brow furrows with something that brushes close to pity, his only wish for you to see what he sees in you. you look into those blue eyes and try to catch the curve of your own reflection.

it’s good. really, it is. his murmured praise and whiskered kisses make that insecurity die down and grow flat for a time. john loves you. you hold fast to that.

but, sometimes, you just can’t make sense of it.

something else that isn’t his fault: john’s a certain kind of man. a man’s man, one might say. being a military captain has that effect, though you can almost imagine a newborn john price coming out of the womb gruff, bristled, and with bad knees. he’s the type of man who has opinions on alcohol and cares a lot about how his favorite football club fares this season. his ideal future involves a dog, a yard, and a run of children, and he’s not shy about it.

you’ve known men like that before. moreover, you’ve known their wives—and it always is their wives, not partners or anything as newfangled as that. they’re not all the same—nice women, rude women, pretty or plain—but there are certain qualities that they all share. housewives in spirit, chins raised. pampered. manicured. best in show. knows when to nod and smile and give her man a knowing look. the missus.

it’s safe to say that you don’t quite feel like you measure up to the mold. you have edges, hard and frayed, that don’t fit into the soft mold of the person you feel that john wants. it’s just not very you. your anger, your anxiety, your hard-headedness, your tears: none of these feel like something cute—so why does he coo over you like it is? it’s not even that john wants something else; from the warm spot you occupy by his side, you can see the way the road maps out before him in his eyes, contextless and spit-shined.

(dinner burns in the oven. he says it’s okay, that you’ll get it right next time. these things happen. don’t get upset, sweetheart, i’m not mad while he holds you round the middle.)

you labor over these thoughts, rolling them between your hands with the biscuit dough you knead out. the question remains: why, exactly, did john price pick you to lay his head down besides when the world is teeming with more eligible candidates?

an answer comes when you meet his team for the first time. they arrive for dinner after john and them have been off on a short deployment—you promised john a roast when he got back because a little extra motivation for him to come home in one piece can’t hurt, and one of them must have overheard it turned into them inviting themselves over—and soon you’re putting faces to names that have lived only in john’s all-too-brief stories. you greet them all as they arrive at the door to john and your’s home: handsome kyle and boisterous johnny and quiet, intense simon. normal men, you think—well, barring the balaclava simon won’t take off, but at least you were forewarned about that. normal soldiers.

but then the five of you sit down to eat, and—well, it’s still normal. except it isn’t. It’s impossible to explain, and you’re sure that if you tried to talk to john about it, he’d laugh a little and say i don’t know what you mean, lovie, but you’re quietly sure you see something in the way they all lean their shoulders to your john. a deferential quality, even subconsciously, one that stretches beyond what you think is typical for a commanding officer to hold with his subordinates. it’s in the way simon pauses and flicks his eyes to john, waiting for a tiny nod before he rolls the bottom half of the balaclava up to eat, or how kyle sits on john’s right and keeps passing him the food first, or even the way johnny straightens his spine a little when john nods at something the lad said mid-story, the sergeant all puffed up with pride.

and when the boys break the scotch out near the end of the night and the lips get looser, it’s not hard to guess why.

“price picked me. i felt like my hands were tied in my old life, and he gave me a new one.”

“‘e’s a good captain. not many other men can see past all the shite and cut to the ‘eart of what matters.”

“aye, the captain? ah’m wi’ him all the wey, the surly bas’. made me the soldier ah am today.”

you sip your own glass and the room feels just a little bit smaller as the boys banter on. they owe him their lives, they say, before segueing into hey remember whens and ribbing laughter. your boyfriend catches your eye across the table, your place among his boys, with a smile.

he’s a man’s man. good with his hands. you should have realized that he had a knack for fixer uppers.

(after dinner, he slides an arm around your waist and presses a kiss to your hair. “thank you for dinner, love,” he says, and when you’re pulled into his chest like this, the rumble of his voice tucks itself away into your bones.

“of course,” you say, and then, “john?”

“yes, lovie?”

“why… why did the boys invite themselves over?

he chuckles like you’ve told a joke, and you’re half expecting him to say silly rabbit. but instead, he just leans back and grants himself enough access to smooth down the back of your shirt and gently re-tightens the strings of your apron, his favorite of the ones that he’s gotten you.

“well, love,” john hums, “what can i say? they all just wanted to meet the missus.”)

#captain john price #call of duty #price x reader #cod mw2 #price x f!reader #theres intentionally enough ambiguity where you dont have to be a woman. it doesnt matter to price hes making you his wife anyway #molding you. shaping you. training you <3 my unsettling husband who gets what he wants #og post

129 notes · View notes

blondemrk · 1 day ago

Note

I SAW U WERE ASKING FOR RECO IDEAS FOR JAEM... Bff to lovers? roommates to lovers? study buddy to lovers????

MOVIE NIGHTS

wc 521 jaemin x fem!reader genre bff to loves

it started with a movie night, like it always did.

jaemin and y/n had been best friends for as long as either of them could remember, and their friday night tradition was sacred—blankets piled high, takeout containers scattered across the coffee table, and a movie playing in the background that neither of them really paid attention to.

tonight was no different. except, it was.

because y/n was hyper-aware of how close jaemin was sitting, how his knee kept brushing against hers, how his stupidly soft hoodie smelled like fresh laundry and something undeniably him. she had spent years convincing herself that her feelings were just friendship, but lately, it felt impossible to ignore the way her heart sped up whenever he looked at her.

“you’re staring,” jaemin mused, eyes still locked on the screen.

she immediately looked away, cheeks heating. “i am not.”

he smirked, finally turning to face her. “you totally were.”

“you have something on your face,” she lied, hoping he wouldn’t notice how flustered she was.

jaemin leaned closer, resting his cheek on his palm. “oh? then wipe it off for me.”

she shot him a look. “you have hands, idiot.”

“but i want your hands on me.”

her heart did an embarrassing little flip at that, and she cursed herself for how easily he affected her. huffing, she reached up, swiping her thumb across his cheek in a way that was probably more tender than necessary.

“there,” she murmured, hoping he wouldn’t notice the way her hand lingered.

but of course, jaemin noticed everything.

his gaze softened, and suddenly, the teasing air between them melted into something quieter, something that made y/n’s breath hitch. the movie was still playing in the background, but the only thing she could focus on was the way jaemin was looking at her—like she was something worth holding onto.

“you know,” he said, voice barely above a whisper, “i think about this a lot.”

her throat went dry. “think about what?”

he reached for her hand, lacing his fingers through hers like it was the most natural thing in the world. “what it would be like if we stopped pretending.

y/n’s heart stuttered. “jaemin…”

he squeezed her hand gently. “you don’t have to say anything. but if you feel the same way—even just a little—i’d really like to kiss you right now.”

time seemed to slow as she stared at him, at the boy who had been her best friend for years, who knew all her quirks, who had been by her side through everything. and in that moment, she realized she didn’t want to pretend anymore either

so, instead of answering, she leaned in, closing the small distance between them.

jaemin met her halfway, his lips soft and warm against hers, like he had been waiting for this moment just as long as she had. the kiss was slow, sweet, and filled with years of unspoken feelings finally spilling over.

when they pulled away, jaemin rested his forehead against hers, grinning like an idiot.

“best movie night ever,” he murmured.

y/n laughed, squeezing his hand. “yeah. it kinda is.”

hi! cute little jaem fic for today

taglist @chenlezip @mrkified @polarisjisung @injvns

#nct dream #nct x reader #nct #nct dream x reader #blondemrk #jaemin x reader #jaemin fic #nct fluff #jaemin fluff #jaemin drabbles #jaemin imagines #na jaemin #jaemin oneshot #jaemin #nct fics #nct fanfiction #nct scenarios #nct imagines

96 notes · View notes

00valentina-writes00 · 1 day ago

Note

Greyson who has a wife that calls her mommy while going at it (headcanons)

♡♥︎Callin her Mommy♥︎♡

♥︎ The first time you call her Mommy, she freezes for a second—processing it, rolling the word over in her mind—before a slow, knowing smirk spreads across her lips. “Is that so, darling?”

♥︎ That one little word flips a switch in her. She was already dominant, already in control, but now? Now, she takes full ownership of you.

♥︎ The moment it slips from your lips, she immediately starts treating you differently—firmer, more possessive, more attuned to every little noise and reaction you give her.

♥︎ She leans into the title completely, using it against you in the filthiest ways—“Mommy knows what’s best, doesn’t she?” or “Come on, sweetheart, be a good girl for Mommy.”

♥︎ It absolutely ruins her when you whimper it while you’re right on the edge—gripping onto her for dear life, pleading for her to let you cum.

♥︎ She loves how it makes you more submissive without her even trying—just the way you melt under her touch, the way your voice gets all breathy when you say it.

♥︎ But if you ever try to use it to get out of trouble? That smug little smirk appears as she tilts your chin up, “Oh, you think that’s going to work on me, do you?”

♥︎ She starts using it to establish even more control—“Say it properly, love. What do you call me?”—and she won’t touch you until you do.

♥︎ If you say it in a needy, desperate voice, she might take pity on you… or she might decide to tease you for another hour just because she loves seeing you squirm.

♥︎ She adores the contrast—how strong and commanding she is, how completely she dominates you, but the moment you call her Mommy, you’re nothing but a whimpering mess in her hands.

♥︎ If you try to fight it, acting like it doesn’t make you weak in the knees, she’ll absolutely push you—whispering it in your ear, saying things like “You like when Mommy takes care of you, don’t you?” just to watch you fall apart.

♥︎ If she’s in a particularly soft mood, she leans into the caretaker aspect—stroking your hair, murmuring praise, holding you close while making you feel so small under her touch.

♥︎ But when she’s rough? Oh, it turns into something else. She has you on your hands and knees, gripping your hips tightly as she growls, “Isn’t this what you wanted, baby? To be fucked by Mommy until you can’t think straight?”

♥︎ She uses the title against you outside the bedroom too—resting a hand on your thigh at dinner, murmuring, “What’s wrong, love? Feeling needy for Mommy already?” just to see you squirm.

♥︎ If you ever tease her with it in public—maybe leaning in and whispering “Thank you, Mommy” in her ear just to see her reaction—oh, you’re in trouble. She’ll lean in just as close and murmur, “Just wait until I get you home, sweetheart.”

♥︎ She has a very strict rule: if you call her Mommy, then you have to listen to everything she says. No exceptions.

♥︎ If you slip up and say it in a bratty tone when you’re begging? Her smirk grows, her grip tightens, and suddenly you’re being flipped onto your stomach with a firm “Say it again, baby. Say it properly.”

♥︎ If she’s feeling extra mean, she makes you earn the right to call her Mommy—won’t let you say it until she decides you’ve been good enough for her.

♥︎ On the rare occasion she lets you take control for a moment, she absolutely melts if you cup her face and say, “Mommy looks so pretty like this.” It wrecks her. Completely.

♥︎ But the second she regains her composure? You’re done for. She’s pinning you down, making you repeat yourself as she ruins you.

♥︎ If you ever try to deny that you like calling her Mommy, she’ll get you so deep in pleasure that you say it instinctively—then she’ll smirk down at you, “Told you so, sweetheart.”

♥︎ She adores the contrast between how strong she is and how small she can make you feel—tipping your chin up, making you look her in the eye while she murmurs, “That’s my girl.”

♥︎ She loves holding your wrists above your head while she takes her time with you, whispering, “Mommy knows exactly what you need.”

♥︎ If she catches you staring at her hands while she’s working, she’ll chuckle and say something like, “You keep looking at me like that, and you’re going to have a real problem later, baby.”

♥︎ She has a habit of tugging your hair back when she’s in control, just to hear you gasp out “Mommy” with that breathless little whimper.

♥︎ She’s a very patient tease—if you get needy, she’ll simply stroke your cheek, kiss your forehead, and say, “Good girls wait for Mommy, don’t they?”

♥︎ The way you say it affects her mood—if you say it in a bratty way? She’s pinning you down, making you beg properly. If you say it in a soft, needy voice? Oh, she melts and gives you exactly what you want.

♥︎ She always makes sure you feel taken care of afterward—pulling you into her arms, stroking your hair, murmuring, “Mommy’s got you, baby. You did so well for me.”

♥︎ If you ever try to keep quiet during sex, she’ll grip your jaw, forcing you to look at her as she demands, “Say it for me, sweetheart.”

♥︎ She gets a thrill from hearing you say it when she’s taking you apart—especially when it turns into a desperate, helpless whimper against her skin.

♥︎ She absolutely adores when you bury your face in her neck and moan, “Mommy, please”—it makes her instantly feral.

♥︎ If she catches you daydreaming about it—getting all quiet and flustered—she’ll smirk and say, “Thinking about Mommy again, aren’t you?”

#grayson arcane #arcane grayson #grayson x you #grayson x reader #Grayson headcanons #Grayson x female reader #Grayson drabbles #arcane headcanon #arcane x female reader smut #grayson arcane x reader #arcane x female reader #arcane x y/n #arcane x reader

72 notes · View notes

flycoffee · 23 hours ago

Text

Man! you have no idea how much I wanted Loid to have conversations with dads where it’s from school or parks, preferably school! My brother and I have this conversation about his daughter/my niece being too popular for his liking because sometimes my niece doesn’t the other kids keep wanted to be friends with her while she plays in the park, and my brother tells me it him puzzled him that she would always get attention like that, and it worries him a bit for the her future, and I jokingly said maybe he should enroll her to some self defense classes while she is young for future troubles, and he genuinely think it’s a good idea. It’s a funny memory.

Anya after the bus hijack becomes very popular among her peers, it showed in the school dance and winter sheep festival, Twilight as a spy has yet see the problem and he wanted her to make friends and they are just kids so why worries plus Anya seems to enjoy the attention, but what if there will come to an opportunity where Loid would be socialized with other parents and have some dad conversation I don’t knows what dad talks about, but I hope some of the conversation will awaken the deep father instinct in him.

“You most be Anya Forger’s father I am some rich name my son admired your daughter so much after the bus incident said that he wanted to be as brave as her”

“My daughter too! And wanted to know how she can be so carefree even after she got her second Thunderbolt!”

And in true Loid fashion Twilight socializes with them with ease.

They talk, have some other topics Twilight gathering data, and so on then one of the dad said.

“It’s nice that she is popular amongst her peers now it will make the years after easier but you must have some worries too hmm? My daughter tell me she was quite popular among the boys in the school dance and lot of boy want to dance with her, I have an elder daughter and the boy she chooses to go out with” the dad signed and looked sad.

Some other dad said my daughter who is in 10th grade some rich name, who is the emperor scholar and they heard of her before with her achievement in Eden.

“The boys that surrounding her sometime and send those gift to my doorstep just make me want to pull out my guns” who look displease and angry, all the dad there agree.

At this moment twilight tries to imagine Anya as a teenager and the boys who asked her to dance at the party are also teens in a similar scenario asking Ayna to dance, and he quickly shakes the thought away “Calm down twilight you won’t be there when she reaches to that age, hopefully. And Yor would probably pull her out of Eden because of the fees I just need to think of the excuses for Yor to let her study in public school before I exit this mission.” But then the image of regular teenage boys wanting to go out with Anya startled him too, “would it be better if Anya chose to be with someone from the higher social circle of Ostania? But she is such a care free girl to think she will get in to a family of strict rules and manners would she be happy in those kind of relationship? wait what am thinking here I have no saying in Anya’s distance future, who ever she chooses will be her choice I just need to trust Yor would guide her through those phases, the worst Anya could chose is properly someone like Franky, a boy who is active from underground world, hopefully not.” all these happened in 0.9 seconds in Twilight’s head. But one of the dad said

“My wife have been reading a book about raising teenagers and want me to spend more time with our daughter apparently little girl will base lover preference on their father, how I treat her and her mother will be the mobile for her future spouse”

One of the dad said “what? then it’s already too late for me!” All the dad laughed at it except for Loid.

“No twilight! The worst isn’t someone like Franky at least Franky is genuinely want to be with someone the worst possible outcome is Anya falling in love with someone like ME!!!” At the point Loid had excused himself from the dads.

“Did we scare him” one of the dad ask.

“Base their future lover on me as Loid Forger might have been okay but I know all too well that Loid is a fake he is too perfect and nice if Anya bases her preference on that she might be fooled by an Espionage someone who is too perfect to be true, what if this mission get discovered in the future and enemy spy trying to find my weaknesses and use Anya as a pawn, what I did to those women will come back biting Anya” it is this moment Twilight couldn't imagine the worst karma that might happen on him/his daughter for the mission.

I have yet to know how Twilight will snap out of it but it's hilarious to imagine him as in parenthood turmoil for the mission!

#loid forger #spy x family #sxf #anya forger #sxf twilight

66 notes · View notes

meinii · 2 days ago

Text

“stay?”

summary: Caleb has a nightmare, thankfully you’re right there for him(⺣◡⺣)♡

content: fluff, mentions of nightmares

୨୧･｡｡･♡･∴･♡･｡｡･୨୧

the room is dark except for the soft glow of the streetlights filtering through the curtains. the world outside is quiet, but inside, Caleb is stirring. his breath is uneven, his brows furrowed in distress. then, with a sharp gasp, he jolts awake, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he fights for air.

you wake up the second you hear him, your body instinctively moving closer. “Caleb?” your voice is hushed, laced with sleep but full of concern

he doesn’t answer right away, just presses the heels of his palms into his eyes like he’s trying to erase whatever just played out behind them. you reach for him, fingers ghosting over his arm, and he flinches at first before melting into your touch

“another nightmare?” you whisper

he nods, swallowing hard “yeah” his voice is rough, thick with something unspoken. his fingers clench in the fabric of the sheets. “it was about you” he admits, almost too quietly, like saying it aloud makes it real

your heart clenches “what happened?”

he shakes his head, exhales shakily “I lost you. I don’t know how, I just—one second, you were there, and then you weren’t. and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t find you” his voice wavers, his hands trembling slightly “it felt so real”

you don’t hesitate to pull him into your arms. he doesn’t resist, burying his face against your shoulder, his body tense at first before slowly relaxing into you. you run your fingers through his messy hair, pressing a kiss to the top of his head

“I’m right here, Caleb,” you murmur against his skin “I’m not going anywhere.”

his arms tighten around you, like he’s afraid you’ll slip away if he lets go. his breathing evens out, syncing with yours as you hold him close

you stay like that for a while, wrapped in each other in the dim glow of the night. the air is filled with the quiet hum of the city outside, the occasional car passing by, the rustling of the trees. it’s calming, grounding.

“do you want to talk about it more?” you ask softly

he shakes his head “no. I just… I just want to stay like this”

you smile, pressing another kiss to his temple “okay”

a comfortable silence settles between you, your hands tracing gentle patterns on his back, his fingers absentmindedly brushing against your side. it’s intimate in a way that words can’t quite capture

after a while, he speaks again, voice quieter, steadier

“you know I love you, right?”

you pull back just enough to look at him, your eyes meeting his in the low light. his expression is open, vulnerable, his usual guarded demeanor stripped away in the safety of your presence

“I know,” you whisper “and I love you too”

his lips quirk into a small, tired smile. he reaches up, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear before his fingers trail down to rest against your jaw, his touch warm and reassuring “Good”

you lean into his touch, eyes fluttering shut for a moment

“nothing’s gonna hurt you, Caleb,” you promise softly “not while I’m here”

he exhales, like a weight has been lifted off his chest. then, with a quiet hum of contentment, he shifts, pulling you down with him until you’re tangled up in each other beneath the blankets

“stay?” he murmurs, though he already knows the answer.

“always.”

and with that, he finally lets himself close his eyes again, safe in the warmth of your arms, knowing that no nightmare can take you away from him—not while you’re here, holding him close.

#Spotify #lads #lads fluff #lads x reader #x reader #lads caleb #lnds caleb #love and deepspace caleb #caleb x mc #caleb x reader #caleb x you #love and deepspace #love and deepspace scenarios #fluff #lnds x reader #lnds #lnds mc

82 notes · View notes

etherealrin · 1 day ago

Note

Hey! Love your works, it's really nice to read them and I just love your style💖, may I request an isagi x reader but the reader is kaiser's little sibling? It sounds fun ☺️

⋆｡˚꩜ a comprehensive tutorial on how to piss off michael kaiser in his penthouse; by yoichi isagi.

yoichi isagi just wants to hang out with you...but your brother is making it quite uncomfortable

warnings: slight violent descriptions (as a joke), michael kaiser gives you no privacy, one mention of google translated german // wc: 957

note: i was giggling the entire time writing this LMAOO imo such a funny dynamic, the rivalry goes crazy.

your bubbly laughs that echo through the penthouse allow isagi to relax, just a little bit. the environment is new to him, and he’s afraid that the smallest slip-up will result in his head being chopped off by one of the rather large, menacing butcher knives lined against the marble kitchen walls.

but what’s even more threatening is the way kaiser is glaring at him, blue gaze more piercing than any dagger.

“micha, you’re making yoi uncomfortable,” you begin, shooting the blonde haired man your own look of annoyance. you turn your attention away from the mixing bowl in front of you to interlace your fingers with yoichi’s, trying to offer him some comfort. isagi wonders if theres nervous sweat on them.

“he’s in my penthouse, with my sibling? am i meant to leave him unattended, to let this donkey roam around with free will?” kaiser huffs, arms crossing.

yikes, was he in a mood today.

“you’re calling my boyfriend a donkey?” yeah, you were ready to throw hands right there.

isagi had practically jumped for joy when you’d invited him over to bake cookies. he somehow managed to forget that you were rival’s little sibling, and that your house was technically also michael’s—of course he would own a penthouse with a city view. michael was an oddly protective elder brother, or maybe his rivalry with yoichi just ran that deeply; was it not enough for isagi to steal the soccer ball on court? did he have to steal michael’s bloodline too?

“go, um, read a psychology book or something,” you say, wanting to get your brother off the scene. “hang out with ness! i’m sure he’d love to!”

yoichi nods his head hurriedly in agreement.

“you think you two are getting rid of me that easily? that’s-“ your brother is cut off mid-scoff, his phone ringing loudly and persistently. you snicker, knowing that you were about to win.

“was zum teufel,” michael spits, picking up the line.

“no, ness, i’m busy…what? you seriously can’t drive yourself? can’t i…uh….i guess you’re right,” he seems to be arguing with ness, going back and forth.

“you two lucky idiots are getting your wish,” michael snaps as he hangs up, hurrying out the door. before it closes, a warning: “isagi, if you try anything, i’ll screw you over before you can blink twice.”

“yeah yeah, shitty rose.” yoichi’s ego gets the best of him. great, now he’d been rude to your brother in front of you!

but you don’t seem to mind, maybe you didn’t care, humming softly as you add chocolate chips to the mix.

"you need to move out," yoichi doesn't think he can visit you if this is how your brother was going to be.

“hmmm, could be worse. what if we made s’mores cookies?” you reply excitedly.

“the ones with marshmallows?”

“yep! i think i have them somewhere,” you pull him into your startling large pantry. the size is almost that of a grocery aisle, and it’s stocked with an insane amount of protein powder—likely your brother’s doing—but you find the small package of the fluffy white sweets tucked away in a corner.

except, you can’t quite get to it, the nook being far above your head.

“let me,” yoichi says, reaching up. he has to be on the tips of his toes, curse michael kaiser for being so damn tall!

as yoichi fumbles above you for a bit, he doesn’t notice the odd position he’s forced you into, your back flush against the shelves. you’re not that much shorter than him, but he’s gripping onto your shoulder for support, and the proximity makes you flustered. he smells good, crisp and clean, a hint of citrus in the mix.

with a small flop, the bag finally comes crashing down, along with yoichi’s balance. he lets out a startled yelp, hurriedly latching onto your other shoulder.

oh.

you blink, fazed by his deep aquamarine eyes, and the way that your noses are practically touching. his breath is ticklish, irregular from the earlier struggle, and a cherry red blush painted across his entire face.

you’re both too scared to move, stuck in the haze, should you move? closer? maybe further?

it’s like that for an agonizingly long second—still—until yoichi chooses for the both of you, his fingertips make contact with your jaw and they’re warm, hot like the kiss he suddenly pulls you into.

you’re far too eager to reciprocate, hands finding their way into his soft dark locks. the cookie batter stays neglected on the sleek white countertop, both of you distracted and lost in another world.

when your lungs threaten to implode from lack of air, that’s when you pull away, gasping softly.

your boyfriend’s face is ten times redder now.

“sorry, i- i should’ve asked first,” yoichi stammers, flustered and unable to meet your eyes.

“it’s fine, i like you when you’re confident, yoi,” you smile, twisting a strand of his hair.

you fail to notice how the front door had opened, and you’re greeted with michael kaiser standing in the hallway, gawking at the two of you.

“why’s he in my pantry?” michael’s pissed now. “of all damn places, could you two not make out in the middle of my protein powder? seriously, that is gross. i won’t be able to drink that shit now!”

“oops,” you giggle. “you’re just upset that you don’t have someone.” your brother lets out an indignant huff, ready to start hell as he marches closer. you’re still snickering.

unfortunately, yoichi cannot find any of this nearly as funny as you do—no, he’s already thinking about the hell your brother’s going to give him during the game tomorrow, convinced that both of the kaisers would be the death of him.

a/n: michael says "what the hell" in german, i just wanted to make it diverse idk. like genuinely isagi is lucky if he makes it through the week dating a kaiser sibling...kaiser is not giving his blessing for the wedding LMFAO

masterlist!

#rip my boy isagi #kaiser's possesive of his own bloodline atp #he would NOT wanna end up w brother in law isagi #bllk x reader #blue lock #bllk x you #blue lock x reader #blue lock x you #bllk fluff #michael kaiser #kaiser blue lock #isagi yoichi #yoichi isagi #bllk isagi #blue lock isagi #isagi x reader #isagi x you #yoichi x reader

118 notes · View notes

soneybeee · 2 days ago

Text

Prim & Proper

Summary: Frat!Rafe sees a new face at one of the parties thrown by his fraternity. That girl from his stupid philosophy class.

Frat!Rafe x Fem!Reader <3

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: Smut, NSFW, kinda dubcon? (reader absolutely wants everything but Rafe doesn't really give her a chance to say it out loud), 18+ please :]. Alcohol consumption. Minimal, badly written plot. Dom!Rafe x sub!reader, virgin!reader, very slight corruption + innocence kink, loss of virginity (it's not very romantic lol), kinda primal play?, public + outside sex, slight overstim, dirty talk, unprotected PIV (please use protection!), creampie, choking, biting, marking, reader sucks + gags on Rafe's fingers, fingering (F receiving), let me know if I missed any!

If it was up to you, it would be a frigid, icy day in Hell before you ever stepped foot in this building. But, alas, you have the backbone of an invertebrate - which is to say, you don’t have one.

A guy is leaning into you, his hand on the wall next to you, holding him up as he whispers in your ear. You’re pretty sure he’s in your math class, his name something like Jacob or Noah, something biblical, but he sure as hell doesn’t recognize you. He wouldn’t be doing this if he did. You guess you can’t blame him for it - Jenna made sure you looked very different than your everyday. She all but tied you to a chair, forcibly curled your hair, and did your makeup. You used to do these things all the time in high school, but college is a fresh start, and that means fresh priorities. Education! Education is wonderful and valuable and you want to dedicate the next four years to nothing but education!

Jenna said “fuck that” and now you’re here, under the arm of Abraham or David, wearing a dress even sluttier than one you would’ve worn to homecoming junior year.

You take a sip of whatever godawful combination of alcohol and juice is in your red solo cup. It makes your face scrunch and your eyes twitch with annoyance.

Fuck fraternities, especially Sigma Chi or Omega Pi, or wherever the hell you are right now.

Rafe is in a similar and yet very different situation. He has a pretty girl, he thinks she might be in a sorority but he’s not sure, dancing and giggling all over him. But he’s only looking at you, his eyes squinted in your direction as he tries to make his inebriated brain remember where he’s seen your face before. Your pretty, bored face.

You look so clean, even though your eyes are rolling and you’re taking the vodka in your cup like a pro. Rafe would’ve loved to just fuck the girl dancing on him, kick her out in the morning, and move on with his life. Instead, he finds himself walking over to you.

Elijah or Joseph fucks off pretty quickly when he sees Rafe approaching. Maybe he thinks you’re one of Rafe’s many hookups or his sister or maybe he’s just really scared of Rafe. You don’t know. You don’t know if you should be grateful that Gabriel or Jeremiah is gone or if you should be annoyed that Rafe has replaced him.

“Haven’t seen you before.” He murmurs, his hand finding your hip like you’re his girlfriend or something. Pulling away is an impossible task - He just keeps grabbing you again.

“You have,” You turn your head away when he leans down to kiss your jaw. What the fuck is he trying to do? Is this how he greets people? “We’re in the same philosophy class.”

“Mm… Pretty sure I’d recognize such a pretty face.” His eyes flick from feature to feature, roving over your face with a sense of familiarity. You roll your eyes again, and that only makes it worse. Both his groping and the look in his eyes. One hand grabs your ass. “And such a nice ass.”

Oh, this brings you back, doesn’t it? It’s just like senior year prom! Except instead of your boyfriend, it’s some random frat boy. And instead of telling him to keep his hands to himself, you’re starting to enjoy the touch.

“Y/N.” You tell him, wondering if he knows your name from class or just truly doesn’t recognize a thing about you.

Oh. You see the recognition in his eyes.

“Y/N.” He echoes, smiling like you’re an old friend. He grabs a handful of your tits.

“Hey,” You flush, trying halfheartedly to squirm away from him. It only makes him more encouraged, big hands grabbing and squishing flesh like he owns it. He’d like to.

“Philosophy, huh?” He kisses your earlobe, catching the golden earring between his teeth for just a second. “Pointless fuckin’ class. Hate the professor.”

Your disagreement is met only with featherlight kisses along your jaw. He keeps it up until your words fade into breathless babbling, and then he pushes his hand into your hair and forces you to look up at him.

“You’re so fuckin’ pretty, Y/N.” He bites your cheek until you flinch away, an evil little chuckle following right after. He gets the feeling, just by looking at you, that no one’s ever done this to you before. It makes a twisted, predatory sense of enjoyment flood his system. “You wanna leave?”

You’re not sure if he means leave with him or leave him, but you nod anyway.

“If I give you a headstart,” A bite on your jaw. “How far do you think you could get?”

It’s a difficult question to answer. If you’re running, you could make it to your dorm. If you’re walking, waiting to get caught, you’re not sure you could make it around the corner.

“Not far.” You whimper, sighing as he bites down harshly on your neck, smoothing his tongue over the sore skin right after.

“Good,” It’s more a purr than a word. “How’s ten seconds sound? Fair?”

You get the feeling you’re not supposed to answer. Instead, you take a deep breath and pull away from him. You don’t look back, wading your way through the crowd and counting under your breath so you know how much time you have left.

At four seconds, you open the door.

At seven, you make it outside.

At ten, you’ve barely made it down the stairs.

Being out on campus at night has always freaked you out. You’ve watched one too many Dateline episodes to leave yourself so vulnerable like this - Drunk, half-naked, not looking behind you.

You’re still counting even though your headstart is over. It’s twenty seconds when you duck behind the fraternity building, breathing hard and fast and holding a hand over your heart. You feel like an antelope, a lion hot on your tail, his claws on your legs, his hot breath on your skin. Your nervous system apparently can’t tell this is a voluntary chase. Your palms are sweaty, you’re shaking, your heart is racing. Your eyes shut and you try to calm down.

And then someone grabs your upper arms, holding them bruisingly tight.

“Found you…” Rafe whispers, his mouth back on your neck like no time has passed. Barely any has.

You gasp and instinctively try to wriggle out of his hold, but he doesn’t give you an inch. He pulls your hair to line your lips up with his, and then he kisses you. Harder, rougher, than you’ve ever been kissed. He kisses with expertise, but that doesn’t surprise you - What does surprise you is the way he finds pleasure in your clumsiness. He groans when your teeth brush his lips. His hips jerk when you tilt your head the wrong way.

His hand absentmindedly wraps around your throat, squeezing in a pulsing rhythm that makes your head feel fuzzy. Rafe’s cock twitches in his pants when you squeak, your jaw dropping open uselessly. He stops kissing your lips, pulling back to admire the face you’re making as he chokes you.

“Oh, that’s it,” He growls, roughly pushing you up against the wall behind you. He keeps you there by your throat and by a thigh that he slots between yours. His free hand pushes your dress up until it bunches around your hips. “That’s a good fuckin’ girl…”

“Rafe…” You whine, squirming and rubbing yourself against his knee.

The hand on your throat squeezes one more time before it moves up to press against your mouth, his salty palm keeping you from making any more noise.

“Shut up.” He’s undoing his belt with one hand. It makes your pulse spike.

He catches himself, leaving his belt in the loops. His hand moves to your panties, lacy and white, warm and wet. He presses the pad of his middle finger into the damp cotton, slowly dragging it back and forth.

The helplessness you feel is strangely pleasurable. You can’t do anything but squirm, whimper muffled little cries into his palm, and dig your nails into his biceps. They flex under your hands.

“Shh,” He growls again, pressing his thigh into yours to keep you still. “Hold still.”

There’s nothing you can do but comply, your eyes fluttering shut with reluctant obedience. He takes it as a sign that you’re more than ready for more, pulling your sticky panties out of the way with his thumb. His middle finger collects your wetness, spreading it up towards your clit, parting your lips to make space for his ring finger.

“Think we can start with two?” You can’t answer. Even if you could, he wouldn’t take a no. He coats his fingers in your slickness and prods at your hole. “She gonna let me in?”

Oh, yeah, she is. It’s a stretch for you and a fight for him, but he pushes them both in. His fingers are almost uncomfortably thick, much thicker than yours.

“Fuck, Y/N,” He groans as if it’s his cock inside you and not his fingers, panting as he scissors you open. He pumps them into you, hooking them to nudge against that spongy spot inside you. Your knees go weak. “There we go…”

You’re practically squealing as he begins repeating the same movement - You’ve never made a sound like this before in your life. It’s embarrassing and makes your face feel hot, but it’s nothing compared to the heat pooling in your stomach. It’s almost nauseating how tightly your stomach has knotted itself.

More wet gushes onto his fingers as you clench around them.

“Mm… Y’like this, huh?” Rafe attaches his lips to your neck, ducking his head under his arm to reach your skin. He doesn’t need, or want, a response from you. He’s more than happy to keep talking to himself. “So wet… S’all this for me?”

You’ve never been fingered before. You almost let a boyfriend do it once, but you chickened out. The most you’ve ever had inside of you is your own fingers and, only a few times, the handle of a hairbrush. Neither of those can compare to this - It’s like Rafe can see straight through your skin and see your G-spot.

“Ah, ah… there it is…” He coos, holding you up as you thrash, your back arching and legs trembling with an orgasm. It’s difficult for you to make yourself come, but here he is, doing it like it’s nothing. “That’s my girl…”

You shakily push his hand away when the overstimulation starts to hit you. He laughs and catches your wrist, his other hand releasing your mouth to grab the other one.

“Rafe-”

“Shut up,” He puts both your wrists into his left hand, his right one coming up to your mouth. His middle and ring fingers push past your lips. “There we go. Clean ‘em for me, Y/N.”

Yeah, that shuts you up. You close your eyes and suck on his fingers, tasting yourself and his salty skin.

“Good girl.” He pulls them out of your mouth, wipes the spit off on your dress, and finally pulls his belt from its loops.

You squirm. “I-I don’t know if-”

“If what?” He asks as if he didn’t interrupt you. He drops his belt onto the ground and pops open the button on his jeans. “If this is a good idea? If you can take it? Too fuckin’ bad.”

That shuts you up again. But it’s not like you really want to complain anyway.

“I’m a virgin.” You whisper, instead. That catches him off guard. His head falls forward and he has to support himself by putting a hand on the wall.

“Shit, you are?”

“Mhm…”

He groans. “Shit… Fuck… Oh, I’m gonna ruin you…”

Maybe he is. He collects himself and turns you around, using his hand as a barrier so he’s not shoving your cheek into the wall. Your dress is already hiked up and you’re plenty wet, so nothing is stopping him from pushing into you once he’s lined up.

Just the tip, at first. “Fuckin’ virgin pussy… Jesus Christ…”

You gasp. He pushes in further, breathing down the back of your neck. Your back is at an awkward angle, everything vertical until your ass, which is pushed out for him. He’s big, definitely bigger than the handle of any hairbrush you’ve ever seen. Even your orgasm wasn’t quite enough to prepare you for it all.

“You feel so fuckin’ good,” Rafe growls into your hair, pressing himself further into you. “It’s insane… Squeezin’ me so fuckin’ tight…”

“Rafe…” You pant, pussy pulsing around his cock.

“Oh, shush, baby,” He suddenly thrusts all the way in, shuddering as you cry out. “You’re so fuckin’ dramatic… It feels good, doesn’t it?”

You nod mindlessly, mouth hanging open and legs shaking. You’d be on the ground if he wasn’t holding you up.

“Thought so…” He smirks, biting down where your neck and shoulder meet. He only bites harder when you try to pull away, using your shoulder to keep himself quiet as he sets his pace, only pulling out halfway before thrusting back in. “Y’feel too good, baby… I can’t even pull out all the way…”

“Rafe…” You whine.

“Shhh…” He pushes his fingers into your mouth again. “Fuck… I’m gonna cum in you, ‘kay, babe?”

You give a halfhearted attempt at a disagreement, only because it’s the sensible thing to do. No one would say yes to that without a little fight, right? He shoves his fingers further down your throat until you gag.

“I thought you’d say yes,” He murmurs before biting your shoulder again. He speeds himself up, humping into your pussy instead of giving proper thrusts. “Gonna get this virgin pussy filled with cum, aren’t you?”

You moan around his fingers. His hips stutter.

“Yeah, you are…” He kisses the teeth-shaped indents on your skin.

He moves his free hand down to your hip, digging his nails into your skin and holding you in place as he fucks you. He already made you come, and he’s feeling a little selfish at the moment, so he uses you solely to get himself off, rambling in your ear about how good your pussy is, how pretty you are, how warm your mouth feels around his fingers. Your eyes are filled with tears, your body trembling on the brink of an orgasm, when he comes.

His jaw goes slack and his fingers press down onto your tongue, holding you tightly against him as he fucks his cum deeper inside you, flooding your cunt with his warmth.

Just the thought of him filling you with cum makes you shudder, let alone the actual feeling of it. You clench around his cock as you tip over the edge again, sobbing around his fingers. You try to push his slowing hips away when you come down.

“Hold on, I’m gettin’ there,” He huffs, pushing your hands away. He slows to a stop and carefully pulls out, quickly putting your panties back into place to catch any cum that might bubble out of your hole. He pulls your dress down and gives your ass a finishing tap. “There we go.”

You press your palms into the wall to hold yourself up as he takes a step back, pulling his pants up from his ankles and grabbing his belt off the pavement.

“You feelin’ alright?” He places a hand on your shoulder blade once he’s put himself back together. “Need help gettin’ home?”

You look up at him. A complete mess. You’re trembling, your hair is disheveled, your mascara is smeared under your eyes. You nod.

Rafe’s gonna have to make use of you again. He loves philosophy.

#outer banks #obx #rafe cameron x reader #rafe x reader #rafe cameron smut #dom rafe cameron #dom!rafe #frat rafe #frat!rafe #frat!au #smut #virgin reader #female reader

94 notes · View notes

bitchinbarzal · 13 hours ago

Text

Operation mom & dad | M Boldy

summary: jade is determined to get her mom and dad back together.

The roar of the crowd echoes through the Xcel as Matt takes the ice, his number bold on the back of his jersey. You watch from the stands, Jade perched on your lap, her tiny hands clapping wildly.

“Daddy’s the best, right, Mommy?” she asks, turning her bright green eyes up at you.

You smile, ruffling her soft brown curls. “Of course he is, baby.”

It’s always been like this. You and Matt—co-parenting effortlessly, supporting each other despite the past. Your friends tease that you’re just pretending to be broken up, that no exes should get along this well. But the truth is, you and Matt have a rhythm. A history. A love that never really faded, even if things didn’t work out the way you once planned.

But if there’s one person determined to change that, it’s your daughter.

Attempt #1: The Forgotten Jacket

It starts small. Too small to suspect anything at first.

One night, after dropping Jade off at Matt’s place, you get a call just as you’re pulling into your driveway.

“Mommy!” Jade’s voice is serious, like she’s on an important mission. “You forgot your jacket at Daddy’s!”

Your brows knit together. “Are you sure? I don’t think I—”

“You did,” she insists. “You have to come back. Right now.”

With a chuckle, you turn around and drive back. When you get there, Matt is standing in the doorway, holding his hoodie.

“She meant this,” he says, amused. “Pretty sure this has been in my closet since before she was born.”

Jade beams between you, looking way too proud of herself.

“You should keep it, Mommy,” she chirps. “It smells like Daddy.”

Your face heats, and Matt rubs the back of his neck, clearly unsure how to respond.

“Uh, thanks, J,” you mumble, clutching the hoodie to your chest as you leave.

It smells like cedar and something familiar. Like home.

Attempt #2: The ‘Oops, There’s Only One Bed’ Trick

On a weekend trip to Chicago for one of Matt’s away games, you and Jade stay in the same hotel.

Everything is fine—until you realize that your perfectly booked two-bed room has somehow turned into a single king-sized bed.

“The team told me they asked for two beds,” you tell the front desk, exasperated.

The receptionist frowns. “Your daughter told us you wanted one bed. I am so sorry we have nothing else available”

Your head snaps toward Jade, who grins, completely unrepentant.

“Jade—”

“It was worth a try,” she shrugs.

Matt arrives moments later, taking in the situation with a smirk. “Guess I’m sleeping on the floor.”

But when Jade starts fake crying—“We can all share! It’s a big bed!”—you both cave, lying stiffly on opposite sides.

Still, sometime in the middle of the night, you wake up to Matt’s arm draped over your waist. And instead of moving away, you let yourself sink into it—just for a moment.

Attempt #3: The School Art Project

Parent-teacher night at Jade’s school is usually straightforward. You admire her work, chat with her teacher, and call it a night.

Except this time, her teacher greets you and Matt with a knowing smile.

“You have to see what Jade made,” she gushes, leading you to a table filled with colorful drawings.

There, in bright crayon strokes, is a picture of you, Matt, and Jade—holding hands, a big red heart above your heads. The words MY FAMILY are scrawled in crooked letters at the top.

You glance at Matt. He’s staring at the drawing, something unreadable in his expression.

“She talks about you two all the time,” the teacher says warmly. “How much she loves when you’re all together.”

Matt looks at you then, his blue eyes softer than you’ve seen in years.

And your heart stumbles.

Attempt #4: The “Oops, We Missed the Game” Move

One evening, as you’re supposed to take Jade to Matt’s game, she starts complaining of a “tummy ache.”

You fuss over her, canceling your plans, but by the time puck drop comes around, she’s suddenly perfectly fine.

“Jade…” you say, narrowing your eyes. “Were you really sick?”

She bats her lashes innocently. “I just thought Daddy would come check on us if we didn’t show up.”

You sigh, settling in to watch from the couch.

After the game you were tidying up when the door rings.

It’s Matt.

“You okay?” he asks, concern evident in his face “Saw you weren’t at the game.”

You exchange a glance with your daughter, who looks way too smug.

“We’re fine” you murmur.

Matt looks like he wants to say something more, but instead, he just ruffles Jade’s hair and stays for a while.

And you don’t mind. Not one bit.

The Breaking Point

It happened suddenly. A long shift at the hospital, a reckless driver on the road, and before you know it, you’re lying in a hospital bed instead of standing beside one.

You’re mostly fine—just a concussion, a few bruised ribs—but when you finally open your eyes, the first thing you see is Matt.

He’s sitting in the chair beside you, elbows braced on his knees, hands clasped tightly together. He looks exhausted, his usual steady composure cracked wide open. His hair is a mess, like he’s run his hands through it a hundred times, and there’s a crease between his brows that only deepens when he notices you stirring.

“Y/N.” His voice is raw, barely above a whisper.

You try to smile, but your ribs protest at the movement. “Hey, Matty.”

He exhales sharply, his whole body seeming to uncoil as he leans forward, his hands hovering like he wants to touch you but doesn’t know if he should.

“You scared the hell out of me,” he murmurs. “I got the call in the middle of practice, and I just—” He drags a hand down his face, exhaling harshly. “I thought— I don’t even know what I thought. I just knew I had to get to you.”

Your heart clenches. “I’m okay,” you reassure him softly. “Just a little banged up.”

But he doesn’t look comforted. If anything, his jaw tightens, his hands clenching into fists.

“You shouldn’t have been alone” he says after a moment “I should’ve been there.”

His words make something ache deep inside you, something that’s been lingering for far too long.

“Matt…”

He finally reaches for your hand then, threading his fingers through yours. His grip is firm, steady, like he needs to feel you to believe you’re still here.

“I can’t do this anymore” he says, his voice barely above a whisper.

Your chest tightens. “Do what?”

“This” He gestures vaguely between you, his thumb absentmindedly brushing over your knuckles. “Pretending like we’re just co-parents. Like we don’t still—” He stops himself, inhaling deeply before meeting your gaze “Like I don’t still love you.”

The words settle between you, heavy and fragile all at once.

Your breath catches, your heart pounding so hard you’re sure he can hear it.

“Matt…”

He shakes his head, his grip tightening. “No, just— just let me say this, okay? I thought we were doing the right thing, staying apart. I told myself that over and over again. But every time I see you, every time we’re together with Jade, it feels like I’m right back where I’m supposed to be. And tonight, when I thought—” He swallows hard. “I can’t lose you, Y/N. I don’t want to spend another second pretending like you’re not my home”

Tears sting your eyes. Because God, you know. You’ve always known.

Your life without Matt has never really been a life without him. He’s always been there, steady and sure, woven into your every day. And maybe you were both too stubborn or too scared to admit it before.

“I love you,” he says, voice thick with emotion. “I never stopped”

A tear slips down your cheek, and Matt reaches up to catch it with his thumb. His hand lingers, his palm warm against your skin.

You lean into the touch, exhaling shakily “I love you, too.”

The relief that washes over his face is immediate. And then he’s kissing you—soft at first, careful, like he’s afraid you might disappear. But when you pull him closer, fingers tangling in his hoodie, it deepens into something more—something familiar, something new, something that feels like coming home.

A tiny gasp from the doorway makes you break apart, and you both turn to find Jade standing there, eyes wide with delight.

“Are you kissing?” she asks, her little hands pressed to her mouth.

You laugh breathlessly, swiping at your damp cheeks. “We are”

Jade lets out an excited squeal and bolts down the hall. “GRANDMA! GRANDPA! DADDY AND MOMMY ARE IN LOVE!”

Matt groans, dropping his forehead to your shoulder. “She’s never gonna let us live that down”

You grin, threading your fingers through his hair. “Probably not”

He pulls back, brushing his nose against yours. “Guess that means we have to make it official, huh?”

Your heart swells.

“Yeah” you whisper. “I guess we do.”

And as he kisses you again,you know, without a doubt, that you’ve finally found your way back home.

#matt boldy x reader #matt boldy imagine #nhl imagine

44 notes · View notes