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appocalipse · 2 years ago

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RIGHT WHERE I WANT TO BE : ̗̀➛ SIRIUS BLACK

summary: it's only when lily accidentally spills amortentia on you and all you can smell is cigarettes and dog fur that you realize you're in love with sirius — probably the only person in the world you shouldn't be in love with.

"Oh, crap!" Lily seems on the verge of panic as she stares at the fresh stain on your clothes. "I'm so sorry!"

Somewhat shocked, you reach your hand to the front of your uniform and try to rub it away. It's no use. "It's okay," you assure her gently, relieved that the liquid didn't spill on the clean set of clothes you were folding instead, "it was an accident."

You put the clothes safely away in the trunk near your bed. They still have the fresh and clean scent of lavender. Your uniform, however…

Lily points her wand at your chest, and the stain quickly disappears. She had rushed through the entrance of the dormitory fast as lightning, crashing right into you and spilling…

Well, what exactly?

"Lily," you bring a hand to your own face, sniffing, then sniffing again. "What is this? It smells like a wet dog and-"

Your eyes meet and you immediately dislike the look on her face. Too much restrained excitement slowly bubbling up...

"-cigarettes…" you trail off, some sort of realization dawning on you way too late.

It can't be.

Lily bites her lower lip as if trying to hold back a smile. "Is that what it smells like to you?"

You also catch the scent of quill ink and freshly brewed coffee, so it can only be…

You put your hand away from your nose as if it's on fire.

"Tell me this is not what I think this is."

"If you're not thinking of Amortentia, then yes."

"Why would you brew Amortentia?!"

"For Professor Slughorn," she sees the confusion etched on your face and looks positively horrified. "Not for Professor Slughorn to drink! Ew! I said I'd like to try brewing one because it's, you know, a bit complicated and I've never tried before. He said he'd give Gryffindor some points if I succeeded. I didn't know you would… you know, smell Sirius."

"I never said I smelled him!"

"Okay! Okay," Lily raises both hands in surrender. Then, quieter, she adds, "You can pretend all you want."

You sigh. "Did you only have this vial?"

"Well, there should be some potion left in the cauldron, I think."

Great. An opportunity to escape this beyond strange situation. "I'll go get it for you."

"But I-"

You're out the Gryffindor common room before Lily has a chance to question your offer. The need to get away from that impending conversation is stronger than anything else right now.

Your heart is racing as you walk through the corridors of the castle, heading towards the dungeons, where Potions class usually take place. Each step is an effort to calm your turbulent mind and find some peace.

Upon reaching the Potions classroom, you welcome the silent space as you enter. The characteristic smell of magical ingredients and herbs fills your nostrils, bringing a familiar and almost comforting sensation… until you catch that smell. Amortentia.

You look around, searching for Lily's cauldron, which she mentioned leaving behind.

It's not hard to find; the smell is quite distinct, enchanting, all the things you love most in the world somehow united in a single aroma.

The cauldron is sitting on one of the workbenches. You approach cautiously, making sure not to knock anything over. Then you rummage through the shelves for an empty vial and pour some of the potion into it, feeling like you're doing something wrong even though Lily had Slughorn's permission.

The door opens, and you almost drop a row of glass bottles as you turn to look.

"What are you doing here?" he asks.

It's Sirius. Of course, it's him.

He closes the door behind him, and your heart skips a beat as it usually does whenever he's around. He's wearing the Gryffindor uniform, the first two buttons undone, revealing a patch of delicate skin just below his neck.

You don't need to wonder how he got there or why. Chances are, he extracted every piece of information he needed from Lily with little to no effort.

"What are you doing?" he asks calmly. You, on the other hand, don't feel calm at all.

"Nothing, just..."

"Just?" He takes a step closer, and you instinctively move away from the workbench, trying not to show the nervousness you truly feel.

"I just came to get something," you say.

Sirius gives a suspicious glance at the cauldron. "Is it a love potion?" He's a skilled wizard. Skilled enough to know the answer to that question, yet he waits for you to respond.

"Lily made it," you say defensively, holding up the vial containing the potion to illustrate your point unnecessarily.

"And what scent do you smell?" he questions, with a genuine curiosity in his tone that catches you off guard. "What does the potion smell like to you?"

"Lily told you," it's far from a question.

But Sirius has a knack for playing games.

"She told me what?"

"You know what."

This time, you step back as he advances, unable to help yourself, swallowing hard and Sirius notices. He takes another step forward, and you take another step back.

"Sirius," you warn.

In return, Sirius says your name, his tone lighter, more playful, soft as a feather. Then, another step.

You nearly bump your hip against one of the workbenches as you take another desperate step back. Sirius, being Sirius, raises an eyebrow, making no effort to hide his amusement.

It's unfair. It's simply unfair that he's so good-looking, starting at you without feeling the need to averting his gaze. "You don't have to do this," you find yourself saying.

Sirius seems genuinely puzzled.

"Do what?"

You steal a glance in your peripheral vision. The room won't go on forever; you need to say something to get out of this situation before he gets too close. You don't trust yourself near Sirius.

"Turn me down. Be all nice-" you stutter. He keeps advancing toward you. Back almost against the wall, you dodge another workbench and turn to the left, trying to prevent him from cornering you.

Sirius chuckles. "Is that what you think?"

"I'm a big girl. I can take rejection."

He glances in the direction of the cauldron. "Do you want to know what scent I smell?"

"No."

"Leather-"

"Sirius-"

"Gasoline," he raises his chin, nose in the air as if enjoying one scent after another. "Apple pie."

For a moment, you close your eyes. "Stop it."

"And lavender."

Your heart is pounding in your chest. He's not being serious, a little voice in your mind insists. It can't be serious. He's just teasing you... or maybe just being a good friend. Too good a friend.

It would be easier if he wasn't. If he were less kind to you, less handsome, less charming.

It's not easy.

You're breathless, trying to keep your distance from Sirius as he sets a slow advance, a constant tease. It's an internal battle between the desire to give in to the attraction you feel for him and the need to protect yourself — but the latter wins, for now.

"Sirius," you plead, your voice quiet, "stop"

He pauses for a moment, his gray eyes fixed on yours. "You think I'm joking, don't you? You think I'm just being nice?"

"I... I don't know, Sirius. It's so...confusing."

He takes yet another step towards you, his lips curling into a challenging smile. Always challenging. "Confusing or scary?"

The tension between you two is palpable, and you wonder if he can hear the rapid beating of your heart, threatening to break out of your rib cage any given moment. You know you're fighting your own feelings, afraid of surrendering to something that may - and probably will - end in heartbreak.

"It's not fair," you whisper, trying to keep your voice steady. "It's not fair that you're so... so-"

"So what?" he teases, closer. "So handsome? So charming? So... irresistible?"

You can tell he's somehow having fun. You don't understand how he can maintain a playful tone in a moment like this.

You catch a whiff of his cologne, feel the warmth of his body, and your heart races once again. If there's a way to prevent Sirius from getting what he wants, you don't know what it is. "So confusing," you finish, almost in a whisper. "You confuse the hell out of me."

Sirius pauses for a moment, his eyes locked with yours, and you momentarily catch a flicker of something deeper in this playful gaze. He slowly raises a hand and gently, gentler than ever, caresses your face, his fingers tracing a delicate path along your skin.

"I don't see how I could be confusing you," he murmurs, his voice soft and husky. "I thought I was being pretty clear..." It's teasing, of course it is; when it comes to Sirius, few things aren't.

But there's something else behind it, too.

The air grows heavier.

"You're not clear about anything, Sirius," you reply, your voice faltering slightly. "I never know what you're thinking. I never know what you really mean."

"Maybe you're just not paying attention."

You furrow your brow, confused by Sirius' response. He's playing with you, as he always does, but this time it feels more intense, more meaningful. You struggle against the temptation to give in completely, to say something you might not be able to take back.

"I do pay attention, Sirius," you respond, your voice showing determination you're not entirely sure you feel. "It's you who likes to make everything more difficult than it needs to be."

He moves closer once again, so close now that you can feel his breath against your skin, the tip of his nose an inch away from touching yours.

"Do you want me to be clearer?" he whispers, voice laced with a hint of his usual mischief. "Make it easier?"

You swallow, feeling your heart race. You know you can't admit your feelings for him, you can't let your defenses down. Not when he makes a point to hide comfortably behind a facade, away from anything that makes him feel vulnerable.

You need honesty.

"Yes," you whisper, your voice almost faltering. "Yes, I do."

Sirius pauses for a moment, eyes searching yours, and you can feel your breath catch in your throat. Then, slowly, he moves closer and closer still, until his lips almost touch yours.

There is a feeling that you can't quite put into words.

"I want you," he murmurs, an admission that hangs in the air like a charged electric current. "I want to be with you. I want you to be happy– I'll even accept your awful taste in music," he adds with a playful smirk, teasingly referencing your occasional guilty pleasure for a particular genre of music that he often mocks.

A laugh escapes your lips, a combination of relief and affection. His sincerity is pretty close to melting away any remaining doubts that linger in your heart. "I have great taste in music," you state playfully.

Sirius brushes the side of his nose against yours affectionately. "Sometimes," he gives in, voice filled with genuine warmth.

You lean into his touch, savoring the tenderness and intimacy of the moment. It's as if the world around you has faded away, leaving only the two of you in this bubble of shared emotions.

"Sometimes?" you raise an eyebrow, pretending to be offended.

He chuckles, a low and melodic sound that resonates deep within your chest, a sound you don't get to hear as often as you'd like. "You're lucky you're pretty," he teases, his voice filled with affectionate playfulness.

"Oh?"

"I have a soft spot for pretty girls."

You roll your eyes but can't help the smile that forms on your lips. "Flattery will get you nowhere, Black."

Sirius leans in and presses a soft kiss to your cheek, pulling away with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"Who said I was trying to get anywhere?" he whispers, fingers trailing along the curve of your waist, drawing you closer. "I'm already where I want to be."

Your heart swells with warmth, and you can feel a blush creeping up your cheeks.

"Smooth talker."

It doesn't sound like an accusation when you're about to kiss him.

#sirius black x reader #sirius black #sirius black x you #sirius black oneshot #sirius black imagine #sirius black fanfic #sirius black x fem!reader #sirius black fluff #sirius black angst #sirius x you #sirius x reader #marauders fanfic #marauders imagine #sirius black drabble #marauders drabble #marauders era

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em-ontv · 2 months ago

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Under his skin.

Pairing: Soldier Boy x fem!supe!reader

Summary: When he met you, who was just like him; tempered, aggressive, he immediately hated you, no, loathed. But maybe that's not all he feels for you.

Warnings: vulgar language/cursing, mentions of violence (barely), no use of y/n, English is not my first language, mistakes should be present, apologies beforehand.

Author’s note: So… I just wanted something where this man isn’t an egoistic maniac. He annoys me so much but I love him <3, this was written just out of spite, enjoy!

Word count: 705

Ben hated you.

You were a supe, a big deal. The leader of a new team of supes who were really just assholes when the cameras were turned off, and each of them possessed powers more messed up than the previous.

You were quick to throw fists and unleash whatever terrifying power you were gifted with. And fuck, did that rub him the wrong way. It was the same recipe, a sweet smile in front of the public and a complete disregard for human life in private. And you were the worst of them all; invulnerable, aggressive, with a temper that made Soldier Boy himself look like a boy scout.

He fucking hated you for that.

It was bad enough that Vought thought it was a good idea to create another superteam in case Payback ever went awry — then it succeeded, way too much for Ben's liking.

He had a hard enough time trying to keep his own idiots in line without worrying about another set of so-called 'heroes' stepping on his turf. But no, they went ahead and made you into their new big thing. And what's worse? You were someone who didn't take shit from anyone — not even him.

From the first day you met, it was like pouring gasoline on a fire. You talked to him like he was nothing, like some relic from a different era. You didn't just talk back; you tore into him, picking apart his ego piece by piece, you got under his skin like a parasite.

But the real kicker? You weren't afraid of him. You stared him down like he was a joke. It got to a point where he couldn't stand the sight of you. Just knowing you were around would set him off, make him want to tear somebody's head off, preferably yours.

"Where's the asshole?" Ben growled at Mindstorm, who swallowed thickly and pointed toward a room. He shot him a glare before nearly kicking the door open.

And there you were, sitting there with a smirk on your face, like you owned the place.

He clenched his fists, feeling his blood pressure rise, and you haven't even said anything yet. "You piece of shit. You think you're hot stuff, huh? Running that joke of a team like a dictator?"

"Don't be mad at me just because your team can't find it in their hearts to respect you." you tilted your head. "Talking about Payback, how is it? Still playing dress-up?"

His jaw twitched, and for a moment, he considered throwing you through the wall.

"You're nothing but a wannabe," he spat. "A cheap rip-off version of me. I don't know how you got this far, but don't think for a second that you're anywhere close to me."

You just grinned, more amused than anything, but there was a hint of anger lingering behind your eyes. "You're a washed-up mascot for Vought. Your team can't handle the dirty work,” you leaned forward. “And you as their leader? You can't even get your own shit together, talk about leading a team."

Ben's face flushed with anger, his fingers twitching toward his shield. But you just watched him, knowing you stuck a nerve.

"You're lucky Vought's got rules," he muttered, barely holding himself back. "Because if it was up to me—"

"You'd do nothing, Ben." you cut him off, your voice dripped with condescension. "Because you can't do anything. Not to me."

And in a split second, he swung his shield at you, but you didn't dodge.

You caught it.

And then it started.

Slowly but surely, Ben would lie awake at night, fists clenched, jaw tight, replaying your arguments in his head. He'd think about you and that infuriating smirk. The anger was still there, seething, but there was something else now, something creeping in at the edges of his thoughts.

It was humiliating, that's all it was. He was Soldier Boy, the toughest bastard on the planet. He didn't take shit from anyone, let alone someone like you. But then, one night, after downing half a bottle of whiskey and staring at the ceiling for hours, it hit him like a freight train.

He didn't just want to beat you.

He wanted you.

#soldier boy #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy x you #soldier boy x y/n #soldier boy x female reader #soldier boy the boys #soldier boy imagine #soldier boy fanfiction #soldier boy fic #the boys #the boys fanfic #the boys imagine #the boys amazon #the boys tv #the boys fandom #the boys au #the boys x you #the boys x y/n #the boys x reader

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sparring-spirals · 6 months ago

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Still emotional about Fy'ra Rai and Opal, actually. Thought dump time bc i. dont have the energy to cut this down effectively.

Because at that point in the episode, Opal is doomed. Not in the fun little "oh things are getting worse ;)" kind of way we'd been experiencing leading up to the fight, or even IN the fight. At that point in the fight, Cyrus is dead. Dorian and Dariax have their minds twisted, bodies clambering away from the fight. Morrighan has felt, firsthand, just how far gone Opal is, holes in her mind, her friend broken. The heartbreaking sentence of. "You can always come back." understands that she is gone already. She's lost already. Opal has forgotten Ted. Opal has forgotten herself.

So at that point in the fight, we know Opal is doomed. Us as the audience, the cast, the characters. Aabria is running through each of the other crownkeepers and it is more of a goodbye than a round of combat. Defying the Spider Queen invites death, with zero hesitation- Cyrus's body as physical evidence of that. The terms were very clearly set: You leave Opal, you let her be lost. Or you die. (Leaving Opal anyway).

and Fy'ra Rai then. Grasps the crown, understands intimately that she can break it off and it will kill Opal. (I will free you, if you want me to. We would lose you but you would not be taken). And asks, what do you want me to do. What do you want.

and Opal says, I want you to leave. (I want you to live.) and Fy'ra Rai functionally says. No. Sorry. That's not one of the options.

If you wanted to go. I will do that (your blood on my hands). If you want me to stay, I will. But I'm not going to leave you.

There was the point where Fy'ra Rai broke into the communication and I felt my insides sink because. Look. Lets be real, Aabria had already demonstrated the stakes here. The gesture would not be rewarded for the gesture alone. The Spider Queen's terms were: You leave Opal. Or you die.

And Fy'ra Rai said: no.

I don't think I'm overstepping to assume that if Fy'ra Rai had failed the intimidation check, she would have died. This entire thing hits me so hard because I think Anjali knew that too. I think Fy'ra Rai knew that too. Yes, Fy'ra Rai convinced a Betrayer God to negotiate. She carved a third option out of a non-negotiable situation. She knew what would happen if she failed and did it anyway, with no fear, no regret, no waver in her resolve. She had lost enough sisters. She wasn't going to lose anymore, no matter the personal cost. That's part of why it succeeded, I'm sure, but.

Just. Fuck me. The amount of resolve. The amount of love. The amount of conviction. "I am. A protector." You know your friend- your sister- is doomed. So no more negotiating away from that. You step to her side and you grasp her hand and say- doom me with her.

And in some, sideways way, this saves you both, at least for a little while.

Because this story is a tragedy. This ending is a sad one. We know this already. But think about- Opal, under Lolth's bidding, alone in the dark. Think about Fy'ra Rai, alive, intimately aware that she had failed to protect yet another sister.

And think about what we got, instead: the two of them, in deep darkness, danger encroaching- holding hands. Someone they love at their side. A champion. And her champion.

This is still a sad story. But it's not the same one. Fy'ra Rai stared down a Betrayer God and made her change her mind. She stared down a Betrayer God, and her love and conviction changed the nature of the story. It shouldn't have been able to. But she did.

Fy'ra Rai chose to doom 2 people instead of one, and the sheer strength of her love and will managed to save them both, at least for a little while. Isn't it funny how that works? Isn't it devastating? Isn't it. fucking incredible?

#critical role #cr spoilers #c3e93 #opal #EVERYONE CLAP FOR AABRIA AND ANJALI AND AIMEE BC I GO MORE FERAL THE LONGER I THINK ABOUT IT #character meta #fy'ra rai #fy'ra rai meta #opal meta #spar speaks #i had to get this out bc i cant Stop Thinking About it.... god..... she really Did That...#its not just about refusing to leave its understanding the consequence and facing it so unflinchingly that the narrative flinches first #UAHHHGGHH.#anjali bhimani do you know how much i respect you for this move. aabria iyengar do you know how much i respect you for setting up the stake #so clearly that this success(?) Hit the way it did. Aimee carrero do you know how much i respect you for how truly and devastatingly #you played opal while keeping the core of her character so poignant.#what the fucmkc. anyway im fine .#anyway this is why a lot of my devastated wailing is going to be reserved for dariax. and dorian. and cyrus.#my meta #FORGOT. I HAD THAT TAG. gotta go back and retag

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i-am-hungry-24-7 · 7 months ago

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Hello, this is 🦈 anon ◉⁠‿⁠◉. Um.. if you still open request, please can i have TF 141 together x F! Reader who has high (possibly extreme) pain tolerance that whenever reader's injured, she almost doesn't react or show she's in pain. When TF 141 found this new information, they couldn't be not worried because what do you mean you don't feel anything while bleeding heavily, sweetheart?

TLDR: "Ayo yer bleeding?!", "Uh, um..yeah, should I scream?"

hello 🦈 anon!!! nice to see you again :D ty for the request!! I hope u would like this one since I think it was sweet :) have a nice day/night!

word count: 2.3k

ship: TF141*F!Reader

tw: pet names (love etc.)

The first time they found out was on a mission.

The explosion made you fly and hit hard on the wall, you could hear Soap yelling at you.

“Yer okay, lassie?!” You brushed away the dust, Soap running over and checking on you, blue eyes full of concern.

“Yeah, alright.” Standing up from the wreckage, you simply responded to him. Though Soap doubted if you were truly fine under that big impact, but your face didn’t express thoughts other than focusing on the mission, so he just nodded and signaled to keep going.

The rest of the mission succeeded without any incidents. Price, Ghost, and Gaz are already waiting at the exfil place. Through the smoke and deafening sound of the helo, they saw you and Soap walking towards them.

“Y’all okay?” Hadn’t gotten close to the helicopter, Gaz already run towards you two, relief was obvious on his face when he didn’t see any injuries by a quick scan, but then Ghost came over too.

“Wait, your shoulder.” He pointed at your shoulder, leading everyone’s gaze to land on it, including yourself.

“oh... looks like it’s dislocated.” You evaluated.

“What do you mean ‘oh’?! don’t you feel any pain?!” Soap yelled at your words. His hands try to inspect your shoulder, but afraid to trigger the pain.

“I don’t think it’s a big deal, just...”

You put your hand on the shoulder, and with a loud CRACK, which made Gaz jump and Soap gaped, even Ghost’s eyes widened at your sudden motion.

“I think it’s fixed now.” You looked around at your teammates, confusion clouded your mind “Ummm... is there any problem?”

“You...” Ghost stuttered, but he regained his composure fast. “doesn’t that hurt?”

“Well, I don’t know what you mean, LT.” You shrugged, “But actually, I feel a little bit dizzy...”

Just at the moment you finished your sentence, the dizziness became more severe, and your vision started growing blurry...

“Oi! Call the medic!” Catching your slumped body, Ghost yelled at the sergeants, but the last thing you hear is Soap reassuring you and Gaz calling for help.

So quiet... Where am I?

You thought as you slowly opened your eyes, what came in your eyes first was the stainless white ceiling, and a low voice coming from aside.

“you awake, sergeant?”

Turning your head, your eyes met with the man’s ocean-like ones, who sitting on the chair beside and holding some papers.

“Captain.” The whisper slipped out when you recognized him

“I guess you don’t know you were seriously injured, love.”

“What happened?”

“The explosion.” Price leaned closer to the bed now “The impact caused your bone fractured and slowly internal bleeding. We have no idea how you were able to walk to the exfil and looked like nothing happened.”

“I didn’t feel any pain, so I assumed I was okay.” you avoided his attention when Price raised his eyebrows. You knew he was worried and it kind of made you guilty.

“since I was young I rarely feel pain, so...” staring at the catheter of your IV drip, you mumbled quietly.

Price didn’t reply, he just stared at the paper written with your injuries and health state.

The room fell into silence for a while, before you open your mouth again.

“Sorry, Captain...” You murmured, still don’t dare to look at him.

The man let out a long sigh, you snapped your head up when you felt your hands were covered by Price’s.

It’s warm, soothing, calming down your still hazy but full of thoughts mind.

“You should be sorry, dear.” He rubbed your hand in a repeated rhythm. “You make us worried. Me, and the boys...” he pointed his chin at the bedside desk, and you finally notice the flowers and your favorite snacks are placed on it.

“We’ll keep an eye on you every time the mission is complete, since you can’t feel pain, this is not a request, it’ s a command, got it, soldier?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Good girl.” The composed grin eventually appeared on his face, and you smiled too when he ruffled your hair.

“Sleepy?” His comforting voice rings against your ears when you let out a big yawn.

“mmhmm.”

“Then sleep, Gaz will be here when you wake up.”

Price watched your eyelids struggle to stay open but failed, little snores leaving you when you fell drifted into dreams again.

What you didn’t know is he brushed off the hair on your face and placed a tender kiss on your serene face.

Weeks after, to your happiness, you could go back to your own quarter and start hitting the training room for some simple practice.

Except there was someone who insisted on following you every time when you went to the training room, even if you tried to sneak into the room, he was always there as if he knew your plan.

“Soap.” You sighed at the man sitting on the bench spotting you.

“Aye, lassie?”

“I’m okay, really.”

“I don’t trust ye anymore. I should check it mahself.”

You understood why he was acting like this. Price told you Soap had been blaming himself for not finding that you were injured in that mission until your body gave up due to blood loss.

“I’m just doing some easy weightlifting now, I won’t pass out just because of this okay?”

You concentrated on his figure as he strode to your side. You chuckled when he still looked at you with doubtful eyes.

“How ‘bout you spar with me? Go easy on me though, the doctor said I still haven’t recovered fully.”

“You sure yer okay?”

“You’re like my mother now, Soapy.”

“Aye, 'cause we got a naughty kid in our team.” He laughed. “If I think you should stop, then ye stop, aye?”

“Yes, mama.”

You both burst into laughter and stepped on the training mat. Soap really went easy with his attack, unlike the usual training with the tension as if you two were about to devour each other.

“Oh!” When Soap swung out a punch, you abruptly lowered your body, and with a swipe of your leg, Soap fell onto the mat, followed by you sitting on him and securing his hands.

“Checkmate...? Soap.” You smirk at the man lying under you.

“Won’t complain if I was lost to you, but.” he huffed out a laugh, but your world spun the next second, and you met your gaze with the man now on top of you, his eyes glinting with mischievous.

“It’s a tie now, bonnie.” He flashed out a dazzling smile at you.

“Okay okay, it’s a tie now.”

A lazy grin spread along your lips when you poke at his chest.

“How about we go get some lunch together, handsome?

“Aye, ma'am.”

“The bones and the wound have healed very well, can say you are the most well-behaved patient in your team.”

The doctor smiled at you, and you turned to shoot a glimpse at Gaz, only to find his face written with embarrassment.

“What did he do last time you treat him, doctor?”

“oh, I forbid him to go training, but he still went and tore his knuckles, so he came back and stitched them again, making me call Captain Price to scold him.”

“Sorry, he’s a dumbass.”

“All of you guys are stubborn, sometimes I really want to tie you to the bed.” The doctor grinned “Well, since you’re fully recovered, you can go back to train and go on missions. Remember to be careful next time, don’t come back too soon, okay?”

“I will, Thank you, doc.”

Returning the smile, you and Gaz stepped out of the infirmary.

“I can’t wait to have you back next mission, need ya to bear Soap’s nonsense and Lt.’s bad jokes with me.” Walking beside you, Gaz sounded excited, and it’s hard not to be affected by his warmth.

“Need a helper to deal with those troublemakers?”

“That’s one reason.” He chuckled “Actually...”

“We all missed you.”

You halted to a stop when his words flowed into your ears with a bit of sadness.

Now face to face with him, you were able to see the concern on his face.

“You didn’t know when you just passed out without any warning, I felt like my heart almost shattered.”

It was close to midnight, so no one was nearby, and his words were gentle yet distinct, echoing softly in your mind.

“Not just, me, Ghost, Soap, Captain... we all are scared, you know?”

“We thought we lost you.”

You opened your mouth, mind still processing, managing to find a word, but nothing came out except an apology.

“Sorry, Kyle...”

The dusk light showered you two in an awkward peace, but it didn’t affect the sentiment Gaz conveyed to you.

“Just be careful, okay? You should tell us that you can barely feel pain, so we can help you check out, alright?”

“Okay.”

Giving your hands a little squeeze, Gaz accompanied you back to your quarter.

“We’re more than a team, more than family, we’ll always watch your back, just like you always do.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” Tilting your head, your lips curled mildly. “Goodnight, Gaz.”

The honey-like smile inched towards you until you felt his soft lips pressed a kiss on your cheek.

“Goodnight, lovie.”

Your first mission after months ended smoothly. You were glad that you didn’t become rusty after the long rest, seemed like the practice and training with Soap and Gaz were worth it.

Soap and Gaz were chatting loudly, while Price sat in front and was checking details regarding the mission. You listened to the boys bantering, sometimes quipped back when their target turned to you, but you could feel someone observing you, and you tried to ignore the chill sending through your spine.

Because you knew it was Ghost, sitting just across you and scanning you like a robot.

You silently wished to arrive at the base faster, so you could ask him what was wrong or if you had done something incorrectly.

Under his scrutinizing gaze, you let out a sigh of relief when you jump off the helo. Got rid of the gear and placing them back in their place, you straightly head back to your quarter, craving some hot shower to wash off the soreness and dirt.

On your way back to the quarter, you could hear footsteps following you, almost imperceptibly, but you noticed and immediately went to a stop.

“LT.?”

Your LT. loomed just right behind you, seeming not surprised that you were aware of him, or maybe that was just what he was planning.

He hummed at your recognition but didn’t stop his steps, until he was side by side with you.

“I’m just about to ask you, did I do something wrong? You kept staring at me when we were heading back.”

“You did it pretty well.”

“Then why did you...?”

“You’ll know when you get into your room.”

He placed his right hand on the small of your back, ushering you to your room, and you just obliged, letting him lead you.

Closing the door behind you and Ghost, you turned around to face the man now with his balaclava on.

“So what’s the issue?”

“Clothes, off.” The command came out from him unexpectedly.

“What—“

“I said clothes, off.”

Furrowing your eyebrows, what the fuck does he want? you thought while kicking off your cargo pants and tossing your shirt on the chair, leaving only the sports bra and underwear with you.

“What now?”

Ghost didn’t form a word as his eyes traveled from your head, slowly through every inch of your body, under his meticulous search, you felt heat rising to your cheeks.

“turn around.” You did as he told, and now you were unable to see him, anxiety crawling to your mind until he finally stood up.

His calloused hands touched your shoulder, circling you to face him.

“Can you tell me what you’re doing now?” You asked when he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Checking.”

“If I’m injured?”

“yeah.”

“Oh god” You poke his pec with a frown “you all are overreacting. I’m okay, really. Don’t you guys trust me?”

“We trust your ability, but not your ability to tolerate pain.”

“I’m fi—“

“We can’t lose you.”

Your eyes widened at his words. Ghost was looking into your eyes. He might be good at concealing his emotions, but they said, a person’s eyes can’t lie.

and all you see is sorrow, love, consideration.

All the retorts were swallowed back when his eyes conveyed how important you were to him — to them. You studied the man towering over you, tracing his scars and wrinkles in your mind.

“Thank you, Ghost.” You pulled him into a hug, which he didn’t back off, instead melting in your arms, head burying in the crook of your neck. “I will be careful, okay? I will tell you if I got hit and not sure if I was injured.”

He nodded while staying in your embrace, and you just patted his head.

“Now, I need to shower” Pulling back, a smile bloomed on your face “See you tomorrow, LT.”

“Don’t oversleep again, sergeant.” He scoffed, but petted you before letting you go to shower.

When you came out, with relaxed muscles and fresh clothes, you jumped onto your bed, but something on your desk caught your attention.

Picking it up, you shook your head in disbelief.

“Fuck you, Ghost, I already brushed my teeth.”

grumbling to yourself, you still opened the snack—your favorite one— and gave it a huge bite, while snickering at the paper placed under the snack.

‘Goodnight, luv. (remember to brush your bloody teeth again.)’ — Ghost

next chapter

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seobinghard · 8 days ago

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best friend!wooyoung x fem!reader

genres: fluff, humour, suggestive ✫ wc: 800 ✫ warnings: mdni ✫ note: wooyoung's a manipulative, obsessive, jealous best friend who wants you all to himself (aw)

best friend!wooyoung the type to get your initial tatted on his ring finger because he knows he'll marry you one day.

best friend!wooyoung the type to sabotage your dates on purpose because he knows no one can love you better than he can. and he's right. "shit date? fuck him. let me take you out."

best friend!wooyoung the type to sneak into you bed at night because he 'wants cuddles'. despite never succeeding and getting unceremoniously kicked off the bed—"woo, get out!"—he comes crawling back to you every time because he's just a touch-starved puppy in need of your affection. "she loves me, i swear," he tells san. LMAO

best friend!wooyoung the type to sneak kisses on your cheek with the craaaaziest hand placements i'm talking hand on your neck, hand on your cheek, hand on your waist. "woo, stopppp!" you slap his hand away every time but it only makes him want to kiss you even more, he's actually not okay.

best friend!wooyoung loves it when you boss him around. wait, let me reword this. wooyoung loves it when he can be of service to you in any way. tell him to cook, he'll whip up a five-course meal. tell him to clean, he'll make sure you never have to touch a vacuum cleaner for the remainder of your life. "do you need help in the bedroom? i can make the bed then maybe we can cuddle and make-out—ow! i'm sorry, y/n, don't hit me, wait, actually—" LMAOOOO

best friend!wooyoung the type to grow out his hair intentionally so he can ask you to style his hair every morning in a little pony tail. aw, adorbs. he thinks it's incredibly cute how you're matching hairstyles, though your hair is longer, glossier, softer. ahh, he gets all dreamy just thinking about you. but, one day, when he catches you doing seonghwa's hair instead of his, he goes into a raging fit and threatens to cut hwa's ponytail off in his sleep so now all the boys are banned from ever positioning their scalp even ten centimetres from your hands. "don't ever let me catch y'all istg."

best friend!wooyoung hates it when the boys get close to you. hates it even more when you get hit on at the club. swear it gets on his nerves so bad he'd punch a bitch but he knows you don't condone violence so he resorts to snaking his arms around your waist, chin on your shoulder, and a threatening smirk directed at the man you're talking to at the bar. "baby, who's this?" and you? you're too tipsy and clueless to even make sense of what's happening, let alone string together a coherent sentence. so he whisks you away to a quieter hallway outside the toilets where the lights are dim and the only thing he can make out is the your matching silver necklace and your cute, glossy eyes staring at him with feigned innocence like you didn't just flirt with a man on purpose to get under your best friend's skin. the girls have always told you wooyoung has a thing for you, and for a long time, you didn't believe them. but the moans of your name that slipped through the cracks of his bedroom door the night before was too good to not put your girlfriends' theory to test. "babe, he'd fuck you if he could" – the girlies.

would he, though?

"w-woo, chill. we were just having a friendly conversation," you chuckle. wooyoung knows what you're doing. he isn't happy but he holds it in, jaw twitching in annoyance. he grabs your chin not-so gently and brings your face closer to his until the only thing you can feel is his ragged breath against your lips. "you think it's funny?" he whispers lowly, "yeah ... of course, you do. you love pissing me off, don't you, baby, hm?" his voice is so sweet, so poisonous. "now tell me, what were you doing back there? and choose your words carefully." he has you backed against the wall, shivering in the cold and anticipation. you shouldn't be excited but you are.

"i was trying to see if you'd react," you admit shyly.

"how?"

you bite your lip, contemplating your next words before finally breathing out a meek answer, "like this."

wooyoung smirks, trailing his hand up your bare thigh, testing the waters. and when you show no reaction of discomfort, he takes it as a sign to press his lips against yours, hot and desperate. "fuck, baby" wooyoung's a fucked up mess and so is your kiss; rough and messy as he sucks on your tongue, gladly licking the blood that seeps from your lip. he wants to feel all of you at once, it's not enough to hear you sweet moans of his name "woo, pleaseee" falling from your lips like a useless spell. no, he wants more. all of it. all of you. how long has he waited. how fucking long has he waited to slip his tongue inside your pretty little mouth. to make you feel him, feel how desperate he wants to be with you, stuff his dick inside you.

wooyoung pulls away and whispers in your ear.

your heart sinks at his next words.

"you heard me, didn't you?"

wooyoung isn't dumb. yes, he's stupidly jealous and borderline obsessive but he's not dumb. he meant for you to hear him, last night. he wanted you to hear him. hear his sweet, sweet, pathetic whines of your name as he cums in his hand because what can you really do? berate him? slap him? he lives for it.

you're a mess, so flushed and embarrassed you're on the verge of tears, "woo, i—"

"shh, it's okay," wooyoung coos, thumb stroking your lower lip. his touch is tender, yet a sinister smile nests on his face as he slowly slides two fingers past your lips. "yeah ... you wanna see how i'd react, baby? i'll show you."

a/n: HAHAHAAH yikes. idk how it got hot. oops. anw i'm breathless phew

#wooyoung #wooyoung x reader #wooyoung x you #wooyoung scenarios #wooyoung hard hours #wooyoung hard thoughts #wooyoung fluff #ateez hard hours #ateez hard thoughts #ateez x reader #best friend!wooyoung #ateez imagines #ateez fluff #ateez scenarios

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theoriginalkaminari · 5 months ago

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Izuku Midoriya with a Tsundere!S/O

For those who are unfamiliar with a Tsundere here are some examples, such as Natsuki from DDLC, or maybe something like Uzi from MurderDrones I know there are more I just can't think of that on the spot💀

(Also heres like a definition: Tsundere is an adjective used to describe a person or character who swings between emotionally hot and cold, in particular when dealing with a love interest. Especially used to describe someone who is usually cold or cranky but occasionally shows a soft, kind, mushy side.)

Izuku stared down at the burnt notebook in the fish pond.

"Great." He mutters to himself, trying not to let this get to him to much. "My dreams have been turned into fish food."

Izuku watches as the Koi fish in the pond begin to nibble at the notebook, trying to get some type of food or nutrients from it. Izuku reaches his hand into the pond. "Thats enough, give it back." He says, voice wavering slightly as he takes the burnt notebook out of the fish pond.

You've seen this happen a few times. Katsuki Bakugou would bully Izuku Midoriya, and all anyone would ever do is watch and laugh along side Bakugou. Yet, somehow you weren't any better. You didn't laugh, but you didn't really do anything either. You would just stare, or walk away and pretend like nothing was happening.

Until one day, you decided to but the green haired boy a new notebook. He probably had thousands, so what would this even accomplish? And why would he accept it from you? You're nothing special.

These were all thoughts you had as you watched him pick up the ruined notebook up from the fish pond. You found yourself mesmerized by his actions, by his appearance, by everything he did.

Without thinking, you clutch the fresh notebook you bought for him in your hands, and approached him.

"H-hey!" You call, walking up to him. Izuku looks over at you, surprised by your sudden appearance. He can't say he's seen you around before, and your height surprises him a bit.

He looks around, thinking your talking to someone else, then looks back at you. He points to himself, mouthing the word: Me?

You feel a slight blush spread across your face as you nod. "Here." You hold out the fresh notebook for him, trying to dismiss the feeling in your chest.

Izuku's eyes widen slightly in surprise. He looks at the notebook, then back at you. "I-is this...for me?" He hesitantly asks.

You nod firmly as you continue to hold out the notebook. "I had an extra one and you seemed like you needed one. Don't think I got it for you or anything, got it?" You say sternly but a slight softness in your tone.

"Oh! No, thats not what I was suggesting at all!" Izuku trys to clarify, not wanting to offend you. "Thank you.." Izuku says softly and takes the notebook from you, his thumbs brushing against yours. "Really, thank you." He looks at you, smiling brightly.

This action makes your blush deepen. You succeeded! You made him smile! The cause of that smile was you!

You quickly turn away and fold your arms. "Whatever. Don't loose it." You say sternly, before storming off.

Izuku watches you leave, slightly confused but not unhappy. He smiles to himself, putting the ruined notebook and the new one into his backpack.

Since you weren't in the same class as Izuku, he didn't see much of you until he walked into 1-A for the first time.

Your hopes and wishes had finally come true! You don't know how he got into UA, but that doesn't matter to you currently. You quickly look away when the green haired boy looked at your direction, avoiding eye contact.

"Is that...?" Izuku mutters to himself before approaching. "Uhm, excuse me...?" He asks you in a nervous tone, making you look his way.

You feel a soft blush creep up your face as you stare into his beautiful emerald eyes. You see a small sparkle appear in them as he recognizes you.

"Oh! It is you! You're the one who gave me my new notebook, right?" He asks in a happy and soft tone, holding up the notebook that you had gifted him.

He actually...kept it? And used it, even! You can see some of the pages are slipping out of the notebook. Maybe he used it..to much?

Realizing he's been waiting for you to respond, you quickly say something. "Uh, yeah. I forgot I did that." You say in an attempted confident tone, trying to seem nonchalant. "And I have a name, you know! Its Y/N L/N!" You quickly clarify, glaring softly at him. You have no intention of scaring him off.

Izuku quickly shakes his head, a nervous expression on his face. "N-no, sorry! I didn't mean to offend you or anything like that!" He tries to say, but it comes out more stuttered and not very put together.

"I'm Izuku Midoriya. Its really nice to meet you, L/N!" He retaliates, holding his hand out for you to either take or shake, yet you do neither.

You knew his name far before this, but you didn't say that. You didn't want to come off as a stalker or something. Instead, you huff and turn your head away, crossing your arms. "It is." You snap back, making him lower his hand in defeat.

Izuku laughs nervously, clearly taken aback by your tone, but doesn't say anything about it. "R-right, well, I hope we can be good friends!" He says in a much happier tone, which makes a blush quickly spread on your face.

You stared at Izuku for a few weeks from afar.

Sometimes, you would make him cookies, or some other kind of sweet treat!

"Oh!" Izuku would say as you hold out the beautifully wrapped cookies out to him. He feels a blush spread across his own cheeks, and even a soft smile. Pointing to it, he asks, "Whats this?" He asks.

You own face being very red, you just shove it in his arms, shielding your face from him. "I had extra! And..." You weren't able to think of a good excuse, so you just shoved them closer. "Take them!" You blurt out.

Izuku smiles softly and takes them, bowing his head slightly. "Oh wow, these look great! Thank you so much, L/N!" But as he says that, you're already storming away, not wanting to embarrass yourself.

You continued to make him things, sometimes food, or a cute craft you made!

You were thinking about what to make next as you walked through the cafeteria, when suddenly, someone called your name.

"Hey, L/N!" It was Izuku. He smiles at you when you turn to him. The green haired boy is sitting with Tenya Iida, Tsuyu Asui, Ochako Uraraka and Shoto Todoroki. Izuku smiles kindly at you. "Would you like to sit with us?" He asks politely.

Really, the only person you really knew at that table was Izuku, but something irked you to sit with him. Nodding, you walked over. "..fine. But only because someone took my usual table." You mutter, sitting beside him and Ochako. Ochako smiles sweetly at you. Not wanting to seem too rude, you nod back.

Thats how you became good friends with Izuku Midoriya.

No matter what you said, he kept pressing until you eventually started following him around, even beginning to hang out with him outside of school, mostly to study. You prefered it there, after all, your family situation was...complicated.

Whenever you were with Izuku, you felt at home.

One day, Izuku got a letter in his locker. A letter you wrote for him, asking him to meet up with you outside of school. So he did.

Izuku walked outside of the school's gates, clutching the letter in his hands. He looks around for you, only to see you near a bakery. Makes sense, since he knew you enjoyed sweet things. Izuku smiles, quickly walking to you as he calls your name. "Y/N!" He calls softly, gaining your attention.

You turn to him, your hands clutched together and your face flushed a soft pink. "H-hey, Izuku.." You say quietly, looking back down.

"I got your letter!" Izuku said softly, smiling sweetly at you as he stood by you. "What did you want to say?" He asks politely, tilting his head to the side.

You swear your heart stopped. You froze. You were planning on telling him how you felt, but..maybe you could try another time. This felt scary, and you were beginning to panic a bit. The usual thoughts of dought ran through your head. What if he rejected you? What if he didn't still want to be friends after? What if things did go back to normal, but you two were always awkward around each other? What if it didn't last long?

Izuku patiently waited for you to speak, his eyes fixated on your features. "If you're not ready to tell me, do you mind if I ask you something first?" He asks in a soft and polite tone.

He was right. You weren't ready to tell him. You nodded sheepishly, not saying anything or looking at him. Izuku smiles softly, a blush spreading across his own cheeks. "Well, i just..." he takes a breath in.

"I think you're really pretty. And handsome, beautiful, everything. You're amazing. You're an amazing cook, and you're quirk is super beautiful!" He gushes, smiling even brighter to himself. "You're personality is so adorable, and you have a cute gleam in your eyes when you talk about something you love!" He says, looking at you.

"What...I'm trying to say is that..." he sighs, taking a breath in. He gulps, preparing himself when,

"Do you wanna go out with me?!" You suddenly blurt out, your face completely red.

Izuku's eyes widen in surprise.

You immediately cover your mouth, face turning red with embarrassment now.

Izuku's face flushes an bright pink, trying to cover it with his arms, making them go around his head. "Y-you what? I-i!" He stammers, his blush only deepening.

You turn away from him. "You know what? Forget it! I didn't say anything, okay?!" You say, walking off. Izuku stops you, grabbing your wrist. He brings you back, a pleadinf look on his soft face. "Please...wait." he says softly, his face still very red.

"Y/N...I'd love that. I'd really like to go out with you!" He stammers out, holding your hand and bringing it to his chest so you can feel his heartbeat.

Your heart skips a beat. Then another, and again. The boy of your dreams is in love with you.

Not knowing what else to say, you just squeeze his hand and nod. "Cool.." you murmur softly.

Izuku can't help but giggle at this, kissing your palm. "Cool." He says in response.

"Cool." You say again.

#bnha #mha #izuku x reader #my hero academia #izuku midoriya x female reader #izuku midoriya x male reader #izuku midoriya x reader #izuku midoriya #izuku x male reader #midoriya izuku #mha izuku #bnha izuku #deku #deku x male reader #deku x reader #deku x y/n

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dark-and-kawaii · 11 months ago

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༺ 𝒯𝒾𝑒𝒻𝓁𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈 𝒜𝓃𝒹 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒟𝓇𝓊𝒾𝒹 ༻

You’re one of the Druids from the grove, captivated by the tieflings you decide to wild-shape into a cat in order to get closer to them. It’s all going smoothly until one night you lose control of your magic and you return to your humanoid form.

- These are all separate scenarios

Dammon - Rolan - Zevlor - PRT 2 (Click Here)

-𝒟𝒶𝓂𝓂𝑜𝓃-

Unbeknownst to Dammon, you, one of the druids, observed him quietly from afar. At first you were drawn to his breathtaking blue eyes, but as time passed you became drawn to not only his strength, but his dedication to his craft. You longed for a way to connect with him, but if any of the others were to catch you, especially Kagha… There would be hell to pay, and it wouldn’t be you paying for it, no, it would be Dammon. Determined to get closer to him, you devised a plan. Using your wild shape you transformed yourself into a sleek and agile feline, complete with a delicate pink ribbon around your neck.

Under the guise of a cat, you started visiting Dammon at his forging station. Of course, Dammon noticed you, a peculiar feline with a pink bow wrapped around their neck as you appeared at his forging station. “Hello there,” Dammon held his hand out to you waiting for a sign that it was okay to give you a gentle pet, “Are you lost little girl?” You rubbed your head against the palm of his hand, your eyes closed and your tail pointed up. He softly laughed, “Well then, I guess I don't mind the company. Stay as long as you’d like.” Ripping up what little he had left of his meat, he gave it to you before continuing his work.

As the days went on, Dammon would awaken to find you perched on the wooden barrel next to his bedroll or curled up next to the dancing flames of his forge. While he hammered away at his steel you would watch him with an intensity that seemed to mirror his own passion for his craft. Dammon couldn't help but notice how you watched him intently as he worked, curiously, he could have sworn he saw a hint of blush on your tiny furry cheeks whenever he lifted his shirt, exposing his glistening chest as he wiped the sweat away from his forehead.

Dammon chuckled, "Are you sure you're just a cat?" Still dazed for a moment, your feline eyes wide and ears back as you stared at him finally shook your head and responded with nothing but an innocent meow. Being a cat it wasn’t hard for you to distract him allowing your more playful side to shine through as you attempted to pounce on the tip of his tail. Succeeding in distraction, you found it heartwarming to see it brought another smile to his face. He even lifted his tail allowing you to jump at it. You didn’t know it, but Dammon cherished all these lighthearted interactions. Every single time he saw you he’d think to himself that It’s been a while since he’s awoken looking forward to something.

Your bond with him grew as the tieflings continued their stay at the grove. You began to rub your small frame against Dammon's leg and received gentle pats on your head in exchange. Soon, Dammon would come to find you sleeping at his side at night or comfortably perched above his head on his pillow. Each night he’d find himself sleeping with a smile on his face and again, he swore he could see the feline doing the same.

Soon you’d find the right time to tell him the truth about you, but for now you only wished to bask in his warmth, content with where things were at the time.

However, fate had other plans for you, something went awry. One night as you were curled atop Dammon's chest your wild shape dropped by accident while lost in a peaceful slumber… In the late night as you shifted back to your humanoid form, Dammon awoke, feeling an unexpected weight upon his chest. As his vibrant eyes opened, he was greeted with a surprise.

There, nestled atop of him, lay one of the druids, you, with the same pink bow his feline friend had worn. Your head was tucked into him, breathing gently as you continued your blissful sleep. Dammon, startled yet calm, couldn't help but blush at the sight before him, you were absolutely stunning… And, and very nude. Quickly, Dammon pulled the sheets over your figure, wanting to protect your modesty. With softened eyes, Dammon couldn’t stop himself from stroking the top of your head, "Thank you". Overwhelmed with emotions, he wrapped his arms and tail around you, holding you gently, and closed his eyes, content to share this intimate moment with you and hopefully more to come.

-𝑅𝑜𝓁𝒶𝓃-

You felt bad for the tieflings, no one deserves to be treated this way. Your people were acting out which wasn’t usually like them, wasn't like most of them anyway… Granted you’d never seen one in person until now, but still, they were no devils. Wanting to get closer to them you decided to wild shape in the form of a cat to observe and understand the tielfings better. One caught your attention right away, his name Rolan according to the two others standing beside him, arguing. This tiefling frequented sour moods so you decided to get closer to him best you could and extend a helping paw.

The moment you came around him and his siblings, Rolan was skeptical and guarded, he’d never seen a cat like you around before, but now all of a sudden you show up. He waves his foot in front of you dismissing your attempts to befriend him, “Shoo! Scram you damn beast.”

His sister, Lia, interjected, urging him, “Rolan! Be kind! It’s just a harmless cat” You sat on your tail, shaking your shoulders as you held your head high as if agreeing with his sister. Rolan scrunches his face, scoffing, “What if it’s one of the druids? We can’t be careless, Lia!”

Lia countered, “All the more reason to be kind.”

As the days moved forward, so did your attempts. Each time you fussed over Rolan, a spark of irritation would flash in his eyes. Whenever you strove to rub yourself against his leg he’d lightly push you back or move it before you could, which caused you to face plant into the ground… And whenever you tried to jump at his tail he’d hastily pull it away from you, squinting at you with disgust, “As if I'd allow you to touch me,” Your furry cheeks puffed out as you let out your own scoff for once, “I've got my eyes on you, cat.”

However, Rolan couldn't deny that each spark of irritation was beginning to flicker less and less. With each passing day, your feline antics became almost endearing. The sight of the pink-ribboned cat became a constant in his life and surprisingly, he found he was beginning to enjoy your feline company.

"Why are you so persistent?" he asked you one day, wondering if he’d get an answer back, but you only purred, weaving yourself between his legs instead of answering him with words.

Rolan found himself developing an odd friendship with you. He found that your presence alleviated his stress and provided comfort, something he hadn’t realized he craved.

One night, under the blanket of stars, Rolan sat on a log outside the grove, his lips vocalizing his thoughts aloud, “I should have left this place already. Staying any longer would be a mistake!” Registering his tone, your ears pushed back, but still you continued to approach him. Maybe there was something you could do to ease his mind.

Hopping onto his lap you softly nudge your head against his chest purring as your tail flicked up and glided across his chin before finding peace on his lap. Sighing, he looked down at you, “Even if you are one of the druids,” he murmured, scratching behind one of your ears, “You don’t seem like the rest. Perhaps I wouldn’t mind your company.”

For all you know you had let your guard down, hell maybe it was because him scratching your ear felt so good, or maybe this was Silvanus nudging things forward… But you instantaneously transformed back to your humanoid self, naked and sitting on the tieflings lap…

Instinctively, Rolan grasped your hips to prevent you from falling, his infernal cheeks darkening at the sight of you. Your own face flushed with embarrassment, swiftly trying to cover yourself.

“R-Rolan! I-I didn’t mean. I didn’t mean for this to happen! I- i lost control and i- i… I’m so sorry!” You bowed your head, far too frozen to move off him from shock that this happened. You were thankful to the oak father that it was only the two of you out here though.

As the initial shock subsided, "I knew there was something peculiar about you," he growls, his grip loosening from your hips.

You reveal your name just as Rolan is about to release you to slip off his lap, “I didn’t mean to scare you! I- I originally just wanted to help ease your mind while you were here, and then i grew-” You looked away from him, “I grew to appreciate your company, i didn’t want to ever leave your side.”

Rolan’s gaze softened, and he found himself lost in your eyes as you looked to the side. He’d be lying if he said there wasn’t some kind of connection between the two of you now. With a hint of a smile, Rolan reassured you, “Not scared, nor surprised really,” He carefully released his hands from your hips so he could conjure up a robe for you. Slipping it over your shoulders, Rolan covers you, “I suppose I did say I wouldn't mind your company, no reason to change that now. Besides, I can’t wait to stick it in Lia and Cal’s face that I was right about you.”

-𝒵𝑒𝓋𝓁𝑜𝓇-

Zevlor was engrossed in a map of the lands until movement caught his attention. Looking up from his stone desk his eyes met with a beautiful cat with a pink bow wrapped delicately around its neck. Its silky black fur glistened from the sun that poked through the cracks of the cave and the dimly lit candles, and its vibrant green eyes gleamed with an intelligence that surpassed that of an ordinary feline.

“Greetings, and just who might you be?” As he approaches, the feline gazes up at him with a longing in its eyes, as if seeking companionship.

Unbeknownst to the tiefling, this cat was not an ordinary feline but rather you, a Druid who had admired him since his arrival at the grove. Enchanted by Zevlor's purity of heart, you had taken on the form of a cat to get closer to him, to experience the warmth of his touch and be near him.

You gracefully hopped onto Zevlor's stone desk, emitting a subtle meow as though inviting him into your world. Zevlor's heart had softened as he extended his hand and gently stroked your furry head… You closed your feline eyes, basking in the touch of his kind hand. Your very own warmth against his hand, a gentle caress to his troubled soul.

As the days passed, you became a constant visitor in Zevlor's cave. You would lie on the stone desk, your head occasionally tilting in apparent fascination as Zevlor read over his books and maps. It always made him feel as if you were reading alongside him, sharing in his knowledge. In the evenings, you would curl up on his lap, purring in contentment, easing the weight of his isolation.

Then came the night that changed everything. While nestled at his side as you both slept soundly you had dropped your disguise on accident leaving you vulnerable to his eyes when he woke.

In the middle of the night Zevlor had finally stirred from his deep sleep, immediately he sensed a weight of warmth permeating his being, a sensation that had long been forgotten. When Zevlor’s eyes finally opened, he found himself face to face with a breathtaking view, you.

A stunned silence befell Zevlor as he connected the dots, his heart pounding against his ribcage. Tracing his fingers gently over the pink bow, careful not to wake you, the beautiful Druid who laid next to him was the same creature who kept him company during his lonely nights. The one he had affectionately named Blossom due to your pink bow, Zevlor had petted it countless of times as you purred under his touch…

Despite being as careful as he could, Zevlor had caused you to awaken. Blinking your eyes awake you lean your head up to look at him, a smile creeping on your lips as you stretch out to him… Only it isn’t paws you come to see but rather your actual hands… Your eyes grew wide and suddenly you’re looking at him with a face redder than even his skin. You sit up in a panic and as you sit up in his bedroll his thin blanket glides off your body revealing that you’re in the nude. Cheeks burning with embarrassment and a trace of fear in your eyes, you scramble to cover yourself with the thin blanket.

It all happened within a matter of seconds and despite looking away as fast as he could to ease your embarrassment, Zevlor did in fact catch a glimpse at what happened… He swore he would have a heart attack with how fast his heart was beating.

"I-i I’m so sorry! I can explain..." You began, your gaze not being able to look at him.

Zevlor simply shook his head, cutting you off. "There’s no need, I owe you my thanks.”

You don’t know why you were so surprised, you knew this man was the embodiment of kindness, but still, you felt terrible for this. "I… I didn't mean for you to find out this way..." You admitted, clutching the blanket close to your chest.

“I understand. But, I’m grateful to you. For keeping me company all this time.” Zevlor offered you a comforting smile, “If I may?” He reached over grabbing the only spare shirt he had and offered it to you.

Touched by his understanding and warmth, you accepted the shirt with a shy smile and pulled it over your head, "Thank you, Zevlor," you whispered, your voice filled with gratitude, “Would it be okay if I stayed just a bit longer?” You rubbed your arm, comforting yourself in case he said no. But luckily, Zevlor nodded, “I’ll leave you to the bedroll, I’ll sit at my desk.” He was such a gentleman but, that’s not what you wanted. You wanted him here with you…

“C-could you stay here with me, please.”

He had an internal battle with himself, he wanted to be close to you, to feel your warmth against his body, but would that really be okay? But when your gaze meets his, he couldn’t deny the way you looked at him, plus the pink bow… Zevlor could see you desperately wished for him to stay with you like the other nights.

“Of course," he replied, "I'd be honored to stay with you, my dear." He settled himself beside you, the heat of his body pressing against yours. You couldn't help but lean into him, craving the contact, the intimacy that awaited.

#bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate #tav #dammon #rolan #zevlor #dammon x tav #rolan x tav #zevlor x tav #dammon bg3 #bg3 rolan #bg3 zevlor #tiefling #bg3 x reader #bg3 x tav #rolan x reader #dammon x reader #zevlor x reader

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queensunshinee · 1 month ago

Text

His favorite toy- Part 4 || Art Donaldson x reader

Rating: Explicit (18+)

Warnings: SMUT (p in v sex), our favorite toxic relationship is back.

Word Count: 6.1k

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3)

This one can stand on its own, but I recommend reading the rest :)

His favorite toy- Part 4:

"What are you doing here?" I tried to sound composed. My heart couldn't stop racing at a speed I never wanted it to beat again. A speed reserved for one person only. And no matter how many years passed or how out of place he would seem in my world, Art Donaldson entered my life like he was the boss. Like he was paying my salary. With exaggerated confidence and an aura that made me blush. A smile that made my lips tremble.

I was painfully aware that my mascara was smudged after a too-long day, and that I had taken my shirt out of my skirt after lunch. Painfully aware that I had taken off my shoes an hour ago because pacing around the room in heels made it hard to think. Painfully aware that he was seeing me in all my flaws now. Years after the last time we met, and he was just as smug.

"I was in the area, and Patrick mentioned something about you working around here..." he said, as if everything in that sentence made sense. As if the fact that I stayed in touch with Patrick made sense. I nodded, trying to somehow control this ridiculous situation. I'm not supposed to react this chaotically to Art Donaldson. I'm 28. I'm not a 19-year-old girl. I do morning meditations. I drink green smoothies and ginger shots. I'm a fucking queen. But I don't feel particularly royal when I remember the coffee stain on my shirt, or the half-eaten avocado sandwich I bought from the café downstairs. It was awful. Both the sandwich and the café. I’m pretty sure the regular barista hates me because once I corrected one of my orders. Ever since, he's been out to get me. It’s a nightmare. I've considered changing jobs more times than I'd like to admit because of it.

"That sounds... completely normal," I mumbled, and he chuckled in response. One of his legs found its natural place over the other, and his fingers played with one of his billion rings in a disturbingly nonchalant way. "Is a tennis player supposed to have that many rings?" I blurted out the first thing that came to mind, knowing how stupid it sounded. Hating myself a little for how stupid it sounded. "I don’t play with them, and they’re beautiful," he shrugged. "They’re ridiculous," I rolled my eyes, trying to recover from this topic of conversation. "Yours is ridiculous," he shot back playfully, looking directly at my ring. At the small diamond (Art probably thinks it’s too small- well, fuck him).

"Oh, this?" I asked, and now we were both looking at it. I liked it until about three seconds ago. Until he walked into the room and stared at it like it was filled with snake venom. It felt like it weighed as much as my entire body. It felt like it was burning my hand from the inside. My blood boiled beneath it, reminding me that all my plans just went to hell. A reminder that I was crazy to even try making plans. "It’s pretty, delicate," I could hear the mockery in his tone. No matter how many years passed, I would always recognize every nuance in his voice. Every rise and fall in octaves. Every unnecessary affectation. He smiled the way he did when he tried to get under my skin—five minutes hadn’t passed, and he’d already succeeded. How embarrassing. What a failure as a person. A failure as a woman. A failure to feminism. Sitting in my office with a coffee stain on my shirt, while my ex from college critiques my choices like some kind of fraudulent fortune-teller. Like God sent him to help me make some life-changing decision.

"Why are you here?" I asked again, trying to maintain control and not snap at him. After all, we hadn’t spoken in nearly a decade. What good would it do to lash out at him? What would it accomplish to tell him about the therapy sessions, about the years I didn’t believe anything good was coming my way at all? About the fact that because of him, I didn’t believe I could ever be anyone’s first choice. "Why did you stay in touch with Patrick?" he asked, and for a moment, it sounded like his tough mask cracked. Like his defenses crumbled and his heart was laid bare. Like we were 20 again, and he was holding my face, explaining how scared he was to let me go.

"He insisted," I shrugged. The day after that party, Tashi's accident happened. Some would call it karma, but I’d say it was just bad luck. Because even though she hurt me without even knowing my name, I never wanted her career to end before it even began. And everyone was sad that day—Patrick, because he felt guilty, Tashi, because her knee twisted in the air, and Art, because he lost a friend and the girl who forgave him for all his bullshit. Aka me. But he won what really mattered. He got Tashi. Patrick found me that day in the library, refusing to wallow in my own misery, and somehow, he managed to entwine his miserable life with mine. He managed to secure a spot on my couch from time to time. He managed to impress me with lame jokes about his pathetic life, or maybe about mine.

And life didn’t turn out the way I planned. I didn’t discover a cure for cancer or make it to space by age 25. My apartment was crappy. So fucking crappy. But there were funny moments, and I only occasionally followed Art’s career. I only followed his love life when his face and Tashi’s were plastered on billboards. That could never have been me. It would never have worked. It wasn’t meant to be, I’d tell myself every time I was filled with self-pity. Every time I worked a temporary job selling skincare products or transcribing lectures for students. Every time I felt lost. I knew he wouldn’t have settled for someone like me in the long run.

He and Patrick made up two years ago, which was ironic. Because what’s the point of maintaining my friendship with Patrick if not to have at least one person in my life who understands the pain of knowing Art Donaldson? Of knowing that once, he was a part of your life, and it felt amazing. Almost unreal. Almost spiritual. But they made up, and Patrick promised me he wouldn’t talk about me with the smug bastard sitting in front of me right now. He promised and didn’t keep it. Well, here’s someone who’s never eating pasta at the restaurant near my place on my dime ever again.

"He insisted?" Art looked amused, and I just shrugged again in response. I knew he wanted more details, but I wanted him to take a headfirst dive into a volcano. Desires are ridiculous. "He insisted," I repeated, and this time he laughed. Actually laughed. "It's like you two have a contract not to tell me anything. How am I supposed to work with that?" He spoke as if we’d been friends for years. As if there hadn’t been a rupture, a break, and devastation. As if I didn’t have the image of him leaving me at that party seared into my brain. As if my heart hadn’t shattered into pieces because of him more times than I could count.

"I want you to handle my money," he suddenly said. "Excuse me?" I raised an eyebrow, looking at him as if he'd lost a lobe of his brain. "You're a financial advisor, right? Be my financial advisor," he said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world, all while glancing at the pathetic office I was sitting in. "You don’t want me to be your financial advisor, Art," I almost snorted in disbelief. "You haven’t spoken to me in ten years, and now you know what I want?" he asked, allowing himself to raise an eyebrow in return. "This is a big firm; I can recommend someone who’d be happy to take you on," I tried to fake a smile. "I'll go to your boss and tell him I’m willing to let only you handle my account, and that you’re refusing. I’m sure he’d be thrilled. I Googled him—Albert looks like a guy who’d love to lose a wealthy client," and I saw that spark in his eyes. Challenging. Almost childish. The kind that said, 'Let’s see what you do. You’ll lose.'

"That’s a terrible idea," I declared. "Keeping in touch with Patrick and not me is a terrible idea. Managing my investments will give you some good money," he said, gesturing with his hands, and for the first time, I realized how big his hands were. "Are you bored with your life, Donaldson?" I asked, trying to figure out what I was dealing with here. "Come on, Peaches, you have to admit you missed me, at least a little." And for a change, his smile was genuine. He looked like every word I said could hurt him. "Like I miss my appendix," I rolled my eyes, and he laughed. "I’m looking forward to working with you." He suddenly stood up and extended his hand for a handshake, as if that wasn’t utterly ridiculous. "I’m looking forward to it like a deer looks forward to being eaten by a lion. It’s on my wish list," I said, and he just laughed again. A laugh that was too real. The kind that made tears gather in his eyes.

An hour after he left my dingy office, my heart was still racing at an unreasonable pace. The kind that made me wonder if there was a defibrillator in the building. I tried to remember if I shook his hand at the end of the meeting. I couldn’t. . . . As he left your office, Art felt like he does after a long tennis match. One that he won. A thought detached from reality, but he allowed himself those kinds of thoughts now. He was a new person. He believed in victories before they even happened. And seeing you after so many years in real life, not in blurry Facebook pictures, felt like a victory. You hadn’t changed much. The years had even given you a more sophisticated look—subtle yet full of curves. Your eyes still looked at him with that same spark. With a glimmer of something he could never quite put his finger on. But he wanted to conquer it. He wanted to win.

When Patrick and he reconnected, it was alongside the problems that only began in his relationship with Tashi. Alongside Lily’s birth, alongside the intrusive thoughts that had plagued him all his life, he wondered if it was a mistake. But Patrick was Patrick, and when he insisted on something, he got his way. And for Patrick, he and Art had to reconnect. So they did. Slowly, gradually. He wasn’t his best friend anymore, of course. But sometimes Art thought he was his only friend. Which was strange, because he was always surrounded by people. Tashi was supposed to be his best friend, but she never was. She made it clear more than once that it was a ridiculous notion.

One night, as he and Patrick were having beers at some sketchy bar, Patrick casually mentioned that you and he were good friends. Art looked at him as if he’d fallen from the moon. He wanted to punch him. He hadn’t expected that. It felt like someone had punched him in the chest and knocked all the air out of his lungs. Patrick got over Tashi and settled for you? You weren’t supposed to be a compromise. Art wouldn’t allow that. He’d go to war if he had to. He had no grounds for such a war, but you were too good to settle for Patrick. You were too good to settle for anyone, really.

He quickly realized that things between you and Patrick were platonic. Or at least that’s what the guy sitting across from him kept repeating, but Art wasn’t fully convinced. Everything was too mysterious. Patrick kept too much information to himself. He didn’t share anything with Art about your life, and the more Patrick kept things hidden, the more obsessed Art became.

And it wasn’t weird that he checked if you’d posted a new status on Facebook almost as often as he checked if his infant daughter needed anything. It wasn’t weird that he searched for you on Instagram. It wasn’t weird that he looked through the profiles of all 67 people you followed and hated most of them. Because you didn’t follow him, and millions of people did. You could have followed, and he wouldn’t have even noticed—allegedly.

"She got engaged," Patrick said one day, throwing it into the air as if he were talking about his grocery list. Art stared at him, blinking, trying to process the information. Who’s the person responsible for this? Who’s the person who took you away, and why do you think he deserves forever with you? What kind of thought is that—that someone else deserves forever with you? That someone gets to have a picnic in the park with you. To pick you up for dates. To share a house with you. There’s someone who’s going to be the father of your kids. Who picked out a ring for you. Who’s going to make sure your dreams come true. Art doesn’t know what your dreams are. But he doesn’t want to think about it.

"Is he a good guy?" Art knew that was what he was supposed to ask. That’s what social norms demanded. "I’ve sat with them a few times when they were together. He’s kind and funny, and I think he loves her," Patrick shrugged, as if that’s all it takes to be with you. "Well, I’m happy for her," Art took a gulp of whiskey, too big, letting the drink burn its way down his throat. Patrick looked at him like he didn’t believe him. His problem, Art thought. Let him believe whatever he wants.

That night, Art opened your Instagram while Tashi was asleep. There wasn’t a picture of a ring or a tag of some guy. Tashi got annoyed because of the phone light. Art apologized.

That was almost six months ago. Since then, his life had changed because he and Tashi decided to keep their relationship strictly professional. It was for both of their benefit, though he wasn’t entirely sure how much it benefited him. He was still learning how to function without her. He was still learning how to communicate effectively. He was still trying to bridge the dissonance that came with going home to an empty house, yet navigating press conferences as if he were happily married.

In two weeks, even that charade would end. And he wasn’t sure what he was even fighting for. Because they weren’t truly happy. And you were in his thoughts enough for it to count as emotional cheating if he were married. So he let Tashi go. He was much less broken than he had imagined he would be without her.

'I’m looking forward to working with you.' -Art- He couldn’t resist sending the message. Maybe ten at night was too late. Maybe you were already asleep. Maybe your fiancé was with you, trying to love you. Maybe Art was intruding.

He didn’t particularly care if he was. . . . "I’m going to kill you," I said into the phone, hearing Patrick's rolling laughter. "You're exaggerating—" he began, trying to save his ass. "We had one rule! Just one, Patrick!" I found myself pacing the bedroom while Alec worked in the living room. This was the day after the meeting with Art Donaldson. "He lives in New York and he’s divorced. I felt like a jerk not telling him where you work when he asked so nicely," Patrick’s voice sounded genuine. "He's not divorced," I rolled my eyes. I would know if Art were divorced. His and Tashi's faces are plastered all over this stinking city.

"They’re finalizing things in about a week and a half. There will be a press conference and everything. It’s going to be a big deal," he said, as if it were common knowledge. As if I should already know this. "Sorry I didn’t give you a heads-up. That wasn’t cool," he added, and I could hear him biting into something, probably an apple. "We’re supposed to be a team. You can’t prioritize Art Donaldson’s interests over mine. I fed you when you were half-homeless," I declared. "I still prioritize your interests, drama queen," he continued speaking lightly, as if I had no reason to feel like my world was crumbling. "How is this prioritizing my interests? I’m going to manage his money. I’m going to handle his investments, Patrick. I’m going to see his stupid face every time he wants, as part of my job. Because of you! This is your fault!" I found myself stopping for a moment in the room, almost stomping my foot in frustration. Years of self-work going down the drain.

"Everything okay, Bunny?" I heard Alec's voice from the living room. "Yeah, I’m just talking to Patrick," I replied, steadying my voice into something more composed and responsible. So he’d keep thinking I had my life together. "Tell him 'hi,'" Alec said, and I could only guess he’d put his headphones back on. "Well, hi," I rolled my eyes, returning to the conversation with the chief idiot. "I’m sorry," Patrick mumbled after a few seconds of silence, and I hung up, sprawling on the bed like a starfish. He didn’t sound sorry.

I sat down next to Alec on the couch, wearing just my bra and panties with an open button-down shirt over it. Sexy enough for any stranger peeking through the window. A teenage boy's wet dream. I’m on fire. He kept staring at his screen, ignoring my existence. I started placing small kisses along his neck, trying to set the mood. Trying to seal the deal. Trying not to think about the one-who-shall-not-be-named. Trying to be a good woman. Trying to conquer feminism with mediocre sex, just like Alec and I know how to deliver. "I really have to finish this, Bunny," he mumbled, shifting uncomfortably, making me sigh, lean back, and roll my eyes. "How long will it take?" I asked. "You’ll probably be asleep by then. Watch an episode of your favorite show instead," he said without looking at me. "Can we talk about the wedding?" I tried another angle. "If I don’t have time to make love to you, I definitely don’t have time to plan the wedding," he said, slipping those hideous—massive—headphones back on, ending the conversation. I kind of hated that he never said "fuck" or "have sex" or even used the word "sex" in general. He always treated it like I was Princess Diana. I am clearly not Princess Diana. Sometimes I wonder if he even wants to marry me at all. It’s been over six months since he proposed, and he’s been dodging setting a date since practically the same day. It’s very frustrating. I need to meditate.

"Bunny," he suddenly said, and I looked at him expectantly while he removed his headphones after I’d already started heading to the bedroom, "you have a stain on your shirt." He quickly put his headphones back on, eyes glued to the screen. At least the soup I had for lunch managed to fuck me today. . . . "You can't just show up here," I said as I tried to finish chewing the terrible sandwich I’d chosen today. I think it had mold. "If you had answered my messages, we could’ve scheduled something without me showing up at your office." Art looked good. So fucking good. It was frustrating. Today was the day I decided to skip the contacts and wear glasses. God hates me. But on the other hand, God was trying to help me—making sure Art Donaldson never gets attracted to me. God is on my side. I knew she was a feminist.

"What do you want?" I mumbled in surrender, knowing he wouldn’t leave until he said whatever he came to say so we could all move on with our lives. "To talk business," he smiled from ear to ear. "I'm eating right now, come back in half an hour," I replied, "or better yet, schedule a meeting like a rational human being." I continued pressing my point. "Better idea, let's go grab lunch and talk business over food." He looked at me like a dad who just told his little girl what her next hour is going to look like. "Sorry, I can't—" "Art Donaldson! When I got your email, I couldn't believe it," Albert burst into my office excitedly. Sure, let’s invite everyone. Apparently, there’s free cookies being handed out. All are welcome.

Art kept wearing his unbearable poster smile while Albert went on and on about tennis and how much he loved Rafael Nadal. Albert is clearly a man with vast general knowledge. "She treating you right?" Albert asked Art as if they were best friends, and now they both stared at me while all I wanted was to finish my food-poisoning sandwich in peace. "She just agreed to join me for lunch to talk about my money," Art said, and if looks could kill, Art Donaldson would’ve had a stroke right there and disappeared from our lives as suddenly as he appeared. But no, looks don’t kill, and feminist God apparently isn’t on my side anymore because now I’m sitting across from this asshole at a diner. I ordered a burger because I knew he’d never allow himself to eat one and would whine for hours about how he wants to eat a burger every day but can’t.

"I hope that's okay," I smiled one of the fakest smiles I could muster, blinking as I took a bite of the slab of meat in front of me. "Mmm, it's amazing," I sighed, watching for a moment as he stared at me, mouth half-open, eyes sparkling. "You're cruel," he stated after shaking his head, as if shaking off urges. He looked different with short hair. I always told him he needed to cut it because it kept falling into his eyes, but his curls had a youthful playfulness that was clearly missing now. He looked defeated.

"So, what did you want to talk about? What are you looking to invest in?" I tried to focus on the reason behind this ridiculous meal while Art stole a fry from my plate and picked at the sad grilled chicken he had ordered. Maybe I should stop making those satisfied sounds when I eat. "You," he said, biting his lip like a kid who let a curse word slip in front of his mom. Testing boundaries. Watching as I rolled my eyes. "I'm not going to let you waste my time, Donaldson," and we both knew I wasn’t just talking about business. Because honestly? Fuck business. Art didn’t seem like someone who was planning to disappear from my life anytime soon. He had shown up too determined for that to happen. "I have no intention of wasting your time, Peaches," he smiled, leaning back, relaxing a little after we established this basic ground rule. He continued stealing my food.

"So, tell me about him," he suddenly said after insisting I order an enormous ice cream that was supposed to be just for me. Every time his spoon got closer, mine heroically fought it off. "Who?" I asked, taking a spoonful of ice cream and leaving it in my mouth for a few seconds. His gaze immediately locked on my ring. "We're not that kind of friends, Donaldson," I said, watching as he inched his spoon toward my ice cream, and I quickly blocked him. No chance. "So what kind of friends are we?" he asked, smiling, looking half at me and half at our spoons, still battling each other. "I don't know," I sighed a little, finally lowering my spoon in defeat. There’s no point in fighting. It’s truly a lost cause.

The more Art Donaldson entered my life, the more Alec distanced himself from it. Art did it in a quiet way, almost eerily so. It started with deep conversations about financial investments he wanted to make. About charity events he wanted to be part of. A foundation he wanted to establish. He talked about his money as if it made sense to be this rich at his age. As if he and I were on the same level in terms of lifestyle. He never once acted condescending about it, even though I expected him to. Even though I had prepared arguments in advance. He never once asked why I didn’t continue in academia or why I gave up on medicine. He didn’t poke at that wound. Even though he could have. Even though it would’ve been easy.

It continued with stupid messages in the middle of the day about how he was hungry, tired, or wanted to go home. Messages about seeing a guy dressed as a bear in the middle of the street. Fucking New York. He’d ask questions about my day. Ask what I ate. If I ate. If I was drinking enough water. Never anything too deep. Never out of nosy curiosity. If I forgot who he was, I might’ve thought he cared about me. I know, it’s unbelievable.

One time, he called me at seven in the evening, talking such nonsense that I wondered if he was drunk. I wondered out loud, of course, because I’m not 19, and I’m not afraid to tell Art Donaldson what I think. He wasn’t drunk. He made dinner and decided to call. He said it like it was the most natural thing in the world. Said it, and then went on about his day. About Lily. About how she was adjusting to splitting her time between his place and Tashi’s. He talked about Patrick and told me what he was cooking. It was domestic. Like I was a part of his life. Weird.

Alec and I were in the middle of a fight that made me wonder if I was mentally strong enough not to throw the vase that was sitting on the dresser. Not at him. I’m not violent. On the floor, to make a point. “Do you even want to marry me?” I suddenly asked. Because at that point, I no longer knew what was happening. I don’t like not knowing what’s happening. “Of course I wa-” “To who the hell is it obvious? Do you know how embarrassing it is when people ask me about a wedding date almost a year later, and I change the subject?!” I cut him off. “Every time I try to bring it up, you’d rather talk about light fixtures or that time we randomly had an hour-long conversation about types of doors.” I reminded him of some of the truly bizarre moments we’ve had recently. “We do need to replace the door.” I shot him a look that should’ve made it clear that if he kept going with that sentence, I was breaking the vase on the floor.

“Why don’t you want to fuck me anymore?” I suddenly asked. Almost defeated after too much yelling. “What? Bunny-” he blushed. The question was too brutal for him. Too raw for his delicate soul, which couldn’t handle talking about sex. “I can count on one hand how many times we’ve fucked since you proposed,” I said it as bluntly as I could, enjoying his discomfort. “We don’t have to make love every day,” he mumbled. Last time I checked, to make love, there has to be love. I threw the vase. Alec left the house. . . . ‘You’re not at work.’ – A –

‘How is it that we’re back to you not answering me?’ – A –

‘Did you secretly get married over the weekend?’ – A –

‘Seriously, get back to me. It’s about the charity event.’ – A –

The bitter truth was that I was busy wallowing in the current failure of my life- Alec. I binge-watched all the seasons of The O.C. in three days and ate more ice cream than should be legal. But I didn’t feel the pain in my bones the way you’re supposed to when ending what was supposed to be the relationship. I’d once hurt more over losing someone who loved me less.

‘Are you okay? You’ve got our mutual friend worried.’ – P – He talked about Art like he was a spy. ‘Hey, could you stop being an idiot for a second and just answer to say you’re alive?’ – P –

‘I’m calling the fire department to check your apartment.’ – P –

‘This is concerning.’ – P –

‘I’ll call your mom. She’d love to hear from me after that time I burped in her face.’ – P –

‘I broke up with Alec.’ – (Y/N)–

‘You’re not going to die alone.’ – P –

‘I know you think you will, but you won’t.’ – P –

‘You can’t know that.’ – (Y/N) –

‘You’re an idiot.’ – P –

‘Are you okay?’ – P –

‘I mean, obviously you’re not okay, but... are you okay?’ – P –

‘I’m okay.’ –(Y/N)–

When I walked into the hall where Art Donaldson’s charity event for kids with muscular dystrophy, was being held, eyes didn’t turn toward me like they do in the movies. Everyone was too busy with their conversations and stroking each other’s egos. From the side, it almost looked homoerotic—the gentle touches on shoulders and the occasional pats. Almost sexy. Maybe I was seeing sex in things that weren’t sexy because my ex refused to touch me with more resolve than an ant carrying food that weighed more than its body. “You made it,” Art’s voice came from behind me. “You’re sharp,” I shot back as I turned to him, taking one of the champagne glasses he offered. “Is Patrick here too?” I asked. “No, he couldn’t come. He signed up for a Challenger in Malibu,” he replied, his eyes unapologetically scanning me. I felt completely exposed under his penetrating gaze. “So random,” I mumbled. Art’s hand gently pulled me by the waist, bringing me close to him while keeping his hand exactly where it was. I almost let confusion show on my face, but he introduced me to the man who had come over to talk to him, never taking his eyes—or his hand—off me. Not during the next conversation, or the next one, either. He presented us as a strange package deal. If someone wanted to talk to him, they had to talk to me too. Maybe he hoped it would drive people away. It didn’t. "Want to step outside for some air?" he whispered in my ear. After spending most of the evening standing so close to each other, it felt strange to pull away now that no one else was around. "Sure, why not." I shrugged, acting like it wasn’t a big deal. Before stepping out, we each grabbed a glass of wine. "You raised a lot of money," I remarked, trying to break the ice. "You disappeared on me," he shot back, not bothering with small talk. "I’ve been busy." I shrugged again. "Where’s your ring?" he asked. "You’re obsessed with my hands, Donaldson," I said, unsure how to respond to this level of bluntness after being in a relationship with someone who was too scared to talk to me for years. "It’s not relevant anymore," I added, as his gaze didn’t allow me to dodge the question. "Good, it was ugly," he stated, stopping in his tracks, making me stop too and turn to look at him, raising an eyebrow. His expression was challenging again, with that playful spark, inviting a debate. "It wasn’t ugly," I rolled my eyes. "It was pathetic, Peaches. You know you deserve better," he declared, leaving no room for argument.

And somehow, he was so close. Close enough that his breath, smelling of mint gum and wine, blended with mine. "I’m not looking for a rebound," I murmured. "Neither am I," his usual smug smile was gone. There was no trace of it. He looked hazy. Almost captive. "What are you looking for?" I dared to ask. "You," he replied. It was a good answer.

After an excruciatingly long hour and twenty minutes, during which I had two more glasses of wine, and Art spoke into the microphone—stopping me from downing a third—we arrived at his house. It looked a bit like a modern palace. "How is it that you live here?" I mused aloud, and his mouth found my neck as he chuckled. "What, this old thing?" he mumbled, his kisses as sharp as his words. "Don’t leave marks, Donaldson. We’re adults," I managed to say as I kicked off my heels, and he unzipped my dress.

"I want to do this from the moment you walked into the room today. Fuck, you’re so hot," he growled. It was throaty and masculine, almost animalistic. His eyes scanned me like a smoke detector picking up a cigarette. Within seconds, I found myself on the most comfortable couch I had ever been on. His lips traveled over me as if he was painting a map, as if he remembered all the sensitive points on my body. "I missed her," he said, giving a small bite to my right nipple, glancing at my face as I let out a moan. "her too," he added, moving to the left one. "Art, I need you." I tried to make it clear to him that I couldn't handle the teasing right now. That he should save it for another time. For someone else. For something else. I need him inside me.

"Peaches, have some patien—" he started, continuing to place deadly kisses on various areas of my body. "Art, just fuck me. Okay?" I almost pleaded, my voice lower than usual, filled with an inexplicable need. He looked at me for half a minute and nodded. "Okay baby, I got you," he said. And within seconds, his boxers were on the floor, and my panties disappeared too. He was inside me as if this was his home, as if he belonged there. "Fuck. Art. Thank you, there," I felt stupid, but I couldn't control it. I needed him so badly. I needed someone to fill the empty space. That Art Donaldson would fill the empty space.

He moved at a chaotic pace, almost as if he was trying to prove he could give me exactly what I wanted. What I needed. And he was right. I came after a few minutes, during which his cock filled me perfectly, and his lips found mine and refused to let go. He wrapped me from every direction and came right after I did.

"It's like we're teenagers," I muttered, and he laughed. "I usually last longer," he stated, not getting up, his body weight feeling almost comfortable on top of me. It was almost nice to breathe heavily. "So do I," I retorted. His hand drew little shapes on my shoulder. "Let's go to sleep," he decided, standing up slowly, reaching out his hand and pulling me toward him. Not forgetting to give me another kiss on the lips, a small one. As if it had happened a million times before. As if it were a routine.

"Your bed should be illegal, Donaldson," I said after he tossed a soft T-shirt he had in his closet over me. He lay down beside me, laughing. "I can't believe you're here. I was afraid it wouldn't happen," he said, with a seriousness that felt profound. "How long have you been thinking about this?" I tried to sound amused. "Since the moment I stepped into your office," his honesty was both terrifying and comforting. No one had talked to me so openly in a while. "probably before that" he added. "You can't waste my time, Art," I replied, looking up to catch his gaze. . . . Art took a moment to nod. He already had a ring for you. Even before you broke up with that idiot, he had bought the ring. He didn't know where life would lead you. He just knew he was going to spend every free moment proving to you that he loved you enough not to waste your time. Not when you were his favorite person.

How are we doing guys?!?!?!?! Can't wait to hear from you. That's my chance to remind y'all that English is not my first language and I might have some grammar issues. love you all, hope it was a good addition to the story <3

taglist: @lalalandofive @wild-rose-35 @theynothem @angelism13

#challengers fic #art donaldson #patrick zweig #art donaldson x reader #patrick zweig x reader #challengers #art donaldson smut #his favorite toy

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greenwitchfromthewoods · 1 month ago

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feel enough. l Frankie “Catfish” Morales

Summary: your head was full of unpleasant thoughts about you

Warnings: (+18) smut, fluff, unprotected sex (don't do it!), oral sex (f!receiving), fingering, complexes caused by how the body looks after pregnancy, mentioned pregnancy, breeding kink, a few curses

A/N: I wanted to write something cute and safe, something that would be nice. I hope I succeeded, at least a little. your feedback is very important to me and I thank you for all the reblogs, comments and likes. 🖤 sorry for all the mistakes

"What's going on?"

His sleepy, slightly hoarse voice echoed quietly through the bedroom. You quickly adjusted your-once-his t-shirt that you were wearing and put a charming smile on your face before turning to him.

"She woke up. I had to feed her." you replied and slid back under the covers. "She should give us some more time to sleep."

"Mhmm..." Frankie mumbled, moving closer to you. The large hand slid gently over your body, wrapped around you and pulled you closer, he kissed your shoulder softly. "She knows no mercy."

"Her favorite person in the world said." you giggled. "I know perfectly well that she wrapped you around her little finger."

"Not my fault." he replied, moving in the bed so that his long legs intertwined with yours, he was like an octopus. "She gets it from her mom. Sweet, charming, with a beautiful smile. I have no chance."

"I almost feel sorry for you."

The soft stubble brushed against your neck as Frankie kissed you somewhere under your ear, or wherever he could reach.

Mornings like this were the nicest. It was still early enough that it seemed that life and household chores were far away from you. Just you and him, a warm bed, the remnants of sleep in front of your eyes.

For a few minutes, not a single word was said and you were sure that your husband had fallen asleep again, but his hand, which slowly slid under your shirt, made you realize that it was different. The touch was tender and gentle, but you held your breath almost immediately.

"Do you think she'll give her parents some time alone?" his voice was still soaked in sleep, but you heard him clearly, "I miss you, baby girl."

The hand slid over your stomach and slipped between your soft breasts, but it didn't stay there for long because soon it slid to the back of your neck and gently turned your face towards Frankie. His plush lips first brushed the corner of your mouth, and only after a moment they landed on your lips. Gentle and unhurried kisses, perfect for mornings like this.

But now everything was different. Your brain was working at full speed and you felt everything, every thought, every touch, was starting to overwhelm you. He had to sense it, he knew you too well.

The kisses stopped and he gently stroked your cheek. You opened your eyelids and saw his sweet brown eyes staring intently at you.

"Everything okay, sweetie?" he asked.

You nodded "Yeah, I'm fine."

"You seem a bit tense. Don't you feel like it?"

"No, it's fine. Just..." Frankie smiled gently, carefully sliding his hand out from under your shirt and laying down next to you.

He watched you with concern, but you felt worse with every passing second. The feeling that you were hurting him, that you were failing him as a woman, began to fill every cell of your body quickly.

Frankie was lying so close to you that you could feel the warmth of his body perfectly, but an invisible boundary was standing between you, and it was definitely in your bed, but not only there.

On the couch when you were both watching a movie in the evening, in the kitchen when he came to hug you from behind when he came home, practically every time his hands touched your body, his arms wrapped around you or you felt the closeness of his body - you tensed up and did everything you could to move away from him.

You felt bad about it. You felt that it was your fault, that something was wrong with you, because it had to be.

Sophie was almost four months old and she was a wonderful baby. She definitely had her daddy's brown eyes and curly hair, but her smile was yours. Despite the tiredness, you loved being a mom, and Frankie was the proudest father around.

He understood and practiced tying baby wraps much faster than you did, and he looked damn handsome with little So, as he called her, sleeping on his chest while he shopped or cooked.

"She grounds me." he would say when you pointed out that they looked like two koalas together. How could you fight it?

"What's wrong, honey?" he asked. "What are you thinking about?"

"I don't know..." you sighed, staring at the ceiling. You felt embarrassed that you couldn’t tell him all your worries.

He brushed a stray strand of hair away from your face and gently stroked your cheek. He could see perfectly well that something was eating you from the inside, he wasn't blind or deaf.

You were his baby girl, his best friend, his wife, and his lover. He had a beautiful child with you and a life he never thought he could be a part of. It broke his heart to see you like this, but he didn't want to push you.

"Frankie..." your voice was quiet, but he heard it tremble perfectly, "Do you still find me attractive?"

He frowned, clearly surprised by the question. His semi-hard cock was resting on your thigh, and you were asking him things like that?

"Of course." he replied firmly, "Why do you even ask questions like that?"

You pouted and pulled the covers up a little higher.

"I just... Lately I've been feeling... It's stupid!"

"Hey." Frankie lifted himself up to look at your face, seriousness in his eyes, "Nothing you feel is stupid. I want you to remember it, hermosa. Tell me, please."

You took a deep breath. The words were about to leave your lips for the first time, and you were terrified by the fact.

"I don't feel good enough for you, Frankie." you said quietly "I've been feeling this way for a dozen or so weeks. After Sophie came along, my body isn't what it used to be. I don't feel good about it..."

Frankie looked at you, trying to digest your words. This was something new to him. He knew and saw that your body was different from when you met, but he never took it as a flaw, quite the opposite - it was wonderful.

"Sweetie..." he said after a moment "You gave birth to Sophie a few months ago. Your body did an amazing thing..."

"I know, I know..." you groaned, covering your face with your hands, feeling even more embarrassed by yourself "But I saw so many beautiful and smiling young mothers on social media, with flat stomachs, in perfect make-up. They looked amazing! And my belly pooch..."

"What?"

"My belly, Frankie!"

"I love your belly." he stated honestly "And I don't like you comparing yourself to other women, to be honest. Because then I'd have to have a six-pack and butts of steel, and I'm not going to keep eating rice and chicken every fucking day."

You snickered. "But I love your body."

"So why can't you love yours too? Baby..." Frankie shifted so he was enclosing you between his strong arms, his hair a mess but he was the sweetest thing, besides your daughter, you saw in the mornings. "Since I met you are the sexiest girl I've ever seen. Out of my league. But you were and always are more than just a body. You're loving, compassionate, caring, understanding, supportive and smart as hell. I love your sense of humor and when you're a little grumpy in the mornings, too. You sacrificed your body to give us this little being sleeping in the other room and I will be forever grateful to you for making me a father." he noticed how your eyes started to glaze over and a muffled moan escaped your throat "I don't know what I should do to make you understand how beautiful you are to me. I'm half hard, but if there's anything I can do, tell me. I'll do anything. Just please, don't think you're not enough because I can't stand it."

"So I'm not disappointing you that we don't make love as often as we used to?"

"I love sex with you, baby, but a relationship is about something more." he smiled "If you want to wait, I don't see a problem with that. I want you to feel comfortable with me, and the thought of you forcing yourself to do anything just because you think I expect it... We don't do that here, do we?"

You nodded. A heavy stone seemed to lift from your heart because you even managed to smile, and Frankie beamed at the sight. He kissed your hand as you tenderly stroked his stubbled cheek.

"I love you very much, you know that?"

"I love you more." He replied and kissed you softly. "And next time you have any doubts, you are to come to me immediately, do you understand?"

"Is that an order?" You giggled, his bulge suddenly twitching close to your crotch.

"You can take it that way, Private." He replied, his voice distinctly lower and deeper.

It went straight to your core and struck those chords that made you desire your husband even more.

You moved slightly and he used that to position himself between your legs. You could clearly feel how hard he was and you were getting wet at the thought that it was because of you. That no matter what you thought about yourself, Frankie really wanted you.

"Baby..." he sighed and cleared his throat as your fingers slid down his neck and you started playing with hair on his nape. "I really meant it, if you're not ready..."

"Do you want me to stop?" you asked, pouting your lower lip slightly and making a sad face.

"Fuck, no." he shook his head "But..."

"You said you'd do anything to make me feel better." you reminded him, moving your hips so his cock felt the friction and Frankie let out a loud breath "You know best what to do to make me feel better. You know every nook and cranny of my body so well..."

"Shit! Hermosa, please..."

"I need you now, baby." you pulled his face closer to him to kiss him "I want you, Francisco..."

Even if you wanted to say something more, he wouldn't let you, because his lips pressed against yours with such force that you moaned. His tongue slipped between your lips without hesitation, deepening the kiss, and his cock brushed against your core so hard that you knew you'd go crazy if you didn't feel him inside you.

You slid your fingers into his hair and tugged lightly, a strangled moan escaped Frankie's throat. How fucking sexy that was. His lips slid down to your neck as one of his hands kneaded your hip and waist. With each passing moment, you felt the arousal building up in your lower abdomen.

You managed to grab the edge of Frankie's shirt and somehow pull it off him. His sun-kissed body almost gleamed in the morning rays of the sun.

"Can I?" he asked when he wanted to do the same with yours.

You nodded. Slowly, with great sensitivity, he took off your shirt. Brown eyes moved with love and admiration from your face, through your breasts to your stomach. You felt a little embarrassed, but Frankie's look was something that worked on you like a warm and pleasant breeze. You felt love in that look, he wasn't lying.

"I want to taste you."

His voice was captivating. Whatever he said at that moment, you would have agreed to it without thinking. You nodded slightly. Long fingers grabbed the edge of your panties and slid them down your legs, his lips showering kisses on your ankles, calves, thighs.

His movements were slow, full of tenderness and closeness that you needed so much. Frankie took his time with you. He kissed your lower abdomen, and then settled between your legs, his wide shoulders opening you up to him even more.

"Just feel it, hermosa. Don't think about anything... Let me take care of you."

And you let him. His first lick made you press your body even harder into the mattress. He tasted you, sliding his tongue over your folds, sucking on the bundle of nerves that made a quiet sigh leave your lungs.

You didn't even hear him say, "Now I'll give you a little more. Can you come on my fingers, hermosa?"

Two fingers slid between your velvet walls, stretching you pleasantly. Frankie pushed them in up to his knuckles and curved them to find the spot that made your head spin.

His cock was painfully hard and leaking, but that wasn't important at that moment. His fingers moved inside you, and he sucked on your clit as if he had set himself the goal of proving to you how amazing your body was, how much he wanted you.

Frankie's muffled moans reached your ears, but you were already immersed in the pleasure that was spreading through your body. Skilled fingers hit a sensitive spot, and your legs trembled with the pleasure that was so close.

"Cum, baby. I know you want it. You need it, right?"

And he was right. You reached your hand to his curly hair, and you probably squeezed it a little too hard because Frankie groaned, but at the same moment you let out a loud moan from between your lips.

"Fuck! Jesus, Frankie..." you babbled, stunned by how hard you came on his fingers.

He kissed the inside of your thigh and soon he was on top of you. His hair was a total mess, and his lips and chin glistened with your juices. There was nothing sexier than him.

"Do you want to continue?"

You nodded quickly. Your hands grabbed him by the neck and you pulled him to you quickly to taste his lips, to have his tongue deep in your throat again.

This man was pulling things out of you that you had no idea existed. Just a moment ago you felt complexes about your body, and now you felt like the most desired woman in the world. It was crazy!!

"Shit!"

"What happened?" you asked when he suddenly pulled away from you.

For a moment you thought that your daughter had decided to wake up after all, then you would have to stop everything and hold out until her next nap. But that wasn't it.

"Condoms. We don't have any fucking condoms." Frankie hissed, resting his head on your chest.

You hadn't needed them for over a year, so they weren't on your shopping list, but now you felt their absence strongly. His hard cock lay between your body and his, and you were so high up that you made the only possible decision.

"You're going to pull out, Frankie." he immediately raised his head and looked at you with hope in his eyes "It's the only solution. What worse can happen? I mean..."

"I get it, I get it, baby girl." he nodded quickly "I can do it."

He kissed you feverishly, and you stroked his cock a few times.

"I'll give you a blowjob later, but right now I want to feel you inside me."

"Fuck, it's a deal."

He didn't even fully understand what you said to him. It could have been anything. All the blood flowed from his brain straight to his loins and Frankie had only one goal - to get to his wife's pussy.

When the tip slid inside you, he already knew he was gone. A throaty "Fuuuuck!" resounded somewhere by your ear, and he almost came at that moment. The further he slid into you, the more he realized how much he missed this feeling, how much he missed you and the closeness that was between you.

His fingers gripped your thighs tightly as you wrapped your arms around his waist, allowing him to enter you even deeper. And when he reached the end, you both froze for a moment.

It was wonderful to feel him inside you again after so long. The pleasant stretch and filling, the sweet weight of his body against yours, his warmth, the gentle kisses he placed on your shoulder. You wanted to hold on to this moment longer, but your body needed him to move. To give you again what made your heart explode.

"Frankie... Please..." you whispered, and he immediately understood what you needed.

He pulled out almost all the way, and then he pushed in with such force that the oxygen flew out of your lungs. And then again and again. You were gasping for breath, and your brain had stopped working properly a long time ago.

Frankie moaned and kept repeating the same words - how wonderful it was to feel you again, how sexy you were, how he missed your body, how much he wanted to stay between your thighs forever. But as each of his thrusts brought you both closer to your peaks, after all this time you didn't need much, his words became dirtier.

"Ohh, that pussy really missed me, huh? You take me so good, baby girl, fuck, so deep... Do you hear that? Do you hear how wet you are? I bet you wish I could take you from behind, right? Hard and rough, huh? Fuck! I could put another baby in you right now. I've never seen anything sexier than you full of our baby, swollen from what I left inside you."

"Fuck!" you gasped, "I'm so close, baby... So close..."

"Yeah, I can feel it. You're squeezing me so good. Cum, baby girl! I've got you, I've... Fuck!"

Your thighs clenched tighter as you came loudly. Your spine arched and your nails dug into Frankie's flesh, but he didn't even groan in pain. Quite the opposite. His next thrusts were harder and a bit chaotic, but he soon pulled out of you to spill onto your lower abdomen, moaning almost as loudly as you did.

You both struggled to catch your breath. Frankie sat back on his heels, his dreamy eyes watching the mess you both made.

"Do you know how fucking sexy you look right now?" he breathed, squeezing your thigh. "This should be on the cover of every magazine." He raised his hands and made a gesture like he was taking a picture of you, and you laughed.

"You're incorrigible." you said, and a sly smile appeared on his face.

"But somehow I put a ring on your finger and made you a baby, right?"

You shook your head in disbelief. Frankie got off the bed, went to the bathroom and came back a moment later with a wet towel. He carefully cleaned you up, unable to resist a few kisses that he placed on your stomach.

"I love you." you murmured, snuggling into him as he laid down next to you again. "I don't know what I would do without you. You're the best medicine for everything."

"You're so sweet to me because you just came twice, huh? And you probably want to do it again?" he laughed, pulling you closer and kissing your forehead. "You can't even imagine how much I love you. You give me everything I need."

"Same here."

You felt the warmth of his body, and heard his heartbeat. In that moment, you felt the happiest in the world. He made you like that. He helped you feel good again, and you wondered how you could ever think that you were not enough for him.

His fingers slowly stroked your bare shoulder and you both slowly began to doze off when a quiet squeaking from the other room reached your ears.

"I got it, baby." Frankie rasped, freeing himself from your arms and getting out of bed. He reached for his boxers and looked at you fondly. "How about I take So downstairs, and you take a long shower, huh? We'll make you a delicious breakfast."

"You spoil me."

"That's my role, hermosa." he laughed, kissing you hastily and heading for the door.

After a moment, you heard a sweet "Hey, So! How did you sleep? Did you grow again? We talked about this, young lady. You're not supposed to grow anymore!"

You felt better, much better. Maybe all your complexes hadn't disappeared as if by magic, but you knew you had a man by your side who made you feel beautiful and loved.

And when you finally went downstairs and saw your daughter's bare, plump legs sticking out of the scarf she was wrapped in on her father's chest as he made you breakfast, you knew you were exactly where you wanted to be.

With them.

☆☆☆

Thank you for your time.

#frankie catfish morales #frankie morales #pedro pascal #triple frontier #frankie morales x reader #joel miller #frankie morales x f!reader

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misteria247 · 1 month ago

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I like to imagine that when Timmy first called Wanda mom, it'd been a heat of the moment thing. Like he's super excited about something, whether it's a good grade or a project he's been working on. He's practically vibrating, and instead of going to his actual mom he goes to tell Wanda about it. And of course she listens, smiling softly at his enthusiasm and how contagious it is. And she praises him, proud that he's succeeded at something he's been working hard on. And Timmy he just beams his buck toothed smile and without even thinking says-

"Thanks mom!"

As soon as the words leave his mouth Wanda just freezes, stunned. Pink eyes wide and her heart racing and squeezed so tight with so many emotions. And Timmy bless him, he's oblivious seemingly not realizing what he'd said. But Wanda does, and she doesn't bring it up. Because it's taken Timmy time to open up like that and she doesn't want to ruin his moment by bringing it up. But God it haunts her in the best way.

After that Wanda's constantly thinking about it. Timmy's voice echoing over and over again, calling her mom. Before she can stop herself she's imagining Timmy calling her that all the time. Of her godson calling Cosmo dad, of the three of them being like that instead of the professional relationship they're supposed to have. And Wanda she knows she's not supposed to get attached but she can't help it, with every new thing she learns about Timmy Turner, the more she grows fond of him. Her heart develops that parental warmth that continues to grow stronger and fiercer with each moment. She looks at this boy and thinks about how wonderful he is and how kind he is beneath his usual indifference. And Wanda she'll look at Cosmo and see that same love and affection she feels for Timmy written all over his face. Knowing that just like her, her husband is just as taken with this mischievous little boy as well. But she desperately tries to keep her feelings to herself, because she knows that she and Cosmo can't stay with Timmy forever. Until one day she's forced to accept that she and Cosmo love this child to bits and pieces.

They're at Fairy World when it clicks. She's talking to Blonda about her newest charge. Cosmo's with her, adding things here and there that she's missed about Timmy. And suddenly without thinking about it Wanda says-

"Timmy's a good son, Cosmo and I are incredibly lucky to have him."

And it's suddenly very quiet. Cosmo goes still next to her, green eyes watching her with a stunned and understanding look as it's officially confirmed that she's in the same boat as him. Blonda just stares at Wanda baffled. And Wanda she's just.....unable to really care about what she said and how strange it is to say because it's the truth. She loves Timmy like he's her own son and she's tired of trying to act like she doesn't. And later when her and Cosmo are back at home in their fishbowl castle they talk. And come to accept that they adore this boy more than they should and they don't care. Because he's their brave, sweet son and not even the Fairy Council could change it.

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crescentbelle · 1 year ago

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Liability

Miguel O’Hara x Fem Reader

Angst

Word Count: 1.2K

Summary: After a failed solo mission, Miguel’s punishment makes you feel as if you’ve become a liability.

finished this at 4am with my botchy Spanish skills so please forgive me.

It had been two weeks since your last fight, and equally two weeks since you had stepped foot out the careful watch of your boss, Miguel O’Hara. You weren’t given the luxury to mistake his hovering. His mindset was clear, you weren’t to be trusted.

One slip of a web was all it took, the anomaly you spent the last month tracking down slipped away, snatching your travel watch on the way out. You let the time pass crying out of frustration and being pushed down by a glitch each time you rose from the cracked pavement.

Maybe it was the amount of time it took for you to muster up the courage to tell Miguel you lost him again, or the fact that he then spent the next two days cleaning up the mess the escapee made. Either way, you had committed your biggest mistake since joining the famous group of vigilantes. Not that you could say their band together was infamous to any universe, but that’s what they were to you, and you had utterly failed.

One of Miguel’s star players had let him down, made a mistake so embarrassing to his reputation, that he couldn’t trust you outside his view. Banished to the filing of any and all reports that came through; that was the dignified job you took on. The only thing keeping you sane was to believe it was all just a humiliation tactic from his end, the more you fought against it, the more he succeeded. At this point you didn’t know what to think. The man barely spoke to you, even on his rarely chipper days.

Sat crossed-legged in a chair; you continued the boredom-striking task. Click drag. Click drag. You missed the moments when Hobie came to visit, the small times where you got genuine interaction and not awkward stares.

“you’re free to go now.”

Silence strung together with tension rose thick in the air. Will that ever fade?

He didn’t turn to look at you, his broad frame still turned to his own screen, eyes cold and cruel as ever. God, he really did find you pathetic after this one.

A beat passed. You always wondered if you should thank him, but that just seemed stupid. Thank you so much Mr. Miguel O’Hara for another silent day stuck at your brooding side. You chose the silent approach, slowly uncurling from your awkward position.

Making your way to the door, you heard him call on Lyla, muttering about a mission he needed to put another man on, one that wasn’t you.

“Just take her name off as an option, I don’t want her out right now.”

The words broke you down, weirdly in a way that no other snide comment from the man had before. Since you arrived all you strived for was the acknowledgment of your skills, to show you could become useful. Now, it feels like the rug had been pulled from under you. How long until you get sent back home? How long until Miguel admits you have become a liability?

Please just say anything else, anything so I know you don’t hate-

Miguel calls your name, sharp and devoid of any readable emotion.

“you’ve forgotten your day pass. That’s the second time this week.”

You gritted your teeth, “Thank you.”

“Try not to do that again, you’re glitching has gotten worse.”

That was it, The final stroke. Storming forward, you swipe the scanner off the desk, cheeks burning red with emotion. “You don’t have to scold me like I’m a child, Miguel.”

“Trust me, I know I don't.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I’m not doing this right now, you can leave.”

Beat.

“It was one mistake! How does that constitute shunning me away?” Your body was hot, a magma bubbling into adrenaline. With a racing heart, you refused to back down. Everyday sitting in his office like a lap dog for all your friends and accomplices to watch, you couldn’t take it.

The man’s shoulders stiffen, his body toughening to a cold, ridged stance. Slowly, his gaze fell onto you. There they were, those piercing eyes.

That silent tension melted into something thicker and harder to hide from, fear. Fear that radiated off you in waves he could sense like a strike to the face.

“You don’t get to make those choices,” His voice spoke as a mutter, like he was hiding a seething tone from slipping out. “You don’t get to tell me how I choose to keep you safe.”

“You don’t get to talk about me like I’m not right here! I’ve always been on top of things- ever since I got here. Why do I slip up once and you get to treat me like I’m in idiot? Am I that humiliating for you?”

Beat. This one is too long, his eyes shift for just a moment, caught between thoughts. It’s a second of weakness that makes you apprehensive.

“I’m not letting you on any more missions.”

No-

“You’re sending me back.”

He shakes his head, dejected. “No, I’m not- just shit. Please don't make this harder than it has to be. For your sake.”

“Are you kidding me? You're asking me to never fight again!”

“Please-”

You take another step forward. “You’re asking me to throw away what I was built for! This is my meaning, why are you doing this to me?”

With the confidence he had left to muster up, Miguel stalked over to your frame. This was the closest you had been since he picked you up out of the alleyway you pathetically collapsed in, and the desperate feeling followed. To beg and kick like a child until he let you back in. It felt horrific and you wondered if he felt it too.

“I cant help it. Por favor, no te quiero lastimar. Please don't make me risk you again.” His hand moved up, close enough to your cheek that it makes your senses tingle, before its dropped down to his side again. “Please.”

“You’re hurting me.”

Beat.

With what feels like an instant, you’re being pulled into his chest. his broad arms caught you in his embrace, a hand coming to rest against your temple. Its simple, but it makes your heart ache. Never have either of you come this close. This is that desperate feeling bubbling up again.

You wonder if you should have pushed away; told him he's pathetic and walked away from this cryptic language you now share. But you cant anymore, not with his touch like this.

“I’m sorry.” The mumble of his words reverberated through your body like a purr.

A single drop of a hot liquid hits your forehead and manages to roll down onto his thumb. You scan up to his face. That stoic stare he managed to always hold stood strong, staring off into a void like there's something better to worry about. But his eyes watered and the trail of a tear glimmered on his pronounced cheek.

He guided your head back down to lay against him again and moved his gaze to the side, anywhere to avoid the way you look at him now.

“Don't leave, okay?”

#miguel o'hara #miguel ohara #miguel o'hara x reader #spiderman 2099 #spider-man: across the spider-verse #across the spider-verse spoilers #spiderman #angst #fanfic #fanfiction

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gyllenhaalstories · 10 months ago

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CHOKEHOLD — ELWOOD DALTON

summary: dalton is a triple threat: he’s got sexy tattoos, a thick neck and he’s terribly needy.

warnings: reader is gender neutral!, smut (quickie, masturbation, choking handjob, edging, subby dalton vibes). 18+ NO MINORS.

word count: 1430

photo credits: me @/gyllenhaalstories) / divider credits: @/firefly-graphics

notes: i'm the captain (conductor? driver? main cheerleader who's been thirsting for dalton since the beginning? choose your fighter) of the the dalton hype train. grab your train ticket and join us! choo-choo! 🖤 thank you for reading & REMEMBER TO REBLOG!

You knew what he was up to. You had your suspicions from the start, when he told you he wanted to grab something from the bedroom with a smile on his lips. There was a hint of mischief camouflaged under a layer of fake innocence, a mix that was so characteristic of him.

Dalton was not being subtle about it either. His moans, grunts and whimpers were loud enough to echo from the bedroom to the hallway, from where you were standing. Truthfully, the whispered pleas, muffled begging and “yeah, just like that, fuck” gave everything away.

You knew he was alone, at least physically. You also knew that he was thinking of you while he was doing whatever it was that kept him too busy to answer when you called out his name.

He loved to tell you how much he thought about you. Whether he was quickly jerking off in the shower after training to release some of the pent up energy that ran through his veins, or when he was taking his sweet time to enjoy himself — he was dying to tell you all about it.

You started to wonder what turned him on the most between the act of sharing his filthy thoughts or watching you as your brain slowly melted away, detail after detail, until you had to recreate whatever jerk off story he was telling you. Knowing Dalton, it was most definitely both of those. And knowing Dalton, he was putting on a show for his own pleasure, the fact that you enjoyed it just as much was the cherry on top.

He caught a glimpse of your head peeking in the doorway. He tightened his fist around his cock and jerked off faster, focusing on his tip that already started to leak.

You stared, immobile, except for how you bit on your lower lip.

"Come on, don't be shy."

His invitation succeeded in being too tempting to resist. You walked in the bedroom and admired his body some more. The way his chest rose and fell heavily with every breath he took captivated you.

Dalton cut you off before you started drooling at the sight of his small, perky nipples. He was now standing up, the rest of his naked body exposed to you. He erased the distance between the two of you, his mouth searching for yours to exchange a kiss that you denied him.

"You wanted to get off?" He nodded, then tilted his head to the side. "So I'll get you off."

His hands, glistening with the spit and precum he used as lube, abandoned his cock and reached towards your clothes. He was eager to touch your body, to feel your warm skin on his.

Again, you denied him of this privilege. You clicked your tongue, telling him off. "No touching, babe." He pulled his best game of puppy eyes in an attempt to win you over, but he failed. "I just wanna make you feel good."

He earned a kiss when he surrendered and you let your hands fall on his shoulders and caress down his chest, his abdomen and to his waist.

Your fingers traced over the defined muscles of his hips before you broke contact to spit on your hand, getting it ready for his throbbing cock.

He threw his head back when you wrapped your hand around his shaft, revealing his neck that looked so sad without its usual marks.

You remedied the situation by leaving kisses on and around his Adam's apple, hickeys soon followed while you jerked him off so painfully slowly.

Dalton did not want to warn you about how close he had gotten himself before you caught him, he wanted to get lost in the feeling of your hand stroking him from the base to the tip. You cupped his heavy balls with your other hand. It felt heavenly, proven by the droplets of precum that trickled down his cock.

"Feels good, yeah?"

He nodded eagerly, you looked down between your bodies and noticed how he was flexing his hips, trying to fuck your hand faster. "I need you so bad, baby..."

"I know," you cooed at him. "I know you do. I can see it. I can feel it." You laughed softly, not mocking him about it just yet.

"I wanna be inside you." He mumbled, his moans getting louder when you swiped your thumb over his sensitive tip. "Please, please, please..."

His begging was cut short when your hand wrapped around his thick neck. You choked him lightly, giving him one more chance to listen to what you said moments ago.

Only, it only made him crave the feeling of you even more. "Come on," he repeated his words from earlier. "You know you want it too."

"Oh, I do." You smirked at your man. "But not yet. I want to make you earn it."

You took him by surprise when you jerked him off faster, harder, bringing him closer than he did on his own before until you felt a breath getting stuck in his throat. You pulled your hand away from his cock and looked down as it throbbed again.

Dalton caught your attention when he chuckled, the adrenaline rush of the first edge kicking in.

In return, you caught him off guard by tightening your grip around his neck and taking his cock in your hand again. You guided him, forcing him to walk backwards until his bare back met with the wall. You pinned him up in place, secured with the chokehold around his neck.

"You're so fucking hot." He managed to whisper, the praise convinced you to loosen your hand for a few moments. You let him catch his breath before you choked him again, before you edged him again.

He was being so good for you, and you told him so many times, while he took two more edges in this position. You felt Dalton pulsate in your hands, all of the veins bulging underneath your fingers. "Do you think you earned it?" You asked with a condescending tone. "Do you wanna cum? I think you do."

You blurred his mind, he was lost in confusion between begging to cum right now or waiting until he could finish inside of whatever hole you would offer him. He tried to think with his mind, but he failed miserably.

"Please let me cum!"

You added another layer of agony by letting go of his neck for a few moments, so you could push him towards the bed this time.

His body relaxed as the bed sheets and cushions safely welcomed his weight. And yours too, while you climbed to kneel by his side.

Your hand jerked him off fast again while he was fighting against how sensitive he felt, how close to his release he truly was. "You wanna cum for me baby? You wanna make a big mess for me?"

He wanted it so fucking bad and you knew it. You granted his wish and kept jerking him off until you could no longer hear the slick sounds of your hand around his shaft. The noises were replaced by his grunts of pleasure that resonated in the room.

Pleasure that turned into a complaint when you pulled your hand away at the perfect time. You made him cum without the final strokes of your hand that he craved so badly. Your other hand, though, was still choking him. You held him right there, in that sweet spot of euphoria while he finished riding the wave of his orgasm.

The vein on his temple looked so perfect, and you planted a loving kiss on it, tasting the beads of sweat that were on his skin. He came down from his high, both satisfied but still in desperate need for more.

You released his neck for the final time and replaced your hand with a trail of kisses all over his skin. You tried to follow his movements while he panted, recovering from the limited oxygen he had received these past minutes.

He watched you closely while your mouth abandoned his neck and, instead, followed the ropes of cum that he painted on his tan and toned stomach. Drops of cum dripped down his puffy abs and you licked all of it clean.

"Next time you want to jerk off, will you ask for my help instead?" You asked, crawling up the bed so your faces met for a heated kiss.

He moaned against your lips at the taste of him. "Next time, I'll just use you to jerk off instead."

#jake gyllenhaal #elwood dalton smut #jake gyllenhaal smut #jake gyllenhaal imagine #jake gyllenhaal fanfic #jake gyllenhaal x reader #elwood dalton fanfic #road house

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shuenkio · 3 months ago

Text

Making you Jelly | Lhs.〃

Paring: Idol Heeseung X idol male!reader | Genre: Soft smut (Don't like Don't pressed, scroll away!)

Synopsis: Your purposely making your secret boyfriend jealous as a result, Both of you are locking in a room.

Cw: Cursing, dry humping, cumming, no sex .

Non proof read | wc: 1.7K

English is not my 1st language.

A-N: Heeseung requested by Anon is now done 😜 I'm not good at writing how to express character emotion but I hope you can enjoy reading this! (The other requests will work starting tomorrow dw)

Hidden relationships in a K-pop group are pretty hard, especially in this industry. However, both of you and Heeseung were so good at hiding behind a curtain that only the members knew about this, not the manager. And that's the talent.

For today's schedule, the group is having an offline fan meeting after all the comeback promotion. It was authentic and delightful to be able to meet your fans in real life. Once the settlement is complete, each member is going to their own assigned seat, as the door is open wide when the clock strikes.

People are coming in one by one until the seats are full with all the fans presence; it mostly has a fan girl than a fan boy, especially. The event then began, with the fans taking a seat in front of you. As you leave a signature on their album with the best fan service you could provide, smile brightly in happiness. And so are the members; talking about the fan service, they're not any lower than you. They always have something on their plate, flirting and talking as if all those fans are their friends, or even worse.

As you continued to move your finger to write an autograph, your eyes were laying on the other side of you, which soon laid on your secret boyfriend, Heeseung. You heard him talking to the girl in front of him, as if she were his girlfriend. To make it inferior, your eyes went wide in disgust when he sniffed the girl's wrist to smell the cologne. Oh my.

As a result, you compose yourself to not act suspicious before letting out a chuckle under your breath, shaking your head in disbelief. Turn your attention back to the fan in front of you.

"Which member do you think is the most flirty?" unexpectedly, The fan girl who is sitting facing you asks out loud. It's like she was reading your thoughts at the moment, but then you responded happily to her questions.

"Hmm, for me, I think... Heeseung Hyung? Yeah, I think it's him because look at him right now. As you spoke, the girl was turning to see Heeseung when you pointed it out, and it's indeed true that he's quite good at it.

"It's true ㅋㅋㅋ it's must be hard to be his fan m/n ya~"

"I know right, sometimes I just want to ask him, Did he have a hidden girlfriend? ㅋㅋ" in return for joking, You make your fans laugh nonstop. Before you said goodbye to her when she was moving to the other members, After a while, the fan meeting ended with the autograph session. For now, moving on to the interaction and fan service session.

The members would be talking, making jokes, unwrapping the gift, or posing for the camera while doing service. Still upset by the way Heeseung acted earlier, you decide to take sweet revenge on him by clinging on to the other members, and having a good time, you press his button by flirting with the fans.

The revenge turned out to be successful; you just made him upset. Not only that, but the smile on his face died down into a thin line when you held on to Sunoo's arm. To fuel it even more, you were wearing a bridal veil from the gift. Sunoo was with you the whole time. When he saw the intense, fierce staring, he immediately recognized what was going on.

He laid down and whispered to you what's happening, but you couldn't care less as you began to laugh and make a pick-up line along with the fan. It felt satisfying when you succeeded in making him furious. Soon later, the fan meeting came to an end.

The group then bows down in respect for the fans who have come to the event and shows their support. For then, the manager called the group to leave the stage and go back to the dorm since it's over now. Unfortunately, today you are having a ride with Heeseung to travel back to the dorm along with the single member, Sunghoon. The awkward silence was so loud, which made the manager furrow his eyebrows in confusion.

He thought there'd be a fight again between any one of you, but it turned out Sunghoon was the only one who was oblivious and knew nothing. Seeing you didn't make any conversation like usual with Heeseung made Sunghoon squint his eyes and puzzle the situation as he realized that the two of you are having a conflict. At the dorm.

Before all the members go to their own dorm, they need to have a meal together first on the first floor, which is the Hyung Line, and then in a maknae dorm, which includes Sunghoon, Heeseung, Jay, and Ni-ki. All the members are either plopping on the couch, watching their phones, or playing games, waiting for the manager to deliver their food.

Not even a step to the living room yet, Heeseung suddenly pulls you into his room before locking it tight. Now it's just you and him together, with that awkward atmosphere once again. He then pins you against the wall and cages you inside his personal space with both of his hands as a pair of rails.

"You know what you did, m/n! Care to explain?" Breaking the silence, his eyes were now turning even more fierce than the last time he was giving you at the fan meeting. Yet you still didn't flinch a bit. You know him well; he was doing this just to scare you for the answer. Deep down, he can't do anything more than that, or he might?

"Speaking of the devil, who is the one who sniffs the girl's wrist? How about that?" You reply, folding your arms together, also upset by your boyfriend's action.

"But that was the fan service, m/n. Be for real, m/n! You were never jealous before." Heeseung soon spoke out, raising his brows in disbelief at your unknown jealousy that you've never had before. He's about to go insane at the moment since all the imagine and those interactions you were having with the fans last evening.

"But you were sniffing her scent! Why would you do that? I don't think that's a fan service you should do." You fire back, unable to resist the thought you were having with your stupid jealousy. Soon, Heeseung be quite at your brust out. As you realize, a pang of guilt is hitting you hard in the chest. You were going far with this one.

"Um, hey Hyung, I'm sorry I went too far." Without any warning, out of frustrated Heeseung presses you against the wall as he flips you around. with your face now in front of the wall and your back facing him. Your boyfriend pulling your pants down at such a speed, making you butt naked at an instant, which makes you leave a shocking gasp out of your mouth.

"What are you doing, Hyung?" "I'm going to make you remember who I belong to and who you belong to!" No further, Heeseung unzips his pant quickly, freeing his hardened cock that begged to be released as he stroking it together before shoving in the middle of your thighs. Instead of fucking, he also had the thought that railing you up in the dorm like this was too risky and would cause a lot of trouble, so instead of making messy noises around, masturbating together was the option right now to punish you.

Your boyfriend then thrusts his cock hard in between your thighs; his length was so big that when he rolls his hip forward, his and your dick cause a sensation.

"Auugh. It feels werid, Hyung; the members are still here!" You said, trembling, and shivers sent down your spine, mixture with a fear that someone could come in and see this whole thing.

"Oh, shut up, m/n. If that happens, I'll take full responsibility. Now zip your mouth before I change my mind and fuck the hell out of you." Heeseung slipped out of his fury; he was so hot right now that you couldn't even say a word, with only grunts and whimpers instead. The dry humping against skin and skin, along with the small slapping sound, makes your dick twitch in response. His cock pressured you as if he were fucking you even though he wasn't, and that made Heeseung take note of this. You're sensitive, AF.

"Fuck you, m/n, you should remember what will happen when you press my button; this was your first lesson; the next time you do, I'll take your ability to walk for a day and get it!!" He demanded, almost shouting at your eardrums. However, you can only nod in response because if you did say a word, an unholy moan would leave your throat.

Why does it feel so good with just him humping against you? With a few minutes of pushing in, soon a wave of jolt was building inside both of you and Heeseung, as you had a feeling like you'd cum first before him. Heeseung noticed that your face was flushing more red than earlier, so he immediately knew you'd explode soon.

"Hyung, I'm cumming fuc—Nghh auhh—" Your dick is then twitching terribly as a load of white semen shoots out on the wall, driving you so sensitive that you can't help but moan. Luckily, Heeseung was fast enough to cover your mouth before letting anything out. Soon, Heeseung too was thrown to the ceiling and exploded a huge load of cum more than you, splashing them all over the floor and shattered everywhere. Not to mention, all men are sensitive, and so was he, which resulted in his weight falling on your small figure.

"Shit—*huff* Hyung, stand up straight; we can't make any noise."

"You feel like heaven, m/n; your thighs are squeezing me tight. Shit, this is the best cum I ever had." His head was buried in the crooked part of your neck as he whispered all of those words. Both of you and him, shivering and trembling in pleasure of masturbate earlier with the conflict, erased from this moment.

"The members would ask why our fight was so behaving."

"Yes, baby boy, but now let's clean this up."

🗣️ Reblog and like is much appreciated ♥

🗣️ please mind my English! ><

🗣️ CRD to all the owner and dividers [ithemes]

#enhypen #enha x male reader #enhypen x male reader #lee heesung smut #lee heeseung #enhypen heeseung #heeseung x reader #heeseung smut #heeseung #enhypen hard thoughts #enhypen hard hours #enhypen scenarios #enha imagines #enha x you #enha fluff #kpop x male reader #enha x reader #enha scenarios #enha fanfic

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