#please that's an intense romance at play if I ever saw one

[arlertwhore]

pairing: paige bueckers x fem! reader

synopsis: paige is your sneaky link & you wear her jersey to surprise her after a game.

warning (s): smut → dom paige, slightly sub reader, power play, pussy eating, fingering, nipple sucking… etc MINORS DNI

word count: 1.5k

author note: not edited, wrote late at night, and rushed ending kinda.

Paige Bueckers was NOT your girlfriend. Neither of you even had the bandwidth to focus on romance — her, with an intense basketball career occurring outside of her dynamic with you, and you, an essential slave to your university studies.

That's what made it feel like fate when you guys first met at the Uni New Years Party. Genuinely, you both believed so, and had told one and other that before fervently making out in the washroom that exact night. Granted, you were both insanely drunk, but Paige could recount the story like it was yesterday that she saw you, single, hot, and dancing unbotheredly, though it'd been three months already."Gosh, you were just sooo cute. I was asking KK & all em', 'Who is she? How is she single?' And then they're like 'Oh, she's focused and questioning, not the romantic type,' and I was thinking, 'She's perfect.'"

Despite knowing that Paige and you are not dating, and that she really appreciates your understanding of casual, which is why she's consistently fucking just you, you can't help but feel butterflies when she describes your existence as perfect.

As an athlete, a great one at that, nothing was ever perfect to Paige. Except for you. And shit, whenever you recalled her slew of admirers at your school, on the net, and among her fans, the fact she deemed none of them were worthy of her undivided attention like she had with just you made you spiral.

You loved being her only girl. You loved being the epitome of perfection to Paige Bueckers, UConn's star. Her game tonight, televised, had ran late, and you thought she'd be too exhausted to come over and play, however, after winning, she was fired up and soon sent you a picture of her in an Uber, telling you she was on her way.

Most nights, sometimes early mornings, it was the same routine. She would come over, you would buzz her into the building, let her into your apartment, and she'd shower before fucking you into oblivion whichever way she pleased. It was always fun, varying some nights. This night though, to celebrate UConn's first win of the season, you surprised her by wearing her jersey. 'Bueckers' read the back, '#5'. When you opened the door, Paige was wearing a white shirt, grey sweats, and glasses, her hair in a half-neat, half-disheveled bun. She looked so hot.

You could feel yourself getting wet at the mere sight of her. She was on her phone due to the wait for you to open the door, and she hadn't yet looked up from the gadget as she chided playfully, "Let's start opening this door faster, ma. I waited long enough to get to you all-da—" She stopped; blue eyes fixed upon your body and her jersey and your body in her jersey. You giggled teasingly. "You like it, P?" you asked, guiding her much taller stature into your apartment by the wrist with considerable ease. Paige, who usually held control, was left dumbfounded at the sight of you. "My gosh, baby," she murmured softly, the wrist you'd just been previously holding pulling you closer into her body as the other hand rubbed down your smaller frame, smoothing circles into your lower back until she gripped a handful of your bare ass, making you moan. "Paige!" you whimpered, cheek against cheek, breathlessly. "C'mon, P, play nice with me." you purred sensually. She licked her lips, pleading, "C'mere," her voice low and laced with desperation. You wouldn't listen, though, reveling in your effect on her and how she was breaking, wanting to be in control for once. You buried your face in the curve of her neck, tracing tender kisses along her most sensitive spot, coaxing out heavy, breathless sighs from the taller blonde. Your hands found her hair as you sucked a spot onto her neck, intertwining into it and unraveling her updo as you worked on her, leaving it in disarray.

"Y/N," she exhaled shakily, "Baby, quit that, or I'm not playing nice with you tonight." she warned, tone determined to repossess her dominance. Paige never really called you 'babe,' or 'baby,' — nothing sweet like that. Typically, her nasty mouth — the one that satisfied you and degraded you all at once — was calling you a dirty slut or whore, and when it got intense, she'd make you call your ownself things. She was immensely losing it talking sweetly, and this was a stark reminder.

"Do you want me stop, Paige?" you murmured, pausing briefly only to speak before delving into her neck again, licking a hot stripe up her new purple hickey before nibbling on her ivory skin. Paige suppresses a groan, reducing it to a tiny indelible noise.

"I do," she responds positively, her hands on your waist, smoothing down your ribcage before gently lifting your jersey up until her hands were underneath it. "I don't know if I wanna keep this on you or take it off," she husked conflictedly, kneading your tits.

"You're so fuckin' pretty, angel, you'd look so good both ways." Paige surprised you when her hands fell low again, lifting you up and forcing you to cling to her body as she carried you toward your bedroom. The entire way there, your lips had been pressed against each other's, and though it was risky, you trusted Paige's coordination as an athlete. Before no time, you had made it safely into your bedroom, and she gently placed you down on the mattress before stripping off her white tee.

After discarding of it somewhere amongst the dimly lit room, she slides her body between your legs, pressing her pink lips against yours and her strong knee into your bare bottom half, the friction causing you to whimper into the kiss. Moments later, she pulls away from the kiss briefly and gazes down between you both, inspecting the now dark grey sweatpants for any signs of damage, her mouth slightly agape as she marvels at the sight of your slick that's coated her pants. "You're such a slut," she says in a sultry chuckle, "I can't believe you're this wet for me and I've barely even touched you yet," she breathes out in disbelief.

"I'm your slut, Paige. Touch me," you beg. She slips her fingers inside you, torn between focusing on the way your face contorts in pleasure as she scissors you open or on how effortlessly you accommodate her lengthy digits. She decides on both, using her free hand to push the jersey up before latching onto your nipple and sucking gently, as if she's unsure about how you might respond to the intense pleasure you're experiencing.

She watches you attentively, so beautiful and immersed in pure pleasure, your mouth parted with little gasps falling from your gorgeous lips as Paige presses against the sensitive pad inside your pussy that aligns with your clit on the outside. She ceases sucking. "I want to watch you play with it," she states. You're dazed, out of breath with your head cloudy, and you manage to murmur, "W-what?"

Paige doesn't say anything. She resumes her attention, this time on your left nipple, nibbling gently, and she guides your hand down to your clit with her free hand, assisting you in beginning the circular motions upon it. The stimulation of each pleasure zone on your body has you arching your back, whining out Paige's name in a mantra. "Fuck, P, mmph," you gasp, body on fire, "Please don't stop, mommy, I'm so fucking close." you plead, voice trembling with need. You swear you could hear your heartbeat momentarily, the intensity building to an unbearable crescendo as you teetered on the edge of release. But Paige did say she wouldn't play nice, and she smirks up at you deviously. “Tell P how good she makes you feel,” she commands, her pace slowing to an agonizing speed as she relished in the power dynamic at play. You knew the game she wanted to play; still tinged with the frustration from your earlier encounter where you had taken control.

Too horny to care, you proclaimed, "You make me feel so good, Paige,” voice filled with longing. “I love your fingers so much, yes,” moaning as she gently accelerated, indulging your desires just as you indulged hers: submission, each of you surrendering to the other’s needs, finding pleasure in the delicate balance of power and desire. "Good girl," she praises against your chest. "You're a good fucking slut, right?"

You nodded, "Yours." closing your eyes, unable to keep looking into hers. She looked too good. Paige was fortunate that you were rendered immobile by the overwhelming pleasure coursing through your body. If you could move, you'd pounce on her with an aggressive kiss. Her hair cascades around her shoulders, her glasses still perched on her nose, and that cute appreciative smile she gives you as she nastily, relentlessly fucks her fingers into you sends butterflies swirling in your stomach.

It'd been three months being with Paige and the fact that the golden star of UConn is here, with you, not even an hour after basking in the spotlight of victory, is surreal. She generally was. It was surreal to gaze upon such a stunning girl as you reached the peak of bliss, cries of pleasure mingling with the realization that you were climaxing, hard and long. And through it all, she maintained eye contact, talking you through it, her gaze unwavering. "Cum on my fingers, baby, I want to taste you. I want to see you do it. C'mon," she coaxes, her voice dripping with desire as she urges you on.

You were drowning in her. And soon enough, she was drowning in you, having creamed all over her fingers. Paige pumps thrice more before bringing her fingers to her mouth, her tongue swirling around them as she savored your taste, gaze locking with yours in a dirty exchange of desire. "Tastes as sweet as you are," she remarks, chuckling softly before offering her fingers to you to clean off the rest. "Say ahh," she commands, and you eagerly comply, seeing the benefits of giving into Paige, sticking out your tongue out to allow her to place her fingers into your mouth. "I want them spotless," she demands, her tone filled with authority as you bob your head, licking the remainder of cum off her fingers. "Suck on them," she says, her eyes smoldering with desire as she watches you suscept, eager to fulfill her wishes.

When she's satisfied, she kisses you deeply, her lips igniting a fire within you as you revel in her taste. As she stands up, removing her bottoms, you can't help but admire the sight before yourself. Paige, the girl you were with, had the most exquisite pussy you'd ever seen. You were grateful to be the only girl allowed to experience it, but it truly was a treasure. The harmony and balance of each feature always left you in awe, and you excitedly anticipate the pleasure of eating her out, knowing that it's a demonstration of your complete submission to her. You don't wait. The instant her sweats come off, you yank her by her bra, pulling her onto the bed. There's no time for her to assert dominance as you take control, dropping to your knees below the bed and holding her knees in each hand like they were stirrups.

Her underwear still on, you tease her, licking a stripe against her clothed cunt, tongue flexing at her clit and dampening the spot. "Love this pussy," you groan, voice filled with desire as you used a finger to play against her folds, eliciting a frustrated moan from her. "Stop, Y/N," she pleads, voice scorned with true confliction, torn between the desire to surrender to pleasure and the need to regain control.

"Just wanna hear it once, P," you smirk up at her. "Say please, Number Five." She bites her lip, throwing her head back, causing her glasses to fall off, her bare eyes now locking with yours. It's difficult to maintain your composure under her intense gaze, but you manage, licking another small stripe against her underwear, causing her to jolt. "A-ah, fuck," she moans, trying to close her legs, but you hold them open. "I just wanna make you feel good, Paige, and I can tell you wanna feel good too. Say it."

She exhales, her voice pleading, "Please, Y/N," as she pulls her underwear aside, revealing her glistening pink folds. Your mouth waters. "Can you eat my pussy?" she asks, so politely you wanna kiss her, but you wanna eat her more. She holds her underwear to the side, and you accept the invitation, tongue exploring her wetness with fervor. Her hands flies to your head, something to anchor herself onto as she squirms away from your powerful tongue. You coast her back, however, and suction her clit into her your mouth, moaning into her pussy. Paige isn't a loud girl, but she's having trouble restricting her moans. The scent of her arousal fills the air, driving you wild with desire as you delve deeper, savoring the taste of her essence. As you continue to lavish your attention on her, the intensity of her pleasure builds, her grip on the sheets tightening and knuckles turning white as she writhes beneath you. You feel her body quivering with each flick of your tongue, moans growing louder and more desperate with each passing moment. You spit down onto her, making it sloppy, merely adding as a plus to the rawness of the carnal energy between you two. Her wetness coats your lips and chin, the sound of your movements mingling with her cries of ecstasy. And as you bring her to the brink of release, a tear runs down Paige's face, a testament to the overwhelming intensity of her pleasure. But you don't let up, determined to bring her to the peak of pleasure and beyond. With each lick and suck, you push her closer to the edge, until finally, she shatters beneath me, her body convulsing in waves of bliss as she succumbs to the ecstasy of her climax. The night was far from done. Your jersey was still on, and you still wanted to play.

guys i wrote this because there’s lit no Paige smut on here pls pull thru

Send me req btw!! I’m def considering writing again

#paige bueckers smut #paige bueckers #smut bueckers #smut #uconn huskies #uconn wbb #iowa wbb #wbb #march madness #ncaa tournament #paige bueckers fic #paige bueckers x reader #paige x OC #wlw post #pb #Paige x fem reader #uconn women’s basketball #uconn vs iowa #smutwccb

[acourtofwhatthefuck]

Someone Different, Someone New — Cassian X Reader.

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

Hi! This is an impromptu piece that is by no means my best writing — I just wanted to exercise my brain a bit. I haven’t added a tag list on this one because I need to go through and sort them out/update them, so sorry about that!

Warning: this piece does depict struggles of mental illness/trauma/panic, so if that’s something that could negatively effect you, please, please give this one a miss. This is based off my own experience of mental illness/trauma/panic, and the last thing I want is to trigger some unpleasant things because of my writing, so please take care. All the love. 💕

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

“You doing okay?”

Rhysand’s arm pressed against yours as he took up the space beside you. Just as you were, he leaned back against the balcony railing, wine glass in hand. The cold temperature had driven the evening’s guests inside, but the bite of the chill…you needed it. Even as it started to hurt.

But you slapped a pleasant smile on your face that offered no glimpse of pain. “I’m okay.”

There was no need to put a front on for Rhys. He was the only one who could get it — it was he you’d been trapped Under the Mountain with, after all. He who had known who you’d been before, during and after. He’d seen everything, and he saw you now.

Saw the way your gaze stared intensely through the open glass doors and fastened on Cassian.

“Have you spoken to him?” Rhys asked.

Barely. You’d only been back three months, and the majority of it had been spent on your own. Fifty years trapped with people made company feely oily and itchy. And the person you’d become didn’t exactly make for good company, either. Not now that you were someone who was short-tempered, or brusque, or downright miserable. Being alone meant not having to subject anyone to that. It was a wonder Rhysand had convinced you to come tonight at all.

And there was another underlying reason for not wanting to face Cassian. You didn’t know each other anymore.

There might have been the potential for romance between you…a very long time ago. But fifty years apart had wiped that clean. You were no longer the person who had gone under that mountain. You were no longer the person he might have grown to love. He had known someone of vibrancy, of light and laughter.

You couldn’t bear to face him as you were, now. And he seemed to be doing just fine.

“No.” You answered Rhys, draining your glass.

Your High Lord studied you. “Why not?”

“I wouldn’t know what to say. And neither would he. It would be uncomfortable for him.”

“This is Cassian we’re talking about. He’ll just want to know that you’re alright.”

You most certainly were not alright.

You weren’t alright with enclosed spaces. You couldn’t even stand the feeling of your clothes touching your skin for too long. Loud noises had you flinching and laughter sounded too close to screams. Sometimes, you could swear your bathwater was blood, coating you, staining you, reminding you of what you’d had to do to survive. There was an ever-present tightness in your chest that always teetered on the edge of becoming something terrible.

You may have escaped the mountain, but you didn’t think you’d truly gulped down the fresh air.

And though you’d spent fifty years longing to get out from that prison, you honestly didn’t know how to be outside of it. Who to be outside of it.

You felt yourself jolt as you watched Cassian bellow a deep laugh. The female he was talking to grinned broadly, proud of whatever she’d said to garner such a reaction. Cass looked…content. Happy. He had moved on with his life, just as he’d deserved to.

You weren’t sure you could stomach watching it play out in front of you, though.

“I think he’s waiting for you to make the first move, Y/N.” Rhys’s hand landed on your arm, and your entire body went rigid. “He wants you to have the control.”

You swallowed. “I don’t think he thinks about me at all. Nor would I expect him to. He doesn’t know me anymore. I am not the person he once cared for.”

“I think you’re more of that same person than you realise.”

He was wrong. You shook your head. “No. I’m…someone different, Rhys. Someone new.”

“And you think Cassian would judge you for that? Really?”

Your gaze cut sharply to his violet one. “I think you have an over-exaggerated idea of how significant I am in his life.”

He stared back at you, pain marring his features. And this was precisely why you didn’t want to be around people anymore. You were just…rough. Jagged. Rude and cold.

“I’m sorry.” Your eyes shuttered. You pushed your glass into Rhys’s hand. “Sorry, Rhys, I just…need some time.”

He didn’t protest as you pulled away from him, wandering back inside and weaving your way through the bodies that had gathered for the party celebrating their High Lord’s return to Velaris. You didn’t even know where you planned to go. All you were aware of was that tightness in your chest worsening. Constricting. You rubbed at your chest, forcing yourself to swallow down air.

Your legs carried you aimlessly as you climbed stairs and burst through a door. A bathing chamber. You collapsed against the door, a clammy, prickling sensation spreading over your skin as you fought to just breathe. Your ears were ringing, pounding, a pressure seeming to bind your body and hold it taut. You weren’t sure you could survive this. Weren’t sure how to not be…this.

You weren’t aware of how long it lasted. Time felt both fast and slow around you as you bowed over the sink, fingers digging into the porcelain. The music and chatter of the party sounded so, so far away, you could be forgiven for thinking you’d left the building. But you knew you hadn’t. You were still here. You. Were. Still. Here.

You didn’t know when your trembling hands had turned the tap on and darted under the ice-cold water, but the sensation was soothing, grounding. You focused on watching it flow, dripping from your fingertips and splashing into the sink. You cupped your palms and gathered a small pool and splashed it against your face.

Slowly, your breaths began to even out. Slowly, your body began to steady. The sounds from downstairs became clearer, sounded closer, and the sensations that had gripped you subsided, making way for a wave of lethargy.

You just wanted to sleep.

You dried your face, your hands, straightening yourself out and hoping you were steady enough to make it out of there. Hopefully you could get away without running into anyone. The last thing you needed right now was mindless conversation.

You pulled the door open — and stopped short at the figure that waited just outside.

Cassian pushed off the wall. He unfolded his arms, studying you. And whatever he saw when he looked at you…you knew it couldn’t be good.

“Hey…” He said softly, daring a step closer. “Can we talk?”

#acotar #a court of thorns and roses #acotar fandom #acotar x reader #acotar writing #acotar fanfic #acotar headcanon #cassian #cassian acotar #cassian x reader #acotar series #reader insert #acomaf #acowar #acofas #acosf #illyrian #batboys

[slashers-and-rats]

Ahhhhh!!!! Prompts are open for you?? 🤯 May I request Brahmsy-baby with fem! nanny who’s always scolding him for being naughty? (Take it as you will or see!) please and thanks boo!! 😩🙏🏼❤️

brahms heelshire x reader | softcore!nsfw | clothed grinding, spanking, msub!brahms

a/n: my personal head canon is that brahms is a dumb brat boy, so y’know. that’s what this is. thank you for gifting me such a good prompt.

you and brahms had developed a routine of sorts. after living together so long, something like that is to be expected, but this was different. it might’ve been more accurate to say brahms had developed a pattern, or game he liked to play with you.

it was simple. at least once a day, brahms chose a rule to break. sometimes it was a smaller one, like stealing away treats to the walls without your permission. sometimes it was bigger, like clearly spying on you while you were in your own private moments. you always caught him, you had developed an eye for his tricks. you’d catch him, and then punish him how you saw fit. you hoped with the right amount of discipline, maybe he’d learn one day.

but brahms didn’t see what you were doing as “discipline”. how you hadn’t realized this fact yet was beyond him, as he felt like it was somewhat clear he enjoyed making you angry. he liked the way you scolded him. for smaller offences, you’d simply have him sit in a time out, and rant about how you didn’t understand why he was misbehaving. he’d be grinning underneath his mask, so amused by your cute furrowed brows and stern look. for the bigger things, you became a bit more… intense.

for example, one day, long after you had tucked the man into bed and presumed he had fallen asleep, you had stowed yourself away in the library. the collection of books this house had was massive, and spanned across so many genres, you wondered if you’d be able to make it through them all before you died. you were sure going to try. you had found some steamy romance novel tucked away on the higher shelves, as if hidden from prying eyes, and it had engulfed you.

thinking brahm’s was asleep, and too tuckered out from a day of chores to really move back to your bedroom, you had gotten comfortable on the couch and were idly teasing yourself. you couldn’t help it. it was so hard to get private time with an always curious man slinking around in the walls, and sometimes you needed to be alone.

your eyes hung off of every word as you rubbed yourself through your panties, your pyjama shirt tucked under your neck comfortably so you could play with your tits as well. the story was about some burly man, a lumberjack, whisking away a maiden from a nearby village. it was a classic smut, not much plot to be seen, but you didn’t care. realism wasn’t something you had been searching for in that moment.

brahms could see that. you didn’t spot him, but he was watching you. he had woken up a long time ago, having gone to your room to ask if he could have a glass of water, only to find you missing. he had began his usual scramble through the different passages of the house, searching around for where you could’ve wound up, and when he found you splayed on the couch of the library, it was like nothing he had ever seen before. he was captivated. the way you teased yourself lightly, the way your panties dampened underneath your own touch, the rise and fall of your chest, and the focus your stare had on that page - he wanted to be the one you were looking at like that. he wanted to make you pant and whimper, he wanted to be the one grinding himself against your clothed pussy, he wanted to be the one to please you.

and yet there he was, simply watching you through a hole in the wall like some pervert. his own hand had found his cock, trapped still in the fabric of his pyjama pants. he copied you, rubbing over it and biting his lip as to hold back noises. you had gotten so good at spotting him, he couldn’t take a chance and moan. no, he kept himself as silent as a mouse, grinding into the fabric of his boxers, and stifling every little whimper that threatened to spill.

this went on for a minute or two, this sick little mimicry. brahms wanted to burst through the wall. he wanted to pin you down, and see your eyes widen, and see that red face that you got when you saw him feral like this. you had taken care of him like this a few times before, but only as a treat for him being extra good. as of late, that was a rarer occurrence. he got off to you being so mad at him. his mind wandered, beginning to think about what would happen if you caught him then. you’d be so grumpy, probably chastising him about being out of bed before you even mentioned his erection twitching against his waist. maybe you’d edge him, maybe you’d spank him, maybe you’d pull his hair and have him beg for your forgiveness - it was all too much to think about. without even realizing, he had gotten lost in the way you looked, and had begun letting quiet moans fall from his mouth. somewhere, subconsciously, he wanted to get caught.

his wish was granted, when you heard those faint whimpers coming out of the walls. you sat up immediately, and it made brahms jump and fall back against the wall of his tunnel. you heard that sound for sure, and threw the book aside, pushing your shirt down. it made him whine low in his throat. he wanted to see more, why hide from him?

“brahms, where are you?” you spoke stern. oh, he was in trouble. he felt the corners of his mouth curling mischievously. he could make this worse for himself. he could choose to stay in the walls, pretending as if it hadn’t been him, and you’d chase him throughout the house like a little game of tag. but, when you stood, and he saw your aggravated expression, he thought maybe he had tortured you enough.

he felt around for a particular panel on the wall, and pressed down so he could slip himself out from his secret passage. you turned to where the noise was coming from, and saw him peek his head out, staring up at you with large eyes. “here,” he said, just above a whisper. he felt anxious underneath your eyes, but in a good way. his heart was beating fast, and his body was beginning to heat up.

“what have i told you about spying on me, brahms? especially when I’m having private time.” you walked over to him, grabbing him by the shoulder of his sweater and tugging him out into the room fully. he rose to his full height, and wrung out the fabric of his sleeves between his hands. “what were you doing, huh?”

your eyes trailed down his body, and quickly found his prominent bulge. it made your face red. that amused brahms so much. after everything you two had done, you still felt so embarrassed to see him aching for you. maybe it was new for you to have such a needy man pining for your affections, or maybe brahms was just more of a heart throb than he thought.

“what book were you reading?” he asked, stepping up closer to you. he loomed over you, but still felt small in your presence. your roles were clear, and he could be ninety feet tall and still seem small to you. he liked it.

“none of your business,” you tutted, leading him over to the couch. “this is the third time in the past two days i’ve caught you spying on me. once in the shower, once while getting changed for bed, and now this. you’ve been very bad, brahms.”

he nodded along with you. oh, he liked where this was going. he was lucky he had his mask on, or maybe you’d see how excited he was getting. what would he be getting today? what lecture would you give? they only fuelled his desire, and yet you still played this game with him.

you sat down, leaning back on the couch before patting your thigh. a spanking. brahms was admittedly surprised. he hadn’t gotten this punishment in a long time, since last time he had managed to wriggle out of your lap and escape back to the walls. that had been one of the first times he realized he enjoyed making you grumpy with him, especially if it was going to get him things like that.

“across my lap, i don’t have all night,” you instructed. it pulled him back down to his body from his thoughts, and he nodded, quickly marching over to where you sat. he wiggled his pants and underwear down his hips, just enough that his butt was revealed, and positioned himself over your lap. it felt right, to be there. his cock was pressing somewhat painfully against the confines of his clothes, and his chest and hands were pressed into the couch beside your legs. he tried to keep his head up, trying to crane back to look at you. this made you tangle a hand in his hair, yanking it so that his masked face was pressed against the couch along with the rest of his upper body.

his lower half squirmed with anticipation. he knew you could feel him throbbing against your thigh. he wondered how it made you feel, if you were experiencing the same butterflies he was. he hoped so.

once again, he was yanked from his thoughts when suddenly a sharp hand swatted against his ass. it made him yelp out, his back arching slightly for a moment before collapsing hard against your lap. “we’re doing ten,” you explained. “that was one. count for me.”

it was torture, such a sweet torture. every slap against his ass was followed by a soothing rub over his cheek. he would push out the numbers, his voice shaky and high, barely able to pretend that this was something he didn’t love. he was never a good actor. he knew he was being obvious. by the fifth spank, he was writhing in your lap, trying to grind against your leg and moaning. he looked like a desperate whore; he looked like some dog in heat, rutting against your thigh like this. he hoped, deep down, that this was just as much torture for you as it was for him. he pleaded with whatever god was out there that you were feeling the same need he was.

you did. who are we kidding? the way he looked, so eager to be touched by you, so reactive to everything you gave him - he was a dream. his face was pressed down into the couch, back arching, cock grinding against your naked leg, and ass pushing into the hand you used to soothe the red there. every time your hand raised, he gasped in excitement, and every spank made him let out a long groan. he followed along so carefully, making sure to mewl out every number. now he was being good, now he was behaving, of course he was.

ten spanks came and went. by the time you were finished with him, his butt was red and he was a mess. he was hiding his face in his arms, embarrassed by how needy he looked. you were so good at keeping composure. sometimes he wished you weren’t so good, and that you’d feel the same way he did. he felt like all his nerves were on fire.

you pulled his head up from the couch once again, causing him to whimper loud. “are you gonna be good now?” you asked, patting the back of his thigh gently. he nodded enthusiastically.

“yes, yes, i promise… I’m a good boy,” he rasped out, high and whiny.

“you say that, but you’ve broken that promise before,” you tutted, running your hand from his thigh, over his butt, and up to his back. you rubbed small circles there, soothing him and nearly forcing him to relax into your touch.

“i promise, i promise… I’m a good boy, i am. no more spying.”

he sounded so sure. maybe he was being honest this time. you smirked and rolled him off of your lap, letting him gather himself where he laid beside you on the couch. “good. next time just ask to play.” you stood up, brushing yourself off. “okay, bedtime, brahms.”

his eyes widened, and he turned over so he could look up at you. his cock was still hard, it was leaking precum into his boxers. there was a small damp spot on his crotch, you had to have seen it. and you were just going to leave him like this. he began to sputter, trying to come up with a plea or a beg.

“don’t start. if you’re good tomorrow, we can play. but for now, you’re going back to bed,” you stated. the words were strong. brahms couldn’t argue with you.

his shoulders slumped dramatically, and he gathered his wits before standing up. “can… can i at least sleep with you…? please…?” he seemed so weak when he asked that, so pathetic.

you nodded. you couldn’t torture the man anymore, you had to at least give him one grace. you could see his eyes light up behind his mask, and before you could even think, he was shuffling out of the library and to the bedroom. you’d never understand him.

#brahms heelsire x reader #brahms heelshire #slasher x reader #slashers #ask

[mcereal]

SHARING NOTES

MODERN AU SANJI X READER

Part two

a/n: hewwo, this is my first multiple part fic. i don’t intend in making it very long but if u guys have any ideas i’d love to hear them in my messages :333

you have always been infatuated with the idea of romance. and your boyfriend was nothing of the sort. always too busy, always too tired.

you had gotten into the routine of going home, showering and sitting on your bed while your boyfriend went out to venues to watch small time bands play. you would ask if you could go, but it was always a “guys night.”

to be honest, you don’t really know why you got into this relationship. all you know is that you needed to get out. but you didn’t know how.

that is until your first day back into college during your physics class. that’s when you saw him. his hair was the colour of childhood happiness and the brightest of spring flowers, and his eyes were as deep a black that was intensely soulful in the manner that everything absolute is. It was the kind of black that thoroughly filled one's core with the inaudible melody of the cosmos— and his very person being the sunshine of your very own galaxy.

he was a gentleman, and treated you with the upmost respect you only imagined lived inside your tv screen. “hello, is this seat taken?” he spoke, pointing to the seat next to you. you were enthralled by his soft gaze, all you could do was nod. he sat down next to you and took out his ipad before realizing something, “how rude of me, i’m sorry. my name is sanji, would you please allow me your name?” he finished, awaiting for your response.

you looked at him in shock, no man had ever been this respectful towards you. it was an unusual feeling, being seen as an equal by a man. “my name is (y/n), nice to meet you.”

“the pleasure is all mine, darling (y/n).”

you sat through the remaining of the lecture in silence, scared that if you were to make any sudden movements the man beside you would be gone. you had a hard time focusing that day, you had barely written any notes— or any. sanji took notice of this because after class he stopped you before you had a moment to stand up. “i apologize, i noticed you had trouble writing notes. i could share mine with you, if you’d like?” he proposed, you smiled at his kind offer and agreed. “alright, could i have your number?- or perhaps your instagram! anything is fine.” he replied, a tint of pink rising to his cheeks and playing it off with a laugh.

“of course.” you said, holding your hand out for his phone. he quickly reached into his pocket, brought up his phones keypad and placed it on your palm. “that’s my number, send me the notes whenever you have the chance.” you told him, putting your number quickly and saving yourself as a contact under the name ‘(Y/N) from physics class🔛🔝’ and taking a picture of yourself for the contact photo. “feel free to reach me for anything.” you finally hand over his phone back to sanji and stood up with your bag, when your back was facing sanji you finally allowed your face to flush with embarrassment over what you had just done.

sanji found it so incredibly hot.

that night you received photos from an unsaved number, and your heart thumped loud against your ear. it was him. you quickly saved his number and looked over all the pictures, he had really saved you from the hassle of taking notes.

Sanji 8:37PM

“here are those notes, darling (y/n).”

Read 8:38PM

(Y/N) 8:38PM

“thank you so much, ur my savior fr fr 🫶”

Read 8:42PM

Sanji 8:45PM

“i’ll share my notes with you as many times as you’d like.”

Delivered 8:45PM

you hesitated to open up his text message. because although you were enjoying talking to him, something made your stomach churn. that being your boyfriend.

how would zoro react when he found out you were texting this guy?

#anime #manga #one piece #black leg sanji #one piece sanji #sanji x reader #vinsmoke sanji #pirate hunter zoro #zoro x reader #zoro roronoa x you #roronoa zoro #one piece luffy #op nami #op

[jalebi-weds-bluetooth]

hello hello hello Jalebi! And I’m sorry it was really weird of me to not say hello in my previous ask :((

In context with the same (ask), I really loved that you pointed out all the scenes with the song, and how it impacted the whole story build up. Yk, Before watching ipkknd, I went through a whole phase of watching the ‘realistic’ romance movies in Hollywood. The ones that make the viewers relate with the protagonists, because we’ve all been heartbroken in some point of our lives, and that all romances do not end up in happily ever afters. The before trilogy, 500 days of summer, eternal sunshine of the spotless mind, normal people and many more. My perspective on love and romance changed completely over the past 2-3 years, and it kind of was good because I got familiar with the real picture. (I grew up watching bollywood films and read wattpad as a teenager, which was obviously, really like a strawberry-duniya) But now, I’m finding myself again going back to my childhood dreams and fantasies, like love is ‘meant to be’, or ‘true romance is aided by the divine’, ‘the red string theory’ and something of that sort. I’m scared that this might end up making me feel that ‘realistic love’ is inadequate. I have fallen in love with the way romance and love has been portrayed in ipkknd, and I don’t think i am getting over it anytime soon.

Hello hello,

Omgh Anon please don't worry - I wasn't in the best mood either!

Ok, time for Jalebi to crack her knuckles and give a drop of two of reality sweetness and advice.

Romance is really about the way you feel. The way you imagine it to be. There's nothing ever right or wrong about the way romance works because there's no one way to define this notion of romance.

You see the best way to understand this is to really understand the way IPK showed how Arnav and Khushi experienced romance.

For Khushi always believed in what films and books sold her - she believed romance to be flowers, stars, seeing the person everywhere and so on and so forth. Thus when she fell for Arnav, she literally felt all this because this is how she was conditioned and believed romance would be.

Arnav, pragmatic in nature, truly never believed in the commercialized version of romance. What he did believe in was care being romance. He did NOT believe in Anjali's definition of romance. What he did believe is what he saw between Anjali and Shyam. The fact that his sister, so deep in love, cannot function if her beloved is in danger. She has a strong physiological response to Shyam. And Arnav does believe Anjali loves Shyam and vice versa. He does not believe love making the heart go fast, but he is aware of how an extreme emotion can affect the body. So the night he understands love (which he has been questioning for some time now) he realizes his care for Khushi was exaggerated, he collapsed at the thought of her harm and his extreme physiological reaction - racing heartbeats to restlessness - it's all due to and for Khushi, leaves him in a sombre realization.

The point here being you can never point out which version of romance is more accurate cause even if fiction, people feel love differently even for the most basic things.

If you are a romantic at heart and now believe larger than life things - from fate to God - play a role at romance, then even the most realistic thing like the person you like dabbing away your snotty nose during a cold will feel like the MOST romantic thing in the planet. You will see fate in this, you will feel the violins.

But if you're a realist at heart, then even at the most GRAND entry of your crush - helicopter and all - you will see the smallest things that matter to you. Such a small smile your hero throws your way before he goes for his day.

What we must understand though is that situations don't lead to love. Your feels and circumstances are two very separate things. I, at one point, used to believe that "Oh I'd get great love only if I go through the intense difficulty and push pull and fight with destiny"

Now that is a problem because a lot of the circumstances in IPKKND are best left to fiction. If realistic love doesn't appeal to you on screen - totally makes sense, heck I'm always down for grander schemes of love ON screen.

But in real life, it's really the realistic love that leaves you with the joy the grander shows love. It's the green flags, the safety, security and just goodness of it all that's really appealing.

Trust me when I say this, an honest intelligent conversation has had my heart racing faster than being backed into a wall 'a la Khushi'.

And the human mind is such, it can frame events into your head based on your definition of romance.

If I'm a hardcore romantic, then I will find divinity in reality and if I'm a realistic I will find realism in divinity. Because when I'm liking someone, I'm trying to find WHAT appeals to me.

And one really important thing to realize is that fate does NOT dictate one to be in your life when they're causing you grief. IPKKND is written as a romance that was not meant to have happened.

If you get an ASR - run. If you get a Khushi - run as well. One is too egoistic and the other is too idealistic.

Also realism does not mean passionless or things not being fated. It just shows you multiple other perspectives can happen. Yes, there's a certain escapism in these fantasy stories, but I also believe remarkable things can happen to absolutely ordinary people as well.

And you don't have to get over IPKKND at all - enjoy the vibes, enjoy the feels. Don't idealize the situations that Arnav and Khushi faced to get to love, but definitely idealize the power in their love.

Love's power is universal.

Love love love,

Jalebi

P.S: Talking about realism, it is interesting to note that the second time Khushi actually falls for Arnav (not infatuation) is when the littlest things happen.

A box of bangles cause her previous one broke, assisting her in serving the guests cause the waiters ditched on her, or simply telling her that the saree she chose first was the better one.

Nothing remarkable at ALL and this is as realistic as love gets, and as beautiful too.

The grand gestures of dance, kiss and mehendi's 'A' make her uncomfortable. His soft smile and showing up, personally, to her house in the morning is what touches her.

#ask #anon #jalebi's two cents #chill my dear #love is perfect in its odd way #HUMANS ARE MEANT TO CHANGE #perspectives always shift

[lurkingshan]

Thai QL Favorites Tag Game

Tagged by @telomeke and @chickenstrangers - thank you for inviting me to play! I had to keep reminding myself this is for Thai shows only, because I kept trying to include Japanese bls, my beloveds. But I got it now and I wrote way too much, as I am wont to do. :)))

Favorite Thai QL: I was just talking with @waitmyturtles about the distinction between favorite and best in comparing two major Thai bls–I Told Sunset About You and Bad Buddy. For me, ITSAY is objectively the best Thai bl ever made, in terms of its quality, fidelity to its vision, and execution of its story and themes. But Bad Buddy is my favorite. It is not without its flaws, but it is peak storytelling and it does my absolute favorite thing in any romance–it gets the couple together early in the story and lets me live in their relationship and see how they would navigate the many challenges coming their way while protecting their relationship. I’m not sure any other Thai ql drama will ever top it for me (but please do keep trying, Thailand). 

Favorite pairing: *steps on soap box, taps mic* The branded pairing system in Thai ql, while good for marketing and (sometimes) for actor relationships/chemistry and job security, is a hindrance to art and severely limits the storytelling capabilities of Thai dramas. I am not opposed to pairs who choose it working together across multiple projects, but I absolutely hate the real person shipping culture it encourages and the restrictions it places on some actors and productions. I have seen some positive signs of a loosening around these restrictions–like Earth and Mix both being allowed to play intimate scenes with other actors in Moonlight Chicken–but it still prevents actors from having more freedom to try different projects and often results in poor casting choices because everything has to be worked around a set pair instead of a more organic casting process. 

Ahem. All of that said, I think if I had to name a pair I like best and am most comfortable with, it would be Off and Gun. They work well together, their shows only get better over time, they don’t do the performative shit where they pretend they might be dating, and they seem to have a strong friendship and comfortable dynamic that insulates them somewhat from the worst of the shipper nonsense. I am very much looking forward to Cooking Crush. 

Most underrated actor: Fluke Pusit. If The Warp Effect and A Boss and a Babe didn’t convince GMMTV that this man is ready to headline his own drama, I don’t know what will! 

Favorite main character: Teh, I Told Sunset About You and I Promised You the Moon. Yes, both shows, and before you all come yell at me: I SAID WHAT I SAID. As I’ve mentioned before, Teh is a masterpiece of mess. He loves deeply and obsessively, he is passionate and mercurial in the extreme, and he is just as likely to crush you as he is to make your heart soar. In the category of emotional intensity he is unbeatable. He is fascinating to watch, and he is both infuriating and entirely legible, because every thought, feeling, and impulse are right there on his sleeve for you to see. He’s a legendary character crafted by brilliant writers and portrayed by one of the most talented young actors in Thailand, and I love him! 

Favorite side character: I am cheating and naming two: our favorite gay uncles Cheep and Dej from My Ride. I know @bengiyo feels me on this one. I love their relationship dynamic where they are constantly (lovingly) nagging at each other, I love the way they care for Mork, I love the delight they take in raising and guiding baby gays, and I even love their bad flashback wigs. 

Favorite scene in a QL: Teh and Oh-aew, on the floor, end of episode 3 of ITSAY. You know the one. I will never forget the raw intensity of that scene or the way I literally stopped breathing the first time I saw it. Holy shit. Honorable mention to Bad Buddy rooftop kiss, but I figure almost everyone else is going to talk about that one.

Favorite line in a QL: Ya know, when I think about great lines of dialogue, my mind invariably goes to Japanese and Korean dramas. I think that’s mostly because of my own language limitations and translation issues - Thai to English is tough and we get a lot of awkward subs as a result. But one I will always remember is from Love Sick, when Noh says to Phun: “It’s a terrible feeling, not knowing where the line between us is, isn’t it?”

Because woof, yes Noh it is!

Most anticipated QL (& why): Joining the chorus for Only Friends, because I usually love Jojo’s shows and I am here for a good time. I am also really happy we’re finally getting some Thai historicals, and am very much hoping I Feel You Linger in the Air will be great.

Healthiest relationship in a QL: This is a tough one because these are romance dramas, which means most of the romances are unhealthy by design, because that’s what the plot is about! You mostly see healthy relationships in the sides who are there to impart their wisdom (like Three and Zo in A Boss and a Babe). I will use this excuse to give a shout out to Patts from La Pluie, however, for modeling honest communication through most of the show (which was not reciprocated, which is what made the relationship unhealthy and led to the big conflict). Listen to La Pluie and communicate with your partners, fam!

Most toxic relationship in a QL: I don’t know if it’s the most toxic, but I was just talking to @bengiyo @neuroticbookworm and @wen-kexing-apologist about how much I hate the relationship dynamic that @absolutebl calls “Tom and Jerry.” This is where one person relentlessly chases the other as they vocally resist, often via negging and bullying. This came up in our My Ride discussion about Toy and Boss, and it’s also the dynamic of the main couple in My Engineer, which is why I don’t really like that drama despite Ram and King. I HATE THE TOM AND JERRY DYNAMIC SO MUCH. I don’t think it’s cute, I don’t think it’s funny, and I don’t root for these couples. 

Guilty pleasure series: I don’t feel guilty about my pleasures. :)

Most underrated series: Make it Right. I finally watched this recently thanks to @waitmyturtles and @bengiyo and it was so much better than I expected. I have written about both seasons and how much joy I got out of my watch despite the undeniable messiness of the show. This one deserves more respect as a Thai bl legacy show that paved the way for many others. 

Tagging @shortpplfedup @ginnymoonbeam @so-much-yet-to-learn @blmpff @troubled-mind @rocketturtle4 @lurkingteapot @nieves-de-sugui @syrena-del-mar @emotionallychargedtowel @slayerkitty @callipigio in case you want to play.

Feel free to ignore if not and definitely don’t feel obligated to write whole ass essays just because I’m a wordy b. :)

#tag game #thai bl #shan shouts into the void

[acacia-may]

Rogue Cheney (Fairy Tail) 🖤💘 please !

Hi! Thank you so much for your ask! I was so excited when I saw this ask because Rogue is one of my personal favorites and is just so wonderful and so incredibly underrated. (Also, I'm reading Twin Dragons of Sabertooth right now, so he has definitely been on my mind recently). I'll admit that I've never written about him before, however, so I'm a little nervous...😅 But I'm crossing my fingers that you'll like these headcanons, I've come up with for him.

I've put the angst headcanon below the cut because of the subject matter. Thank you so much again for the ask and for playing my game! 🥰

Questions are from this "Bye Bye Writer's Block" Ask Game

Rogue Cheney Headcanons

💘 -- Romance

Rogue's romantic devotion runs incredibly deep, and he would not hesitate to die for his beloved if the situation called for it. Despite how deeply and how ardently he loves, however, he often struggles to express how much he cares with his words and can be shy when it comes to expressing his feelings and romantic interest. If he was genuinely interested in pursuing someone romantically, he would likely take on the role of a secret admirer at first: doing small acts of kindness and leaving little, thoughtful gifts for his beloved completely anonymously as a way to show he cared before he grew comfortable and confident enough to confess his affection and romantic intentions.

Rogue practices both asking his beloved out on date and confessing his feelings with Frosh many times before he is even remotely ready to try to actually broach these topics with the one he loves. Frosh is always very encouraging which helps Rogue build the confidence he needs to pursue a relationship with his sweetheart.

🖤 -- Angst

Below the Cut because of the Heavier Themes.

(Warnings: Mentions and description of nightmares due to childhood trauma caused by grief and separation)

🖤 -- Angst

Ever since Rogue was separated from Skiadrum, he has had recurring nightmares in which he is running after the dragon. In these dreams, no matter how fast he runs and no matter how close he gets to Skiadrum, he can never reach him. He tries to scream and call out for him--to beg him to come back and not leave him all alone, but he cannot make any sound.

When Rogue was very young, he used to wake up crying from these nightmares, and though their frequency has lessened as he has aged, he will start having them regularly and waking up in tears because of them again in times of intense stress.

#rogue cheney #fairy tail headcanons #rogue cheney headcanons #thank you so much for the ask! #bye bye writer's block headcanons game #answered anons

[reverienne]

self-rec tag game

I saw it making rounds on my dash and you know what? I'm doing it and I'm strongly encouraging @aylaaescar, @bluekaddis / @rainhowls-arts (yes, it's my wink wink nudge nudge for you to fill it twice), @czandziowata, @etoilebinaire, @lavampira - and anyone else who wants to - to also give it a try! 💕

Rules: Share five of your own fanworks (fic, art, etc.). Then, tag five more people to share the things they’ve made.

(Mind that my ao3 fics are currently only available to the logged in users. Sorry for the inconvenience!)

1. something you absolutely adore:

Sierra's ShoH MC, Odelinka! And my ShoH MC, Bogusia!

They were made as a matching set and turned into custom acrylic keychains. Their coming into existence was a turning point in my life and I'm not exaggerating when I'm saying that they made my life so much better. Here's to more chibi keychains in the future! <3

But! I've spent way too much time refreshing the page and marvelling at my coding for Achievement Unlocked not to also count it here. It's a 70-words-long coda for Episode II of Wayfarer and my second attempt at coding. A long break made my return to CSS more challenging than I'd like it to be, but I'm very pleased with the end result and I keep shoving this little fic into the faces of all people who are up to date with the public build of Wayfarer. I think that it's just neat.

2. something that was challenging to create: 

Worst Romance Ever was both my first fic for Dragon Age, first fic published on ao3, first fic shared publically in a veeeery long time and, most importantly, my first venture into CSS coding. It's an account of a dudebro gamer criticising Emerald Aeducan's romance route in the fictional remake of Dragon Age: Origins. (Don't get discouraged by its unfinished status - it's technically finished, I'm just going back and forth on whether I should upload a little extra.) There was so much I had to learn for this project! Frankly, nothing I've made ever since matched it in terms of intensity. The layout is not perfect and I'd like to rework it sometime in the future, but it's a testament of my persistence and I'm proud of it anyway! Also, that's how I discovered that I actually like CSS coding and want to dabble in more ao3 skins in the future! So, small steps. :)

3. something that makes you laugh (or smile, if that fits more comfortably):

Zarya of disapproval! Her judgemental face never fails to crack me up. (Gosh, I really need to draw some more for Mysticons...)

4. something that surprised you (in how it turned out, how much other people liked it, etc.):

spotkania o 8. rano na Zoomie, my ~200-words-long modern AU ficlet for Wayfarer! I wrote it on a whim, published it right after, in a bout of unhinged self-confidence wrote about it on Wayfarer's Discord server... but nothing could prepare me for the warm welcome this ficlet received! It was written entirely in Polish, it was as niche as it could get, and yet! One person actually confessed to reading it with the help of Google Translate. I'm still overjoyed just thinking about it.

I ended up translating it into English the very next day, another record for me, though 8 a.m. Zoom meetings most likely got lost in the notifs and didn't match the Polish version's popularity. Still, I love both! And if you played Episode I of Wayfarer and have a minute to spare, I recommend giving it a chance!

5. something you want other people to see:

I dare to say that my art of my blorbo, Serena Amell, is quite underrated. C'mon, with some tweaks suggested to me by my best friend, I really managed to make her look very cute!

#Reverienne is talking #Reverienne does a meme #shepherds of haven #Wayfarer #Mysticons #Dragon Age #I wasn't entirely convinced back when I started doing this but now? #self-promos are amazing #I should do them more often!

[mlobsters]

supernatural s9e23 do you believe in miracles? (w. jeremy carver)

saw a post briefly that said they loved the gadreel plotline which made me realize i pretty much exclusively complain about this show while continuing to watch and go on about it at length. ultimately, it's because i love sam and dean. and i have a hard time with the plotlines that put a ton of conflict between them, which is like. 2/3 of the seasons at this point it feels like. and sometimes the stress feels earned (like say, dean's deal approaching, ruby, etc) and sometimes .... not so much.

like okay for example, as the recap spins up with carry on my wayward son. this song used to pretty much gut me because of how much emotional baggage there was by the end of the season and i'd usually end up crying my way through most of the last handful of episodes in a season. but the emotional intensity just fell off a cliff. it comes out sometimes between the two of them, but not nearly with the consistency of the earlier seasons. and like i've said before, there's just too much shit (plot) happening, it's teen wolf-esque

SAM Something is wrong with you, Dean. And until we figure out what, this is where you have to stay. DEAN And you two are gonna do what? Take on Metatron yourselves? That's smart. Oh, no, wait. No, you -- you lost your Angel army. And you now you're trying to lock up the one guy who has a shot at killing the son of a bitch! Hell of a plan, fellas!

as they lock dean in the dungeon thing, reminded of this

from s5e18 point of no return (link to my ep post)

DEAN Well, they’re right. Because either it’s a trap to get me there to make me say yes, or it’s not a trap and I’m gonna say yes anyway. And I will. I’ll do it. Fair warning. SAM No, you won’t. When push shoves, you’ll make the right call. DEAN You know, if tables were turned…I’d let you rot in here. Hell, I have let you rot in here. SAM Yeah, well…I guess I’m not that smart. DEAN I—I don’t get it. Sam, why are you doing this? SAM Because… you’re still my big brother.

different situation obviously since there's this external thing forcing dean to go darkside, but speaking of emotional intensity

sometimes they have people's eyelines so close to the camera i'm not sure but then lately sometimes it's just this which when it's unexpected it's my brain screeching DO NOT PERCEIVE ME

really good scene between dean and crowley here.

CROWLEY Cain was a demon. Your body's not strong enough to contain the blade's power. DEAN What if I got rid of it? CROWLEY You want to get rid of it?

the way he asked that was surprisingly not mocking. and i mean, if he's involved in dean becoming a demon, or just generally (i don't know how that goes down) - he has a vested interest in dean embracing this. and dean's such a mess it kinda seems like he might just latch on to what crowley is selling, since he's not just angry but vulnerable

SAM Who else would he summon? I mean, he and Crowley have been bromancing over the Blade ever since Dean got the mark.

you've seen romancing the stone, now bromancing the blade

SAM Yeah, I sort of got that. I just thought you might like to know that while you two have been playing, uh, odd couple, your real friends, like Cas, like the angel you stabbed, Gadreel --they're out there right now risking their asses to help you win this fight.

real friend, gadreel? okay. that seems like a stretch there, sammy. maybe ally would be a better word :p

DEAN You mean the angel that took you for a joy ride? The angel that slaughtered Kevin? That angel? SAM Who you let in the front door in the first place. You tricked me, Dean. And now I'm the one who wakes up in the middle of the night seeing my hands killing Kevin, not you. So, please, when you say you don't want to explain anything to me, don't. I get it. And I also get that Metatron has to go. And I know you're our best shot to do that.

i know sam is practical, but he must have quite the cargo hold for the baggage he's stowing

DEAN I'm gonna take my shot, for better or worse. SAM I know. DEAN No matter the consequences. SAM I know. But if this is it, we're gonna do it together.

going down swinging etc

DEAN Listen, Sammy, about, um, you know, the last couple of months... SAM I know. So, before we find something else to fight about...tell me...Are you ready to gut this bitch?

didn't last long

i don't particularly enjoy the weird cadence of gadreel's speech. i can imagine it was easier in a way to have something pretty stark so padalecki and gadreel's actor could noticeably be similar but. i'm real tired of it. oh, well. now he's dead anyway

METATRON Wow, that big blade and that... douchy tribal tat sure gave you some super juice.

gotta meet that dean bloody and beaten face quotient

METATRON Ah. So Gadreel bites the dust. And the Angel tablet -- arguably the most powerful instrument in the history of the universe -- is in pieces, and for what again? Oh, that's right -- to save Dean Winchester. That was your goal, right? I mean, you draped yourself in the flag of heaven, but ultimately, it was all about saving one human, right?

i mean, dean and humanity

i did not know he got stabbed

DEAN What happened with you being okay with this? SAM I lied.

appreciate that, and thank you jared (wiki):

Jared confirmed that Sam was lying in 9.13 The Purge when he said he wouldn't save Dean from dying, and so he changed a line in this episode from "I didn't know this was going to happen" to "I lied".

okay it's that mushy music again! but a woodwind or brass instead of piano. maybe that's what got me so confused, that it's been the horn in the past?? mushy piano in s9e11 and s8e15

i feel like a jerk but this didn't really hit the right emotional notes for me either, similar to the s8e23 handfasting in the church (tl;dr i watched it several times and despite being a wincest shipper i just didn't feel anything)

also.. did they need to reshoot this? the lighting is weird. either the lighting doesn't match the environment because of a reshoot or just poor lighting design choices

and i hate to say it, i've come to love sam a lot and i think padalecki is a better actor than i gave him credit for, but this doesn't feel like his usual more authentic distress :\

back here again

well that did get me a little. borrowing on dean over sam's dead body on the bed in s2e22 all hell breaks loose pt2

and following the thought through of sam being truly alone

did not anticipate the blade bringing him back as a demon, but i knew we got there somehow and that he and crowley were gonna go off on a jaunt

#supernatural #spnwatch #spn 9x23 #spn clip #spn musical score #spn mushy music

[flurrys-creativity]

Lurking in the dark 4

Pairing: Park Jinyoung (GOT7) x Fem!Reader; Genre: Action, Assassin AU, Romance, Strangers to Lovers, Humour, Angst; Rating: nsfw, 18+; Warnings: mentions of killing, worrying about death, an explosion, grumpy got7 in the morning, talking about killing someone, tension between the reader and Jinyoung, Jaebeom being hostile; Wordcount: 2.288

Summary: After witnessing the murder of your previous boss, you were forced to follow the assassin. Normally witnesses would have been killed but he decided against it, taking you to their hideout, a small guest house in the middle of nowhere. The assassin and the rest of his group were hiding more than you thought but you had to keep a huge secret for yourself as well.

Masterlist

Jinyoung stared at you without moving or reacting at all. Even his eyes didn’t move a bit, which would have been an indicator that he tried analysing you, but with him being like a living statue you had no clue. 

The longer he stared at you the more unnerving it became. Still, you refused to budge now. Refused to take your question back. You were sure you had the right guy. Right? A shimmer of worry flared up inside of you. What if you just revealed you had been spared by an assassin to the wrong person? You could feel your heart pounding against your ribcage. All while your breathing became more and more shallow. This wasn’t good.

“You know”, Jinyoung suddenly spoke up, a hint of a smirk playing over his lips, “it’s said that curiosity killed the cat.”

For a second everything stopped. Everything except your mind running miles an hour. How were you supposed to respond now? Did he finally admit he was the assassin you saw? Was he trying to tell you to keep your questions to yourself or otherwise you might die? Was he threatening you just now? You broke the intense eye contact and stared at the floor between you two, trying to regain some of your confidence.

“But satisfaction brought it back”, you mumbled, still staring down at the ground.

“If you have nine lives that is.”

“The saying doesn’t include the nine lives of a cat,” you argued and finally looked back up, new determination flashing up inside your eyes. “So tell me!”

Jinyoung shrugged with his shoulders. He tried everything to keep his composure in front of you. Everything you did, everything you said, all of it took him off guard. You simply kept surprising him. The minute he thought he had the upper hand over you, you proved him to be wrong with a simple change of your aura. “Something about you is odd.”

You hadn’t even noticed how tense you were in his presence but upon hearing his reasoning you quite literally deflated. “You think I’m strange?”

“Most definitely.” Jinyoung nodded slowly, as if he tried to convince himself this was the sole reason for him sparing your life. “I’ll keep my eyes on you until I know what’s the deal with you.”

You snickered and stood up, walking back to the furniture in front of the sliding door. “Oh please, don’t flatter me.” You smiled softly before you turned around and quickly returned to your own room, closing the door right behind you again.

You placed your hand over your rapidly beating heart, cursing yourself mentally that his words actually had a flattering effect on you. Especially since you knew how dangerous the attention of an assassin towards you could be. You needed to keep a low profile at all costs - not just in front of him but in front of the other residents as well. Your only hope was that Jinyoung would keep quiet about your true reason for coming here. Otherwise you wouldn’t stand a chance.

After a restless night where you shot up every time you heard a noise, you really dreaded getting up in the morning. You felt more confident last night when you met all the residents but with all this time thinking, worry gnawed at your insides.

You worried a lot about your stay at the Baby Bird and especially if you’d ever get out alive. One misstep could be enough for them to figure out who you were. Yet you couldn’t just stay in your room and avoid them at all costs with no money to pay.

A deep sigh escaped your mouth as you got up and walked over to your door, opening it with a trembling hand. You suppressed the shriek building inside your throat when you nearly bumped into someone standing in front of your room. Your wide eyes wandered up to the face of Youngjae.

“You’re up early.” His eyes quickly scanned your face. “Did you sleep alright?”

You tried to muster a smile as well. “It’s always a challenge to sleep at a new place. Though I’m also used to waking up early.”

Youngjae nodded shortly before he grinned. “As long as you think the inn is comfortable. Are you ready to work? We need to prepare breakfast for the rest.” He gave you a quick hand motion to follow him and started walking down the hallway without looking back again.

You hurriedly shut your door and rushed after Youngjae, taking more of the house and surroundings in as the break of dawn casted more light onto it.

The two large buildings you already saw last night as well as the connecting hallway basically hid away a small but beautiful garden. A small pond nested in the middle of the garden, a few frogs croaking their good mornings with the sun steadily rising and waking nature.

“The guests must love it to take a stroll through the garden.”

“Most guests only stay for a night and continue their travels after breakfast the next morning”, Youngjae answered you, looking longingly over the garden as well. “I had hoped that guests would use the verandas to relax and gaze upon the pond while doing so.”

“Have you ever tried to advertise your inn in the nearby towns? I’m sure some newlyweds would love to spend their honeymoons here.”

The minute you said these words a loud boom blasted through the peaceful morning ambience. 

You stopped in surprise, thankful you didn’t jump in fright, as you turned around and saw a dark cloud of smoke wafting into the air behind the back house.

Youngjae sighed deeply and rubbed his temples. “There are several reasons why one night guests might be better after all.”

You looked back at Youngjae, trying to stay as surprised and unknowingly as possible. Even though you thought it made sense that people shouldn’t stay too long around assassins. Though he didn’t need to know about your intel. “Is that normal?”

“Sadly, yes.” Youngjae continued his walk down towards the kitchen, making sure he would kick some ass later when you wouldn’t be around.

“What was that noise anyway?”

“Nothing to worry about.”

“Shouldn’t I know about it? If it’s normal I assume it happens rather often and shouldn’t I be prepared whenever something doesn’t go as planned?” You followed Youngjae but glanced back to the dissipating black cloud every other step, wanting to investigate it further.

You had smelt the gunpowder on two guys last night but you never operated with it yourself and it made you curious.

In your own curiosity you didn’t notice your choice of words, nor the look Youngjae gave you.

“Bambam and Yugyeom are playing around. That’s it.”

“What are they playing with?”

Youngjae sighed again, his initial suspicion fading upon your almost naive questioning. “I’m sure you’re going to learn that soon enough. Since you’re going to help around, you’re most likely to meet and interact with the others around here. And as long as I have known those two, they are definitely willing to show off to a pretty woman. Anyway, we need to hurry now.”

“Why?” You nearly had to run after Youngjae with his fast pace, confused by the change in his calm demeanour.

“They’re a pain in the butt without a proper breakfast this early in the morning.”

“Who?”

“All of them, except Bambam and Yugyeom since they woke them up.”

As if to underline Youngjae’s words you heard some yelling and screeching coming from the complex behind you. “Oh wow.”

You picked up your pace and jogged after Youngjae, sliding into the kitchen soon after. While Youngjae rushed around the room and grabbed all kinds of things, you stood rather helplessly in the middle of it.

“I had hoped to introduce you to everything around here more calmly and with a lot more time at hand but this has to do for now.” Youngjae pulled you up to the stove, quickly showing you how to operate it before he placed bacon and eggs next to you. 

“If I don’t get some coffee into my system now, I’m going to kill someone!”

“We should just get rid of the firecrackers instead of someone random. I can’t stand them doing experiments in the middle of the night!”

“It’s the early morning, not the middle of the night.”

“Shut up Jackson! Don’t even try to be peaceful.”

You turned to the door, seeing two grumpy men and a giggling Jackson entering the kitchen. Your eyes immediately fell onto Jinyoung, who ran his hand through his hair in an annoyed manner.

“One morning of peace. That’s all I’m asking for.” Jinyoung sat down at the large table in the middle of the kitchen, resting his head on his hands. “And some coffee.”

The other two sat down as well, slumping down just as quickly as Jinyoung until Youngjae placed three cups of coffee on the table. 

“Where’s Jaebeom?”

“Dealing with the pests”, Mark grumbled and clutched his cup with two hands, inhaling the freshly brewed scent. “They interrupted his morning meditation.”

“As if that meditation would help him get less impatient”, Jackson giggled and sipped at his coffee before he placed it down on the table and pushed the cup away. “Can I do my shake instead?” He looked at Youngjae with large puppy eyes.

You caught the disgusted look on all their faces, wondering what it was about but quickly continued cooking. 

Soon enough you felt someone staring at you, making your skin prickle all over your back. You had a feeling who it was but refused to confirm it. Ever since the fluttering feeling from last night you wanted to avoid looking at him as much as possible.

Jinyoung had another idea though. As soon as his eyes landed on your form, his body basically moved on its own. He stood up with his cup of coffee and walked over to you, glancing over your shoulder. “Good morning, kitty.”

A shiver ran down your spine with his low voice and his breath tickling your ear. Even though your body reacted like that, you narrowed your eyes as you briefly glanced at him, showcasing his choice of greeting annoyed you. 

“Do you like your eggs boiled, fried or scrambled?”

Jinyoung chuckled and leaned against the counter next to the stove. “This almost sounds like a threat.”

“What sounds like a threat?” Jackson turned around to Jinyoung, finally realising you were in the kitchen as well. “Oh! Hey! Good morning!”

You turned around to Jackson and smiled at him brightly, greeting him as well. “I have no idea.” You glanced at Jinyoung before looking back at Jackson. “I only asked him how he likes his eggs.”

Jackson frowned and turned his attention towards Jinyoung. “How is that question a threat? It’s way more considerate if you ask me. Nobody ever asked how I like my eggs! I only ever got the finished dish placed in front of me without even asking me whether I like it or not!”

“If you want pity, you aren’t getting that here.”

“Just like getting asked for my preferences! I don’t get that here either! Mark! Help me out! Jinyoung is mean again!”

“Don’t drag me into this.”

Jackson immediately whined more, literally begging Mark to take his side. They continued to bicker around until Youngjae shut them up with a stern look.

You silently continued to cook the bacon and the eggs, trying to ignore Jinyoung’s presence lingering around you. Which proved to be harder than you thought.

He brushed against you whenever he walked past you, placed tools and dishes you needed next to you before you were even able to ask Youngjae for them and simply stayed next to you the whole time.

Even after Jaebeom dragged Bambam and Yugyeom into the kitchen and all of them sat down at the table, Jinyoung stayed next to you, watching silently what you were doing.

You bit down on the inside of your cheek, trying to focus on anything but Jinyoung. You nearly exhaled in relief when he sat down at the table as well after you placed the bacon and eggs on it.

“Thanks for the food!” 

You smiled, seeing how the younger ones immediately dove in and stacked dishes on their plates. It reminded you of little children eager to get the best candies.

“Aren’t you going to eat with us?” Yugyeom halted in his action and looked at you with big eyes, resulting in everyone turning towards you as well.

Youngjae, who already sat down at the end of the table, looked at you expectantly, indicating you were allowed to sit and eat with them.

Flustered, you came closer to the table and sat down on the empty seat between Jackson and Jinyoung. “Thank you.”

“Of course! We all eat together whenever we’re here! It’s boring to eat alone,” Jackson told you and immediately placed food on the plate in front of you. “Sometimes not all of us are here but that doesn’t mean the rest aren't eating together. So make sure to always show up whenever it’s time to eat and you’re at the Baby Bird.”

Jaebeom scoffed and crossed his arms in front of his chest. “Don’t treat her like she’s one of us. This woman is gone as soon as her situation settles.”

“With your attitude, yeah, definitely. How about showing some hospitality? We could become friends in the long run.”

“In our line of work there is no such thing as friends.”

Jackson gasped loudly and grabbed onto your hand involuntarily as he stared at Jaebeom with an open mouth. “Aren’t we friends?”

Chapter 3  < | >  Chapter 5

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#got7writerscollective #kwritersworldnet #kdiarynet #wkcnet #kvanity #park jinyoung #got7 #got7 jinyoung #mark tuan #lim jaebeom #jackson wang #choi youngjae #bambam #kim yugyeom #lurking in the dark #series #chapter 4 #assassin au #kpop #idol

[theprincessaurora]

I saw your ask about your favorite Aurora ships and I have to say that Aurora/Gaston intrigues me greatly. When do you start shipping them and how do you see them working? I ask because Gaston is the villain in his film, but I always had a soft spot for villain/hero ships when done right and I'll love to hear your thoughts on it because it really caught my attention!

I'm so pleased you became interested in their pairing! So, I would like to preface this by saying that I came up with this ship when I was five- it was literally my first non-canonical ship ever- so for as flawed as it should've been upon concept, they actually work together quite beautifully?

So, when I had watched Beauty and the Beast at five, I never connected with Belle but I adored Gaston. I loved his flamboyancy and his firmness and commitment- normally we see men who don't want to get married, not the other way around. He also wanted children- six or seven or eight of them, at that! I'm a pretty extreme person, I love when someone is entirely one way or the other, and the grays in life- be it personality types or stylistically mundane elements or an argument lacking in conviction- never appealed to me. Gaston really has the intensity of life in such an alive way, that really spoke to me at that age. I would always play around with the dolls I had of him and Aurora the most, and it just seemed to work? He is a hunter after all, so his discovery of her wouldn't be that off from how Phillip sees her. Also, as I mentioned he's a hunter and is always after the chase, and Aurora doesn't fold easily. Plus, he is intrigued by Belle's beauty and Aurora was literally gifted with the supernatural gift of beauty and song. With their looks especially, they tend to mesh- the red of Gaston's cape and the blacks of his wardrobe so remind me of Aurora's dream prince. Also, I think Aurora is a beautiful personification of femininity and I think Gaston's masculinity would bloom in a healthy way alongside hers. Think of the soaring soprano of Aurora’s voice and the supported baritone of Gaston’s. I always listen to I Bring You a Song and think of them singing it to one another!

From a personality standpoint, they also appeal to me. As I mentioned, Gaston is the villain of his film, but he's easily influenced. Aurora's such a strong personality, and she wouldn't tolerate his poor behavior, so I think he'd course correct and allow her to have an upper hand in a way because he's scared of losing her. They both are dreamers and love the idea of love! Also I love how overwhelmingly masculine he is for her, and inherently primal he can be in a sensual sense, because as I mentioned Aurora is quite feminine, but she also spent her entire life with three elderly fairies who never had a thought about romance one way or another while Aurora dreams of a Prince, and kissing that prince, and all the butterflies that come about with love. So to meet a man for the first time, and for that man to be dripping with all the dreams you had of how men are and to be so physically competent and lively and virile! UGH.

Also, I think they would be able to help one another in a very cute way. Aurora is so strong in her decision making, but she suffers from fearing to disappoint anyone. Gaston would be able to play "bad cop" and take the blame for her if she didn't want to do something or see someone, and he'd do it in such a charming way that I doubt anyone's feelings would be hurt at the end of the day. When it comes to Gaston, he can resort to aggression when upset, and Aurora doesn't do conflict. As someone who grew up as an only child with very gentle fairies, she doesn't engage in heated interactions, she simply walks away from something if she doesn't like it which would help Gaston dial t in and be less combative.

One of the strongest elements I think is most appealing, though is the fact that, of all the princesses, I think Aurora is the most effective in her communicating. Whether it's speaking, singing, dancing, crying- she communicates incredibly well. With Gaston/Belle, I think a lot of times she insulted him in ways he didn't understand and instead of it being a serve, it just perplexed him. I think Aurora would appreciate Gaston for who he is, but she would also be able to speak to him and communicate with him in a way he would receive. Also, just look at them together!!!

#* / DUTIES #ask #anonymous #gaston #also endless aus for them! #gaston being one of the huntsmen for aurora's kingdom #gaston being hired by king stefan and queen hazel to bring aurora home on the eve of her bday #gaston bumping into aurora when he's hunting in the forest #like SO many #them having a cottage in the woods together <333

[wiremotherenergy]

i think kevin and veronica have a lot in common in terms of being addicted to relationships - in this way they are both pathologically searching for ways to feel opressed: in veronicas case the role of kevins (mostly imagined - except when enacted by other gay people) homophobic societal constraints is filled by Hiram. i could easily imagine a scene of veronica in fox forest yelling at betty that she doesnt understand her strife - Your dad never tried to recruit manipulate or murder any of YOUR boyfriends! The difference is though that while veronica suffers from chronic venus in cancer disease and can only feel self actualised and fulfilled by caring for and devoting herself to a boy (thats why her cognitive dissonance girlbossing is so fascinating. ask me about veggie), kevin is a coward and instead of searching for ways to fiercely defy the patriarchy through embracing the patriarchy he is searching for ways to become a young adult dystopian romance protagonist through manufacturing narrative conflict and tension to make sense of and give purpose to his otherwise boring existence (see also: cult member proclivities). his presumed but untouched on mommy issues may or may not play a role in this - there is no other possible justification for these levels of attention seeking behavior but momma keller is mentioned circa 3 times in the whole series so i kind of doubt this. he seems to have no conflict with his cop #ally dad and i bet that pisses him off SO MUCH. in contrast to poor veronica who is constantly given zero credit for her own craziness # noteverythingishiramsfault! how do i know veronicas existence is NOT defined and made absolute by her father? because thats why we have her amazing sexy sister hermosa - SHES here to show us what that actually looks like. (and still she is not the preferred child - aks me about hermosa). veronicas issue is that she wants to have it both ways (her character a never ending conundrum of feminism as the unstoppable force and being a daddys girl as the immovable object) while kevins issue is the same one i had when choosing a major - nobody actually wants or expects anything from me and i am free to do whatever i want and i hate it so i create my own mental saw traps in my head. i love his arc in s6 and his relationship with percival and the whole lord of the flies thing. not necessarily a 100% true observation but definitely the most narrative structure kevin has ever been allowed to have. him and betty work great as besties bc they are both victims of intense internalised homophobia and hate each other btw. why is kevin always in some random bland unimportant boring relationship with a nothing guy whos only personality trait is being gay (only half pertains to fangs - he does have other stuff going on but only ever one at a time and during his kangs era it is being kevins gay bf*). because kevin is choosing gayness to be his own only personality trait to trap himself and give his life meaning. only it consistently fails to provide the drama he thinks it should have (again - excluding that thing with mooses homophobic gay dad. i love that the only homophobic characters in riverdale are all - at least semi canonically - gay). veronica also consistently has near nothing in common with her boyfriends** but at least she is getting the returns that kevin is denied. maybe because she is a better businesswoman. ultimately she is the loser though because while someone in the writers room for s6 has probably said she should be freed from the boyfriend vs daddy dichotomy on account of that being kinda misoginystic and therefore hasnt had anything to do at all in the plot since - kevin will always have either an unremarkable boyfriend or a stupidity induced allegiance with a villain or both ( THANK YOU for this percival. please come back.)

#*prior to kangs era its playing rosencrantz to sweet peas guildenstern and after that its tonis blue collar family man malewife #ask me about fangs... #**ASK me about veggie #to be clear i love kevin but not more than i love to hate him and i do suffer from academic bias on account of desiring veronica carnally. #rvd #etxt

[astaroth1357]

Brothers React to the MC Looking at Them Lovingly

This is a personal experiment. This is the very first time I've written one of these with a goal in mind, "Make them fall in love all over again." It's a tall order. I hope I succeeded. 🙏 Special thanks to @a-chaotic-dumbass for picking the mood for this one!

Intro:

We all know that look. The one where one person stares at another like they just realized they're the only thing in the universe and they're in fucking awe of it. The kind of look that tells you they're utterly enthralled by that other person and just can't get enough of their presence. That look. Yeah, the brothers just got that look out of the MC.

Let's warm some cold hearts, everybody.

Lucifer

Lucifer was always beautiful. Always has been, as an angel or a demon.

A morning star is one that outshines all the rest. It stands out when the other stars have dimmed, holding onto its luster in defiance of the sun. 

There couldn't be a truer title for Lucifer to have. Not the horrors of war nor the fires of Hell could tarnish his radiance in any way…

But there were moments, like right then, where the MC caught a glimpse of a different sort of Lucifer.

His brothers would often only see the uptight Lucifer, the practiced visage of perfection that he tried so hard to keep up… 

But after a long day, when he thinks he's alone, he retires to his room to listen to his music and the difference is astonishing.

There's something so entrancingly calm about him… How the light of the fireplace flickers and dances across his alabaster skin to the subtle slouch of his posture. His face no longer marred by creases of stress and frustration… 

And his expression is so pure… So tranquil and at peace… Beauty without effort. A shine that can't be ignored. A morning star, in the truest sense of the word…

It took awhile for Lucifer to see the MC leaning against his doorframe.

They were staring at him with the oddest look… Smiling like they were enraptured by something, but he didn't have a clue why. He was just sitting there…

So, naturally, he turned to suspicion.

"Am I really that amusing…?"

Frankly, he wasn’t prepared for the little laugh they let out in response.

"Mm? No, no... I'm just always so amazed by you, is all. I'll leave you to your music..."

Having thoroughly ruined the mood, the MC then turned to leave. But Lucifer was already upon them before they could step away, wrapping his arms around their waist and letting contented hum escape his chest.

"Going so soon…?"

Apparently he appreciated the compliment.

Mammon

He didn't have to do it.

When Belphie bumped into one of the House's vases, shattering it against the tile, he didn’t have to take the fall for it.

It wasn’t connected to him at all. He could have stayed quiet and no one would have pointed a finger at him for once.

But he did.

When Mammon set his phone down on the table, MC knew instantly that he had lied in the chat.

He was with them the entire day, he didn't have the time to accidentally break a vase. He hadn't even gone down that hallway all day...

But he said something anyway.

And he didn't even look fazed. He didn't turn towards them seeking approval nor did he look irritated that Belphie didn't speak up. He didn't curse at himself for doing something so self-sacrificing either...

When Mammon leaned back into the cushion of his couch, the MC saw something truly remarkable on his face… A smile. A small one, sure, but relaxed… 

Assured in his own actions. Confident in his choice and accepting the consequences… undeserved, and likely thankless, they may be.

A genuine, serene smile…

Mammon wasn't sure what he expected to see when he turned to the MC. Probably confusion or disbelief that he, the Great Mammon, could be so selfless.

Definitely not the awed, lovestruck look he got...

"G-gah!" He panicked slightly and pressed himself back against the armrest of the couch in shock. "Wh-... What'cha lookin at me like that for??"

When the MC didn't answer after a few seconds and just kept staring, he honestly didn't know what to do. Were they broken or something??

"Oi, MC! I asked ya wh-Hey wait a minute!!"

He made a noise between a yelp and a shout when the MC leapt forward and latched their arms onto him. What had gotten into them??

"U-uh… MC? MC?? Damnit MC, answer me already!! Or at least stop squeezin so tight!!... MC!!!"

Leviathan 

To anyone else, it was just Levi being Levi.

He had finished a new episode of his latest animated obsession and he had to share it with someone. Anyone would do, but the MC was always willing to lend an ear.

Something about Levi really changes when he talks about his passions… It's like he comes alive in a whole new way.

He speaks at a mile-a-minute, but that's because he's so excited the words fly from his mouth. 

Some part of him is always bouncing, be it his leg or body. Sometimes even his tail will swish and curl behind him like an ecstatic puppy. And his eyes… 

Citrine pools that glimmer and dilate from the exhilaration of it all. It's his little world and anyone can see he's thrilled to be sharing it. 

You'd never know he was shy. You'd never think he'd look down himself. You'd never guess that he hid himself away… Why would someone so full of passion and life ever want to? Some things are just too beautiful to keep hidden...

Levi had only gotten six minutes into his latest rant before he finally registered how the MC was staring at him…

This man has seen enough shoujo to know what that look means and it shut him up sooo quick. If anyone else were in the room they would have seen a beet-red Levi desperately trying to hide his face.

"M-MC…! S-top staring at me like that…!!"

"Like what~?" 

He didn't have to look at them to hear the teasing lilt in their voice.

"MC…" He peeked out from behind his fingers to see them still staring and covered himself up more vigorously. "Stoooop…!!!"

But secretly? He wished they'd never stop. His cheeks may have been red from embarrassment, but his heart was trying to hammer its way out of his chest to hug them itself. Hell, he'd have happily given it over to them if they'd asked…

Please just let those loving eyes be for him and him alone...

Satan

Soft isn't exactly a word anybody would use to describe Satan, least of all himself.

His anger was quick to spark, his strength was nothing to scoff at, and even his smiles were nothing but plastic for nearly all of his existence…

Nearly.

The MC learned surprisingly quick that there was one thing that could bypass all of the hidden ferocity to Satan's personality. Something that could make him melt like butter in the summer sun…

Satan had always looked a little cute when he was reading. He was easily at his most expressive when engrossed in a thrilling story or deeply intrigued by something he found between the pages of a book…

But watching Satan read about cats, as he was right then, was really something else entirely.

Maybe it was the way his emerald eyes would sparkle or the lopsided grin he just couldn't hide as he would scan the pages about the playful habits of Bengals or the relaxed nature of Ragdolls…

Maybe it was the sheer impassioned dedication he took the subject, pouring countless hours into collecting and memorizing every fact he could from their diets to coat maintenance.

Or maybe it was the sheer fact that anytime he saw a picture of kitty in-print he looked like a besotted schoolgirl drawing hearts around her crush in a teen magazine.

Really, who's to say? But to the MC, it was proof that under all that anger, there was a tender, loving center even for the smallest, softest creatures…

Satan automatically snapped his book closed when he saw MC watching him from behind a bookshelves. Caught red-handed…

He knows exactly how he looks when he's doing his research internally squealing over cat pictures so he tries to do so in private...

He was about to sputter out a defensive explanation but then he registered their face…

He'd seen that look described in stories, romance novels mostly, but he'd rarely seen it in action… and never once leveled at him with such intensity…

Not to be cliche, but frankly his heart skipped a beat.

Satan forgot about his book briefly and got up to close the distance between them, tilting their chin up to keep their eyes on him.

"Like something that you see, Kitten?"

"You could say that…"

He laughed at their attempt to play coy, but let it slide just this once… Easy to do with them looking at him so amorously.

Asmodeus 

Asmo is a very popular demon. Someone so free ought to know quite a lot of people, after all.

And, of course, he had plenty of fans. He made DevilTube videos, hosted radio shows, fashion designed, and even modeled.

So it wasn't very surprising when a young demoness stopped him while he and the MC were out shopping. It wasn’t the first time he had been asked to sign autographs, but this meeting… it was different.

It was clear to them both that this girl was shy. Though she held out the paper, her eyes stayed firmly on the ground and she stumbled on her question… She likely a fan from afar, but everything about her seemed meek… unassuming.

Most people would have just gave the autograph then went on with their day. The interaction could have taken five seconds at most… but not Asmo.

He asked her name… where she was from, how she was feeling, her favorite foods, outfits, makeup, you name it. All with investment.

It was amazing to watch the shy young woman slowly open up, getting more bright and cheerful with each passing question until it evolved into a healthy conversation.

When their little meeting finally wrapped up, he gave her back the paper (now signed) but also fished out a bottle of perfume from among the mountains of bags he was carrying. He gave it to her and wouldn't hear anything to the contrary, he could always buy another.

None of his brothers ever gave Asmo enough credit for his giving nature… even if he had his own way of going about it. Though he cared so much about image and his ability to shine, he never hesitated to make sure that the people around him shined too...

Asmo waved to the fan as she scampered away and was about to  apologize to the MC when he saw their face…

The man knows this look well. He's seen it a billion times, though it was particularly cute coming from them.

"Awww MC! Taken by my beauty are you~?"

He was about ready to kiss their cheek when they responded.

"No, not your looks, Asmo… with you."

… Oh.

It was very rare to see Asmo speechless, but for a few seconds his mind seemed to take in their words… letting them fully sink in before his heart utterly melting.

Oh MC… His sweet MC!!

Asmo ended up dropping the rest of his bags just so he could properly litter his human in nuzzles and kisses, the both of them humming and giggling in delight despite their shameless PDA.

Of course it would be his MC to see that part in himself… Who else would take the time?

Beelzebub 

Food is a precious resource to Beel. For him, it's a lifeline. A good meal could save him from the brink of starvation…

But that still doesn't make him incapable of sharing from time to time.

He and the MC were walking back to the House after getting takeout from Hell's Kitchen. Beel hadn't even waited until they left the restaurant to start eating his share, spilling the smell of fresh food into the air around them…

Things were going fine on their route back until they heard whimpering behind them…

A hellhound puppy, not quite old enough to bear its fangs, seemingly followed them as they were walking… It looked like it had been out for some time and eyed their food with hungry eyes, but weak posture. Who knows when it last had a meal?

The MC was about to tug at Beel's sleeve and say something, but their demon was ahead of them this time.

A casual observer might have gawked at the sight of Gluttony kneeling down to offer such a lowly creature a sandwich. But the MC knew better. When you spend your whole life hungry, nobody more than you understands that kind of pain in someone else. 

This reaction wasn't out of character for Beel, it was elementary.

And when the puppy finished its meal and covered Beel's cheeks with appreciative licks, he just laughed and scratched behind its ears. Amethyst eyes looking more relieved at its health than disappointed he lost some of his lunch...

Food was Beel's lifeline, but kindness is what made him who he was…

When the pup finally scampered off, Beel looked over at the MC to tell them it'd be alright and saw their face…

He wasn't really sure what they were staring at… Did he have something between his teeth again?

"MC? Are you okay...?"

They laughed at him for some reason but pulled him in for a hug so they must have meant well.

"You're so sweet, Beel…"

Beel's never one to refuse a compliment so he just hugged them back, beaming.

"Thank you, MC…"

Belphegor 

To say that Belphegor tended to be on the melancholic side would be an understatement… It wasn’t that he was incapable of expressing joy, it was just harder for him to do than most. Not helped, of course, by his tendency to keep his true feelings vague and hard to pinpoint.

But on those rare occasions where he was overjoyed… Belphie could really be something special…

The MC and Belphie were attending one of Beel's games and it was a tight one… Both teams had spent most of it tied and Beel's team was running out of time to overtake that slim margin.

Belphie had always been a supporter of his twin's athletics, but this time it was tense even for him. He kept on the edge of his seat and didn't even nod off during the breaks like he normally would… The MC could just tell how nervous he was for Beel…

But right as the time was about to run out, Beel made a last minute score and sure, the whole field erupted, but Belphie? Belphie hollered.

The normally sleepy and mellow demon was on his feet in an instant and practically shredding his vocal chords in excitement. If his tail had been out, it would have been beating against the bleachers like a war-drum. And his expression?

Belphie's smile is said to stop hearts for a reason. When he puts his all into a grin it's almost like he ascends to Heaven once more, as pure as an angel's choir and as warm as a summer's breeze… Nothing in his eyes but pride and adoration for his beloved twin brother.

Truly, a heartwarming sight to behold…

Belphie didn't calm down until the rest of the crowd settled and was about to point out Beel's skill to the MC when he noticed their face.

… oh no… Why do they look so sappy…?

"You really love your brother, don't you?"

Belphie quickly hid his thoughts behind an irritated frown and plopped back down in his seat… but that didn't shield them from seeing his pink cheeks.

"Of course I do. What kind of question is that?"

He debated just joining Beel on the field to hide his embarrassment when he heard them snicker back.

"Yeah, you're right… Don't mind me."

Oh he minded. He minded a lot that he let his carefully veiled image slip like that. But thinking back to that smile on their face…?

Maybe being a little open wasn't so bad after all...

#obey me #obey me shall we date #shall-we-date-obey-me #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me headcanons #obey me hc #obey me scenarios

[slightlymore]

hardest to love

part of the ‘soulmates collection’

surgeon!doyoung x surgeon!fem reader

others: haechan, jaemin, jeno

genre: medical au (but the medical part is not heavy), romance, angst, smut, fantasy elements, “enemies” to lovers, mutual pining 

warnings: +18, esplicit sexual content: doyoung is a hard dom and a soft dom in different scenes, short instances of sub doyoung, finger sucking (I know, I have a hand kink), spanking, raw, ice play, fingering, dry humping, thigh riding, choking, use of "sir", orgasm control and denial, edging, overstimulation, light degradation, oral f, brat taming, safe word, wine play?; lots of teasing; swearing; discussion around death; doyoung is a jerk but gets better

words: 13k

note: you can read this as a stand alone without having read the other works in the soulmate collection. what you need to know: haechan, jeno and jaemin travel different universes with the purpose of getting doyoung and yn be together. mark is trying to do the opposite. sometimes doyoung can remember past lives and sometimes he can't. this life takes place in a hospital. if you're confused by the three boys’ story everything will be explained in their backstory fics coming soon. 

__________

Haechan let out a single deep sigh. 

“Damn it. Doyoung is a fucking jerk in this life.”

The three young men were standing in the corner of the room watching two students trembling mortified in front of a pissed off Doyoung before he could turn around on his heels. 

“I thought he was a jerk in all lives,” Jeno commented while dusting off imaginary lice off his jacket. 

"I’ll be honest. When you said 'hell' I didn't expect the ER."

“Well have you ever been to-” Haechan continued but stopped when noticing Jeno not listening to him anymore but observing their third friend instead. 

“Hey, Jaemin?” Jeno put one hand on his shoulder. 

Jaemin was weak and paler than usual, eyes wide and with a slightly trembling chin. He then followed the direction of the younger gaze and gasped himself. 

“Yeah,” Haechan grated the back of his head. “I’m sorry. I told you this one is going to be hard.” 

Jaemin gulped, looking at himself walking around the bed and checking on the patients. 

That Jaemin looked exactly like him. 

The only difference was the clothes. That doppelganger had a doctor gown instead of a sweatshirt. 

“How is this possible? I don’t understand how I can be here and there at the same time.”

Haechan sighed at Jaemin’s comment. 

“You could consider it time travel. Now, listen to me.” 

Jaemin let himself be grabbed by Haechan’s hands, pressing on both of his arms and looked at the other’s intense eyes. 

“You have to avoid yourself while we work and-,” he stopped as if making sure to have Jaemin’s whole attention, “-you can’t talk to her.” 

As if Haechan’s voice was a spell that summons people, Jaemin raised his gaze from him to look behind Haechan’s shoulder where a woman was slowly walking the corridor, eyebrows furrowed trying to understand the medical records she was carrying. 

“Shit,” Haechan silently cursed and, placing one hand on Jaemin’s cheek, he indicated to keep quiet by putting one finger on his own lips. 

If Jaemin weren’t so weak in the limbs upon seeing her, he would have felt the tingle on his skin coming from Haechan’s palm, or he would have realized that the woman walked past them as if they were all invisible. 

Jeno, arms crossed on his chest, followed the woman with his eyes then nodded once as to indicate that the path was clear. 

“Why can’t I talk to her?” 

Jaemin’s head wanted to turn around and catch another glimpse but Haechan didn’t move his hand from his face yet. 

“You might, I promise. But only when I say so.” 

“Haechan and I can shapeshift and become invisible but you can’t and we won’t be around to babysit you all the time. Do your part and stay out of trouble.”

"You look mean,” Jaemin mumbled. 

"I am. Now move."

__________

A breath. 

A deep and heavy breath. 

He was hearing it inside his skull. His own irregular breath inside his own skull. 

Then a loud ringing suffocated every other sound in Doyoung’s ears. Like tinnitus, he thought, so used to elaborate information by classifying it into boxes.  

The man was looking at his hands as if they were not his, fingers gripping the defibrillator pads, watching how the chest underneath them rose and fell. 

Again. 

And again. 

A machine. The defibrillator and Doyoung. 

And that body as well. 

But it was too broken to be fixed. 

And when he barely heard the nurse’s question he straightened his back. “Time of death,” he inhaled, his hands now uncovering the wristwatch, “2:41 am,” he exhaled.

__________

Doyoung felt it inside his hands, under the skin. 

It was uncomfortable. 

He looked at his left palm and wished it trembled. 

"A surgeon," the announcement came in the form of a hard pat on the shoulders.

 Doyoung blinked surprised and put his glasses back up on the nose. 

"Great hands," the professor shook them with vigour, his eyes wide open and intense. "Steady," the old man continued his litany of compliments. 

Doyoung let him wiggle his arms for a few more seconds before sighing as another student grabbed the professor's attention. 

The young boy looked down at his hands as well after the man turned his back. 

His eyes scanned every line in his palms as if seeing them for the first time. 

"Those hands will do big things in the future" and Doyoung now, shoulders heavy, moist fringe patted on his forehead in the humidity of the terrace, felt like cutting his hands off. 

Yes. Big things. 

Like playing with life and death. 

Didn't you just kill a man? he asked his hands, lower lip trembling instead of his steady fingers. Huh? and you're fine? 

Doyoung tightened his fists with disgust and punched the air while letting them fall with force to his sides. 

The rain intensified and he stepped in the front further until feeling the cold and heavy drops hit his face. Their sound was chaotic and it calmed Doyoung's heart. 

Again. 

I can do it again. I've done it before. 

I do it again. 

I can get over it. 

He opened up his hands under the rain until he started to not feel his fingertips anymore. 

Then he walked back inside the hospital.

__________

When you had to deal with the first dying patient, you were paralyzed. 

It was very early in the morning. Your head was still full of the dreams you had just a while ago. Your heart was full of life and excitement for finally being able to work in the field. 

"Get your shit together."

That voice startled you. 

Doctor Kim, the most ruthless and cold person you've ever met, was your supervisor as an intern. 

You looked up at him and caught his dark eyes on that spectrally pale face. 

You just moved. You had no idea what you were doing. Terrified, you let your body work automatically. 

Doctor Kim was calm and efficient while your whole mind felt out of place. 

Oh, God. Oh God, please. 

And when his voice finally reached your ears as if from far away you sunk down on your knees. 

"Good job everyone." 

The kindest thing he has ever said to his interns.

The other vaguely kind thing was his introductory discourse. 

"I know that interning at the ER is dreadful, but that's life."

He was staring you all down, a short line of fresh out of med school trembling kids, no one having the courage to meet his eyes. 

"You have to be ready to see all sorts of things here. Okay, let's go."

And that was it. 

The encouragement of his introductory discourse. 

You'll feel like shit here, welcome. 

You hated him and you swore to yourself that you won’t behave the same. 

Ever. 

He was like a souless machine, walking around and tending to his duties. Lost in thoughts as your eyes scanned his figure walking busily around the hospital, you actually wondered if he had feelings at all. 

The first time you saw Doctor Kim actually show some type of sentiment, was when he exited the surgery room one day. 

You were walking around with the others and checking on the patients when he walked through the corridor like a storm. It was unclear what type of feeling that was but it made you unable to stop staring at his side of the face and back as he entered his office. 

The anaesthetist came out soon after, slowly and sighing deeply. 

And then you understood. 

You've lived many of those days afterwards until you had to welcome your own row of interns. 

You smiled and did a nice short welcoming discourse. 

And at that moment you, unfortunately, got what Doctor Kim meant when he was brusque with you in the beginning. 

It took you all three years of residency to finally get it: there were no actual right words to tell the students and there was no point in giving fake hope that everything is going to be alright. 

Still, there was no point in being a rude ass like him. So you at least smiled kindly and encouraged your students. 

God knew they needed it even more now.

You've never spoken much to Doctor Kim besides what was needed or the routine good morning sir and the short morning he would answer with. 

So it was strange that on the first day of your career as a real surgeon, after your hands and those of Doctor Kim near each other worked, barely moving, his muffled voice ordering the tools, your muffled voice doing the same, you hugged him. 

You hugged him that day for no reason besides the overwhelming feeling of being alive. 

Doctor Kim, after every surgery, good or bad, would always walk out on the terrace. 

You followed him that night and stopped behind his frame. You had to talk to someone about what just happened and he was the only one who might understand. 

He was facing the city lights and the wind breeze ruffled his hair. He didn’t care to push it off his forehead. 

"You did well today," he said quietly without looking at you. 

Oh, you blinked fast. 

Your first surgery was a success but your heart was beating so fast that you couldn't understand your feelings. 

Were you happy? Were you about to cry? Did you want to scream and jump? What did you want? 

But Doyoung just complimented you. 

So again, you let your body work automatically and you looked at yourself, as if going through depersonalization, timid feet filling the space between you and Doctor Kim, your hands touching his waist and going around it until meeting each other on his stomach. You placed your head on his shoulders and closed your eyes. 

"I was so scared," you whispered. 

Doctor Kim's body was stiff, no reaction from his posture, no words coming from his mouth. 

Was he shocked? Was he wondering what the hell were you doing? Was he about to tell you to get your shit together again like that first time three years prior? 

But he didn’t do any of these things. 

He sighed once and you imagined him closing his eyes and enjoying the warmth of your body. 

Even if for a moment. Even if it was all in your head and he actually hated it. 

Then he took a step forward and you had to let him go. 

And when he turned around and placed one palm on your shoulder without looking at you in the face, you remained alone on the terrace, breathing the cold air deeply and longing for his hands to hold you a little longer.

__________

Doyoung didn't speak to you again after that night. 

Nor did he look at you once. 

While you found yourself staring at his nape every time he walked around. Or turning your head as if following the trail he left behind. 

You couldn’t wear perfume in the hospital but it was as if Doyoung did because he’d pull your senses towards him by something invisible. 

As if that first touch you shared connected you to him in obscure ways. 

“Here’s the coffee that you asked for, sir.” You entered his office after his dry “come in”.

His expression was priceless and for a moment you felt the urge to look behind you and see if there were a ghost scaring him.

“What are you doing?” he asked. 

“Bringing you the coffee?” 

“I asked a student to do it, not you. You’re a surgeon.” 

Your lips were dangerously trying to form a smile while you placed the coffee on his desk. 

“Why does it matter? I am free while those students are busy learning how to be doctors.” 

“You think that just because you hugged me once when you were emotionally unstable, now we’re friends?” 

That question was so sudden and cold to make you snap your head upwards. 

His eyes were darker than usual and you almost gulped. 

“No, sir.” 

Your voice came out as a tiny exhale and if he felt sorry for his sudden and out of place tone, you couldn't see it on his face at all. 

"I was just being friendly as all colleagues would," you added a new note to your own tone, trying to perhaps make him feel guilty. 

"You can give me up."

His reply shut you up and you furrowed your eyebrows. “What?”

"I'm saying," he spoke slowly, "that I don't want to be friendly with you. Now, please leave."

________

"I'm going to fucking kill him!" you threw your head back to drink your espresso shot as if it was alcohol and slammed the paper cup back on the counter. 

Jaemin sighed pouring sugar into his coffee. 

"Why did you even try? He's a jerk." 

The man sipped on his drink slowly, the warmth of it misting his glasses. 

“I just-” you huffed, crossing your arms on your chest. “We’re colleagues. It made sense for him to be a piece of shit with us when we were interns but now? ‘I don’t want to be friendly with you’” you mocked his deep voice. “Who the fuck does he think he is? I swear I’ll accidentally stab him with a knife!”

“Hm. Do you like him?” Jaemin asked with an unimpressed tone. 

You almost grabbed the coffee from Jaemin’s hands and threw it in his face. 

“Are you insane? What does that mean? Why would I like him? Kim Doyoung? Me-” you pressed your index on your chest, “liking that asshole? I hate his guts! I can’t believe you said something like this! What’s to like about him?”

Jaemin felt his fringe move around his forehead at your intense voice as if it were wind. 

“No need to get so worked up about it. You’re just talking so often about him lately. Also, he’s objectively good looking. He’s also smart. I understand.” 

“He’s the ugliest man I’ve ever laid my eyes on! And he’s an idiot! And I don’t talk about him! I have no idea what you’re all about.” 

Jaemin rolled his eyes and finished the drink. 

“Talking of ugly. What’s that shirt you’re wearing?” you asked. 

The man’s head snapped down to look at it. “What’s wrong with it?” 

You chuckled once. “Where did you buy it?” 

“It’s a normal Polo.” 

You laughed even harder. “A Polo you say? And what’s that? A knock off Holo?”  

“What’s Holo?” 

Jaemin’s face was genuinely confused and it amused you even more. 

“Are you getting enough sleep? You’ve been acting weird lately.” 

“Or,” he relaxed his expression, lifting one index up, “I come from an alternate universe.” 

You chuckled once and hit his shoulder lightly as a greeting, liking his new joking side. “See you later then, alternate universe Jaemin.”

__________

Doyoung wanted to hit his head on the desk. 

Your expression, hurt and shocked because of his stupid remarks made his heart tingle in a very uncomfortable way. 

One thing was being severe and one thing was being rude for no reason at all. 

But the thing is that you were everywhere and he hated it. 

Doyoung hated that you were trying to get under his skin. 

Like a scent. Like some kind of drug. 

He’d scrub his hands and forearms even harder before going inside the surgery room as if with the water and soap he could get rid of the feeling of your arms around his torso under the rain too. 

What were you even thinking? Asking for reassurance? From him? Reassurance from the most hated man in the whole hospital? What did you even expect? Why would you even try? 

What a reckless person. 

He noticed it the first time he saw you as well. 

Eyes wide with curiosity and surprise, looking around the ER like it was the best place in the world. Doyoung hated your happiness but he also hated the fact that he would have to assist that light slowly die out with time. 

Or at least he thought that would happen. 

Days after days, months after months, he paid attention like a scientist looking at his object of study, taking mental notes and registering results. Doyoung would jolt with secret joy when his theories would reveal themselves to be true but then, like a rollercoaster, he’d feel weighed down with grief seeing you in the same state as his one. 

Until he didn’t know what to desire to see anymore. 

Until one day he lifted his eyes, head full of a soliloquy towards you. “How are you today? Tell me you got better. Tell me you still have your light because no one needs too many black holes in here.” 

Until he realized that he couldn’t remember anything about his life before you. 

And when you hugged him that day, he felt proud. For your success and your light. 

You were a star and he bathed into that warmth for a little before remembering he was still a black hole and black holes attract stars until engulfing them whole with no turning back.

_________

“Why are you always around?” he blinked annoyed. 

You straightened your gown that shifted after bumping into him and sighed loudly. 

“In case you forgot, I work here.” 

Doyoung sighed. 

“This is the farthest yard from where you’re always playing with your friends.” 

“I had business coming here.” 

“What business?” 

“That’s my business.” 

Doyoung’s corner of the mouth twitched. 

“It’s our business.” 

“Are you a communist?” you placed your hands on your hips, tilting your head to the side. 

“I’m your superior. What are you doing here?” 

A few nurses whispered passing you by and you cleared your throat, trying to relax your face muscles. Doyoung rolled his eyes once upon seeing your new fake cordial expression. 

“Apparently I’m doing such a good job that Mr Jung wanted to compliment me,” you raised your chin. 

“Mr Jung?”

“Yes.” 

His nostrils widened as if he had too much air to inhale and didn’t have time to get it little by little. 

“He doesn’t just summon people to compliment them. Stay away from him.” 

You scoffed incredulously at his innuendo. 

“Are you hearing yourself?” 

“Very well. Get back to work now.” 

“Are you perhaps jealous?” the words slipped from your mouth before you could stop yourself. 

But Doyoung, to your biggest surprise, smirked a little, lifting his eyebrows once. 

“And if I were?” he asked, then walked around you, leaving you still for long moments in the corner of the corridor before being able to walk again.

_________

“And then he said, “and if I were?”

Jaemin gulped his food and chuckled. “I can’t imagine that.” 

“I know right? Was he crazy?” you asked with your mouth full, swinging your knife. 

“Maybe the director does have eyes on you. And-” he leaned in mischievously, avoiding your cutlery, “that’s why he acts as if he hates you. Because he has feelings for you.” 

You chuckled nervously. 

“He hates you too!” 

“He doesn’t even know I exist,” Jaemin shrugged. 

“Hey, Jaemin.” 

“Like once I asked him something and he thought I was a patient and when I said that I’m actually-” 

“Jaemin! I’m pretty sure I’ve just seen someone looking like you pass that door just now.” 

The young man turned around quickly, right in time to see himself exit the food hall. 

“Damn,” he laughed for a few moments. “Someone else copied my hairstyle. I guess I’m not that unnoticeable as I thought.” 

You opened your mouth to comment on that since you were pretty sure it wasn’t only the hairstyle that the man copied when Doyoung approached your table like a storm scaring the shit out of you. 

“What is it now?” he asked, eyes piercing through you. 

You let out a long “uhhh” before talking, staring him up and down. 

“Are you talking to me?” 

Doyoung scoffed then sighed. “A doctor told me you were urgently looking for me.” 

You furrowed your eyebrows. “Who?” 

“Do I look like someone who knows people’s names?”

Jaemin shook his head. 

“Well, I don’t need you,” you let him know. 

Doyoung sighed again and the long look you exchanged made Jaemin awkwardly chuckle once. 

“You can sit down with us for lunch, sir,” he offered and you inhaled sharply, kicking his leg under the table. 

Doyoung looked firstly at you then at Jaemin then at you again as if not believing he was actually talking to people like you. 

But the tray in his hands was getting heavy and there were no other empty tables. 

He walked around Jaemin and sat down near him. 

Then he rolled his sleeves and started to eat in silence. 

But only for a moment. 

“What?” he asked as you were both staring at him with hanging open mouths. 

“It’s our first time seeing you eat,” you whispered. 

Doyoung gulped the food. “I’m putting on a show for you guys. I’m a vampire that doesn’t need food.” 

“See!” you hit Jaemin’s hand as if catching his attention. “He’s making jokes!” 

Jaemin leaned back in his chair as if a little afraid. 

“So you talk about me instead of working,” Doyoung commented. 

His eyes were on you and you suddenly realized what you’ve just said. 

“No,” you quickly grabbed your glass and sipped the water. 

Doyoung looked at Jaemin and the young man secretly nodded a little. 

And for the first time in years, you saw Doyoung smile. 

Like a full-on smile. A big open smile with all the teeth out. 

You blinked fast and before realizing your own lips were stretched in a smile too.  

He was breathtaking. 

You wanted to run away but also crash into him. You were at the top of the world and down in the dumps.

__________

The grunt you let out after hitting a hard surface resonated in the whole hallway. 

For the second time. 

"You are always where you shouldn't be."

You lifted your pained eyes while massaging your shoulder just to see Doyoung do the same. 

"Where am I and where am I supposed to be then?" you asked. 

"Around me and you should be far away from me." 

"And if I say that I'm doing it on purpose?" 

Doyoung's pupils trembled. 

"To make you mad," you explained, the little smile creeping on your lips making him tighten his. 

“You’re trying to make me mad?” 

In your head, all of the conversations you would have with Doyoung sounded fun and risky in a good way. 

In reality, you realized, it was so overwhelming that you felt your limbs shake. 

“I’m joking, sir.” His intense eyes made you look over the windows. 

“You don’t like to look at me in the eyes?” his voice was mellifluous just as his movements, getting slowly closer to you. 

“Your eyes make me uneasy,” you replied honestly. 

Doyoung tilted his head to the side, curious, inviting you to say more. You looked at him again. 

“As if they don’t know fear,” your voice was tiny. 

A little smile curved the man’s lips. “Oh, but they know what fear is.”

“And what is that?” 

“What you’re feeling right now.” 

"I am not afraid," you whispered. 

"Then why are you stepping back?" 

“I am not stepping back.”

Yet the air got softly knocked out of your lungs as you felt the wall on your shoulder blades. 

Doyoung didn't reply and just got as close as to lightly brush your lower lip with his knuckle. 

"You're cute when you pout," he whispered, eyes smiley under the strands fallen from his styled fringe. 

You opened your mouth to talk but he walked away, leaving you alone and with an abnormally beating heart. 

Again.

__________

If Doyoung’s newly humorous side was something interesting to share with Jaemin, his newly flirtatious side was something you felt the need to keep a secret. 

Heated up, you walked the corridors like a storm. 

Kim Doyoung? 

Did your body really react that way towards Kim Doyoung? 

Pulse throbbing in places you didn’t want to think of? 

Because of Kim Doyoung? 

Face buried in your wet hands, the cold water running in the sink, you imagined telling this to your younger self. 

Then you lifted your head and turned it off, raising your gaze to look at your dilated pupils in the bathroom mirror.

_________

Doyoung didn’t care about people much. 

Hours upon hours of surgery, he only needed to see his colleagues’ hands and hear their breaths while desperately trying to save yet another life. How they looked without the caps and masks was not something of interest to him, especially knowing superfluous details like their names. 

Yet, when he briefly noticed the eyes of the second surgeon entering the room, Doyoung furrowed his eyebrows. 

Those were not your eyes and those were definitely not your hands in the latex gloves. 

And for the first time, he needed to know who that person was.

“I’m Lee,” the man whispered. 

“I didn’t know you were on schedule today.” 

“Yeah, heard about it last minute as well.”

Were you avoiding him? 

If Doyoung’s body could show tremor, he’d had trembling legs under the desk he sat at after the surgery, and if he’d had the habit to bite his nails, he’d be ferociously eating them by now.

Unfortunately, he was stoically sitting in his office, elbows pressed into the hard iron surface, veins missing adrenaline but aggravated eyes. 

Walking the corridors while people took a step back to make him pass, looking away when he’d look at them and whispering angrily behind his back, was a bliss. 

The protection shielded Doyoung like a fuzzy blanket even if it sometimes felt itchy at night when he found himself the most lonely. 

So when you did the same, passing him by as if hating him, he surprised himself at the sudden discomfort. Especially after

well,

after that. 

He wasn’t sure himself what it was but it must have been something if it made you uncomfortable enough to not show up to a surgery. 

He lifted the corner of his blanket for a moment and he fucked up. 

__________

“Y/N.” 

You stopped in place. 

And so did most people around you. 

Many found Doyoung scary but also interesting to observe when his spite wasn’t directed at them. 

What did she do? you could almost hear the whispery words passing from ear to ear, amused voices, grateful for not being in your place. 

“See me in my office,” Doyoung ordered after you slowly turned around. 

His voice was low and no one could have heard it if the whole yard didn’t just collectively hold its breath. 

“Yes, sir.” 

“You all are surely not working enough if you have time to be useless,” his voice sounded louder and clean all of a sudden. “Do you want some hours assigned?”  

Like a spell, everyone looked around and the buzz filled your ears back, leaving yourself and Doyoung the only still figures. 

Then he moved as well, the swoosh of his cloak touching your hand when he passed near you. 

You inhaled deeply and followed him.

_________

“I am sorry.” 

You wished you’d  accepted his offer to sit down because that single sentence floored you. 

“For what?” you asked with a tiny voice. 

“I know I often say things that I don’t mean. And I know that I might have made you feel uncomfortable. So I apologize.” 

His eyes were round and filled to the brim with such sincerity to make you swallow hard. 

“You don’t have to apologize. It was necessary to make me who I am,” you minimized. 

Doyoung looked away for a brief moment. “I mean the corridor incident.” 

You blinked at him. 

“I made a mistake,” he added. 

The first thing that came to mind was the urge to use that to your advantage. 

Scold him. Make him feel guilty. 

Kim Doyoung making a mistake. 

Exhilarating. 

The power suddenly surging in your veins went to your head so you suppressed the smile that so desperately wanted to bloom on your lips. 

“Yes.” 

His expression darkened even more at your reply and his adam apple moved as he swallowed. He actually hoped it wasn’t the case. 

“I’ll make sure to keep the surgery schedules separated so you won’t feel uncomfortable working with me. You could have asked me first though before changing it yourself.” 

The excitement died out with these words. 

“What are you talking about?” 

“Thursday’s surgery.” 

“I was told you appointed another person yourself.” 

“I did not.” 

“Well, I didn’t either.” 

“So-” 

“It’s not like I’m trying to avoid you, no. But if you-” 

“I’m not trying to avoid you either. But you said I made you uncomfortable, so-” 

“I was messing with you.” 

He finally went silent. 

“You looked so guilty that I wanted to get a little revenge,” your voice came out a timid whisper. 

Doyoung sighed, closing his eyes a little, then he stood up. 

“Did I seriously cause you that much pain all of this time?” he walked towards you as if actually concerned. 

“You made me cry almost every day.” 

He opened his mouth like a fish before closing it. The shocking confession made him lift one hand to cup your face. 

You both looked at it with fluttering eyes as if it wasn’t his. 

He tried to put it away quickly but you pressed your palm on it to keep it in place.  

“I’m joking. I only cried a few times.” 

Doyoung’s pupils danced around just like his brain trying to process the information you were giving him. His face, confused and not knowing anymore what was a joke and what wasn’t, amused you a lot. 

“I’m sorry I’ve been harsh. I’ve been-”

“A jerk.” 

He gulped, his thumb slowly brushing your cheekbone. 

That little gesture made you close your eyes for a moment. And when you opened them, you just leaned in and placed a quick and chaste kiss on his closed lips. 

“If the corridor thing was a mistake for you, I just did one too. Don’t be too hard on yourself. We can pretend nothing of this happened."

You let his hand go and moved to take a step back just to feel his hold on your face tighten. 

Pulling you towards him again, he added the second hand. 

His lips were not closed anymore, but very much open to welcome your lower lip between them. 

Your hands flew to his hair and pulled him towards you too. He hummed and you whined. And when you both needed air, you let yourselves go, panting against each other’s lips. 

A little smile curved your lips, eyes unable to look up. Fingers on his neck, you let them slowly descend to his chest and you took a step back. 

You took your lower lip inside your mouth for a moment, as if still trying to taste him and walked a few steps back. 

Doyoung followed you, unable to let your body go until you touched the door. His eyes were blown out and he kissed the corner of your mouth again, and again, and again, until kissing you fully on the lips for the second time. Hands on the glass behind your head, you heard his nails grating at it slowly as you let your tongue twirl with his. Then you breathed out and he couldn’t do anything else than just moving his arms away for you to slowly open the door and leave in silence. 

After the door closed, Doyoung pressed his forehead on the cold window. 

“Fuck,” he whispered to himself, the fuzzy blanket he carefully wrapped himself with all of those years slowly slipping away to his feet.

__________

It didn't surprise you to see Doyoung pretend nothing happened between you as you passed each other in the corridors. 

But his avoidance felt weirder than usual, even to external eyes, as if something happened indeed and he tried so hard to conceal it. 

"Perhaps it's the 5th coffee talking right now, but doesn't Doyoung look weird?"

Jaemin asked lazily as he rested his body on one elbow placed on the little resting room counter. Said man passed in front of the open door and the furtive look he took of you was interesting enough for someone bored like Jaemin to notice. 

You shrugged, quickly stirring the sugar in your own coffee. 

"Hm?" your friend smiled at your silence, getting closer. 

You sipped the drink. 

"Hmmm?" Jaemin put his face into yours. 

"Oh my God, get away," you tried to push him away. 

"You had sex."

You spat the little coffee you still had on your mouth. Jaemin giggled and took a step back before it could land on his own. 

"We did not have sex! What's wrong with you?" 

"Okay. So you at least kissed," he looked up to you under his wiggly eyebrows as he handed you a few napkins. 

"We-," you wanted to deny but your lips formed a frustrated smile instead. "Shit. I can't believe it either." 

"Wow."

"He was- so delicate," you murmured. 

Jaemin winced amused. 

"But also intense you know? Like it felt-" 

"Okay wait. I didn't ask for a full-on description," he made a puking expression at you. 

You lightly hit his arm. 

"I was just so surprised. I've never seen this side of him."

"Him liking people?" Jaemin giggled. “Yeah. That’s weird.”

__________

"So it's done. We're done. Let’s get the fuck out of here. Seeing myself around is creeping me out."

Haechan sighed, rolling around in his chair. "Not so quickly. They only kissed."

Jaemin furrowed his eyebrows. 

"They have to confess," Jeno explained with a sleepy voice, sprawled on his own chair. 

"But they love each other."

"They have to say the words."

Jaemin put his hands on the hips. "That's so stupid." 

“Tell this to Doyoung. This is what he wrote in the contract,” Haechan mumbled amused, patting his chest where the Book was snuggly packed near his heart. 

Jaemin grabbed another chair and sat backwards on it, resting his chin on the folded arms. 

“So you know the job is done when they confess? What if they break up afterwards?”

“It has never happened before.” 

“And what if it does happen?” 

Jeno opened one eye. “Don’t manifest doom.” 

“I’d probably have to come back and get them together again,” Haechan replied. 

“I still don’t know why you’re doing this. Can’t you just recede from that contract?” 

Haechan sat up properly and grabbed his water bottle. “And do what? Go back to the pits of hell?” 

His eyes twinkled with mischief. 

“I’ve never had this much fun in a very long time.”

__________

He brought it upon himself, he could admit that. 

Ignoring you was more difficult than he anticipated and the first reaction he managed to put out when you talked back to him in front of all of the other surgeons was his usual skin cutting one. 

You didn’t like it, he could see it. 

You’ve never liked it and, honestly, Doyoung could not think of a single person that enjoyed being on the other side of his table. 

Perhaps you were getting a little comfortable with him though because you leaned back in your chair and smiled. As if for once he couldn’t get to you. 

It made him even more eager to scratch that nonchalance. 

So he did. 

Until the meeting was over and he got back to his office with a weird sensation on his shoulders. It somehow tasted like defeat. 

And when you opened his door with a loud bang and got in, he inhaled and took a few steps back, imitating the steps you took forward. 

You pushed him down on the chair, your gazes mixed together just like your breaths as you leaned down. 

Only the sheer anticipation of you touching him made him lose his mind a little. 

One hand on his thigh and the other going down from his lips to his extended neck and chest, dragging your nail on his shirt until reaching his stomach and belt. 

Then you hit one of his feet to the side with yours, making him open his legs even wider. 

He jolted and you could visibly see the way his breath stopped for a moment. 

"I don't think someone else tried to put you in your place before."

Your voice was dark and his eyelids fluttered before his pupils could fall on the way your palm brushed his crotch. It twitched under his dress pants and he inhaled deeply. 

"Unfortunately, it has to be me." 

"We're at work-," he tried to speak but the words died in his throat as you cupped his balls. 

"Sorry? Didn't hear that." 

"Shit Y/N-," Doyoung closed his eyes, jaw muscles tightening as you gently massaged him. 

"Hmm, Doctor Kim is at a loss of words?" 

You cooed, leaning down even more until almost brushing his lips with yours. 

"So cold and composed while you spit venom all day. I really want to see you lose your mind for once."

He opened his eyes right when he started to pant lightly and you gulped upon seeing his dark gaze. 

"You'll regret this."

"Can't wait to feel regretful."

"Be careful."

"Don't want to." 

His smile grew suddenly wicked and it threw you off as he suddenly stood up, grabbing your wrists and pushing you gently backwards. 

"You’ve been loving fighting with me lately. I think that you just need to get laid."

You smiled. "Do you want to help me with that?" 

Doyoung scoffed once. "I can't stand you."

"Then sit down."

He put his tongue inside the cheek, staring at your raised chin. 

Then his hands suddenly crept around you and grabbed your ass. They squeezed, pulling your hips towards his, making you pant and palm his chest in the meantime. Body pressing on his and his low voice buzzing into your ear made you light headed. 

"Arguing with you turns me on so fucking much." 

You gulped and noticed the way Doyoung’s eyes fell on your open mouth. 

“This is a very pretty shade of lipstick. Makes me want to ruin it.”

His thumb opened up your shocked lips even more by tugging at the lower one, your eyes getting hazy from his expression cutting you in half.

“Suck.” 

The order made your legs buckle a little. Your pupils trembled when you slowly let your tongue touch his fingertip. Doyoung got impatient and pushed it until it was all in. You fought the urge to gag and just whimpered, grabbing his shirt into your fists as he watched you hollow your cheeks on it. 

“I’ve always wanted to make a mess out of you,” he murmured, his other hand cupping your face and feeling your jaw, going down to your neck and wrapping it into its warmth. You raised your face to give him more space and your hooded eyes trying to look at him as he pressed around your throat made him smirk. 

“You like that?” he watched your squirming body trying to get closer to him. He took a step back and rested his hips on his desk, pulling at you until you felt his thigh between your legs. 

“What a slut,” he took out his thumb and spread the saliva on it on your lips. “Bet you wanted to suck me off under the desk, didn’t you? Fuck your superior?” 

You started to breathe through your mouth, the hand wrapped around your throat making it difficult for you to form any thoughts. 

“Or you wanted me to bend you over it?” he murmured, eyes glazing over your breast, his free hand painting one line from your collarbones to the cleavage of it. And when he suddenly squeezed one, feeling its softness in his palm, you almost cried out and dug your fingers into his shoulders. 

“Yes, sir.” 

Doyoung’s corner of the lips lifted as if curiously surprised. 

“And if I don’t do any of those things?” his eyes were on your face now and it made you want to hide away or just beg him to just please do all of those things.

“What are you going to do?” he asked again. 

The pool of wetness inside your panties was so embarrassing that you pressed your forehead on his shoulder. 

"Then just let me go," you whispered in a tiny voice. 

"You're free to g-" he caressed your jaw with one thumb. 

"No. I hate it," you went on, lifting your gaze on him, and he exchanged the look, slightly taken aback. 

"I dream about you every night. It's not about sex, it has never been just about it. Everything about you makes me go crazy. I hate it and I want you to just let me go.” 

Doyoung blinked and cupped your face with both hands. 

You just breathed out, ignoring the little voice screaming inside your mind to shut up, palming the back of his hands with yours, suddenly unable to raise your eyes on him. 

"I just can't understand and I hate being like this," you added after a quick gulp. 

The man opened his lips and you noticed the way you started to breathe in unison. 

"There's something so darkly attractive about you," the tiny sigh coming out of your lips made their way on Doyoung ones and he licked them once, his own breath warm on your skin. 

"No matter how much I try to know you, there's something that escapes me. I can't pinpoint you and it keeps me up at night." 

Doyoung gulped and his hands twitched as they palmed your arms, going down to your hips and pushing you down, gently. 

You gasped silently, your core so swollen that the feeling of the friction of your bodies as you rubbed on him could have been enough to make you orgasm. 

"Sir-," you found the force to talk but he took his tongue out and you just dove in, catching it inside your mouth and sucking on it the way you sucked on his finger. Your eagerness made his hold even tighter, guiding your body rolls, loving the way you squirmed in his arms. 

When you pulled away to whine he raised one hand to bury in your hair. 

"You haunt me too," he confessed. "Sometimes I feel so pulled towards you to make me question everything I know about myself."

Your eyes fluttered and your exposed throat looked so vulnerable in Doyoung's eyes to make him lean in and bite on it. 

The little moans escaping your lips caressed his ears and when he licked the spots you shivered, your hips not stopping for a second. 

It was intoxicating and you didn't dare to speak again but your thoughts were seeping through all of your pores. 

"I want you to tell me what you want me to do," you whispered, words broken.  

"Don't cum," Doyoung ordered and it snapped something in you. 

Your breath grew irregular and he chuckled. 

With a little groan, you forced your hips to still but he looked down and clicked his tongue, pushing his thigh upwards and making you bounce on it a few times.  

"Don't stop."

"But you said-" 

"Don't cum and don't stop." 

"I can't last," you mewled, twitching against his body and he pouted. 

"Baby girl can't keep that in?" 

You shook your head, feeling all dizzy as his hands squeezed your asscheeks, making you rub against his leg again. 

"But I said what I said. Are you going to be a bad girl?" he accompanied his last word with a harsh slap on your ass that made you inhale through your teeth. 

"Sir- I am begging you." 

His hand dropped under your skirt that moved to your thighs in a single movement, the coldness of it on your hot clit making you cry out. 

He hummed amused, slowly pressing into you and circling your sensitive bud until your legs started to twitch. 

"If you want to cum," he stopped, "you'll have to do whatever I say. Is this an agreement?" 

You nodded quickly, so close to orgasm that you started to ride his fingers by yourself. 

He retrieved his hand and pressed it on your stomach, making you step back until you barely could keep your balance. 

"You know where I live, right?" 

You nodded confused. 

"See you later then," he smirked and gestured to leave the office. 

You inhaled deeply, the arousal so high that you considered just finger fucking yourself in front of him. 

"Cruel," you whispered. 

"And you love it," was his amused reply.

__________

Timid feet in front of Doyoung's entrance door, you questioned if you actually lost your mind. 

Were you really willing to go this far for a single orgasm? 

Or multiple, you considered. 

Okay. Well, perhaps it was all worth it in the end. 

Your eyes darted upwards to take in the view of his house. 

The windows were lit on the first floor and it looked like a place you'd love to spend your life in. It was too huge for a single person anyway. 

When he opened the door after the ring announcing your arrival you didn't expect to see him in casual clothing. It looked so off that for a moment you couldn't speak, eyeing his feet in warm socks instead of rubber shoes. 

Then you hit yourself in your mind. Of course, he won't wear his doctor gown at home. 

"Good evening," you finally smiled and he eyed your body with a relaxed gaze, stopping when noticing the bottle of wine you carried in your hands. 

“Good evening,” he gestured to you to come in and you walked the distance from the doorstep to the hallway. His hands draped your shoulders and you sighed when he took your wet coat away. 

You put in a lot of effort in your appearance, choosing the right clothing and accessories. 

And he put a lot of effort into arranging his house for you, lighting up the right candles, you noticed after he indicated a room to the left. 

Yet all you wanted to see was him. 

And all he wanted was to see was you naked. 

Venturing in slowly, you turned around looking at what you figured out was the living room. With the corner of your eyes, you saw the grey of Doyoung’s sweatpants disappear upstairs and it suddenly got silent, safe for the crackle coming from the chimney and the hard rain hitting the windows. You took off your shoes and cautiously walked on the dark wine-coloured rug, close enough to warm yourself. A black glassy mirror was hung on the wall in front of you showcasing the pitiful state you were in because of the storm. Then you looked at the piles of books scattered around your feet placed down in a chaotic path leading to the velvet couches behind you as if someone read them while circling the room and suddenly let them fall on the ground when bored. You followed the spines with your gaze trying to figure out the language they were written in when two feet made their appearance in your peripheral vision, making you snap your head up. 

He approached you with a little smile, getting closer and closer like a black cat. 

New thick energy made it difficult for you to breathe too deeply so you resorted to short inhales and exhales especially after he stopped so close to you. 

Doyoung's hands wrapped yours as he took the wine away and placed it on the coffee table on his left. Then he sighed and you found yourself shivering under his gaze. 

"Take this off," he lightly felt your shirt's material with his fingertips.  

What? You inhaled, mind buzzing at how easy it was this time. No dinner and fancy courtship? 

He did look like someone that'd rather take you into seclusion and have you for himself as quickly as possible though. 

With slightly trembling fingers that you'd never get in the surgery room, you started to unbutton your top. Doyoung tilted his head to the side with a little smirk as if enjoying the show. 

And when you actually found yourself with only your bra on he smiled, even more, eyes grazing your skin slowly until you felt a heatwave shake your limbs. 

“This too.” 

He slowly touched the bra fabric and you gulped. 

“Take it off yourself.” 

Doyoung chuckled once and went around your torso, unclasping it with quick and expert fingers. 

You jolted and you felt your eyelids flutter as it slowly fell down your arms. 

Doyoung grabbed the front part of it and dragged it down to the floor, adding it to the weird maze of books making the eccentric design of his living room. 

His eyes caressed your perked nipples and you tried hard to resist the urge to cover yourself. 

“Pants,” he ordered and his voice was deeper than usual. 

You wavered a moment and he lifted his eyebrows once. Do it. 

You inhaled and slowly opened the zip. 

He bit his lower lip when you bent down to discard the piece of clothing and when you straightened your back he hummed. 

“Wear this,” he gently threw a piece of fabric towards you which you caught quickly. It was soft and it smelled like him. 

He looked at it, then slowly raised his eyes to meet yours, not moving a single muscle. 

You inhaled in again, trying to calm your nerves, desperately wanting to ignore the way he was dressed himself. A white and see-through shirt with the deepest neck you’ve ever seen, barely covering any of his chest. You barely could see his sweatpants as well, but his bare ankles were fully on display, just like his forearms that you could catch glimpses of as he absentmindedly revived the locks blocking his pupils with one hand. 

A raw playfulness made his features even scarier in the dim lighting. 

“I want you wet. But not from the rain,” he explained, eyeing your confusion. 

“You could have just told me to change into it and end it there,” you mumbled, buttoning the shirt up. It was deep blue and oversized, short on your thighs but hiding whatever you had to hide. 

“Why? Did you hate that I made you undress in front of me?” 

“It was embarrassing to stand naked like that.” 

You wanted to sound offended but the pout your lips formed on its own betrayed your secret amusement. 

“Nothing that I won’t see up close soon.” 

His voice was a whisper that forced you to look away. You wanted to reply but he turned around walking towards the kitchen. 

"Besides, I made some spicy sauce. You don't want to spill it on your nice clothes."

“Who said I was going to spill food on myself? I have steady hands.” 

You walked over him, taking the plates from his hold and placing them down on the dining table yourself. 

You wanted to look unbothered by him just like he looked unbothered by you, but the truth was that you just had to do something to not feel that overwhelmed. 

“You don’t,” he argued following you near the table. 

You scoffed lifting your head to look at him. “Excuse you? I’m a surgeon.” 

“Your hands don’t look like the hands of a surgeon when you’re around me.” 

You scoffed. 

“I think that the biggest thing in the world is your ego.”

“You haven't seen my-”

“Don’t say it.” 

He closed his mouth as the little smile he had on kept lingering on his lips. 

Domestic and flirty. It was getting to your head and you hadn’t had the opportunity to sip a single drop of alcohol yet. 

As if reading your mind, he grabbed the bottle of wine you brought and fumbled slowly with the cap. 

"That's my favourite shirt. And I want to fuck you in it." 

The shivers that travelled down your spine almost made your body twitch and your hands stopped in mid-air as you were placing the cutlery. 

He smiled at you when you looked at his expression. 

His lips. His eyes and cheekbones. His skin under the lights. 

Fuck. You really needed a drink. 

And after he popped the bottle open with a loud sound that disrupted the silence, the red wine erupted out of it, dripping off his hand up to the wrist you had your drink right off his fingers. 

Doyoung’s pupils trembled as you leaned in like a cat and his lips opened to breathe better seeing you lick the drops off his fingertips. Rested with his hips on the table, it creaked when you came forward, even more, hands pressed on his open thighs and reaching for his face. You finally caught his lips in yours and you let him taste the wine on your tongue. 

It was rich and slightly sour, then it became sweet as only Doyoung’s taste remained lingering on his lips. 

“Delicious,” he commented after the slow kiss. “You have good taste in wine.” 

“And men.” 

His expression was hidden under his long fringe but you could sense that he was smirking. 

Then he raised his head a bit and had a gulp out of the bottle himself. 

You had the first row to the show that his adam apple moving up and down gave you. Then your eyes naturally fell to his collarbones and bare chest, his white shirt barely covering anything. 

Your fingers gently darted to his skin and you palmed it, then to his prominent collar bones, feeling the warmth of his chain around his neck.

He hummed, letting his head down to catch your hand with his lips. They kissed your fingertips then he finally dove in and let you taste his tongue again, hands quick to let the bottle go and grab your body instead.

Closer closer closer you needed him more and more. 

“I need to feed you dinner first,” he grabbed your wrists as your hands tried to unbutton his shirt. 

“If you won’t fuck me, I can find someone else to do it,” you whispered. 

His eyes tightened and he exhaled once. 

The movement was so quick that your head spun and the spank that arrived at your ass made you jolt on your toes before you could lean down on the table, fingers trying to grip the tablecloth. 

“Yeah? I want to see you get fucked by someone else while my name spills out of your filthy mouth.” 

His voice was raspy and it made you bite your lower lip, ass eager to push back and to rub against Doyoung's crotch. He hummed at your movements and lifted the shirt up to your waist, palming your skin and looking down at the way your ass cheeks engulfed your pretty lingerie. You strained your neck upwards at the feeling of his fingers slowly caressing your lower back, feeling the lace of your panties, then you whimpered as he grabbed the material and stretched it towards him before letting it go. 

"You want this little hole all filled up, don't you?" he murmured, hand sliding between your thighs to rub on the soft and thin fabric. Your legs shifted in place at the sensation and you arched your back for more. The little 'Doyoung' making him exhale. 

"And I thought you'd keep calling me sir." 

You tried to turn your head towards him, wondering if his suddenly absent hand meant that he wanted you to actually call him that. 

But then you saw that hand around you, reaching for the bucket of ice prepared for the wine on the table in front of you. And at that moment you realized that it was for you instead - his drink for the night. 

The ice cube wetted his fingers when he took it out and he first placed it on your open lips. You sucked on it for a moment, the warmth of your skin already melting it, strands of water slowly descending on your chin and inside your cleavage. 

"Say 'blue' and I'll stop," his voice was deep near your ear. 

You nodded breathlessly and you shivered feeling his hand hover over your back. 

And when you first felt it on your spine, your fingers independently grabbed the edge of the table. Then it went down and down, forcing goosebumps out of you. 

Doyoung’s palm soothed your skin, warming it up before reaching to the front to grab at your hard nipples poking through the fabric. And when the cube reached your clothed core you mewled, lifting yourself on the tiptoes. 

“Shit-shit-,” you curled your neck down, jolting under his touch, wanting more of it and running away at the same time. 

Your panties were all wet and you were unsure if for the ice or your own body and when Doyoung took away the cube, giving you a break by gently pressing his own wet fingers between your lips you wished for the fabric to not be there anymore. 

“More?” you whined, chest rising and falling at a crazy speed. 

Doyoung snickered once, his hands grabbing your sides and turning you around.

Mind hazy, you didn’t have the time to wonder where the ice cube went, the only thought roaming your head being the need to pull him closer to you. 

And you did just that, wrapping his waist with your thighs after he lifted you on the table with a thud, making all the cutlery and glasses jingle. 

And you clasped your fingers into his hair while his hands roamed your naked body under his shirt. 

It was when he pressed his cold, open lips on yours that you finally mewled, feeling the ice cube travel from his tongue to yours. 

It got smaller and you sucked on it, giving it back, hearing him hum deeply into the kiss. 

Then he broke it suddenly as if unable to control himself from kissing your neck instead, biting and sucking on your skin as hard as he did on the ice cube. You rolled it on your tongue until it became nothing, finally opening your lips to moan, feeling his cold touch on your breasts as his quick fingers unbuttoned the shirt. 

The material of your panties grazed your legs at Doyoung’s rough pull. You watched them fly and land on the lamp behind him. 

Then you felt his fingers finally rubbing your clit and you inhaled deeply. You were so horny that you were embarrassed to admit that just a few rubs would be able to throw you over the edge. 

Doyoung saw it and from his expression, he was enjoying himself maybe too much. 

“Come on love, cum for me,” he murmured on your open lips. You whined, nail digging into his shoulders and you shook your head. 

“You’ve been begging me for an orgasm and now you want to be a brat about it?” 

His hand worked quicker and when he inserted one of his long and slender fingers inside, you actually moaned loudly. 

“Sir-” the title slipped from your shaking lips and he chuckled against your cheek, pushing another one and curling them both, pressing into you and trying to find the sweetest spots you had. 

“Right here?” he whispered amused. 

You start swearing, moulding his biceps under your tight grip, the table and everything on it shaking at the fast pace of Doyoung’s pumping. 

And then it was too much and it overflowed. 

The gasp you emitted made you fall forwards. Your arms wrapped Doyoung’s body tightly as you came in spasms, legs trying hard to meet each other around his wrist but pressing into his sides instead. 

Doyoung let you whine a little bit more, hand slowing down but never stopping, fucking you through your orgasms as long as he could. Then your jaw got grabbed by his other hand and he lifted your face to meet his gaze. His eyes caressed your fucked up expression before kissing your lips. 

"Good girl. I know you can give me another one."

You gripped his shoulders for dear life as Doyoung's fingers came back outside to desperately rub at your over-sensitive clit. 

“Doyoung-Doyoung-” you writhed in his hold before he could slip away from your arms and fall on his knees. 

You’ve gotten head before, but this time, maybe for the overstimulation or your secret feelings for that man, it felt like the first time ever. 

Not knowing what to grab to steady yourself as his tongue danced in circles around your engorged clit, you buried your hands in his hair. His hands pressed into the softness of your thighs just as hard and when he raised his gaze up to look at you from underneath his messy fringe, you felt like falling. 

And you almost fell when he resorted to quick short licks that drove you insane, making you cum for the second time in such a short time to make you lightheaded. 

The single fuck got prolonged as much as the orgasm Doyoung gave you and when he started to kiss your inner thighs, coming up towards you, on your stomach, pressing his wet open lips on your skin until meeting your breasts, you were ready to admit that you were madly in love with him. 

His kiss felt as if you were underwater, unable to breathe and understand space. You felt his arms around you and suddenly you felt weightless and he carried you around until you felt the velvet of the couches underneath you and his body pressed flushed on yours. His waist got automatically wrapped by your legs again as if that were their place and they weren’t aware of it before. 

He slipped his hands on your hips, grabbing your ass hard as he murmured against your lips. “Are you going to be a brat with me again?” 

His voice was calm but deep as if a storm was incoming, making your knees feel weak. 

“Words,” he spoke again, pressing himself a little more between your legs. 

You breathed out. 

“I don’t know,” you managed to say before pushing him away. He fell to the side, grip softened mostly for the surprise than your strength. 

“Are you going to be a brat to me?” you asked, straddling his lap and pressing your palms on his stomach, going up on his hot skin and lifting his shirt until he couldn’t do anything else than take it off. 

Then his hands found their way on your skin too, unmercifully squeezing your soft breasts. He didn’t care to be gentle and lifting himself up he sucked on your skin so hard until it was almost painful. You wrapped your arms around his torso and threw your head back, stretching out your neck. He left bites all over it, travelling down, tightening his teeth grip around your nipples, making you pant softly. 

“I don’t know,” he finally replied. 

He looked at you from underneath his fringe and you smiled at each other. You caressed his stomach from below his belly button and going up until reaching his collarbones and he leaned back on his elbows to support his weight. He followed your hand going down on him then his eyes shifted their focus to watch how your pelvis started to move back and forth on his sweatpants, right on top of his hard cock. 

“Mm,” he exhaled as finally getting some relief and you imitated him. You placed your hands on his shoulders and closed your eyes and Doyoung flexed his thigh muscles. 

He was enjoying seeing you like that, vulnerable and whiny, needy and horny, while he did nothing to help you with it and leaving you desperate. 

His eyes caressed your whole body, his lips parted slightly at the sight of your breasts bouncing softly, at how you were spreading yourself on him. You felt hot and plump, your thoughts were blurry and foggy. 

"Look at you," he talked. “What a cute little slut.” 

You replied with a whine, locking eyes with him but not being able to do that for a long time as his gaze pierced through you, adding to the sensation his pants gave to your raw clit. 

So you kissed his lips, messily and sloppily, breathing on his mouth and he finally caressed your thighs and ass, pressing you down even more and closer to him. 

Your arms got tighter around his neck and he buried his face into your chest. His hair tickled your chin and you intertwined your fingers into his locks. 

So close to cum, you closed your eyes and just let yourself go, your rhythm lost, your muscles aching, without expecting Doyoung's fingers to suddenly get inside of you. 

You squeezed yourself onto him with a cry. 

"I repeat. Are you going to behave again as you did today?" you heard him ask as his fingers pumped fast into you. 

"No, no, oh fuck, please, no," you managed to answer while gasping for air. 

"I'm going to-" you whimpered about to orgasm and Doyoung at that moment got you off of him, pushing you down on your back and lifting your legs around him, edging you. 

"You're going to cum when I say so," he commented. "You're lucky I'm even giving it to you at all today," he added. 

You bit your lower lip frustrated. 

"Babe, please-" you begged. 

He smiled brightly at the sudden pet name, shushing you as he began to kiss your legs from the knees down, going lightly on the inside of your thigh, making you twitch as he approached your dripping pussy. But he passed over, nudging at it with his nose just to make you jolt and kissed your lower stomach, passing his tongue on the spots he bit before and continued until reaching your lips. 

Then, getting on his knees he finally got rid of his pants and underwear. 

You felt your core pulsing at the sight and breathed heavily. He tugged at your legs, dragging you until the back of your thighs touched his hips and holding himself he nudged at your entrance. You let your arms fall around your head and bit down on your hand as his tip caressed your clit. 

"Doyoung," you whined as your muscles jolted intermittently. You then felt his fingers drag on your leg until grabbing your knee and putting it on his shoulders he humped your folds. 

You let your head fall back into the couch, exposing your neck and making your breasts tighten. 

It was too much. You just wanted him to penetrate you and to make you scream. 

"I want to cum so badly, please," you begged again. 

But he acted as if not being able to hear from you. 

Your muscles twitched in pain and you lifted yourself to meet him. He pushed you down and distanced himself. 

"Behave," he warned. 

You looked at his half-closed eyes and plump lips as he bit it with his teeth. 

He was suffering as well. He couldn't take it anymore, you could tell. 

And when you took your hand to your mouth and licked two fingers, slowly, without breaking eye contact he gasped. 

You were about to suck on them, you wanted to see him going crazy, but you didn't manage to as he penetrated you right at that moment, quick and deep, with a grunt. 

"Fuck," he swore picking up the pace until the wet sounds overwhelmed the storm. 

_________

It was dark. The only light came from the fireplace bathing the living room with a red and yellow hue. 

You were both sprawled on the rug under fuzzy blankets. 

"Come sit on my face. Show me where I belong."

Doyoung’s voice was a low buzz, imitating the storm still going on as it has been the whole night. 

You rolled your eyes to the side amused, ignoring his warm hand palming your knee, nudging you to come closer. 

“You still want to go? I can’t cum again,” you pouted. 

“But I want you to cum,” he pouted as well. 

You sighed and gently got on top of him with the intent of ignoring him and finally fall asleep. 

But his expression changed when you were near enough. “I want you to be completely fucked up when I’m done with you.”

You lifted one hand to cup his cheek and kissed his nose. 

He blinked at you amused. 

“I love it when you smile like this,” you whispered. 

The dying flames danced on his face as he stared at you for a few moments. 

Then you clicked your tongue. 

“Don’t do this.” 

“Don’t do what?” 

“Don’t get all dark and distant.” 

Doyoung exhaled. “I am not.” 

“There’s so much to be proud of, don’t you think?” Your fingers gently started to draw patters on his forehead, going down on his eyes as he closed them, then on his cheeks. He opened his eyelids again after the touch and you talked again. 

“Like striving to do good. Trying. Surviving.” 

His lips opened to let out a small puff of warm air. Then he hugged you tighter and hid his face in the crook of your neck. 

You exhaled too, closing your eyes and lulling his exhausted soul. 

“I am so proud of you,” you whispered but you didn’t know if he heard you.

_________

You woke up in Doyoung's bed. 

It was huge, warm and it smelled like his laundry detergent. The sheets were soft and luscious, caressing your naked body as you shifted underneath them to look to the side. 

Your eyelids fluttered and your lips turned their corners up. 

Fighting the urge to squeal and hide your face inside the pillow, you resorted to admire Doyoung's sleeping face. 

Resting on his stomach with raised arms thrown around his head, only his eyes and ruffled hair poked out behind his bicep and shoulder. And when he slowly opened one puffy eye you giggled and it curved, showing that he was smiling too. 

"Good morning," you whispered. 

Doyoung sighed once first. "It's probably afternoon." 

His sleepy voice made your body heat up and without thinking you just got closer. He turned on his side and wrapped your body with his arms, pulling you closer to his chest. 

"Did you sleep well?" he murmured. 

"Like a baby. You exhausted me enough."

The little kiss he placed on top of your head was so unexpected to make you lift your face. 

He smiled. 

"You inspire so much tenderness in me,” he explained timidly. 

You smiled back, resting your chest on his. His hands automatically wrapped your sides as if they've always belonged there. 

"I'm glad I'm softening your edges. Now you need to behave like this with everyone else too."

"You want me to kiss the whole hospital on the forehead?" 

"Metaphorically."

"Also, I thought you loved my hard edges," he purred, shifting your body to fully rest on top of his. 

His hard cock deliciously poked your clit with its tip as his hands slowly made you roll on it. 

You exhaled and leaned down, rubbing your lips on his as you whispered. "I do."  

His smirk was lazy just like your movements. 

"So you want me just like this?" 

“I want you. I want everything you are. I want everything that you hide.” 

Your hands caressed his chest and came to cup his face. His expression wavered and you found him so vulnerable all of a sudden to make your guts twist. 

“Unleash the darkness that you have inside. Engulf me with it. I am not afraid. I want it.”

Doyoung wrapped your body tightly and pressed you down on himself even more. 

"There's no darkness inside of me anymore. Not when you're around me."

__________

From “I will not vanish” - Haechan’s backstory

The heavy door opened and closed. 

Doyoung looked over his shoulder to see a stranger approach him with slow feet. He raised his eyes and gave Doyoung a small nod. 

The other did the same and when the stranger aligned himself with Doyoung, looking over the cold city, they both exhaled. 

The silence was so deep, safe for the ambulances screaming in the distance that Doyoung found himself restless. 

The stranger leaned on the rail, resting his weight on the elbows and sighed again. 

“You know,” he started. 

Doyoung looked at him with the corner of his eyes. 

“What I like about life,” he paused, “is that you can die.” 

The stranger bit his lower lip for a moment then looked over to the other. His gaze felt so heavy that Doyoung’s arms skin got goosebumps. 

“Imagine being immortal,” the man continued before letting out a dry snicker. 

“Around forever. A pathetic being with no reason to exist besides existence itself. Forever and forever and forever. With no purpose. Until you’d beg someone to kill you but they can’t.” 

Doyoung’s fingers twitched on the cold metal of the terrace rail and for a moment his rational mind wanted to ask that stranger just what nonsense he was talking about. 

But lately, Doyoung and rationality didn’t match well so he didn’t. 

“Immortality sucks only if you’re the only immortal one.” 

The stranger smiled bitterly. “Do you want to be immortal?” 

Doyoung put his hands inside the gown’s pockets. “I’d die tomorrow.” 

“But you wish immortality was a thing.” 

“I mean, I wouldn’t have a job anymore,” Doyoung smiled. “But yes. I wish people didn’t die.” 

“You’re very selfish.” 

That remark made Doyoung frown. “How’s that selfish?” 

The stranger turned around and rested his back on the rail instead. 

“Why do you want people to not die?” 

“Because-,” Doyoung started but didn’t know what to add. “Because it’s painful.” 

“For them or you?” 

Doyoung sighed. “Okay. I see what you’re doing here.” 

The stranger smiled a little. 

“It’s not like I think only of myself when others die. I think how unfair it is when I know they didn’t have the chance to do everything they wanted to do first.” 

“And what’s that?” 

Doyoung thought about it for a moment. “Just- living. Experiences. And most of them actually had enough time to do it. They just took it for granted. And it’s so- painful.” 

“And what about you? If you said that you’d be ready to die tomorrow, I guess you’ve been living your life to the fullest with no regrets.” 

“Actually, I don’t know if I’ve been living all of this time.” 

The stranger shrugged. “Just start now.” 

“You make it seem so easy.” 

“Living? Hell yeah. You just need to give less fucks.” 

Doyoung didn’t reply. 

“If you’re ready to die tomorrow, then you should not be afraid of living.” 

The stranger’s tone deepened and Doyoung looked his way. 

“Who are you by the way?” 

“Oh,” the stranger straightened his back and extended his hand. “I’m Haechan. Nice to meet you.” 

Doyoung imitated him and shook his hand. 

It was warm and in a moment so many thoughts came to Doyoung’s mind to make him breathless. 

"I thought I had my life figured out and yet after meeting you I got shocked into awareness."

"You inspire so much tenderness in me."

“I became obsessed with you and it scares me.”

“You could have just told me. You could have told me that you fell apart. Instead, you acted like it didn't bother you at all.” 

“You are worth the wait.”

“I can't let go of you.” 

Doyoung took away his hand so quickly to almost fall backwards. 

He took a few steps on the concrete of the terrace as if trying to get as far from Haechan as possible. 

“You good?” the other asked but his face wasn’t mirroring his question. 

Instead, a plain expression was adorning his feline features and for an instant, Doyoung felt terror.  

“You’re not Haechan,” he found himself whispering. 

The man in front of him cracked his knuckles once. “And who’s Haechan?” 

“My friend.” 

“Friend? Is someone that uses somebody else a friend?” 

“He’s not using me.” 

“Isn’t he now?” 

The man started to walk towards Doyoung slowly, one finger on the rail, grating at the metal with his nail. 

“Do you believe in soulmates, Doyoung?” 

Doyoung flinched at his name on that man’s lips and started to retreat slowly. 

“I do.” 

“Soulmates are people that always find each other regardless of everything, aren’t they?” 

“Yes.” 

“And are you and Y/N soulmates if Haechan is always there forcing you together like some sort of cheap mismatcher?” the man spit out the last words. 

Doyoung gulped and his brain tried to remember how he punched him in some past life and actually win. His surgeon hands would definitely get broken in a second. 

“Don’t you want to break this cycle? Find your true soulmate?” 

“That’s Y/N.” 

“Because you say so.” 

“I don’t give a fuck about your orthodox theory, Archangel.” 

The man stretched his neck to the side and Doyoung didn't have the time to run away.

#doyoung #doyoung smut #neosmutcollective #nct-writers #nct smut #doyoung angst #nct angst #nct fanfiction #doyoung fanfiction #nct doyoung #doyoung scenarios #nct scenarios #soulmates collection #doyoung doctor au #nct doctor au

[gotnofucks]

Chemical Romance

Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader

Summary: Chris won’t have you running away from him. You’re his. He owns your heart, and now he’ll own all of you.

Words: 4.5k

Warnings: RPF, smut, slight dubcon(ish), jealous and possessive Chris, toxic relationship, recording without permission, forced marriage

A/N: I wrote this months ago and pulled it out to share it with my bestie @donutloverxo​ . Berry finally convinced me to post this and helped me beta this. Babe, I love you!

You were way past your teenage years, and yet you had the urge to giggle like one. If you licked your lips, you could still taste the trace of wine that had stained his lips. The memory of them pressing against you, brushing gently until they tangled in a mix of tongue and teeth had a delicious heat burning in your face. This was a good date, the third good date with a good man you met, and you were excited for more.

Looking over your shoulder you saw the lights of his car disappearing in the dark of night and you sighed contently, shutting your door behind you and dropping your keys in the bowl by the door. All of a sudden, your body broke into goosepimples, a chill settling over you and it took you a moment to understand why. Your body was recognizing the dark presence before your mind could.

“Good evening sweetheart. Had a good date?”                                                      

The door was right behind you, you could easily grab your car keys right now and run away. And yet all you could do was hold onto the wall as your knees trembled. You’d never been good at running away from him anyway.

Chris was lounging on your sofa, watching you with those arresting blue eyes that you knew changed shades with his mood. His beard was thicker than the last you’d seen him, and his lips were pulled into a sardonic smirk, eyes glinting furiously.

“How?” You sputtered, still rooted to your spot. You could run, you should run, but you knew you wouldn’t go far. He let you go only so far to give you a false sense of achievement, a mere taste of relief and freedom until he snatched you back to himself.

“I always think that every time you leave, it would be the last. You’ll realize that its futile, you’ll realize that we’re meant to be together.” Chris said, “But never did I imagine you to be stupid enough to be with another man.”

His voice had been described as dreamy by many, even by yourself, but right now it only rang of danger and anger. Softness was Chris’s weapon, to deliver the meanest words with a smile that was poison sweet. One time, you had loved to taste that poison yourself. Did it still run in your veins and taint you?

Looking at you from under his lashes, he spread his legs and beckoned you to him. You gulped before following, not daring to look away from him until you were before him.

“Kneel” He ordered softly. You knees hit the ground, the rug digging into your skin. He watched you watch him, eyes locked in a dialog of their own until his rough hand caressed the skin of your cheek. You leaned into his touch, hating yourself for being a slave to him and your desire. Even on your knees, the familiar feeling of peace flooded your senses. Nothing made you feel as alive as worshiping him. And nothing killed you as much as loving him.

“Please” You begged, pressing a kiss into his palm. “Don’t do this to me.”

Chris regarded you with a look that was almost tender, his blue eyes staring into your own as if unearthing every secret you had ever kept from him. He pulled you closer, close enough to have you raise up and hold his shoulders while his lips brushed gently against yours.

“For as long as I live, you are mine. You know that. Why must you fight it?”

It had been a couple months since you last saw him, since the pads of his fingers had glided over the curves of your body and claimed you as his. You melted, you melted like the butter in a hot pan, sizzling with the heat of his ardor. One taste of him and you were ready to forget why you had left him, why you had packed up and left his house when he was out. Chris Evans didn’t just play your body, he also played your heart. He loved you so hard that it hurt.

You wondered if you should fight, if you should scream or cry. But you knew it the moment you walked inside your house tonight: you were going nowhere but to him. He held you as you captured his lips in yours, a hand fisting his hair and tugging. He pulled until you were on his lap, his beard scratching your skin and reminding you of all the ways he had marked you before.

Panting, you pulled away when he breathily whispered your name, eyes liquid and feral and kind. He was a man of many layers and you had unveiled the darkest of them. He no longer hid the rawest parts of him, and you never knew if it was a good thing or not.

“Pack up, I’m taking you back home.” He said, hands settling on your waist. “I am not spending one more night in a bed without you.”

You nodded, stealing another kiss until you surrendered to his demands. Again.

Dodger ran to you, whining and wagging his tail as you sat down to give him better access. You’d missed your furry companion, his coat soft on your cheek when you nuzzled into him. Chris chuckled, rolling your bags into his room while you and Dodger had your little reunion.

“I am so sorry Bubba” You cooed to him, scratching behind his ears. “I missed you so much. Did you miss me, hmm?”

Dodger barked, rubbing his body against you. You laughed, cuddling your little boy. You’d missed waking upto him snuggled by your feet and the soft pattering of his feet as he followed you around.

“He didn’t eat right for a week after you left. You were being a bad mommy.” Chris said coming behind you. He petted Dodger before pulling you up by your arm, your chest flushed to his. You loved how he smelled of coffee and beer and cinnamon. He tasted of them too, bitter and addictive.

Your fingers traced a path in his beard, lips pressing into the hollow of his throat. It scared you how much power he had over you. You’d promised yourself you’ll break away from his hold when you found him snooping in your phone again. His possessiveness knew no bounds. If Chris had it his way, he’d hide you in a castle made only for his eyes. But right now, in the heaven of his arms, you couldn’t remember why you left him in the first place.

“I am sorry.” You whispered, hugging him tight. His arms came around you, holding you so possessively close that even death couldn’t rip you apart. Chemical romance, that’s how Scott had explained your relationship once. Your friends had stopped complaining, had stopped warning after losing count over how often you broke up and got back together.

“I am so pissed at you.” He said in your ear, breath warm on your skin. “I want to erase every lingering trace of that man’s touch from your body. But more than that, I need to remind you who you belong to.”

You refused to look at him, burying your head in his chest even as you held him tighter.

“I belong to you. I know it baby, I made a mistake.” You said, voice muffled. Chris tutted, pushing your face away firmly as he forced you to meet his intense gaze.

“Here I am, feeling guilty for even touching other women during a scene that is supposed to be my job. And my girl goes around fucking other men because we had an argument?” He hissed, a nerve throbbing in his temple. You pouted, bottom lip wobbling as you tried not to cry. You were raised to be a strong woman, someone who could speak for herself. How was it so easy for this man to reduce you to a sniveling woman for something that wasn’t even your fault.

“I didn’t fuck him.” You countered and Chris’s eyes flashed. You stared at each other until Chris practically growled and dragged you towards the bedroom. Dodger trailed behind you, stopping once Chris ordered him to stay put.

His bedroom, a space you had shared and abandoned all too many times was the same as always. It reeked of his aftershave and cologne, the stars winking at you from the window that overlooked the ground. Chris shut the door, rounding on you and pushing you towards the bed.

“You didn’t fuck him?” He spat, ticked off. “You let him touch you, you let him put his hands on what belongs to me.”

You shivered as your back met the cold sheets, bouncing slightly on the mattress. His anger was scary, but more than that it was exciting. It was you who had brought this strong, powerful man to this animalistic side. You, who could make him scowl and shout and get his heart pumping enough to bring blood to his face. You, who made him primitive as he held you down and fucked you into submission.

“We only kissed.” You said, knowing how to provoke him. That kiss was nice, it was sweet. But your body craved rough and hard, it craved to be possessed and used and worshiped. It craved Chris who left his handprints on your butt and his spent in your cunt. It craved Chris who kissed you until you were out of breath, who whispered the filthiest things to you as he buried himself in your warmth over and over until you were too hoarse to even cry.

He knew it, he read that in your eyes and in your touch that seared through the layers of clothes on his body. He knew you were getting under his skin on purpose, hurting him the way he hurt you so many times. Neither of you held back.

You tore away at his clothes, bucking your hips frantically in a bid to get closer. Chris cursed, squeezing your ass in his large hands and grounding his hardness on your thigh.

“You are testing me” He warned, naked flesh touching yours and hands entwining. You ignored him, the wetness dripping down your core begging his attention.

“Eat me” You cried, wiggling under him. He held fast, rubbing his cock on your abdomen, groaning softly. He nuzzled your neck, kissing softly on the spot he knew drove you wild. His weight prevented you from moving too much, not allowing you to do anything for yourself.

“You don’t tell me what to do baby. Not after letting another man touch you. Not after you walked out on me again.” He said angrily, forcing his gentle touch on your body that craved his roughness. You sobbed against his mouth, getting drunk on his lazy kisses and feather soft caresses. You knew what he was doing, you knew he wanted you to break and beg. And you had no dignity.

“Please” You begged, pathetically with tears in your eyes. “Give me what I want Chris. I’ll be good to you, I promise.”

He smirked, sucking a pert nipple in his mouth and rolling it between his tongue. You moaned, struggling to move more. It wasn’t enough to have you under him. He needed more than your compliance. He needed your surrender, he needed you to love him with a hunger as great as his. He was greedy.

“Even when you beg, you look like a goddess. You’re my angel, but I’m not gonna let you go to heaven. We’ll sin together in hell.”

He dove in, tongue swiping away your juice in a practiced move as you howled at the suddenness of his attack. Your thighs held his head captive between their plump flesh, mewls spilling from your mouth without restraint as he finally gave you what you wanted. You pulled on his hair, steering him closer to your core that was flaming under his mouth and flooding with pleasure.

“Oh Chris!” You moaned, writhing and trembling. You had missed his beard scratching the sensitive flesh of your inner thighs, missed his nails digging in your flesh to keep you steady, missed his tongue poking inside your warm cavern to taste your sweet nectar. Chris never worshiped you like a devotee to the lord. He worshipped you like a man summoning the devil, by spilling blood and leaving marks that stain the soul.

“Look at you go darling, so beautiful” He praised, easing a finger inside you and curling it. You threw your head back, shattering with an orgasm that took your breath away. Pleasure was a feeling you were familiar with, but combined with Chris’s love and anger, it formed the most intoxicating mix that got you dizzy.

He kissed the swollen head of your clit, gently easing you down from your high with praises whispered directly to your leaking cunt. He cupped your pussy, grinding his heels against you as your eyes met.

“Nobody else will touch you here. Or anywhere else for that matter.” He ordered and you nodded, still desperate for him. His cock was red and angry, warm drops of precum leaking over your stomach and you tugged at him, asking to fill you up.

“Chris, I need you inside me. Please.”

He crawled up and laid beside you, jerking you on top of him. Your hands found his chest, lightly playing with his nipples and the spattering of hair there before moving down to cup his hardness and his balls. He jerked at the first contact, closing his eyes as his breath hitched and you smiled at your own effect over him. You could reduce him to a mess just as well he could to you.

Pumping his length, you licked it slowly, lathering it with your saliva. You remembered the day you’d named it Cumstopher Rogers and he��d slapped you with it, making you choke on him until you had to apologize.

“Put me inside you now because if I have to take over, I’ll choose which hole it goes in and you probably won’t like it.” He growled in impatience. You clenched, his threats going straight to your core.

You positioned yourself over him, sinking slowly and gently, feeling every part of him against your spongy walls. With your thighs flush to his, you stopped to just let the feeling of fullness last a little longer. No matter how many times you’d been with each other, the feeling of Chris being so deep inside you never got old. If you could, you’d never be empty.

“All my holes like your cock Mr. Evans. And I? I love it and your butt and your chest and arms and face and everything else.”

You moved at a slow pace, bouncing gently while holding onto his thighs. Taking his hand in yours, you placed it on your chest, asking him to play with your nipples as you rode him.

“You feeling powerful, baby? You feeling good bouncing on my dick?” He asked, pinching a nipple almost to the point of pain. You nodded, leaning down to kiss him as he started thrusting up a little, hitting your cervix when he went too deep. You rolled your belly, clenching your muscles around his length so that his eyes flew open and hands dug into the softness of your butt.

“Oh Chris, I missed this.” You told him, tasting the sweat on his temple. He nodded, his huge arms wrapping around you and pulling you intimately close.

“I missed you too, which is why I will make sure you never leave me. This is not your power move, this is mine.” He darkly murmured and your eyes met his in confusion. He looked at the side and you followed his gaze, mouth dropping open at the camera that blinked at you with a red light on.

“What the fuck, Chris?” You shout, trying to move away when he rolled you over and under him, thrusting in hard.

“Oh yes, what the fuck baby” He said, holding your wrists as he picked up his pace. “You think it’s okay to pack a bag and leave me every time? You think it’s okay to date other men, to kiss other men? You are mine. And if anyone needs proof of that, now I can show it to them.”

You cried out as he went harder, a pressure building deep inside your belly. Tears escaped your eyes, gazing into blue ones that you loved and hated with a passion. You could have asked him to stop now, you could shout that you don’t want him and he’s sick. But you didn’t. You knew he would stop if you really wanted him to, and as much as your heart broke and your chest tightened with hurt, you loved him. You loved his twisted ways to keep you with him. You loved it when he went above and beyond, got crazy in his desire for you. You were wanted. You were cherished.

“Fuck you.” You cursed, meeting every thrust of his with a raise of your hips. Your eyes closed, sweat dripping down your body as you let the animalistic part of you take over, screaming and tearing and fucking each other like two people whose only goal in life was to be embedded in the other’s heart and psyche.

“I’d like to see you try to walk out tomorrow after tonight.” Chris said, delivering punishing strokes that were agonizing and titillating, that were fire and ice. You held onto him, leaving crescent shaped scars to join the numerous tattoos across his body. He took you apart, fucked you so good all you could do was say him name and fall in a glittery haze of his presence. He came inside you, filling you to the brim and crushing your body with his weight.

You weren’t leaving, that much was obvious.

Throwing in your clothes haphazardly in the bag, you promised yourself this would be the last time you did this. You will not come back to this house and this bed. Chris and you were done for good. The past few months had followed the same pattern. You both rekindling the dying flame of your relationship, mending the broken hearts and trust until it went back to hell.

There were too many arguments, too much shouting and angry sex. Every time you sat down to talk, it ended with your legs in the air. Your mother was right. He wasn’t right for you. Chris wanted to be your hero and your villain. He wanted you to think of nobody but him. Any friends and family that warned you against him had to be cut off. He’ll dismiss every article the paparazzi published about him but would throw a fit if you so much as smiled at the cashier in the grocery store. He kept you close like a dog on a leash, feeling jealous at the very sight of you talking to any man. You’d wanted to give this relationship a chance, but as of twenty minutes ago, Chris had made sure it was over.

You wondered about taking your pictures, but it was better to stay away from any temptations. This was happening, and as much as it broke your heart, you will not come back to him. Zipping up your bag, you straightened just as Chris stormed inside the room, jaw clenched in anger.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” He barked, “Put your stuff back. I’ll be damned if I let you leave me again.”

You scowled at him, wiping the stray tears from your eyes. He had no right to ask anything of you, not after what he had just done.

“Fuck off Chris. I am leaving, and you can’t stop me.” You shouldered past him, sadly looking at Dodger who was whining softly as he watched you move. He had seen this happen enough times to know that you’re not coming home.

Chris marched behind you, snatching your wrist and pulling you back to himself. The blue in his eyes was darker, like the sky covered in thunder clouds. You squirmed, pushing against him.

“You. Are. Not. Leaving.” He hissed, looking scary and mad.

“How dare you? After what you did today?” You sobbed, hitting your fists on his chest. He held your jaw, bringing your face closer to him so he could peer into your watery eyes.

“I proposed! I got down on one knee. What the fuck is your problem?” He shouted, spittle flying from his mouth.

You shook your head, looking at him with an expression of disbelief. Is he that oblivious?

“Marriage is permanent Chris” You said, voice suddenly soft. “Marriage is living your life devoted to your partner. We can’t break up and leave and come back again. It’s a responsibility. You and I, we haven’t been able to keep a stable relationship. How the hell will we keep a happy marriage?”

Chris frowned, not liking what you said. He pushed you against the wall, caging you in with his huge arms on either side. You could smell the chocolate and wine on his breath from dinner, his hair all messed up from when he ran his hands through it. On his neck still hung the necklace you’d got him.

“Look at me” He said, pressing his forehead to yours. You breathed deeply, finding it difficult to maintain an eye contact as charged with anger and passion as this one. “You love me, you still love me. It’s all in your eyes. Why won’t you marry me?”

You wanted to curl into a ball and cry. Why did loving him have to be so difficult? Was love worth the fights, the tears and pain and loss of independence? Was loving him enough to keep you going? You were so tired of this back and forth with him. You’d never even talked about marriage before, having been too busy trying to keep any sort of relationship alive. Why would he do this to you?

As your limbs got heavier, you leaned forward and hugged him. You held him to yourself, soaking in his warmth and smell inside you for what would be the last time. You could not give up so much of yourself to sustain this love. Soon enough, there would be nothing more to give and the love would be dead.

“You need to let me go Christopher” You said to him, lips close to his ear. “You need to understand that love is only the beginning. I can’t keep doing this anymore. Please, just let me go.”

Chris hugged you tighter, his head resting over yours and heart beating strong beneath your hand. He was your night, full of twinkling stars and dark mysteries. But dawn was approaching fast, and you needed to bid goodbye to the moon to greet the sun that awaited you.

“Never.” He promised, “You are never leaving me again. I’ll fucking make sure of it.”

He picked you up suddenly, ignoring your protests as he carried you back into the bedroom. Kicking your bag aside, he dropped you on the bed, raising a finger to stop you. He took out the ring from his pocket, the very one you had refused this evening and held it to you.

“Put this on.” He ordered and you rubbed your eyes in exasperation.

“No.”

You both glared at each other, adrenaline coursing through your veins. Fighting with Chris had always been a thrill, more often than not ending with wild sex on any and all surfaces in sight. But today you were determined to end it. You’d not let yourself become weak at the sight of his cock.

“Okay then, you’ve left me no choice.” Chris said. He picked up his phone and tapped away on it, doing god knows what. You sighed, getting up and putting your stuff together again, ignoring his presence behind you. Chris threw his phone on the bed, looking stoically at you work. You were just folding the last of your clothes when your phone started buzzing. You ignored it for a minute, but it kept up, almost falling off the table with its vibrations.

“What the fuck” You gasped, looking at the hundreds of notifications pouring in as more followed. You quickly opened your Instagram to see you’d been tagged by Chris.

And she said YES!

Below that caption was a picture of the both of you from a couple months ago, cuddled up and smiling at each other.

Comments and likes from everyone were popping in, and soon enough, you saw your mother’s call. You stared at Chris, utterly in disbelief. What had he done?

“Try saying no now. You’d be the bitch who broke Chris Evans’s heart, the bitch who played him. Try walking in public between people who’d see you only as a slut and nothing more.”

Your world came crashing down. You were not some hotshot celebrity like Chris. You were just a girl trying to live her life the best way she knew how to, and how it ended up entangled with this man you’d never understand. Even if you shouted from the rooftops the truth of today, no one would believe you. Chris’s fans would tear you to shreds, destroy your life with their mean comments and attacks. And your family would not be spared either. They’ll be exposed to a celebrity scandal, dragged through the mud along with your good name.

“Oh god Chris, what have you done?” You choked out, falling to your knees. He came before you, gently caressing your head before kneeling in front of you. Cupping your face, he kissed you deep and hard, countering your hate with his love that hit you like your own kryptonite.

“I told you. I told you I’ll never let you leave.” He breathed against your mouth, pulling you closer. You dug your nails in his arms, hurting him with the hurt he just caused you, but he didn’t even flinch.

“You’re a monster” You said, chest heaving with emotions.

“Yes, I am. But you know what darling?” He said sweetly, “Even after this, you still love me. I am a monster, but I am a monster you created and one you love.”

You ended up on the bed, sprawled underneath him again. Even with icy hate in your eyes, your heart burned with love for him. It was unnatural, it was chemical and wrong. And yet, it was your reality. He was yours, no matter what he did. And you were his, regardless of every protest that you ever made.

“Now, I’ll ask this one more time. Will you marry me?” He asked softly, looking at you like you were all he ever saw.

“Yes” You breathed, watching silently as he slipped the ring on your finger and kissed it. Meeting your eyes, he settled over your body, his arousal pulsing over your thigh. Sealing the deal with a kiss, Chris went to remove your shirt.

“Then let’s celebrate. After we’re done, we can call our families with the good news.”

#chris evans x reader #dark!chris evans x reader #chris x reader #dark!chris evans #chris evans #chris evans rpf

[tooktheladdedgbtq]

....and the Oscar goes to.. | Tom Holland X Male!actor reader. 

A/N: this was just something I wrote because I got inspired I guess. Happy Pride everyone!

——————————————

You couldn’t decide whether time was slipping through your fingers too quickly or if this had been the longest night you’d ever experienced.

seconds slowed to a crawl while you tried to gather yourself before it was your turn to take the stage. You were nervous. Not about being at the oscars or presenting for the first time. Not even about being nominated for your leading role in the second installment of a critically acclaimed trilogy. No, you’d been used to these sorts of things, you’d been an actor since you were a very young kid. Starting on television before film, and you even got to hold the Emmy the show had won when you had just turned a teenager.

No, you were nervous about who exactly you’d be presenting to. Of the five nominees and potential winners, only one could cause such an intensive feeling in your chest. Only one could awaken a sense of dread that battled with a feeling of intensive happiness mixed with anticipation, and it was Tom.

You’d known each other for years and had come to fall in love. You’d met as young co-stars on set and eventually grew into an inseparable friendship that progressed into something far more. Neither of you were sure when the feelings started but it felt like they’d always been there and you weren’t exactly complaining.

Your blissfulness with Tom was beautiful but short lived. After almost a year of being official you both agreed to take a break from the relationship. Unbeknownst to Tom you were just agreeing to save face and hadn’t pried for an answer out of fear of being hurt. You just accepted that this was how things were now, and took a step back.

You’d still kept in contact with him. It was hard not to. He was still your best friend. But whether it was the business of work or something a little more awkward, distance grew between you both as the multi-hour long facetime calls and text threads became once-a-week check-ins to just make sure you were alive and okay.

Time had passed, and you didn’t have a clue what you could possibly say to him now. You certainly didn’t want to ruin his special night. But you’d missed him so much and felt like you would implode at the first sign that he’d be interested in getting back together with you. But you also didn’t want to seem desperate or needy if he’d moved on. You didn’t want to slip and say those three words again in the moment.

Father time showed you no mercy as the sand in his hourglass suddenly shifted from a slow-motion drip to a flood. The seconds you’d spent daydreaming of your past with Tom and pondering about the your potential future had passed and left you with little time to gather yourself before presenting. still you shook your hands, arms, and lastly shoulders, putting all your worries aside and waited for introduction from the host.

Before long you’d been counted in to walking on stage, and heard the host over the microphone. “Ladies and Gentlemen, to present the award and introduce the nominees for Best Supporting Actor, please welcome one of this year’s nominees and one of our generation’s greatest talents: Y/F/N Y/L/N.”

The applause erupts from the audience like a revved up engine as you took center but it was nothing compared to the standing ovation you’d receive later on that night when receiving your own award for Best Actor.

You were stood promptly center staged with the towering Oscar statue reflecting onto the black stage floor beneath your feet. Your outfit was alluring and would surely be the next hot topic which is rare for male stars. You looked like a million bucks. Everyone knew it, most of all, Tom.

You smile and wave as you approach the microphone, your teeth shining a blinding white, and wait for a hush from the crowd.

You chuckle lightly as a few hoots and hollers sound out as the cheers subside.

You eye the monitor across the room and start to read, your nerves dying down as your jokes land and laughter echoes around the room.

As you finish the introduction, clips start to show behind you to accompany the names of the nominees as the cameras catch a glimpse of each of their reactions.

You couldn’t help but notice how tough the competition was as each actor was called. Steven Yuen playing a detective in a thrilling murder mystery. John David Washington in a fictional film playing the world’s first black astronaut aiding in the discovery of lovecraftian horrors. Andrew Garfield for his role as a psychotic narcissist and genius businessman. Oscar Issac acting in a sci fi space opera asking questions of existentialism.

Finally, you had to withhold your smile as you called out the last name. He had returned to his Billy Elliot roots being nominated for his role in a astonishing musical romance film. “Tom Holland.” You’d been ecstatic when he’d told you about it as you’d always recommend he tried it again since it made him so happy in his younger years.

You spot him a few rows from the stage, making eye contact with him and wondering if he was thinking about you the way you had done with him earlier. You couldn’t help but notice him squirming in his chair and fidgeting with his hands. Selfishly asking yourself if this wasn’t just about the award but about having you present it to him.

Seeing you here after what felt like an eternity apart and your reunion potentially being the greatest achievement of both your careers. Making it the greatest night of your lives, that is, if you were still together. But you were still best friends. That’s what mattered. So you push your self centered thoughts aside and shoot him a small wave that he returns with a smile and thumbs up. letting you know he was okay and that you could continue as the camera pans back to you capturing your not so hidden giddiness.

This awarded some small oos and aahs from the crowd as your relationship with him had been a wholly celebrated one. especially among your marvel peers.

You’re handed an envelope and statue as the music ends and the applause dies down and you take one final glare into the camera before beginning to open the envelope.

“....and the Oscar goes to,” you take a peek at the crowd and see some of the nominees holding hands with loved ones. others plainly

awaiting your next words with bated breath. The anticipation shone on everyone’s faces. Even those that weren’t nominated. Your not-so-hidden grin giving away the answer mere milliseconds before his name escaped your lips. “Tom Holland!”

Tom shot up with a shared expression of shock and happiness on his face. Pecking his mother on the cheek as she wipes the tears of pride from her eyes. His best mate Harrison gives him a quick embrace and a pat on the back before he moves on to shake hands with the director and smile at everyone cheering him on as he gradually moves toward the stage still completely baffled at the victory.

As he walks towards you in his pink pastel colored suit and brown leather dress shoes you can’t help but swell with an overwhelming feeling of joy having been here to share this career defining moment with him. You thought about how far you’d both come to get here and almost started tearing up remembering all you’d been through together.

He skipped up the miniature steps and blanketed you with both arms. You didn’t want it to end as you hadn’t felt it in a while. You threw your arms around his neck and he tightens his hold around your torso. Before you could even process them, your blunt thoughts spill out as whispers.

“I’m so incredibly proud of you. you deserve this and so much more.” you hear a small chuckle escape him as he responds. “I am trying not to cry y’know mate?” a wolf whistle comes from the crowd as you apologize for being so sappy and before he can tell you off for it you hand him his award and shove him off toward the microphone.

As he takes center stage you stand off to the side to watch him give his acceptance speech. He pauses and takes a second to gather himself before he starts talking straight from his heart with nothing prepared.

“Um, Wow. I really can’t believe this is really happening and I probably still won’t believe it happened tomorrow. Just.. wow.” his words were filled with that charmingly British accent you’d come to love so much.

“First I would like to thank my mother, without whom of course, I would not be here. I would like to thank the academy and everyone who worked on this movie from the producers and camera men, make-up and costumes, to our wonderful writers, composer, back up dancers and vocalists, and of course my friends, my co-star and the director Damien Chazelle.” whom he gestures to sitting in the second row. “I share this with all of you and I can’t thank you enough for awarding me with the opportunity to create something I love so much.”

He thanks the other nominees before turns towards you to end his speech. you felt your heart in your hands when you saw his big brown puppy eyes dart in your direction with an intensive glare of admiration.

“last but most importantly, I want to thank the inspiration for all of the love songs I sung in the film and the reason I decided to take the role. The person standing here on my right.”

Your jaw drops and your eyes widen when his words hit you like a speeding semi. you realize that he’d just called you his muse in so many words. the inspiration behind the love songs in the film no less. Meaning that with every lovestruck note his character sung he was reminded of you. All that time spent worrying if the distance between you two would cause him to forget about you, or if he’d maybe moved on and found somebody else. But no such thing had happened. He was relating his character’s longing in the film to his longing for you this entire time and that made your heart do a backflip.

You blush and cover your still ajar mouth with your fist whilst trying not to pay attention to the crowd who’s attention was fully focused on you.

He takes a deep sigh before continuing. “Y/N you’re not only the reason I took this role, but you’re the reason I was able to play it with such sincerity. You’ve been a unwavering beacon of support throughout my career in general but here you really gave me the inspiration for something special. He faces the audience again as the all follow his words with whispers of how adorable you both were. “from reading lines together in the middle of the night, to keeping me company when i’m on the brink of a meltdown.” It was all true and it only made you miss you relationship more and you found it difficult to hold back your tears.

“Y/N is the kind of best friend everybody needs, the kind of partner everybody deserves, and the person I’m so incredibly lucky to have known for so long. ..and I still can’t believe he never figured out the lyrics were all about him, It was kind of obvious-” the audience laughed you’re so close to swooning as he turns toward you again. “But, with all my heart, I love you, Y/N. Always will.” you feel as if you’re floating.

He shifts to the crowd one last time to say a final thank you before you both walk off stage one arm around one another’s shoulders. You have a short but sweet conversation backstage with him where reassures you that everything he said on stage was true and completely unscripted. He wants to talk more but knows your category is coming soon so he asks for a later opportunity and you agree before returning to your seat in the crowd.

The rest of the night flew by with you winning the award for best actor and receiving the biggest applause of the night. Tom joined in the standing ovation. You thanked everybody involved in making the film, the academy, and squeezed a little joke directed towards Tom that garnered a shared laugh from both him and the audience. You were the last award of the night and after the celebrations it was time to return to your place, where Tom was waiting for you. Wanting to talk about everything that had happened not just tonight but everything leading up to it. He also hoped you’d kept a spot open in your heart for him to return to.

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