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slightlymore · 3 years

Text

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

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bobohu4eva · 3 years

Text

Sweet Tooth (Part 2)

Characters: Baekhyun x Reader

Genre: Royalty AU, fluff, angst, eventual smut, mutual pining

Summary: Life as the palace baker got a lot more interesting after catching the devastatingly cute prince sneaking around your kitchen.

WC: 4.3k

Tag List: @wooya1224 @dixnysustae @bbhile @geniusloey @blahblahblah-boo @leave-me-in-the-summertime

Masterlist

“Good morning!”

The egg hit the counter with more force than intended, enough to be smashed completely and leave your hand a sticky mess.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to sneak up on you.” You heard from behind you accompanied by a giggle.

You turned around, smiling and trying your best to play it cool. The devastatingly cute prince had not just seen you smash an egg on the counter. And he definitely didn't notice how you were hiding your egg covered hand behind your back. Hopefully. At least that’s what you told yourself for the sake of your sanity.

You’d been jumpy for a reason. You knew he would be there again today, and you still didn’t quite know what to do about it or how to act around the guy. Sure he was funny and cute and honestly quite pleasant to be around but he was still very much the prince.

“I’m okay! Good morning to you as well.” You bowed to him before quickly finding something to clean the raw egg off your hand and work table.

Luckily he didn’t comment on your little egg mishap any further. Instead he rounded the table until he was standing on the other side of it and he pulled up a stool and sat down the same way he had the day before, elbow on the table, with his chin resting on his hands looking at you expectantly.

“So? Fruit tart?”

“Yes, fruit tart. Shall we get started?” He quickly nodded. “Would you like me to only show you how I make it or do you want to do some of it too?”

“Oh, uh, I hadn’t really thought about that… Can I just jump in if there's something that looks easy?”

A smile spread across your lips. You’d almost forgotten in the short 24 hours you hadn’t seen him just how non-aristocratic the man acted, but what a relief it was.

“Yes, if that’s what you’d like. Let’s get started? The first thing we need to make is the tart dough.”

As you started to gather your ingredients you found it more and more difficult to focus. He wasn’t wearing pajamas anymore, he was wearing what the princes usually wear. It was very attractive. He looked, well, like a damn prince. And you were expected to just act normal? When he strolled into your bakery looking that good?? It felt very unfair. He was just wearing a thin white cotton shirt and black pants but you couldn’t help but ogle him when he wasn’t looking. His broad back, the swell of his chest, it was too much to handle. Combined with the messy head of hair and lazy smile, it had you weak in the knees.

You combined your flour, sugar, and butter and started to add your water with shaky hands, before beginning to knead it.

“Can I do that?” He asked as he got up and walked over to your side of the table.

You nodded and handed him the dough and watched as he started to clumsily smack it against the table. That was when you noticed his hands, and how pretty they were. They were slender but not bony, and you found your mind wandering off, wondering how they would feel holding yours. They were probably so soft. The mole on his thumb was so cute.

“Don’t do too much, or else the dough will get tough.” You said quickly as you snapped back to reality, reaching for the dough and he let go of it. You internally cursed yourself for getting carried away daydreaming about the man’s hands of all things.

He stayed standing next to you, watching you, as you started to roll the ball of dough out into a big enough circle to fill your tart pan. You picked it up and started to press it into the edges and the whole time you were incredibly aware of his eyes on you. You almost wished he would do something embarrassing again so you could stop being so nervous.

“You’re so quiet today.”

“People tend to like me better when I talk less.”

You frowned. “I liked talking with you yesterday.”

You could’ve sworn you saw the man blush, but you pushed the thought aside, not wanting to think about that while you had a task to complete. It would be all too embarrassing if you messed up a mere fruit tart just because there was a pretty boy distracting you.

And he couldn’t actually be blushing at that. Right?

“I expected you to be stuck up, but you aren’t at all. That was a big relief. And I think you’re kind of funny. And like I said yesterday, it can get lonely here so I’m happy to have some company.”

“You can still ask me to leave any time if I’m getting bothersome, I’ll understand.”

You looked up to meet eyes with him and gave him a small smile. You didn’t quite understand why he said such things but you very much felt the need to comfort the guy anyway.

“You aren’t bothersome. It’s nice to have someone to talk to here.”

“Thank you, I appreciate that a lot.”

He was looking down at the table now, and this time you knew he was blushing. His pink cheeks had pulled up into a small smile. Cute.

“Is that ready to bake?” He asked when he saw that you were done touching the dough.

You nodded, and before you could react he picked up the pan and walked it over to the oven before putting it inside and closing the door.

It wasn’t on purpose that you were being so quiet now. You were getting quite flustered and didn’t want to say anything embarrassing. He was the prince, you couldn’t exactly explain to him that you were having trouble focusing because of how attractive he was.

“So? What now?”

You were quickly brought back to reality by his words and realized you’d been staring at him the whole time. Like a weirdo. You could only pray that he wasn’t catching on to your odd behavior.

“The filling!” You said, a bit too loudly, as you shook yourself out of your thoughts.

You started grabbing ingredients again, keeping your eyes anywhere but on him. Once you had everything gathered, you combined the egg, sugar, and starch and handed the bowl to him.

“Do you want to mix it?”

He nodded with an adorably excited look on his face as he took the bowl from you and started to whisk the mixture together. In the meantime you began to heat up your fruit puree, and by the time it was warm enough you took the bowl from him and started to temper the egg mixture into the hot fruit. You put it back on the heat for a little while longer to make sure it got thick enough and by the time it was done it was time to take the crust out of the oven as well.

The whole time you carefully poured the filling into the crust you knew his eyes were on you but you couldn’t bring yourself to acknowledge him, out of fear of what you might do to embarrass yourself if you did. It was too quiet for too long. You still hadn’t spoken when you started to gather various fruits to start chopping up to put on top of the tart.

“I can leave if you really don’t want me here, you don’t have to lie and tell me it’s okay just because I’m the prince, I can tell I’m bothering you.” He mumbled and you finally brought yourself to look him in the eyes.

He looked upset. Your heart ached. You realized just how cold your actions must’ve come across to him, even though you hadn’t meant it that way at all.

“No! I promise you aren’t bothering me, really, I just… I’m not used to having someone back here with me watching me, especially someone like you.”

Much to your disappointment this didn’t seem to cheer him up, his face remained just as sad as it had looked a second ago.

“Someone like me?”

“You know, royalty. I work for your family after all, so it’s a bit nerve wracking for you to watch everything I do.”

“Oh…” His face softened a bit, and it seemed to you that he genuinely hadn’t considered that yet. “I’m sorry, but you really don’t have to be nervous, I won’t mind even if you mess something up. I promise I’m nice.”

You couldn’t help but smile at his words. He was a nice person, you knew that much already, if anything he could stand to be a bit more sure of himself. You felt bad that you’d hurt his feelings so easily by making him think he was being a nuisance.

“You are really nice, I can tell that much, I guess I just don’t really know you yet.”

“Well then what would you like to know about me? Ask away, I’m an open book.”

You looked at him with one eyebrow raised, wondering what you could even ask someone like him.

“Well, what’s it like being the prince?”

He frowned, obviously disappointed with your question. “Not great. Next question.”

Not great?

“Well what’s something you do like about it?”

He tilted his head to the side and pushed out his bottom lip a bit as he thought of an answer. You wondered if he did this on purpose, if he knew how adorable he was and liked to see you get all riled up because of him, but he seemed too oblivious for that to be the case.

After a few seconds his lips formed a wide grin and his eyes met yours. “The food.” He said.

That time you knew he saw you blush, and you even had to cover your mouth as a surprised laugh rolled off your lips.

“I’m just being honest, I don’t care about power and titles and all that, and I don’t need to live in a castle to be happy. I’m a simple man. But the food is a really nice bonus.”

“The cooks are really talented, I can see why you like that so much.” You said, now focusing back on the fruit you were chopping up.

“You too though, and sweets are my favorite.” He said, picking up a piece of strawberry you had just chopped to put on the tart and popping it into his mouth instead.

Your eyes traveled from his hand, as it grabbed the piece of fruit, to his face as he brought it to his perfectly smooth, pink, lips. You watched his face as he ate the strawberry, not realizing that you were once again staring.

“Is there something on my face?” He asked, with the cutest look of confusion on his face.

Somehow, you felt yourself blush even harder at that. “No, sorry, I just spaced out for a second.” You lied.

“Why is your face so red?”

“Is it?” You tried your best to act casual, quickly changing the subject. “So what do princes do in their free time?”

He made that same face again, the little pout that showed you he was thinking of an answer.

“Well, I like to get out of the palace. Take my horse out into the woods or through town, anything to get out and feel some fresh air and not be bothered. Or go on a walk through the gardens. I’ve seen you there a few times, by the way, reading.”

“Oh…” You didn’t quite know how to respond. You must’ve been so caught up in your books that you’d never noticed when he was there.

“I sometimes wondered who you were, but I didn’t want to bother you since you always seemed so invested in what you were doing.”

You felt another twinge of embarrassment, thinking about the romance novels you would sometimes spend hours totally consumed in.

“Well, next time you should come say hello if you see me.”

His cheeks and ears started to look like they were turning pink again, although you couldn’t understand why. He had looked down at the table, and one hand was scratching the back of his neck. He had paused. He almost looked a bit nervous.

“Y/n?”

“Yeah?”

“Can we be friends?”

His eyes finally looked up to meet yours and the pout on his face as he nervously waited for your response made you feel crazy. There was no way in hell you could look back at him when he looked like that and say no.

You put a small smile to your lips and nodded, and to your relief his face immediately lit up into a wide smile.

“Thank you, Creampuff.”

You rolled your eyes at the nickname.

“I have to come up with a stupid name for you too now that we’re friends you know.”

“Well, then I am greatly looking forward to what you can come up with.“ He said grinning, and taking another piece of fruit you’d just carefully sliced.

“If you eat all my fruit before it can go on top it’s not going to be much of a fruit tart!”

He was giggling hysterically now, making a show of it, grabbing several more pieces of fruit and holding them up in the air, out of your reach..

“That’s okay, the topping is the best part anyway.” He snickered as he brought another piece of your oh so painstakingly chopped fruit to his lips.

Was it a good idea to befriend the prince? Probably not, however you didn’t want to think too hard about that since it was too late now anyway.

You had a fruit tart to finish, so you dragged your mind back to the task at hand.

“Baekhyun, do you want to put the fruit on top? Or are you just going to eat all of it as is?” You teased, gesturing towards your still naked tart with the pile of chopped fruit next to it.

“Okay okay I guess I can put some on top too.”

You watched as he started arranging the variously shaped fruit pieces atop the tart, and you once again marveled at his hands.

“So do I get help, or do I have to figure this part out myself? You always make them look so pretty, I don’t think I have the same artistic touch you do.”

You smiled at the compliment, more than you probably should have. Something about this guy enjoying your work so much was just too good to be true.

You felt silly. So silly. Has it really been so long since you’d had an interaction with a cute boy that you simply couldn’t handle yourself? He had to notice by now. It had to be painfully obvious why you were so flustered, right?

At that point you were openly staring. Luckily for you, he was actually pretty focused on making the tart look nice, so he didn’t seem to notice your eyes on him. His fingers had a slight sheen to them from the juices from the fruit and it took everything in you to not grab his pretty hands and lick them clean yourself.

“So? Y/n?”

You hadn’t even answered his question yet and you were already off in a little daydream about him.

You were crazy. You took a deep breath, recomposing yourself for the nth time.

“I’d like to see what you come up with.” You said, trying to sound as playful as you possible with how hard your heart was beating.

He gave you a smirk that told you he had accepted your challenge. His focus went back to the table and he started carefully arranging and rearranging his work.

Then, he was finished. The last of the fruit had been placed atop the cream filled crust. It actually looked okay, you were even slightly impressed with his artistic vision.

“How did I do?” You heard his ask as he set down his finished creation and looked at you with a pleased grin. He took his bottom lip between his perfect teeth, looking at you with those familiar puppy eyes and you wanted to scream at how cute he looked right then.

“It looks really nice. Not how I would’ve done it, but pretty.”

“Well if I did it exactly how you do it I would just be copying you and you wanted to see what I could do so how could I possibly even think to do something so unoriginal?” He looked very pleased with your response.

“You wouldn’t be able to make it look like mine even if you did try to. You just don’t have that special touch.” You responded, surprising yourself with your teasing tone.

Baekhyun perked up at your words, raising an eyebrow at you.

“What? You said it yourself earlier.” He really had. But you knew he was ready to fight you about it now anyway.

“I just need more chances to prove myself, but I think I did pretty damn good just now for someone who hasn’t prepared his own food in his life ever.”

“You’re so spoiled.” You giggled, plucking a piece of fruit off the tart and placing it between your lips, keeping your eyes locked with his. You weren’t sure where this new surge of confidence was coming from, but you decided to just go with it.

“Hey! I can’t help who I was born as!”

“That doesn’t mean you aren’t still spoiled.”

“You’re so mean to me.” He whined, obviously just trying to get a rise out of you. Unfortunately it worked very well for him. His little pout when he pushed out his bottom lip and furrowed his brows ever so slightly, was almost too cute to handle.

“Yeah, but you’re still here with me for some reason. Now are you finally going to eat your tart?”

He’d once again gone all bashful on you, acting like you were somehow the one in charge here when his family basically owned you.

“Can you cut it?” The words rolled off his lips softly.

You nodded, grabbing the sharpest knife you had, and started cutting the tart into slices.

It immediately felt wrong. You realized you’d fucked up.

The filling was still too warm to cut. It wasn’t fully set. It would start oozing into a big puddle of fruit goo as soon as you’d touch it.

It was so obvious. Of course you shouldn’t have cut into it already. Of course it wasn’t ready yet. You knew that, but your mind had been elsewhere. It was a dumb, dumb mistake and you felt it start to chip away at the last bit of sanity you had left.

You closed your eyes, clenching your jaw as you made a second cut, but you knew you were only making matters worse. It was already ruined. You put your knife down and squeezed your eyes shut, trying to fight the tightness in your chest and the tears that were building in your eyes.

“Creampuff?”

The nickname just made it hurt more. The way he said it so softly was too cruel. You failed to suppress the sob that wracked through you and the tears flowed freely down your cheeks, which were now deeply tinted with your embarrassment.

“I’m sorry.” You choked out. “I messed it up. It’s ruined.”

“Huh?” The look on his face as he watched you cry could only be described as a combination of worry and panic.

He didn’t get it. It still looked fine. Before you could stop him he picked up a piece and you watched as the beautiful and delicious little project you’d spent all morning working on with him fell apart. His carefully arranged fruit topping was destroyed as the filing slowly sagged into the missing gap and his slice turned into a messy glob.

“Where are the spoons?”

You looked at him like he was crazy.

You watched as he picked up the two forks on the table. “I don’t think a fork is going to work for this, can you give me a spoon please?”

You were a wreck. You were crying, sobbing even, and here he was asking you for a spoon so he could try at least one pathetic bite of your fruit tart turned pudding mess.

“Y/n?” It was barely a whisper this time. “Why are you crying? I said it’s okay even if you mess up. I’m not mad at you.”

Swallowing your tears, you reached into a nearby drawer, grabbed hastily at its contents, and shoved a spoon into his hand.

It was huge. The kind of spoon that was usually used for mixing large salads. You didn’t even understand why you had such a monstrosity in your little bakery.

Baekhyun stared at the ridiculous instrument you had just thrust into his unsuspecting palm as you let out a few more sniffles.

Then he let out a loud laugh. “This thing?!” He thought it was hilarious. “Are you trying to fatten me up? You know my mom always told me that my good looks were the only good thing I have going for me, don’t go ruining that now. I can’t afford to get chubby.”

You let out a whine and opened the drawer again, this time paying better attention to what you were grabbing. You pulled out two normal sized spoons.

He watched as you set them down on the table and frowned when he saw how upset you still looked, despite his joking around. You didn’t touch your spoon, still too upset to want to try a bite of your mistake. He didn’t seem to care though, immediately scooping up a spoonful and taking a large bite.

He let out a pleased hum as he finished his bite. “I don’t understand why you’re so upset, this is still pretty amazing if you ask me, thank you so much for letting me make it with you.”

He genuinely seemed to not mind. He kept happily eating it. But you didn’t feel any better. This was your job, your thing, and he’d seen you make such a stupid mistake, and on just the second day he’d met you. It was embarrassing more than anything else. What if he thinks you’re bad at your job?

“I’m sorry.” You let out again quietly and this time he didn’t tease you or make a dumb joke. He looked concerned. When you felt a tear roll down your cheek, he looked scared.

“Why are you still crying?” He put his spoon down. He was rounding the table to walk to the other side, to where you were standing. Once he was standing directly in front of you he froze. He’d lifted one arm slightly, as if he was reaching out for you, but it quickly dropped to his side again. You took a shaky step back but he moved with you.

“I promise I’m not here to judge you, I just wanted some time with someone who’s nice to me for once. And the tart is still amazing. And I know everything else you make is amazing too, because I’ve been eating it for years.”

You made the mistake of looking up into his big brown eyes. His cute slightly droopy looking eyes that sat perfectly atop his smooth, round cheeks. The look he gave you was too sweet to bear. You let out another sob.

He turned towards the table. He grabbed your spoon, hastily taking a scoop and shoving it into your mouth before you even had time to react.

“See? It’s good. Really good. Who cares if it melted or whatever. That’s like, the least important part. It’s food. It’s supposed to taste good. And it tastes super fucking good.”

You chewed slowly as he spoke, still standing far too close for comfort. He watched as you ate with tear stained cheeks. When you swallowed his hand moved. He was reaching for your face. You felt his thumb lightly brush the corner of your mouth, removing the small drop of cream that had ended up there. He brought his finger back up to his lips and he licked off the bit of cream, eyes never leaving yours.

“Delicious.” He whispered.

Panic was setting in now. You couldn’t find it in yourself to cry anymore. You felt like you needed to escape. You couldn’t trust yourself to not make a fool of yourself right now, even more than you already had. The poor guy would probably never wanna come bake with you again. The thought of not spending time with him again like this hurt more than you expected it to.

You stared again, too taken aback by his actions to get any words out. He was closer now. You weren’t quite sure when he’d gotten so close, close enough that you could smell the lingering scent of sweet fruit on his breath.

He was right there, and he was staring right back at you, close enough to touch. Your mind was slowing down and you swore you saw his eyes flicker down to your lips, before he cleared his throat and took a step back.

“I’m sorry, I think I should go. The tart is amazing, really. Thank you again.”

He turned to leave, and the words left you before you had time to think about it. “Are you still going to come back?”

He turned back to look at you, a reassuring smile on his pretty face. “Of course, Creampuff.”

Next Chapter

#exo #baekhyun #baekhyun fluff #baekhyun fic #baekhyun fanfic #baekhyun smut #exo fic #exo fluff #exo smut

169 notes · View notes

bokettochild · 3 years

Text

All Trussed Up and Nowhere to Go

Whumptober Day 1!

Apologies if this isn't as whumpy as my other stuff. When I set out to write whump specifically it never quite comes out...

Anyways, have Twilight and Hyrule suffering together!

There were many places Twilight would rather be at the moment. Many places that a wolf belonged, or a hero even; in the forest, with his brothers, curled up in front of the fire at Lon Lon Ranch or in Legend’s house...

To be honest though, we would have taken fighting the crashing waves of Wind’s Hyrule mid-storm over the sharp pain that pierced through his fur and dug into his flesh.

He’s been chasing a stray moblin away from camp. It had been the only one to escape their battle yesterday and it had come back after the others were settled down for bed. It didn’t make sense to wake the whole camp so that they could kill it, not with it being alone, so instead he’d asked Legend, who wasn’t sleeping anyways and was busy staring up at the stars like he did on some nights, to watch the camp. For all the vet knew, he was just taking a leak, or stretching his legs. At any rate, Legend had agreed and pulled himself up onto the rock Twilight had been using as a perch so he could see out beyond the camp better, and once the vet was secure, he’d grabbed his sword and headed off into the forest.

The moblin was smart, of course it was! It was probably infected too! And somehow the trail had disappeared after a while. Not that that meant anything to a wolf.

Twilight had let the dark power wash over him, shifting him easily into his shadow form at he leapt through the woods after the scent of the filthy monster. It wasn’t hard to track the beast after that, and he’d sped through the woods at the monster's tail, snapping and snarling enough to drive his quarry mad with fear as his teeth came within inches of the monster's flying limbs.

He hadn’t even seen the fence.

The ‘blin had sprung the fence with ease, a bit of downed wire that some farmer had left un-repaired for one reason or another, likely unconcerned with it in the wake of the animals having either escaped or having been moved. Twilight wished the owner had bothered though, as sharp barbs had pierced through his paws, tangling around his legs as he whined and writhed away, only serving to further entangle himself.

No amount of snapping and pushing, pulling and struggling had done anything to free his paws, and once he’d gotten his muzzle snagged in the pointed iron, the wolf had eventually fallen still, only soft whines escaping him as the wire continued to dig into him. Moving only hurt more anyways, and he was beginning to doubt, when the others did eventually find him, that his face and wrists wouldn’t be scarred for life from this.

He was good at waiting though, bound or not, and he kept his ears pricked for the sound of boots stomping through the forest after him or the voices of his brothers and mentor calling out his name in concern. But no matter how good a person is at waiting; he had hoped it wouldn’t take so long.

The distance to camp was a long way, that was all, it was fine, the others were probably searching for him the minute Legend realized he’d been away for too long, right? The silence of the forest was his only answer, and Twilight prayed that the moblin had had the good sense to keep running away, rather than trying to sneak back to camp.

Oh Ordonia! What if the moblin had just been a scout? What if the others were under attack from monsters he had dismissed as all being dead? It wasn’t as if the shadow hadn’t brought monster to them through portals the very same day that they had killed them or otherwise destroyed his forces. What if the camp was overrun? What if they were all barely holding on, waiting for his help? Waiting for their tank of a rancher to bust through the undergrowth, or Wolfie, to destroy a monster about to get a good hit in on one of them?

“Twilight?”

The wolf breathed a deep sigh of relief, only to whimper at the wire digging further into his sides and muzzle at the movement. The sound seemed to catch the attention of the speaker, because only moments later there was the almost imperceptible sound of boots padding softly over the ground, and Hyrule’s freckled face swam into vision.

The traveler was breathing hard, brows pinched in worry as he took in their wolf friend. Barbed wires had become tangled around the wolfs paws, trailing up his legs where they’d tanged and trapped the beast. Wolfie’s muzzle was similarly trapped, and crimson blood trailed across nose and paws both into the ground as the wolf’s midnight blue eyes stared sorrowfully up at the traveler.

“Wolfie.” Hyrule choked out, kneeling down and gently running his hands through the long fur. Twilight could only whimper in response, a soft cry for help that he hoped his brother would understand. The young hero frowned, eyes darting to the forest briefly before back down to whimpering wolf beneath his fingers. “I’m supposed to find Twilight but-” The kid shook his head resolutely, eyes flashing golden in the early morning light. “The others will find him. Don’t worry Wolfie, I’ll get you free, alright?”

Had Twilight been able, he would have breathed a soft thank you to the kid. Hyrule was his best option to be honest, the kid knew the most about survival and healing, even barring the training Warriors had received or Wild’s many experiences.

That thanks didn’t last for long however when Hyrule screamed in pain.

Lupine ears flicked forwards, a hesitant sound escaping him as he stared at where Hyrule sat cradling his hand, tears springing in at the corners of his eyes as he stared at the wires bound around his friend.

“Iron, oh shit.” Hyrule huffed a deep breath, shooting him a weak smile before turning his keen eyes onto the wires wrapped around his brother. “Barbed too, oh you poor thing. Both of us poor things, Legend’s gonna have my hide when I get back.” Another wince as the kid glanced up into the woods. “But they’re all looking for Twilight still, I-”

He could very likely smell the hesitance and conflict that made Hyrule pause and bite his lip, if it weren’t for the blood already trailing across his nose and making it hard to smell anything save for the bitter tang of copper.

“I can handle it. It’s just a bit of iron, right? I’ll just drink a potion when we get back. I’ll be fine.” Wait, why would Hyrule need a potion? What happened?

Despite the barbs that dug into him, Twilight shifted to inspect Hyrule better, worry brewing inside him as his gaze traveled over dirt flecked fabric and slightly scratched hands. That would be from the barbs and likely the trees as well, but it wasn’t anything to warrant drinking a potion; probably just a salve and some bandages, the same as Twilight himself would need.

Unfortunately for all involved, probably and definitely are not the same, and as soon as Hyrule turned his attention to the fencing wrapped around his friend, there was another sharp whimper of pain.

Had he been able to see, Twilight would have stared and watched, trying to figure out what bothered the traveler so much. The kid had once been stabbed and walked it off as nothing, (Legend had been utterly furious and Sky had cried) so it couldn’t be from the pain, not when simply touching the wire was, at worst, an annoyance when you got your fingers pricked. He’d know, he’d spent ages out under the sun unrolling and binding the stuff in place with the other farmers of Ordon. It was always the best choice to keep the larger livestock in, although the smaller ones had a tendency to jump over it altogether.

But again, what should be and what is are two different things, and the longer Hyrule worked the more the kid seemed to be in pain. It was only after Hyrule’s fingers had brushed over his own nose, pulling away the barbs and freeing his face, that he’d smelled it.

Something was burning.

And it wasn’t the pleasant smell of burning wood, or the ashy one of fabric disintegrating into flames. It was the smell of meat left over the fire too long, so that it jumped and danced at the flesh of whatever animal it was until it was blackened and raw. And worse yet, it was right under his nose.

Hyrule choked back a sob as he pulled another wire loose from dark fur.

Pain stirred in his chest as he stared up into Hyrule’s face, the kid’s jaw set and brows furrowed, blinking furiously at the tears that welled up in his eyes as wire after wire was cut or pulled free from the canine-shifters flesh.

He’s in pain.

Hyrule’s blackened fingers swiped at his tears briefly, and the whole world stopped.

Black.

Hyrule’s black fingers.

Smoke sizzled off of the traveler’s hands, skin glowing softly with a hiss as Hyrule went back to work, but Twilight’s mind was already rushing, and in instants he was pulling himself away as best as he could, barking furiously and snapping when Hyrule’s hands came closer.

Why had Hyrule never said he was fae? Great Ordonia! The kid was going to destroy his hands if he kept this up! He wasn’t supposed to touch iron! He couldn’t! Why hadn’t he just called for help?

“Wolfie, I’m almost done, stop!” The traveler pleaded, panic flooding his eyes as he grabbed ahold of the wolf’s long fur. “It’s just a couple more wires. I know it hurts, trust me, I’ll get you out, okay?”

Of course, you know it hurts! It’s burning you, you freaking idiot!!!

Gentle hands reached out for him again and Twilight only snarled in response.

Don’t touch me! You’re hurting yourself! Stop! No! You’re not doing this! Not on my watch!

The traveled scowled, drawing back as glimmering golden eyes had locked onto those of the snarling work, the traveler’s voice just a bit too echoey for this part of the forest, his teeth just a bit too sharp in the dawning light, eyes a bit too bright and glinting as they glared the wolf down. “Wolfie, by- I swear if you don’t calm down, I will pin you in place! You have to stop moving or you’ll just make it worse on both of us!”

Of course, reasoning doesn’t work on over-protective heroes, so in minutes Twilight found himself pinned in place while the Traveler used his full weight to hold him down, sitting on top of him while he finished cutting the last wire before pulling it away from Twilight’s paws, letting the wolf limp away from it as he kicked it against its mother post with a hiss.

Wolfie whimpered.

“I’m sorry.” Hyrule sighed, delicately setting a hand between the canine’s ears, but Twilight saw the wince all the same, and he could only bark angrily as he shook it off, glaring up at Hyrule with all the frustration he could muster. The healer only frowned, hurt flashing across his face as he brought his blackened hand up and cradled it at his chest. “You’re welcome, I guess. What’s got you in a dither?”

“Your blasted hands.” The shadows had washed over him in instants and Hyrule stood staring up at the glaring hero as Twilight caught hold of the kid’s wrist, hands gentle and gaze softening to be even gentler as he stared down at the damage done. “Ordonia dang it, Hyrule, I tried to tell you to stop!”

“You’re okay!” Hyrule choked out, maybe in a sob and maybe in a laugh as the kid relaxed slightly. “You’re- oh gosh, we were-”

“Hyrule.” His form had no effect on his voice apparently, because it was more grown than words that met the others’ ears, and Hyrule flinched at the sound. “You can’t- I-” A million thoughts swam in his mind, worry, anger, concern, disapproval, thanks-

In the end, he just pulled the kid into his arms, mindful of both of their injuries as he sighed. “Yer a freakin’ idiot and I don’t want you ta ever do that again, ‘kay?”

Hyrule nodded into his chest.

“Good. Now let’s get back to camp an’ get something on those burns, and next time,” Blue clashed with golden green. “Go get help instead of burning yourself on iron, you stubborn fae, or I promise you- shut it, I know what promises mean to fae- that I’ll sit on you the whole time Legend yells at you for it, ya hear?”

Hyrule nodded shyly, shoulders hunching up as Twilight let himself relax, pulling his little brother to his side with a sigh and a ruffle of brown curls. “Good, now let’s git. We need to treat those burns.”

And have a talk with the old man about making things in camp, and in general, safer for a young half- blood fae.

#linkeduniverse #linked universe #idiot writes whump #whumptober 2021 #lu hyrule #lu twilight #lu wolfie

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spaceorphan18 · 3 years

Note

have you ever read a detailed post about the glee cast’s singing voices? like all about their technique and stuff? reading your reaction to the ‘vocal coach reacts to glee’ video makes me want to know more!

Hmmmm, not really! Not from a professional vocalist POV, I don’t think. (That I’m aware of. This does remind me there was one vocal coach in fandom, and she hated Blaine, and I wasn’t too fond of her, or her analysis, so I won’t point you in that direction.)

My background is in music, but not in vocal performance. But I can give you a quick rundown of cast’s musical abilities if you like, though they won’t be huge on the technical side of it.

ETA: I started this a while ago before I started doing the music retrospective - I’ll probably try to explore a little more as I do those. If you guys want more conversation about one person in particular, let me know!

But for now...

Matthew Morrison: Is a classically trained musician with a very good voice. It’s a shame Will was such a tool, because Matthew Morrison was very talented, had the ability to do a lot of great things with his voice. People joke about his rapping -- but I think this stemmed from the issue that his background is in musical theater -- which teaches you a cleaner and more traditional way of singing -- opposed to a pop or rap style. He doesn’t have the grit that rap often has, which makes it a little too much like a Kid’s Bop version of something. When singing musical theater, though, he really shined.

A number that showcases ability: Make ‘Um Laugh

A number that isn’t so great: Ice Ice Baby

Lea Michele: Lea does have a very good and solid voice. She’s also been classically trained. The one drawback is that it hinders her a bit on pop music, she lacks some of the grittiness often needed on a lot of the pop songs. She also starts to lose some of her classic training as the show goes on (which I think is a shame) so that she can get some of the shine off her voice to make a transition to pop music.

She has one vocal tick that drives me crazy, though -- she has a tendency to slide into her notes instead of hitting them dead on, which gets worse as the show goes on, and it makes her sound a little screech-y at times. But for the most part -- she is really good.

A number that showcases ability: Don’t Rain on My Parade

A number that isn’t so great: Ooops...I Did It Again

Amber Riley: The cool thing about Amber is that you get to hear her grow as a musician as the show goes on. She had already started to get vocal lessons before the show started, but at the beginning, she was still a bit raw and unrefined in her technique. But you can tell she did practice, and her voice is developed beautifully as the show goes on. She was one of the best, well rounded vocalists on the show. She had a good handle on pop and R&B music, but she could sing musical theater rather clearly, too. She has great breath support - and can belt numbers out while still retaining the quality. Can’t say enough good thing about Amber’s voice.

A number that showcases ability: Someday We’ll Be Together

A number that isn’t so great: Sweet Transvestite (It’s not bad - but it’s my least favorite Mercedes solo.)

Cory Monteith: Cory wasn’t a vocalist. And, to be completely honest, I thought it was some kind of joke when they introduced him as some kind of hidden musical gem when Will hears him singing the showers. He did really well with classic rock that’s allows not only for a weaker voice - but is often not as technically hard. And I have to wonder if Cory got lessons, because he did get a lot better as the show went on, and I think his season 4 work is great!

I will say that sometimes they pushed his voice a little too far. A lot of times songs were either too high for his range and he often sounded like he was straining. (The most notable of which is A House is Not a Home - which is far too high for him.) That said - I think he did reasonably well along side Lea - mostly because often sang pop duets.

A number that showcases ability: I’ve Gotta Be Me

A number that isn’t so great: Can’t Fight This Feeling Anymore

Chris Colfer: Chris is such an interesting study due to the uniqueness of his voice. He’s got a huge range both in terms of genre and literal range of voice. He can sing quite a few octaves. He’s got a great, clear sound, too, which is why he’s great with theater numbers. Interestingly, Chris’s voice did drop over the years, and while I know people love his higher range, he has a gorgeous lower range that wasn’t used as often (and is often my favorite.)

The one (nitpicky) issue was that Chris’s voice ended up getting pigeon-holed. I know singing Diva-Broadway songs was his schtick - but it would have been nice to hear him sing a bigger variety of songs. He wasn’t the strongest on non-ballad pop music, but they also didn’t give him that very often.

There’s also the fascinating unusualness in that, Chris could really sing duets very well with people -- but in group numbers, his voice sticks out like a sore thumb, and he was often left out of some of the more general songs because of it. His voice just doesn’t texture very well - which is why I get why they did what they did.

A number that showcases ability: Being Alive

A number that isn’t so great: I’ll Remember

Kevin McHale: I feel like people are often surprised when they sit down and think about it, but Kevin has a great voice. He has a solid range, and he’s able to do pop music very well (I believe it helps that he was in a professional boy band for years.) Not sure if people noticed - but he’s often the lead on group numbers that don’t need to be related to specific story or character points. Which is a bummer for Artie’s story - but if you’re a fan of Kevin’s voice, you get a lot to choose from.

Kevin was also able to handle a lot of the musical demands that I think some of the other males weren’t? He’s a much better singer than Cory - and could handle leading a full number. His voice isn’t as unique as Chris’s and can texture really well. In addition he was fairly versatile. He might have been the best rapper the show had, lol.

A number that showcases ability: For Once In My Life

A number that isn’t so great: Addicted to Love (personal taste choice - I just don’t like the song.)

Jenna Ushkowitz: Jenna is another one who is classically trained. She has a strong, solid voice, which was unfortunately not showcased all that well on the show, and because of that, I’m not sure how she does on a wide variety of music. I do think she sounds a little generic - but not helping is lack of being featured.

A number that showcases ability: I Don’t Know How To Love Him

A number that isn’t so great: Gangum Style (She does fine - but the fact that they made her do it in the first place...)

Dianna Agron: The interesting thing about Dianna is that she has a really nice low female voice. The fact that they never gave her any punk or harder rock was really a shame, because I think she would have done really well with that. The funny thing is that, more so in the beginning, they show tried to make her sing songs that fit her character - but weren’t necessarily great for her voice. I feel like it wasn’t until late season 2 did they start really using her voice for the better.

A number that showcases ability: Never Can Say Goodbye

A number that isn’t so great: It’s A Man’s, Man’s, Man’s World

Mark Salling: Mark had a really solid voice - that often lent itself well to folk and acoustic really well. He was good with softer pop and classic rock, and the show showcased that pretty well. I think, in general, Mark was a much better vocalist than actor, and the show often picked good music for him to sing - which helped with his character. I don’t have a whole lot to say, only that I think he was underrated as a vocalist, but I get it - with all the other baggage that comes with talking about Mark.

A number that showcases ability: No Surrender

A number that isn’t so great: Fight For Your Right (to Party) (I don’t think it’s bad - I just hate this song.)

Naya Rivera: Naya is a little tricky. I think she has a good, smoky sound to her voice that makes her excellent at things like pop and R and B. (Shame she didn’t have a good jazz number to do on the show - she would have been great at that.) I think she was really versatile, though, and handled her Broadway numbers really well. I do think she was somewhat pinched and nasal at times - and while I do think this was a stylistic choice, to me it’s not my favorite type of vocal sound. But I do think she was really good at the numbers she was given, and was one of the most talented female vocalists on the show.

A number that showcases ability: Back to Black

A number that isn’t so great: Alfie (I think I may dislike the song more than her singing on it.)

Heather Morris: Heather wasn’t a singer, and I do think it showed at times. She often had to have her voice autotuned more than anyone else on the show. That said - she did do Britney Spears really well, and I think she deserves credit for that.

A number that showcases ability: I’m a Slave 4 U

A number that isn’t so great: Dinosaur

Chord Overstreet: Chord’s background is in country - and that shows a bit through his singing - he’s got a bit of twang in his voice, but it’s not necessarily a bad thing. He’s a fun singer. I don’t think the show knew exactly what to do with him (voice or character) but there’s a lightness to his singing that makes him easily adaptable to pretty much anything you throw at him.

A number that showcases ability: Red Solo Cup (You think I’m joking - but I think this is the most fun Chord has singing a song.)

A number that isn’t so great: Girls on Film (I think just by default of me liking everything else better.)

Darren Criss: Ah, Darren, where to even start. The thing about Darren is that he may not be the strongest singer, his voice is a little wobbly at times, and his range is somewhat limited, but his showmanship is just completely beyond nearly everyone else. Darren has the unique ability to draw you in with his singing and hold you captive. There are technically better singers on the show - but Darren just has this amazing ability to really sell a performance. And I do love his voice, even if there are some limitations to it. I really could gush about Darren’s performance abilities, but I’ll refrain...

A number that showcases ability: Teenage Dream (Both Versions)

A number that isn’t so great: Piano Man (Which isn’t bad - I just think the show had done it better, and it’s a rare time that felt like Darren was kind of phoning it in.)

A quick run down of others, but first a quick aside - as they started adding people in, vocal ability starts being a factor. I think a lot of the newer characters could sing better than they could act, which was both helpful and a hinderance. I think we began to get more solid musical numbers as the show went on, but sometimes acting wasn’t always top notch - and across the board, old and new, hitting a combo of acting and singing ability didn’t always happen.

Harry Shum Jr.: Not really a singer - but the show often played to his strengths, and his few songs played off the fact that he wasn’t a great singer to great aplomb.

Jane Lynch: Can hold a tune, even if her voice isn’t the best - is really great at musical comedy.

Jayma Mays: She has more singing ability than the show allowed to showcase, however, she’s another one whose voice was really unique, and doesn’t texture very well.

Damien McGinty: Is actually a very good singer. However, he’s very generic, too - which makes him a little on the bland side.

Sam Larsen: I think he was fine - I don’t think he sang enough on the show for me to make much of an impression one way or the other.

Alex Newel: Fucking Fantastic! Alex might be one of the strongest vocalists on the show - has great range, energy, and vocal control.

Melissa Benoist: Her voice tends to lean on the pop-ier side, but it’s a solid voice, and her work on the show was pretty good.

Jacob Artist: Has a strong voice, and could sing genres that weren’t often featured on the show (like hip-hop and R&B).

Blake Jenner: His voice is fine, but like Damien McGinty, it’s generic and a little bland.

Becca Tobin: She has a very quirky voice that brings in a different and unique sound. They didn’t use her much, though, so it’s hard to comment.

Noah Guthrie: An amazing singer, has a really unique sound, but is able to do blend in well with others.

Samantha Ware: Another amazing singer. She’s in full control and can do really great things with it.

Billy Lewis Jr: Has a good, solid voice. Not as strong as Guthrie, or some of the other guys, but he’s a lot of fun to watch.

Laura Dreyfuss: Like Becca Tobin - has a uniqueness to her vocal quality that makes it stand out a little, but she’s still a solid singer.

Marshall Williams: His vocal ability is okay. It’s better than his acting ability. I’m slightly confused how this dude got cast, tbh.

#Anonymous #if you guys want to me to elaborate on someone - please let me know!#it's hard to do everyone since there are so many #this post took forever to write up #that's how s.o. sees it

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bizarrebaby · 3 years

Text

Without Question| Caustic/Reader

Pairing: Caustic/Reader (AFAB, female pronouns)

Word Count: 1.4k

Warnings: somnophilia, overstimulation, caustic’s unknown condition. dirty talk. slight obsessive behavior, self deprecation (from Caustic), Caustic calls reader ‘rabbit’, creampie

summary: Caustic doesn’t always focus all of his attention on you, but when he does, you’ll never forget it

Caustic is a fickle man. He wants things to be precisely as he intends them to be. He strives for nothing if not accuracy in his results.

Caustic is not the most attentive lover. To this, he’ll freely admit. He sometimes wonders, deep in his work, why you waste your time with him. He adores you, of course. You make him feel things he’d not thought himself capable of for many years. But there are only so many hours in a day, and he’s unable, and sometimes unwilling, to devote many of them to you. When he does occasionally make his way to bed in odd hours of the night, he’s too exhausted to do much more than throw an arm over you and pass out.

But when he’s decided he wants you, there’s little that can stand in his way.

Make no mistake. One word from you, and it could all be over. But therein is another thing he adores about you— you never feel the need. There are times when he gets into these obsessive moods— where he’s as fascinated by your body as he is by his work.

And what a responsive body it is. So willing and pliant for him. And he doesn’t take it for granted. So rarely is he afforded the pleasure of working with willing subjects. Given the unpredictable and often untimely nature of these moods, the two of you reach an agreement— that he can take you as he pleases, when he pleases.

Which is how you’ve woken up tonight, slowly, with a burning pleasure building in your gut after a few pleasant dreams. When you’re finally able to will your eyes to stay open, you glance down your body and are met with an acidic green gaze, the feel of Alexander’s facial hair rough against your thighs. He sucks at your clit with an obscene wet sound before parting, making you whine.

“And so she wakes,” he murmurs, finger catching at your hole shallowly as he admires his own handiwork. Your cunt is glistening, a sizable wet spot decorating the sheets beneath your hips. “Even unconscious you manage to be so… wonderfully responsive to my touch. An ideal specimen.”

He pushes his finger in with no resistance, stroking at that little soft spot within you with practiced precision, the place that makes his rabbit tremble. You tense nicely around his finger in a way that makes his cock throb.

“How many times do you think you’ve cum from my touch tonight, dear? Be honest,” he cautions, working his thumb against your clit in a way that makes you squirm against the firm hold he has on your hip.

“T-twice?” you huff, in a haze of sleepiness and pleasure clouding your thoughts.

“Close,” you hear him grin, “but not quite. This one will be your fourth, dearest. Seeing as you’re awake,” he rocks his fingers slowly through your slick, savoring the obscene, wet noises that are coming from your cunt under his ministrations. “I’ll let you decide how you want it. Would you like it from my tongue, my fingers? Or…”

You hear him hoisting himself up, followed by the light rustle of some fabric. A hot, heavy weight comes to rest on your stomach, and you yelp quietly at the sensation, much to Caustic’s amusement. You’re surprisingly reactive for someone who’s just woken up. A low laugh rumbles through his chest.

“Do you think you deserve to cum on my cock?”

You know how this works. What he expects. Nothing less than explicit communication, he’d once said. He wants you to beg. And you’re too strung out and tired to think of resisting.

“On your cock, please,” you murmur, “I want to feel your cock stretch me a-and… I want you to cum too. Please?”

When you feel his grip on your hip tighten, you know you’ve got him.

“Such a good little rabbit, begging for my cock. So sweet… Very well. As you wish.”

His large hands slide beneath your thighs to push them back against you, effectively bending you in half. You feel his hot, velvety tip prod against your opening a few times as Caustic plays with you, savoring the feel of your entrance clenching desperately for him, before he pushes in. With all of his preparation, he’s able to bottom out in a single, drawn-out thrust, which isn’t always easy given his size.

“Alexander,” you huff, chest heaving at the overwhelmingness of it all. He perks up a little at the use of his full, real name. You’re one of precious few who know it, and the only one he allows to use it. He has no regrets about it— doing what he did in the pursuit of his research— but he’ll admit that something in him longs for a certain sense of… recognition from time to time. His palm comes up to cup your cheek, stroking his thumb across the heated skin tenderly.

“I’m here, dearest,” he all but whispers, his bright green gaze looking over you in what you might dare call reverence. “I’ve got you.”

Caustic doesn’t usually care for such vague and imprecise language, often regarding such cliché romanticisms as empty platitudes for the unrealistic. But in certain moments, such as this one, he finds such broad, sweeping expressions to be exactly what he needs. He wants, no, needs for you to feel held by him, in every way you could ever need. Even if in the morning he gets swept up in the fervor of furthering his work once again. He needs you to know that your being far more than he deserves is not something that escapes him.

His thrusts are slow and deep to start, pushing you into the mattress in a steady rhythm. The smug grin pushes its way back up his face as he begins hitting that place that has you fluttering against him nicely.

“My good little rabbit, letting me have my way with you whenever I please, without a single complaint… I’d say that’s worth a reward. What do you want?”

“Y-your cum. Ha, fuck-- w-want you to cum in me, Alexander!” you plead. You stare at him with eyes that, for all of his callousness and inhumanity, he can never bring himself to refuse. He fucks you harder, not overly fast but still deep, and with how sensitive your pussy is, it’s more than enough to bring you to the edge. You arch your back and cry out in sobbing gasps, not at all dignified, but exactly the result Caustic strives for when he fucks you raw.

You’re almost painfully sensitive now, and if Alexander didn’t have you pinned to completely, you’d be squirming away from his thrusts, which are starting to stutter. He leans further into you, moving one hand to your mound where his thumb finds your clit, the other to your throat where he squeezes just enough so that you can hear your pulse rush in your ears.

“Cum once more on my cock, and I’ll claim you like you deserve.”

Overstimulated, you don’t stand a chance against his ministrations. Tears gather and leak from the sides of your eyes. He presses his mouth against yours, devouring your cries as they leave you without hesitance. When you cum again, your insides fucking milk him, just the way he likes, and you feel him spill into you in hot spurts.

His breathing is more than heavy, it’s labored as he practically throws himself off of you to lay at your side. He coughs deeply, and painfully for a few moments, but the fit ends just before you start seriously worrying. He goes through some ragged deep breaths before extending his arm to rest behind your pillows at the headboard. You know him well enough now to recognize the invitation, scooting yourself to his side and pulling yourself up to lay your head on his chest, his arm curling hesitantly to encompass your waist as he considers your crucial place in his world. His voice rasps, a sudden soreness and exhaustion from his performance and his condition. It’s so quiet you wouldn’t have heard it if you hadn’t been right next to him.

“You know that I love you, don’t you?” You have to know, for his own sake. He shows you in what meager ways his shattered sense of priorities allow him to. And he needs you to tell him that you know.

“Yes, I do. I do know,” you say. No ‘of course’, no ‘how could you ask that?’ No compensation for an insecurity that you don’t have. “And you know that I love you, don’t you?”

“Without question.”

#Apex Legends #apex legends x reader #caustic x reader #caustic #alexander nox #alexander nox x reader #nsft #writing #drabble #somnophilia

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n0wornever · 3 years

Text

First Touch - Luke Patterson x Reader

Luke x reader - it’s the scene where Julie talks to Luke before the Orpheum show but instead it’s the reader planning to tell Luke how she feels before he “passes over”

(gif is not mine)

She knew she’d regret the decision as soon as she made it.

But as she paced back in forth in my room, hands tingling, she knew that there was no way that I could see his face again that night. After Luke had lied to her face for weeks about their fate, Julie was the one who had to come into her room last night and tell her exactly what would happen. The words clung onto her chest, making it hard to breathe as they nibbled at the surface. What really hurt was the fact that the boys didn't have the guts to tell her themselves.

“So you’re telling me that they have to leave no matter what?”

Julie nodded, placing her hand on the girl’s thigh. She could feel that there were tears already brimming in her eyes, but when she looked over to Julie’s glossy reflection, she completely lost control.

“Why didn’t they tell me? Why did you all keep this a secret?”

She could feel her voice raise in intensity as her mouth spat the question, causing Julie’s shoulders to tense. She grabbed her hand, squeezing it gently to soothe the aggression she just caused. This was not her fault Y/N, remember that. Julie’s shoulders fell back down as she began to to speak again.

“Luke told them not to. He said you’d be better off finding out later,” Julie’s thumb rubbed against the skin by my knee, a calming technique she’d picked up from our mother. “But I couldn’t hold it in anymore, you deserve to know.”

I pointed her face to the ceiling, hoping that the ceiling fan above me could do its best to dry the tears flattened against the surface of my face. I had always thought that Luke had cared about me, maybe not to the level that I cared about him, but enough to be let in on his disappearing act. Luke had no reason to hide this from her.

“Why would he want to keep this from me?” she finally asked, wiping a fresh tear from my face. “Wouldn’t he want me to say goodbye?”

Julie sighed, rocking their hands back and forth. Y/N had always told her that her silence was wide enough to draw fear from even the strongest person. It swelled with intention, and hesitation. The girl cleared her throat before repeating the question. Julie chewed on her bottom lip before finally speaking up.

“It’s complicated Y/N, you should ask him yourself.”

Of course she’d encourage healthy conversation. She groaned as she fell onto her back on the bed below her. Julie followed suit, nestling her head in the crook of her sister’s neck, snuggling to her side.

Now it was the night of The Orpheum show and she still hadn’t tried to find Luke throughout the week. In fact, she instead avoided rehearsals all together. Every afternoon Julie would knock on the door and ask her the same question.

“Are you doing it today?”

She’d shake my head, pushing my glasses back onto the bridge of her nose with a sigh. Julie would lean in the doorway with wide eyes, but Y/N would just shake my head before returning back to her notebook. As the door closed, she’d finally let herself breath evenly again.

She was writing to him.

Two people can play this avoidance game, so she decided that she was going to stoop as low as he did and avoid confronting him in person. Instead, she hatched a plan to leave him a note in the pocket of his flannel before he left for him to read wherever he was. There was so much that she had to say, she just wanted to make sure she got it right. More importantly, she wanted to wait until the last moment so that he had to sit with it.

Yes. It was harsh, but as she sat there with boiling tears streaming down her cheeks she couldn’t just sulk with the feeling any longer. She had been the vulnerable one this whole time. Never pushing him when it came to talking about his parents, but opening up to him about her mother. Not forcing him to give her hints about new music, but brushing away his constant need to climb into her room weekly to peek into her lyric notebook.

She understood why his walls were up, and he understood that he did the stupid things he did because he cared about her. But this, this was the last straw. She could not simply let him walk away from her forever without letting him know that his actions caused her pain.

The idea of explaining the connection of what she felt when she was with him seemed exhaustive. It was months and months of moments that had spiraled out of my control until I had fallen completely into him. So I decided to start from the beginning, but to keep it short. The letter began with the moment that I had stumbled on Julie talking to herself in the garage.

Her pen hovered over her own name at the bottom of the page for a moment. She moved the utensil up to the top of the the scribbled handwriting with clear purpose. She began to scratch out the first line of text but paused again as the ink hit the paper. Dropping the grey tube onto the surface below, she brought her hand up to the top of the crease and tore out the page. She folded into a perfect square before taking a deep breath.

As the pressed the seam one last time, she heard her father call her down the stairs for dinner. She leaned back to lift the pillow up off of the top of her bed, placing the piece of paper on the pastel yellow sheets below before setting the it back down. She sighed once more before lifting herself off the best and making her way to the door.

As soon as the girl turned the corner, Luke poofed into the room. He looked around for any sign of her, but the girl was nowhere to be found. Giving up, he fell onto her bed, bouncing everything in around in his vicinity. The pillow below his head was obviously one that Y/N used regularly, his head falling closer to the surface of the mattress than he’d like.

Lifting his head off of the feathered material, moving to a seated position. He leaned backward, grabbing the square with both hands and raising it up. His eyes fell from the mint cover to a small square back on the bed. Luke threw the pillow to the left, hands reaching for his new object of interest. He looked to the left and right before unraveling the note.

His eyes soared across each line with ease. The skin on his bottom lip tearing away from his mouth as he dug into it. His gaze lingered on a particular word at the end.

Loving.

His first thought was to lash out at Julie for betraying their promise, but it was shortly replaced by his need to get to Y/N. His fingers gripped the paper tightly at his chest as he took a deep breath. As he sat still, he began to hear footsteps in the distance. Jumping in place, Luke frantically worked to get the paper folded back down to its original square shape. He replaced the pillow and then rose to a standing position. With a snap of his fingers, Luke was out of the room without a word.

Julie spun into the room, humming to herself as she walked toward the bed. Scrunching her brow in confusion, she leaned her head out the door.

“Where did you say your glasses went?” She yelled loudly down to her sister.

“They should be on my bed!” Y/N yelled back in annoyance.

Julie rolled her eyes as she turned onto her heels and re-entered the room. She couldn’t see the clear frames anywhere on the soft comforter. As she inched closer, she began to lift things out of the way to make her search easier. As she lifted the pillow on the righthand side, a small piece of paper flew at her chest. Dropping the soft rectangle onto the bed, she leaned down to the floor to pick it up.

She unfolded it slowly and carefully. As it unraveled, she began to read the words on the page. Her eyes fell left to right hastily as she got increasingly angry. She locked her jaw as her gaze fell onto the line that said ‘you are a coward, Lucas Patterson.’ She had to admit, her sister had a talent for writing something brash and harsh in the most poetic way imaginable.

“Hey did you find,” Julie’s hands collapsed around the paper at the sound of the voice. “What are you doing.”

Turning to face her awaiting punishment, she saw that her sister’s face was already redder than the fireplace in their living room. Her hands were balled at her hips as she began to march toward the younger girl loudly. Julie arm swung around her back to hold the paper out of reach as her sister entered her personal bubble.

“I asked you to find my glasses, not to snoop through my things.”

Julie straightened her torso, raising an eyebrow as she looked at the older girl with shaking shoulders. She knew her sister could knock her flat out in a minute, but she had to speak her mind before it was trampled to the ground.

“And I asked you to talk to Luke in person,” She brought the paper back out to her chest. “This, this is cowardly Y/N.”

Her sister was visible vibrating with anger at this point. Y/N let out an anguished grunt, squeezing her fingers against her palm. But within a second, Julie heard the sound of crying come from the other side of the room. She rushed over to her sister’s side, catching her falling shoulders in her arms. She walked the girl over to the bed, sitting next to her on the edge.

Julie rubbed her hand against Y/N’s knee, soothing her with light singing as she settled her tears. Finally raising her eyes back up to meet Julie’s, Y/N chewed helplessly at her bottom lip.

“This whole time Jules, this whole time I’ve waited for him to be honest and truthful with me.” She sighed as a hand grazed against her raw cheek. “And he couldn’t even do it to say goodbye. I don’t even know what the point there is in talking to him. I know I’ll never get the truth.”

Julie stayed silent for a moment, listening to her sister’s sharp breaths. Her hand tapped against her skin a few times to gain her attention. Y/N’s bloodshot eyes met hers again.

“I know. I know that it’s been difficult,” Julie said looking right into her eyes. “Luke isn’t an easy person to talk to. But I cannot stand here and let you wallow forever without the possibility of speaking your mind. I know how heavily that weighs on you. Sure, you cannot control what he says, but I feel like you DESERVE to speak your mind to his face and breath easier at night.”

Y/N nodded, but she didn’t speak. What could she possibly say at this point. She knew Julie was right, but her anxiety weighed her body down like a cinderblock sat straight on her chest. The racing thoughts were cut off by her father yelling for Julie from the first floor.

“It’s not too late for you to come to the show tonight,” Julie reminded her.

“Maybe,” Y/N replied softly, keeping her eyes toward the window.

She heard the boxspring creak as Julie got up from the bed, and the door swing shut as she walked out of the room before she looked to her right. She couldn’t cry again. There’d been too many tears that night already. Instead, she rolled onto her bed, staring at the ceiling with the note to her chest.

****

She woke up in a cold sweat. Leaning over to her left she saw that the clock said 8:30 p.m. She was too late. She couldn’t put the note in his pocket before he left, and she couldn’t say the words to his face either.

He was gone.

Y/N sighed to herself as she got up out of bed and leaned forward to turn on the lamp. Looking out the window, she stared at the garage with wide eyes. If she couldn’t say goodbye to him in person, she’d at least say it out loud, hoping, praying that maybe he’d hear it out there somewhere.

She threw on her jean jacket before walking toward the door. Closing it behind her carefully, she raced down the stairs and out the back door. The sound of crickets and nearby sprinklers were the only noise to fill the air as she walked the short distance to the practice space.

As she entered the dingy, dark space she flipped on the lightswitch. As the soft yellow hue filled the room, she brought her hand out to her back pocket. Bringing the now deformed note into her hands, she quickly untangled it. She cleared her throat before beginning to speak. The shake in her throat note waiting long to appear.

“Luke,

The moment I met you, I thought that I’d absolutely hate you. My sister made me sit on the couch as called all three of you to appear. I remember meeting those bright green eyes and knowing exactly what they were capable of. But as the smile grew across your face, I knew I was a wasn’t a match for them.

You could have made it easy for me. Left it as a simply, fleeting crush entirely based on looks. However, you had to go and make me feel your presence. After the performance, Julie expected you all to disappear out of sight for me, but after the last note fell from my sister’s lips....you stayed.

I knew at that moment that we’d have a problem. You had the ability to be there at a moment’s notice. You, being as inquisitive as always, found your way up to my room every night. You, lacking the ability to be subtle, would spend that time drilling me with questions. You forced me to know you.

You were no longer a figment of my sister’s grief, you were a permanent structure in mine.

I didn’t ask you to listen to the lyrics I’d written the last time I had to say goodbye. I didn’t ask you to run to my side before my tears had dried over some stupid test or audition. You brought yourself there every single time.

I cannot believe that you would leave without telling me. I cannot believe that you’d choose to never see me again instead. You’re a coward, Lucas Patterson. A spineless coward.

I’ll never forgive you for making me feel. I’ll never forgive you for making me dream again. I’ll never forgive you for ripping that all away from me at a moment’s notice.

But I’ll never regret loving you.

- Y/N”

The sound of her name on her own tongue felt almost as painful as the knot lodged in her throat to hold back her tears. She refolded the paper, eyes staying forward, set on the darkness that surrounded her. She waited another moment before turning around.

Her walk back to the house was cut short by a hoarse voice exposing itself to the light.

“Y/N?”

She stopped cold in her tracks, turning around on her tiptoes. There he stood in front of her, swollen and pale as ever. Her anger turned right to worry as she took several steps toward him with wide eyes. She leaned her head to the side, shaking it back and forth.

“What- how are you,” She scrunched her nose in confusion. “How are you here?”

“The Orpheum,” He began, already losing the race with his breath. “Wasn’t our unfinished business. So we came here to wait it out until sunrise. We didn’t want to worry Julie.”

“Should I even be surprised that you’re side-stepping yet another conversation?”

Luke bit down on his bottom lip, arm reaching out to touch her for a moment before his brain reminded him that he couldn’t reach her even if he wanted to. She took a step back, crossing her arms at her chest.

“The nerve you have, Luke Patterson,” She rolled her eyes at him. “To not even have the guts to properly say goodbye to Julie. She’s the one who brought back your love for music. She’s the one who put herself on the line for you with out dad, our friends and everyone else. And you repay her by LYING TO HER? I’m not even upset about what you did to me anymore.”

“Y/N,” His voice strained, his eyes boring into her. “I never meant to hurt anyone.”

“Well you did.”

Luke ran his hands through his hair, sighing. As his head rose back up, he held his stomach in his hand as he made his way toward her.

“Y/N, I’m sorry. I’ve never had anyone who’s put me first. I’ve always forced their in front of my own,” He started, a small smile on my face. “What was I supposed to do with a stubbornly perfect girl who forced me to give in?”

Y/N held her gaze to the sky, tightening her hands around herself. His eyes stayed on her as he took a few small steps forward, standing right in front of her.

“I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you that I was leaving,” His words bringing her watering eyes back to his face. “I just knew I couldn’t take staring at that exact look in your eyes.”

He shook his head at her, tears streaming from his face now. “I love you, so much, Y/N. I never want you to hurt because of me. I was selfish and cruel, and I’m so sorry that I didn’t even think of the consequences. Again. I’m an idiot and I’m selfish but I am, so in love with you and I can’t think straight.”

Y/N’s lips parted as she gasped at those last words. Y/N fell back a bit in shock, tripping over her own feet. Luke rushed toward her, arms wrapping around her waist before she could hit the ground. Silence filled her air as she tried to understand what was happening.

Her brought her back up to a standing position, bringing one hand up to her face. His fingers grazed harshly against her cheek as he pulled her into him. He heard her open her mouth to speak, but crashed his lips against hers before she could get a word out.

The room filled with color as their lips moved together harmoniously. Y/N was the first to pull back first, eyes falling around his features for a moment before her hand reached out to touch his face.

“I feel stronger,” Luke said in a gruff voice.

“What just happened?” Y/N asked just above a whisper.

Luke tightened his grip around her hips, pulling her closer to him. He shook his head rapidly before letting out a giggle.

“I don’t know, but I just want to do that again.

His lips fell onto hers at once, Y/N melting into his touch instantly. They moved in sync for a moment before pulling away. Luke leaned forward, pressing his forehead against hers.

Y/N heard grumbling coming from the corner of the room. Turning to her left, she saw Alex and Reggie stumbling toward them. Alex held a pinched expression as he leaned against the piano.

“We don’t have to make out with her too, do we?”

Y/N leaned against Luke’s chest in a fit of laughter, feeling him join her as his chin rested on her head.

Tag list: @xplrreylo @lovesanimals , @anythingandeverythingfandom , @crybabyddl @themaddies-obx , @lukeys-giggle , @bumbleberry-pie @kiss-themoongoodbye @marinettepotterandplagg , @lolychu , @bathtimejish , @dasexydevitt13 @musicconversedance , @txrii @bestdressedandstressed @daisiesforlacey @epikskool @bookfrog247 @carleywhittaker @princessvader15 @charliesmountains @spooky-season-bitch @kcd15 @meangirlsx @itz-jas @parkeret @writerinlearning @calamitykaty @whatever-happens-imma-stand-tall @teenwaywardasgardian @dream-a-little-bigger-x @tenaciousperfectionunknown @thesweetestsinner @kinda-really-lost

#luke patterson x reader #luke patterson #julie and the phantoms #jatp #jatp fanfiction #luke patterson imagine #luke patterson fanfiction

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themessengercrow · 3 years

Text

Tenya’s patience

prohero!tenyaxgn!reader

warnings: Dacryphilia, smut, brat taming, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, finger fucking, toys, the use of ‘sir’, mirror sex.

You thought that was it, the last straw. You’ve been tempting Tenya all day, teasing and fucking around with him around every corner. Feeling a little extra needy lately due to your boyfriend constantly stuck with his hero work-you figured maybe he was just as pent up. But somehow-each and every time-he still keeps his composure. You had sat on his lap this time around, knees straddling his thighs as you wrapped your arms around his neck. “You’re probably so bored-aren’t you” You faked a sympathy pout, ruffling your hands through his hair. He just tilted his head and gave you that warm smile he always does. “You wanted to spend some time together-i’d never get bored of spending time with you. Whether it's just watching this movie and cuddling or anything else '' He hummed, giving you a kiss on your forehead. You huffed and turned in his lap, leaning your back against his chest and sinking into his embrace.

It wasn’t until halfway through the movie that you had gotten bored, a bit bolder with your actions and decided to grind down on tenyas lap. He immediately stiffened up under you, his arms that were originally loosely wrapped around your waist quickly tightened around you, holding you down against his chest. You smirked and rolled your hips, hearing him take in a sharp breath “Are you sure you still want to watch the movie sir?” You went to look over your shoulder at Tenya but before you realized it the world spun and now you were face down on the couch. A hard smack to your ass was followed by tenya massaging the area he had smacked. “I would have liked to but it seems my little whore needs to be put in place.” His hand massaging your ass shifted to hold you by your waist, his free hand looped under your body to wrap around your throat, pulling you up so your back laid flush against his chest. “I was waiting for after the movie but you’ve given me no choice. You know the rules.” A shiver ran down your spine, trying to bite your tongue as one more cheeky retort was shot out “No, do remind me” You smirked. Tenya rose an eyebrow at you, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. He moved closer, shifting you slightly so he could capture your lips. Foolishly you decided to let your guard down-tenyas kisses always had a way of stealing your breath away yet making you feel so so warm. He started to squeeze your throat, cutting off the circulation to your head and making you dizzy with the added lack of air from your kiss.

Tenya pulled away and used the hand that was holding your waist moved to unbutton your pants “Rule Number One- No talking back.” He slides his hand down into your underwear, and begins toying with you. Stars started to crawl across your vision and Tenya finally loosened his grip, finally letting you breathe. “I'll give you a free be this once because this will be a new rule. Rule Number ten- You listen to every word I say and you will finish after I tell you the rule. You’ll finish on my fingers and my fingers only. When you finish you need to repeat the rule so I know you learned it this time-understood? This will be your punishment everytime you question the ruling.” A bright red blush shot to your face as you gulped. You know you’re fucked.

When Tenya meant you would finish on his fingers and only his fingers he really meant it. While yes at some point Tenya brought a vibrator in because you “came too quick between rules 4 to 6” he would constantly keep it at a low thrum, slowly bringing you to the edge and then pulling the toy away. He could feel how your walls pulsed around his fingers, aching for something more. You finally made it up to Rule nine, grateful you were almost done with this torture. He had brought you back to the bedroom where a large mirror attached to the ceiling hung down, showing off your teary eyes and shaking legs as tenya brings you to the brink of orgasm once more before pulling away the vibrator again, slowing his fingers down to a near halt, pulling a cry out of you. You were close to sobbing at this point, whimpering and mumbling the words “I'm sorry sir, i'll behave now sir.” He loved it when he’s got you fucked so dumb all you know is how to plead and beg to him. You turn into such a good little hole for him. You whined and try rolling your hips, trying to look anywhere else but up at the mirror. Tenya took note of this, dropping the vibrator and using the free hand to grab your chin and force your head to look up as he moved you morre into his lap. He was still dressed up from work, not in a hero costume but more of a business attire with a nice button up and pair of black pants. He still looked so tidy and yet, looking at yourself you were a disheveled mess. You hadn't realized it but there were a few stray tears falling-mostly dried now. You looked between your legs in the mirror and whined, trying to rub your thighs together, roll your hips-get any sort of friction. Tenya chuckled, a small smile resting on his face. “Come now, I think you deserve it. Don’t break eye contact, do you understand?” your eyes immediately shifted to tenyas glaring red ones. You let out a moan as he immediately started fucking his fingers up into you. The arm encasing you against tenyas chest keeps you from arching your back too far-watching tenyas the entire time. You ended up winding down to incoherent babbling, begging for your permission to release yet not entirely ready for another wave of pleasure. “Go on my little citrus. Come for me.” His fingers hit that soft spot in you and all you could see was the ruby red of tenyas eyes as your body spasmed with pleasure. “Look at yourself” Tenya murmured into your neck and as you blinked the spots from your vision you looked at the wreck of a person you became. You ended up soaking the sheets the entire time he played with you, more tears streamed down your face “What do you see?” You hummed and you sniffled, trying to catch your breath “A-A dirty mess-” Tenya clicked his tongue and looked up into your eyes “Call yourself gorgeous.” You went to turn your head to look at him in the face but he tightened his grip on your chin, forcing you to keep your gaze up. “Look at the mirror and say it.” He growled. Your fucked out brain went blank, looking back up at yourself “I-Im gorgeous.” Your voice shook a little, voice raw from all the squealing and moaning you’ve been doing the past hour.

He shifted you in his lap to face him “Now look at me and say it” There was still a small part of you, trying to look away, trying to keep your face down as you mumbled. He grabbed your chin again, forcing you to look at him. “I said look at me. How can I know you’re being honest if you dont look me in the eye? This is part of your punishment. He shifted you so his thigh held you up between your legs and moved his other hand to squeeze your throat again “You and I both know you know damn well what the rules are. And if you do what you're told, I'll give you a reward.” He finally unzipped his pants, freeing his cock. “Now look me in the eye and say it.” He loosened his hold on your throat, allowing you to speak “Im-mm-goegeous” You shuddered, even with your fucked out state you were trying so hard not to grind down on his thigh. “Insatiable...but you’re correct-absolutely undeniably gorgeous.” He murmured, pulling you closer to him to kiss at your neck, raising you up to hover you over his keep “Now Keep going. I want to hear more about yourself while I fuck your tight little hole.” @izukus-bby You wanted a tag right my friend?

#I enjoy my eggs sunnyside up #bnha smut #tenya smut #bnha #bnha tenya iidea #dinkepinkle

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gxldenflower · 3 years

Text

Stay Stay Stay (Bruce Banner x Reader)

NOTE: Originally posted on my ao3, supposedly_archer, on December 2nd, 2020. Both the summary and A/N are copied & pasted

Summary: Bruce watched as a name was written on his wrist, slowly and painfully. His soul mark had left his skin red, raw, and itchy. He sat there for the longest time, reading the name etched on his skin over and over. Y/N.

A/N: This is kinda messy ngl, but I had a lot of fun writing it!!!

Warnings: Age gap, little bit of angst

Word Count: 1,692

Tags: @9zoria9, @thebookbakery

Gender Neutral Reader

Bruce hadn’t expected to meet his soulmate at a coffee shop.

To be honest he hadn’t expected to meet his soulmate at all.

He was working on one of his P.h.D’s when his soulmate’s name first appeared on his arm. Writing a paper on some subject he can’t even remember now when he felt a sharp, burning pain on the inside of his right wrist. It caused him to drop his pen on the floor and clutch his wrist with his opposite hand tightly.

Bruce watched as a name was written on his wrist, slowly and painfully. His soul mark had left his skin red, raw, and itchy. He sat there for the longest time, reading the name etched on his skin over and over. Y/N.

He knew that soulmates sometimes appeared later in life when their soulmate was born. But it normally happened when people were children, not when they were adults. The latest he had ever seen someone get their soul mark was in middle school.

For years, Bruce chose to ignore his soul mark. Covering up the name with long-sleeved shirts and wristwatches. It wasn’t unheard of for someone to not have a soul mark. And especially after the Hulk showed up in his life, he did his best to ignore it.

Whoever they were, wherever they were in the world, Bruce didn’t want them to get hurt. So, he hid away his soul mark from everyone. To protect them.

Only Tony knew, but of course Tony knows everything. “You do realize that you’re gonna have to face the music one day.” He had said to him one day out of the blue. Bruce had had his nose buried in an old SHIELD file.

Bruce looked up at Tony quizzically. “What do you mean, face the music?” Tony sighs and gestures with the spoon he was using to eat a cup of yogurt.

“Your soulmate. Those things work in mysterious ways, Bruce. You’re gonna meet them one day, and then what? It’s not like you can hide away from them.” Tony takes a final bite of his yogurt, and Bruce sighs.

“I’ll deal with it when I get there.” He mumbles, focusing his eyes back on the file.

Tony sighs. “It might be sooner than you think green bean.” He throws the now empty yogurt cup at Bruce’s head. It hits him gently on the forehead and drops to the floor. Bruce looks up and glares at him. Tony shrugs his shoulders, turning on his heel to exit the lab.

“Asshole,” Bruce grumbles under his breath, but Tony’s words had stuck with him. Fate always had a funny way of bringing soulmates together, no matter the circumstance.

Bruce looks down at his wrist, where his watchband covers the name Y/N. He takes off the watch and places it to the side. He runs his thumb over the black inscription repeatedly.

Over the years he had wondered what his soulmate was doing. Were they in school? Were they learning to drive? Were they thinking about him? Bruce knew exactly how old they were, he had been counting the days and years since his mark was first etched into his skin, even if he wasn’t doing it on purpose.

***

You quickly tie your apron behind your back as you exit the break room and walk into the main part of the cafe. You take your position behind the cash register, where a long line of customers is waiting.

You give the first patron your best customer service smile and apologize to him. You take his order and hand it off to the coworker that’s just appeared at your side. The next two and a half hours is a whirlwind of orders and customers as you try to keep up with the demand.

There’s eventually a lull of patrons and you lean against the counter and sigh. You glance at the watch on your wrist, but then you remember that the strap had broken suddenly last night, and you either needed to get it fixed or replaced.

Instead of gazing at the clockface as you normally do during work, you instead gaze at your soul mark. You had read it about a billion times during your life, even though it was an incredibly simple name. Bruce.

You had always imagined how you meet Bruce, your soulmate. A walk in the park, or a sudden run-in on the subway. But, you didn’t have any time to focus on that right now. You still had to finish school and find a decent paying job that wasn’t dealing with middle-aged mothers with bad haircuts.

You’re snapped out of your thoughts at the bell that signals a new customer. You smile at her as she makes her way to the counter. You take her order and hand it off to Bradley, one of your coworkers. The rest of your shift consists of the same ordeal. Taking orders and trying not to scream out loud.

After what felt like 3 days, you’re just about to untie your apron and take refuge in the break room when you hear the bell. You almost want to run off and pretend like you’re about to be sick, but something in the back of your head tells you to stay.

You smile at the man who’s just walked in. He has curly dark hair that’s graying at the sides and is dressed like he’s about to give a lecture at your college. He makes his way up to the counter and quickly looks up at the menu that hangs above and behind you before beginning his order.

It would’ve just been another order you’d immediately once the customer, but it was 6 coffees and 10 different types of pastries. You raised your eyebrows at him once he’s finished rattling off his order, and he lets out a mix of a sigh and laugh.

Your eyes meet for a moment, and you feel a sudden electrical zap in your wrist. You grab at it and by the way the man reacts you know he just had the same experience. You’re both rubbing at your wrists when you realize that it’s the wrist that has your soul mark written on it.

You lock eyes with the man and after an impromptu staring contest his eyes flick to your nametag where they stay focused. Your heart’s beating wildly in your chest and you look to the man’s, Bruce’s, wrist, but he has a watch on.

Everything that happened afterward was a mess of awkward introductions and trying to focus on whatever the hell he had just ordered. It was a blur of rushing to the break room to rip off your apron and rushing back out to where Bruce was now holding his numerous coffees and pastries.

It was a blur of exchanging numbers and trying your best to make plans to meet up at a better time. It was a blur of awkward goodbyes and Bruce almost dropping his box of pastries when he tripped on a crack in the sidewalk.

The next time Bruce saw you was more planned out, you met in a different cafe on a Friday that you both had off. Bruce had been taken aback by how easy it was to talk to you. It was like he had known you his whole life instead of just one week.

You had found yourself thinking the same thing. You had never been the most outgoing or charismatic person, but with Bruce, the conversation flowed naturally and it felt like you were in your own little window of time with him.

***

It didn’t feel like it had been a full year since you’d met your soulmate when you were laying on your couch in Bruce’s arms, back pressed against his chest, arms wrapped around you snuggly. To be honest, it felt like somewhere between a minute and an eternity.

You look up at him and smile, pressing a light kiss right underneath his chin. Bruce honest to God giggles at your show of affection, and you giggle back as you turn so your chests are pressed together and you can look him in the eye.

“Hi,” you whisper to him.

Bruce whispers back, “hi.” He lays a hand on the small of your back and begins tracing random patterns with his index finger.

“I love you,” you say to him, scanning his face. He smiles and places his other hand on your back.

“I love you too,” Bruce whispers back.

You sit in comfortable silence, basking in each other’s presence. You focus on Bruce’s heartbeat that you can feel beneath you and how your breathing has synchronized with his.

“Will you stay with me?” You ask Bruce quietly, breaking the silence. He quirks his head to the side, confused by your sudden question.

“I can stay the night if you want me to, angel, but I have work in the morn-“

You cut him off, “no. I mean like.” You bite the inside of your cheek and look away from Bruce’s face when you pause. “I mean like, forever.” Your last word is barely above a whisper, but Bruce can hear it loud and clear.

“If this is some marriage proposal, you know I can’t-“ he stops and begins to sit up, pulling away from you.

You sit up as well so you’re no longer touching and shake your head vigorously. “No, no, no. It’s not a marriage proposal, Bruce. Just, just a promise. A promise that you’ll stay with me.” You finally look up at Bruce, who has his brows furrowed tightly together, looking at you intensely.

After a beat of silence where all you can hear is your own heartbeat, he takes your hand in his and places his thumb on his name that’s inscribed on your wrist. “Of course I’ll stay with you, Y/N. I’ll stay as long as you'll let me.” You notice that his voice cracks at the end.

“Does that include forever?” You ask him quietly.

Bruce smiles at you and squeezes your hand tightly. “It includes forever, angel.”

#bruce banner #bruce banner x reader #bruce banner x you #hulk #hulk x reader #marvel

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machinegunbun · 3 years

Text

The house you eventually park in front of is much like yours, just a bit bigger, since Colson didn't live alone. The sound of sirens outside is carried almost melodically in the freezing wind. You soak it all in, wondering about who else in this city felt so far from home and yet right in the thick of it.

"She's a beaut, huh?" Colson quips, motioning to the steps, "but at least we got it to ourselves tonight," his grin could stretch a city mile.

Once inside, Colson immediately turns on a nearby heater and clears the couch, grabbing his RAW tray off the busted up coffee table, almost muscle memory, it seems, for both of you. You lay a fat sack down on the rolling tray as he sweeps the papers out of the way.

"Damn, do you really got glaucoma?" He snorts, untwisting the top. "No wonder I can smell it thru your backpack." He is all smiles while he breaks it down. "Have a seat, make yourself at home," he offers, pointing to the couch cushion free next to him.

You sit down on the very edge, causing Colson to stop in his tracks.

"Aw, come on, don't do me like that," he pouts, pulling a folded blanket from the chair to his left. "I got blankies," he teased, knowing how drafty all these houses are the heater won't cut it. "I said, make yourself at home," he playfully insists, and unexpectedly, he grabs your thigh to pull you so close, you can feel the heat emitting from his jeans.

He continues as if nothing had even happened, luxurious tongue peeking out to seal the blunt. So you wrap the blanket across your laps, and act nonchalant, too, trying to force the lump in your throat all the way down.

"A backwoods, that's classic," you offer as a change of subject, watching mesmerized as the ambient lighting and warm tones of the fake flames of the heater danced across his chiseled face. Godddd, why couldn't you control yourself?

Colson smirked before running a lighter across it. "Only the best for my guest."

The two of you sit cozy under the blanket for a short period of time, passively hitting the blunt and savoring before passing, while Colson rigged up a speaker. As the hip hop played softly, you felt your muscles relax a bit, most they had in 6 years.

Colson began probing you with his eyes again, like he was about to start 20 questions back up.

"So, you're not really from around here, are you?" He digs, pressing a thigh against yours to turn to face you better.

"Ah, no," you say, nodding

"From....?" He prompts, rolling his hand before passing the blunt.

"Down South," you're ashamed the more you divulge.

Colson pulls a face. "You don't have an accent, though," he contests.

"Got rid of it," you shrug. "People think you're stupid," you smile back.

Colson takes a hand and begins rubbing your thigh softly, as if to comfort you, although he can feel the tension increasing doing just the opposite. "I wouldn't think you're stupid, at all," he husks quietly, serious.

You don't want to make a sound for fear it will come out as a squeak.

"Look, I would ask what brings you all the way out here, but..." He trails off before hitting the blunt hard. "I'm a blunt motherfucker, so I'll just say it. I know about the..." He is swallowing the wrong words, struggling despite his frankness. "Well, the whole crew knows about the... The statutory situation," he whispers, like someone is listening. "You don't really talk to nobody, so.. They got curious. There's... There's lots of articles."

You almost disassociate, so he takes it as a sign to continue.

"I couldn't imagine. So, if I'm making you uncomfortable..." He begins to look worried, the desire to backpedal immediately written across his face.

You physically snap back, and force him to stop leaning away from you.

"You're blunt, huh?" You ask, now trying to comfort him.

"Yeah. I'm sorry," he relaxes into your touch, though.

"You don't have any chains or ropes here, so I'm not here by force," you smile, darkly, almost transported back to 15 again.

Colson winces, sympathetically, before shaking his head (to no doubt clear images) the articles he had read that paint an all too vivid picture out of his mind like an etch a sketch.

"Look, I ... I really wanted to get to know you, and... Everybody told me it was a bad idea, you know? Like I would fuck up your life. But I just really can't resist, you seem so cool, so sweet," Colson trails off, realizing in your vulnerable state he had began being too vulnerable as well.

"Thanks. I know that sounds stupid, but, most people... Well, most guys, avoid me like the plague."

Colson melts back into the couch, into your warmth surrounding you, before beginning to pull a cigarette out for each of you. He passes it to you, so intuitive to how on edge you're feeling. He knows you too well already.

"You don't have to be scared, you know," you remind him, "you can keep playing 20 questions." You're joking but serious. "I've possibly purposefully not made any friends here yet. I salute you breaking the ice AND addressing the elephant in the room," you admit. "I like cutting thru the bullshit."

Colson takes a thoughtful drag from his cigarette while formulating his next question.

" okay," he sounds more at ease, "do you have a boyfriend?" He risks, wincing at how insensitive it sounds, but he correctly got the impression it was forgiven and you wanted to move forward exactly as he intended originally.

"Oooh, no, actually," you giggle at the spicy question. "Other than, the, ya know... Situation, shall I say, never been with a man before." You're shocked at how honest you're being.

Colson can't help his jaw dropping. "How... How old are--you're still a virgin??" He is stumbling over his words.

"21, and, yeah," you choke out, sudden shyness taking over.

It was so refreshing he considered you a virgin still that you could die on the spot.

"Whoa. Just.... Damn," Colson stuttered, as the etch a sketch cleaned his slate once again. Hopefully be was clearing thoughts of how tight you must be still, not how damaged you are.

"Do, um," he clears his throat while putting out his cigarette, "what kind of tattoos and piercings do you have?"

"None, of either, actually," you admit, eyes hungrily scanning Colson's inked up neck.

It seems he can't believe his ears.

"Are you.. Holy shit, no way? Prove it," he challenges.

You shrug the blanket and flannel off to expose your belly, shoulders, and lift your crop top to show nothing on collar bones. Colson looks like he would spit if he had water he was drinking. He wasn't expecting you to show him anything for real.

He lifts a tentative hand to your cheek to brush your hair behind the ear, "wow, no ear piercings, either. You're magical," he says heavily. "You're younger than me, by, like, a lot, but anyone... like you, I never would have guessed..."

You realize now that his knuckles still lay resting on your cheek, stroking it softly, and he'll be able to feel them burning red hot with embarrassment and desire The shame, because you've never done this before, never been so close and intimate with someone, and the desire as well for the same reason.

"You're better than I ever even imagined," he admits before falling silent, soaking up your reaction fully,

Colson breaks the silence first. "I want to kiss you," he states, voice dripping with lust, and cracking slightly.

As you place a hand over his much larger on your cheek, he takes this as a sign to keep going. Leaning forward, foreheads almost touching, Colson licks his lips and scans your face hungrily.

"Can I?" He prompts, impatient, pupils blown, and jaw tight with anticipation.

You feel like you barely nod, hand dropping off of his, before he grabs it tightly to put it around his neck.

"Like this, let me show you," he whispers, lips ghosting yours.

In one Swift motion he slides a hand under your lower back in order to lay you down gently on the couch, hovering above you, on the edge of deranged with desire, like a wolf standing over a downed deer. You figure Colson has never had to exhibit this much self control before.

"I wanna defile you, take your innocence," he rasps, thumb finding its way to your bottom lip, stroking gently, opening your mouth ever so slightly. "I want it to be mine, I've wanted this for so long," he smiles, his rock hard cock pressing with a ungodly heat against your pubic bone. He's not even hiding anything anymore, using your exposed tummy and clothed pussy to hump and grind softly in order take the edge off.

"Can I touch you?" He asks desperately, biting his lip so hard you thought it might bleed. "I want to help you relax a little," Colson whispers, though you imagine it's just as much for him as it is you.

"Anything you want, Cols." You're almost choking.

He lets out a dark laugh at this, and in an instant his hands feel like they're all over you, exploring, finally coming to rest at your jugular, feeling the intense pounding underneath his fingertips.

"You're scared?" It's a question as much as it is a statement. "Or turned on?" Colson raises a brow, other hand massaging your thigh, slowly curling it around his waist, positioning and posing you like a ragdoll, your body defeated and limp to his touches. You are in a state of bliss and fear. "Maybe both," he concludes, smirking.

At this you close your eyes, expecting any second to wake up from this all too familiar dream, as you've pined for your coworker possibly even longer than he has.

Suddenly, Colson is at your ear, breath hot and desperate. "Don't be scared babydoll, you're in good hands," he reassures, nipping at your earlobe in such a way it sends a shiver all throughout your body. "I... Will go... Slowww," he teases out painstakingly, "slow as you need me to," he adds gently.

It was then you were startled into the reality of the situation by the sound of his belt coming undone, soft noises as it is expertly slipped out of his belt loops in one, fluid motion. Colson feels you panic underneath him, and he is quick to respond to this.

—-

Havent had a chance to read it yet but i wanted yall to have fhis lmfaoo. A gift from bigblakdix to me to you

#mgbrecommends #mgk #mgk smut #mgk fic #mgk blurb #colson baker concept #colson baker blurb #colson baker smut #submission

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slightlycrunchy · 3 years

Note

"don't freak out" with de-aged Dadzawa to Shinsou

I think I took this in a different direction dear...but I hope you like it XD

WC 1900~, rated T, de-aged aizawa, references to child abuse and implied child abuse, happy ending, dadzawa&shinson

There’s a new little boy today.

Hitoshi stares from behind Miss Tanaka’s legs, gripping at her dark blue skirts tightly. He knows she won’t like this, but for now she’s occupied with welcoming the new kid and Hitoshi will take advantage of it for as long as possible.

The boy is dark; dark eyes and dark hair, dark lashes that fan out across his cheeks. Pale skin. It’s been a while since a new boy has come to the orphanage, and this one looks to be about his age. Hitoshi just turned six this year.

“What’s your name, dear?” Miss Tanaka asks in her sickly-sweet tone, the one she uses with certain people that don’t include Hitoshi. It won’t last long. She really likes to yell an awful lot. “What did your parents call you?”

“Shouta,” the boy says immediately. Hitoshi blinks. The boy doesn’t seem shy, unlike most new orphans. Hitoshi is still shy, and he’s been here as long as he can remember.

“Found him in an alley, poor thing,” the social worker says. Hitoshi can’t remember her name. He startles when the boy—Shouta—speaks again.

“I don’t belong here. I have a home—”

“Yes, yes dearie, that’s what they all say,” Miss Tanaka dismisses. Hitoshi looks up at her when he feels her gaze find him, and he fights his natural instinct to cower. Her eyes go cold when she sees the wrinkles his fists have left in her skirt. “Hitoshi, dear,” she grits out between clenched teeth, “why don’t you take Shouta with you upstairs? Show him the boy’s room, yes?”

It’s phrased as a question but Hitoshi knows it isn’t a request. He nods frantically, immediately grabbing one of Shouta’s small wrists in his clammy hand. “Come on, this way.” He can do this. He can be good, useful. They won’t hurt him if they can use him, he’s sure of it.

The boy doesn’t come willingly and yet Hitoshi perseveres, stomping his small socked feet up two flights of stairs to the younger boy’s room; the girls have their own and the older boys as well, across the hall. Every step brings more struggle from the boy behind him but Hitoshi won’t stop, can’t stop when this is him being good. He has to be good.

“Hey kid, stop—”

“No, we have to listen. You’re new here, but I’m telling you, ya’ have to listen or you’ll get in trouble—”

“Kid, stop.”

“My name is Hitoshi.”

“Hitoshi, it’s okay. Just—calm down.”

He hadn’t even realized just how hard he was breathing, and it only dawns on him as they come to a stop in his—theirs, now—slightly rectangular bedroom, filled with bunk beds from corner to corner, with a wide open space in the middle kept meticulously clean. Hitoshi takes a deep breath as he whirls on the boy behind him, the kid’s dark eyes half-hooded with obvious apathy.

Did Hitoshi ever look like that, or was he always afraid? Shouta doesn’t know enough about this place to be scared of it, but fear keeps Hitoshi safe, so he will teach the boy. He’ll teach him. He ignores Shouta’s suggestion that he ‘calm down’.

“You sleep when they say, eat when they say, and play when they say. Do your lessons when Miss Ro says so, and wash behind your ears. They check, believe me…” Hitoshi says darkly. Shouta’s eyebrows are slowly knitting together; that’s fine. It means he’s taking Hitoshi seriously. “It’s alright here, if you follow the rules and stay out of the matrons’ way. The older kids are pretty nice. They’ll help you, if ya’ ask. ‘Specially the ones who have been here a while. They get it.”

Hitoshi wants to tell him about the dark room and the belt, the sly fingers that yank and pull at ears and cheeks and skin without warning, leaving red crescent marks and sometimes blood—but he’s hoping the other boy will never have to experience that.

“I’ll help you. You’ll be alright, with me.” Hitoshi tries to smile reassuringly.

Shouta doesn’t smile back or look relieved like Hitoshi had hoped; if someone had told him this when he first arrived, Hitoshi thinks he himself would have appreciated it. Learning on the fly has ended in too many nights with a raw bottom or aching back when the matrons get too heavy handed with the belt. He cringes inwardly.

Shouta’s face is smooth, impassive. Hitoshi doesn’t like that he can’t read the other boy easily; is that normal for kids their age? Hitoshi can’t seem to hide a single thing from the grown-ups.

Shouta shifts his weight, his eyes narrowing in apparent suspicion. Hitoshi flinches. Did he mess this up, too?

“Do they hurt you, Hitoshi?”

He feels the blood freeze in his veins. Is he that obvious? Oh well, he supposes there’s nothing for it now. He’d rather shelter Shouta from the hard truth of it, but if he already sees it written in the lines of Hitoshi’s tiny body and the sound of his frantic words, then...well the matrons are always telling him to be honest, aren’t they.

“Yeah...but it’s alright. You just gotta be better than me, Shouta. You can do that, right? It’s not so hard. I’ll still help you, I promise, just follow my lead, okay? You don’t have to be scared.”

The thing is, Shouta doesn't look in the least bit scared.

He looks furious.

Hitoshi is about two seconds away from cowering back and finding his bed where he can hide under the blankets and pretend he has some semblance of safety under them. How did he mess this up already? How is Shouta mad at him before he’s even had a chance to get to know Hitoshi?

“Hey, hey kid, no- I…” Hitoshi looks up to see one of Shouta’s small hands, reaching out to him. It’s slow, and this is about the only thing that keeps Hitoshi held fast in place. Once again, he can’t help but think that this boy is strange; he doesn’t hold himself or talk like any other kid Hitoshi has ever met. The confusion only heightens the sense of wrong that all of this brings and it welcomes hot, unbidden tears to his eyes. But it’s been a long time since Hitoshi has let himself cry, so he holds them back and they burn all the more.

Shouta sighs, the little sound echoing out across the bare wooden floors around them. He stares Hitoshi down with a quiet strength that Hitoshi doesn’t know what to do with. “If I tell you something, you have to not freak out, ok?” Hitoshi nods, though he’s not sure if he’ll freak out or not. Shouta nods back resignedly. “I’m not truly a child. My name is Aizawa Shouta and I’m actually...big. A grown up,” he says slowly, as if trying to find the right words to explain himself. Hitoshi on the other hand feels his jaw drop to the floor. “I got hit by a quirk that made me small and I got turned around in the confusion. That stupid woman brought me here, but I’m not an orphan. I’m a pro hero. Eraserhead.” He finishes off by jutting a hand forward, his small fingers poised into a clear invitation for a handshake.

It’s this last detail that settles the thought in Hitoshi’s mind: Shouta is telling the truth.

Hitoshi knows this with every trembling bone in his body for multiple reasons. One, no kid his age has ever talked the way Shouta does, with slow pauses and thoughtful phrases, with fire in his words ready to stand up to even Miss Tanaka downstairs, lacking any and all fear of authority that Hitoshi has quickly learned to cultivate.

Two, the story seems like it could be true. People are affected by quirks all the time and accidents happen a lot. Hitoshi has been on the receiving end of too many quirks to not believe Shouta when he says this is what happened.

And three...well, three is the most convincing of all.

Because Hitoshi knows of Eraserhead. Hitoshi loves Eraserhead.

Hitoshi thinks back to when it happened. He's pretty sure he was five, though the days tend to all run together. Measurements such as weeks, months, years mean very little to him, but he’s almost sure he’s right. In the summer, the matrons find themselves busier than usual--with school being out and all--the kids running rampant with boundless energy. But not Hitoshi. No, he had taken the opportunity to slip away, out the front door and down the street, where the city was somehow blissfully quiet and where he had gone to enjoy his time alone. Well, not entirely alone.

“You back again, kid?” Eraserhead had asked. After the second time of meeting in the alley, the man had finally introduced himself, though Hitoshi never did return the favor. Hitoshi had been floored when he learned the man was a pro hero. Hitoshi nodded in response, kneeling down to observe the real reason the both of them ever found themselves in that alley that smelled of hot, sweltering garbage.

A mother cat had birthed kittens a few weeks back and Hitoshi was fascinated by them. Eraserhead was too.

And now, Eraserhead is a boy with dark hair and dark eyes that Hitoshi recognizes and oh my god it’s real, what are they gonna do--

“Shh, shush, it’s alright Hitoshi.”

The boy pales. “Do you...do you remember me?” He doesn’t know what he’ll do if Shouta says no, it might just break what’s left of his half-starved heart. This is Eraserhead--Shouta, a pro-hero who now knows what happens to Hitoshi in the dark corridors of this place, and he had always wanted to tell Eraserhead but he could never seem to strike up the courage. But now Shouta knows and what if still nothing changes--

“Yes, I remember you, kid. I took one of those cats home, did you know? Never saw you again after that last time.”

Hitoshi didn’t know. One day he went back and the cats were just gone.

“Took the rest to a shelter. They were old enough to be separated from their mother and it just didn’t feel right leaving them on the streets. Bothered me I couldn’t tell you that,” Shouta sighs. Hitoshi blinks, still trying to reconcile the silhouette of the man he had begun to know and bond with, with the figure of a small boy before him. He feels like he needs to sit down.

“Listen, kid,” Shouta begins, his tone leaving no room for argument, “I’m not staying here. I’ve got people out looking for me and for all I know, this quirk has a time limit.” A small hand comes to rest firmly on Hitoshi’s shoulder and he looks up from where he had unknowingly been staring at his shoes. “And when I leave, I’m taking you with me. I know these places aren’t great but...mm," Shouta shakes his head. "I’m not just gonna leave you here, kid. Hitoshi. Do you want to come with me?”

Hitoshi feels numb, his fingers tingling weirdly, but not unpleasantly. He can’t quite get his mouth to work.

For a moment Shouta looks nervous. “I named her Sakura. She’s the one with the blue eye, remember?”

The cat. Shouta is talking about the cat. Hitoshi feels a small smile break onto his face, stealing space like a creeping shadow. Shadows. Hitoshi would like to leave behind his shadows. He finds himself nodding. He licks his lips, voice cracking when he speaks.

“Sakura. I like that name.”

Shouta smiles.

send me prompts!

#and then they lived happily ever after #i dont know what this orphanage is lollll #my writing #dadzawa #age regression #bnha #my hero academia #fic #hurt/comfort

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candyopala · 3 years

Text

Stuck in his ways, chapter 2

Chapter summary: Y/N has to prove herself to her new mentor, will she be able to beat Obito Uchiha in battle? Can she get over her annoyance with him and concentrate enough to do so?

Words: 1.4k

AO3

Please reblog or leave a like if you enjoy <3

“What?!”

“Take these from me until noon and I’ll train you, fail to do so and you might as well leave Konoha.” He reaffirmed while dangling the pair of little bells in front of her.

“Huh, like you have the power to get me kicked off-“

“You can either find out about that the easy or the hard way.”

“…”

Obito distances himself from her and shouts:

“Begin!”

Y/N stands in place confused. She does not know if he is bluffing or not and at this point, after everything she went through to join the village, her best option is to entertain her rude mentor in this challenge. He also could use a beating to put him back in his place, no one should be so rude without any repercussions.

She also starts thinking about how to approach this. He is an Uchiha and has one of those eyes, so any jutsu she tries he will copy instantly, not that she can do any jutsu that could be relevant in a fight, thanks to her low chakra level. Y/N also has heard about the clan’s proficiency with fire, but that is all she got, since the Uchihas tend to hide their clan secrets very well from any prying eyes.

“Hey dumbass! Are you going to be standing there until the time goes out? Come on, I’ll make sure to not use genjutsu on you to make things more fun” And again that smirk appears on his face.

Fuck it, my blade it is. He is going to pay for this.

“Kai!”

Y/N lunges at Obito at an incredible speed pointing her long blade at him, barely visible to any normal eyes. The man does not even flinch or move. When she thinks that she might have got him unprepared, her blade goes right through his abdomen without perforating anything or dealing any damage, as if he is a mere illusion.

Is this genjutsu? No, I just did the release sign, it can’t be! A clone? No, not a clone…

She strikes again and is surprised to see her attack go right through Obito, who is still standing there with his hands on his hips. She strikes again, and again, and again for about four minutes straight… but to no avail.

“Come on, stop playing with me Uchiha creep!”

A small noise is heard behind her, and as she shifts her eyes in that direction, she is surprised with a kick in the gut by Obito, who has not left his position yet. The kick throws her a couple meters back, making her hit a nearby tree with full force, not enough to take the air out of her lungs, but enough to surprise her.

At first, she thinks her eyes might be tricking her, but she is sure she saw the man teleport himself away in a weird spiral. She will never admit it, but she has not been scared shitless like this in a while.

Retreating to a secure location and masking her chakra, she tries again to analyze the situation, but she still cannot fully comprehend this ability of his. His sharingan is active, so it has to have something to do with it. A hunch comes to her mind, more of a wild guess, but it’s all she has: if it has something to do with his eyes, it’s tied to his chakra, so it might run out eventually… right? The problem is: her reserves are already naturally low and the Uchiha are also famous for having loads of chakra, can she even compete with something like this?

Fuck, you have defeated hundreds of nukenin worse than this, you have to try, for him.

“Giving up already, Y/N?” he says while emerging again in the middle of the field.

And with this, she emerges out of the bushes she was hiding in at rapid speed, throwing a fully charged chakra punch to the ground, which makes large chunks of rock fly out. In a matter of milliseconds, she uses each chunk as a platform to run around the Uchiha, swinging her sword at him in the expectation of catching the Uchiha off guard, but to no avail again. Every single attack go through him again and she is met with huge fireballs dancing around her, which cost even more stamina to dodge through. As she tries to manage to run away from the fire surrounding her, Y/N sees something interesting: dust accumulating in his vest while he performs his attack.

She approaches Obito again and begins swinging her sword again, each attack useless one more time.

~”~

I can’t believe she still insists on the same thing again and again, hasn’t she noticed that kamui makes me immune to this? What’s wrong with her?

Obito has to give credit to Y/N though, she might be comparable to Minato sensei in speed, even faster if only raw speed is considered, since she does not seem to be using any teleportation techniques or jutsus to achieve this. Her ability with a sword is also not bad though, not bad for someone who never had any formal training.

However, no natural talent can be enough if used by someone so… stubborn and irrational. He knows he might have went in a little bit too far with the dumbass, but he did not expect her to have such a reaction. Not to mention her clear problem with authority, she was able to disrespect him as a superior in so little time.

The Uchiha decides to stop his reflection when he remembers that she is still lunging at him with full force and that his kamui is reaching, once again, its limit of five consecutive minutes, besides his chakra reserve that is getting dangerously low after using the dancing fireball jutsu so much.

He notices that her left side defense is open during one more of her attacks, so he decides to go for it, trying to kick her away from him again so that he can recover himself. To be honest he is still quite lost in his thoughts, too distracted and bored, so much so that he is surprised when a leg meets his side and a hand touches one of the bells, so quickly that he is barely able to throw himself back and to prevent her from getting the bells.

What the fuck?! Is the only thing that comes to mind.

Time is almost over, since it is already 11:30 am. Obito considers teleporting away from her but is surprised again, by her approaching him at a great speed, and with her standing so close, she would be teleported with him making the whole thing useless.

When he thinks that she might start her completely crazy restless attacks again he is once more caught off guard when she just stands near him, close enough that he can hear her labored breathing. The close proximity scares him and makes him insanely uncomfortable, so much that he forgets about attacking her in any way. He has not allowed anyone so close since… since… her. The sheer intensity in Y/N’s eyes also amaze him, it’s nothing like his old friend, but at the same time he can’t help to feel something in his stomach that reminds him of her.

His back touches a tree, bringing him back to reality. He activates kamui again to dodge an incoming attack, but she just stands there completely still with her blade going through his stomach.

She figured it out

Obito is once again stumped. She someway, somehow figured out how kamui works and is waiting for it to run out. He tries to dodge and run away in every possible way, but he is always met, once again, with her blade insistently on his stomach, not giving him enough time to recover himself.

As the five minutes mark comes up, he once again tries to lunge himself away, as to not get himself stabbed. When he tries to move to the right, her blade makes a small cut on the side of his right arm and she kicks him away, finally reaching for the bells.

While he gets himself off the ground all embarrassed, the newbie approaches him with the bells in hand, stumbling onto her own feet, clearly exhausted. It is true that he has become too reliant on kamui like Kakashi said, after all. He ended up underestimating her far too much. She reaches him with a smile on her face, one so big and genuine… he is even more embarrassed for being so mean to her.

“Wh-Who’s the dumbass now, huh?” is all she says before collapsing beside him.

Well, never mind.

#obito x reader #obito #obito uchiha #obito uchiha x y/n #uchiha obito #naruto fanfiction

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stopeatingwhales · 4 years

Text

about a girl (pt.2) x kurt cobain

hi guys :) so sorry for my inactivity, but i’m here finally lmaoo, this is a part two to my kurt fic that i wrote about a month ago, due to school its been much harder for me to keep up writing as usual, but i will absolutely try my best to finish your guys’ requests soon! anyways, hope you enjoy this <3 Pairing: pre-bleach era kurt x reader

Warnings: nothing :)

Word count: 2.167

Requested by anon (the second part was my idea, but i felt like i should still credit the anon for giving me the idea for this x)

༉‧₊˚✧

The wind exhales short, breezy waves as you lay there, engulfed in your dreams. From the night succeeding to your outstanding performance, you were requited to a favourable hibernation which by admiring you, was needed for not only the sum of a few hours. Your solemn features are painted still, the only movement stimulating from your body is heavy breaths accompanied by a light snore from time to time. I question whether it's righteous of me to allow my eyes to adorn themselves in your serene features, yet I simply cannot stop myself. I find it surreal to witness you in such fragility; for all the pain and sorrow you’ve had to experience in your life, it’s almost like you shouldn’t be sleeping in such a tranquillic state. I wonder if you prefer sleeping than being awake, I wonder if you think it’s a chore to get out of bed. Does the world haunt you? Every click, flash, snap of a camera, does it devastate you? The image you portray to the world is magnificent, yet flawed. It’s almost as if you’re hiding something, yet you don’t care what others think of you, so you do whatever you please. My heart skips a beat every time you shift slightly, cradling your body in the duvet. I advert my stare to your arms, sculpted perfectly in God’s chamber, the lankiness of your bones withering an appearance of discrepancy. You’re not like the rest of them. Your steady breaths softly ease in and out of your flawless torso, your hair so impeccable it looks untouched even when you’re shifting around in your slumber - the hair you willingly dyed and strained with a flavoured drink mix. As I admire you, sleeping beauty, it reminds me of how lucky I am to have you in my life - regardless of where we stand. When you’re awake, you’re the only thing keeping me sane during the day; spending even just a day without you would feel as if I had lost my legs, lost what’s kept me steady for all these draining years. In all my time of knowing and understanding you, have you never not known what to say, for you have such a way with words, it's unfathomable. You carry a sort of intelligence that no one can seem to obtain; you speak words out of a bible and it’s ironic I say that, Mr ‘God is gay’, but it’s true. You’re the reason I wake up in the morning. You’re like a hard candy, sweet and delicate, although the texture is very hard making it a burden to get through to you. I want to taste you on my tongue every morning, if you would like me to be honest. I crave for things as little as your scent even before I’ve risen from the cushion. Your grace must be envied by the heavens; there is and will never be anyone as alluring as you, not that I’m surprised.

As my eyes continue to wander on him, a sudden stretch of his arms and a small groan echoing out of his vocal chords results in my body almost instantaneously sitting up. I watch him as he blinks his eyes a few times, his vision still not clear enough. “Good morning,” he whispers, his arms thrown to the skies; he’s like a baby, reaching out for their mother in the early hours of daylight, moaning and whining for affection, warming my heart with soreful ease. Quickly taking note of the small clock situated beside him that I was aware of for the many hours I had been trapped in thought, it read a bright and early 11am. My stare continues to linger onto him as I watch him shifting around, the heart situated in my upper chest now beating as fast as drum solos in heavy metal songs. A short silence stood in between both presences; I assume that he hadn’t taken note of my pondering state adjacent to him, though was that idea contradicted by his light greeting. “Did you sleep well?” he chirps, now using both palms to rub his what-seemed-like itchy eyes.

Now what is humorous from this scenario is that he asks this as if it means nothing; a simple conversation starter it may be, though, to me it means so much more hearing those light words roll off his tongue, compared to if someone else had said it, even if it was in the exact same moment living right now. A whiff of bad breath hits my face as I laugh lightly, shaking my head in a sort of admiration towards the man lying down ahead of me. He again blinks a few times, now in attempt to adjust the bright scenery to his view. For a couple seconds the room is frozen, Kurt’s alteration in position to sitting up becoming the only sound ringing through both our ears. As I find my gaze glued onto him once again, I subconsciously repeat the question he asked me, this time directed for him. However, from what I’ve seen, I’m certain he slept wonderfully.

A tired chuckle escaped his mouth. “I asked you first,” he mutters, the morning rasp still prominent in his vocal chords. This makes me smile. The raw, genuinity forwards the idea of realism that this moment was actually happening, coming like a pinch snapping someone out of their daydream, though my thoughts will never be known to understand how I was able to spend time with such a man. “I slept well, though.” he adds, a warm smile playing on his lips.

“I couldn’t sleep,” I answered, my face now being cradled by my palms.

I now feel the stare of Kurt burn onto my face. “Why didn’t you wake me up?” he asks, a hint of annoyance laced in his words. “We could’ve stayed up together,”

A small chuckle breezes out of my nose. How considerate, how caring must you be to, even when you have performed such an exasperating gig, stay awake with me because of one night of my mind’s continuous ambles? For all I know, Kurt wouldn’t sleep for days if it meant I would be in absolute glee. It’s those sorts of traits in those who are lost which draw you towards them becoming the significant other to stay with for life. It’s that sense of attachment, connection you hold with someone, so strong that you would give up the roof over your head if it meant a smile to be drawn on their face. ”You looked so peaceful in your sleep,” I replied, staring directly into his loveable eyes, the shade of blue brightening as the sunlight melted onto his face. His hair was now a little more messier compared to how it was less than ten minutes ago, and the urge of me running my fingers through his golden locks only seemed to grow even more as time passed on. For a moment I decided to hold back my words, inhaling sharply to gain composure to my fatigued state. “I didn’t want to disturb you,”

Kurt sighed - knowing that he needed sleep more than anything, though a hint of sadness dwindled in his stomach, his mind conflicted from the idea of me drowning in worry as I tended to do when I couldn’t sleep. Reaching his arm towards the table sat beside him, his fingers got lost in between the opened packet of cigarettes that slept reverently on the white wood, grabbing a random one at choice before placing it in a loose grip between his lips. With the known information that you need a torch to light a cigarette, I threw the one I had on his lap, a small laugh escaping my lips for no apparent reason. Actually no, there was a reason. “Who the fuck smokes first thing in the morning?”

Before he torched the lighter, he stopped, his piercing blue eyes locking in contact with mine. “Me, I do,”

Another laugh tempted to flee itself from my throat, yet I held it back. If you would’ve said that to me the first night I met you, in that small, cramped room, littered with amps that Krist had dragged me into going in to listen to your material, I would’ve scoffed at your blown attitude towards such a random question. Watching you now as you’re admiring the cancer stick with pure attachment, my mind begins to wander over such a topic. I look at you and see a troubled, young kid who just wants love and affection because he seemingly never got enough from the people who designed his childhood; for you haven’t grown up since then. Perhaps in size and features, yes (and definitely the fact that children do not smoke), but hidden inside you is the same boy that was hidden away all those years ago - following onto your parents’ divorce. You say you’ve never been happy since then, you’ve never been able to think optimistically, and maybe you haven’t. Maybe the smile you give to me isn’t genuine; with continuous assurance I’ll consider it to be. Maybe I’ll never heal those bruises that were once your only source of living, and that’s okay, if you’re able to cope with the imprints. If you’re the Kurt Cobain that prefers smoking than having a normal breakfast, so be it; I’d give up my heart for you, and if anything, you’ve already stolen it. Words merely brush the surface of my adoration for you, and sometimes I believe that I’m just lying to myself, that nothing I’m saying in my head is true. Yet, as every minute, every second passes throughout the day, even in silent, contented situations with ceilings bright as yellow from the smoke like these, everything I say to myself simply strengthens in morality. My sweet, you deserve more than one could wish for. You deserve things that this world cannot give you, yet all you believe is that you are worthless. If only you saw yourself in my eyes, maybe then you’d realise, realise the impact you’ve sincerely doused onto me and my mind, you’ve got the moves to empower a generation and perhaps hundreds more - even if you don’t see that yet.

“Give me one,” He hands me one, the strong gusts of cloud escaping his mouth creating a want for the rough substance to coat my throat in brutal ways; even if it’s slowly murdering me. It was a murderous addiction, nicotine, yet it kills us all, our addictions; and we are too blinded by the goodness it seemingly overshadows what we force to neglect in our minds - the bad in it all. We become so unbelievably enthralled by the pain we choose to accept it; we believe it is favourable, not disastrous and catastrophic. Drugs are frowned upon dearly, as they should be, but once you’re stuck, it takes more than simple courage to escape out of the deadly grip it chokes you in. Placing the cigarette in between my lips, identical to how he had just done, I reached my arm out to obtain the lighter that was in my clutch merely seconds ago, swiftly lighting it with one hand. As I breathed out the first tar-filled cloud from my cigar, I fixed my gaze onto him once again, sucking in my top lip as I allowed the droplets of ash fall onto my shirt. “I know I always say this,” I began as I studied his features, trying to identify any solemn, unpleasant emotions, noticing that there was none at all for the time being. “You’re going to make it big one day, I’m now for certain you’re going to take over the world,”

His eyes now locked into mine, a short chuckle leaving his throat as he blew out an even bigger gust of smoke. “I don’t want that,”

Smiling, I took hold of my cigarette and inhaled deeply, holding it in my mouth until my body was unable to carry on without oxygen for longer - not that the air in the room was even oxygen; it was more corrosive chemicals than anything else, yet we’ve become so dependant on a small roll of tobacco to guide us to a path of slow death, its unnoticable. I watched as Kurt’s eyes drifted on to admire the elusive sunlight gleaming through the window, the whiffs of grey contrasting the happiness that was attempting to journey itself into the silent room. No matter how many times I may tell, his belief that he will never be as big as acts like the Sex Pistols will empower over anything I endevour on to phrase. It was inevitable though, whether he dreamt of it or not, that they will be big, bigger than anything they’ve ever seen. The path bridging onto it may cause destruction, heartbreak, and even more addiction, but the future is never in our hands - only until it is close enough for the present to capture it. Time is simply a mantelpiece, the light eventually burns out when there’s not enough coal to keep it going. You continue to refill it as the days go by until you simply cannot any longer, which is what all youths fear and avoid. Surprisingly enough, Kurt wasn’t one of the many crowds in devastating apprehension; he wanted to burn out more than anything else, for there were only small things keeping him going, or perhaps he was waiting for a longer, more agonizing death, hence the many packets of cigarettes vanished in a day.

There was nothing left to say in the room; there was no need for a response - it was only going to result in the same bicker as it resulted in many a time. The room, now physically undergoing a change in colour from the smoke, held a significant ambience, one so serene it left you more relaxed than the aftermath of a crazy high in drug use, though sometimes the relaxation is more pain than anything else. Even when my mind was so consumed in ideation earlier in the morning, my thoughts were louder than ever in this given moment. My mind was mulled over the concept of Kurt and stardom. He would never like it, nor does he even want it. It’s humorous to an extent; how much authenticity can one acclaim, to not even look up to the sugar-coated concept called ‘fame’? You’re not like the others. You don’t want fame, you want to create music. And in all honesty, I wish I lie through my teeth whenever I mumble those encouraging words of how you’re going to make it big; I can’t stand the idea of losing you, but like I said, it's inevitable, one day simple moments like these will just be memories to look back on when you’re old and laughing about your previous attachment to drugs. Maybe you won’t look back on times like these however, maybe you’ll remember the more vivid, buzzing moments like your first gig as Nirvana, and maybe I won’t remember this either, maybe these moments aren’t to be remembered, to be lived in instead. If only you knew how much I loved you, would you be surprised that I haven’t ruined my life because of it. You mean more to me than the stars mean to the night sky, more than a memory means to a person’s mind. It hurts my heart knowing I can’t heal you, though I dream that one day, you’ll wake up, just like you did today, turn to me and say, ‘I’m happy,’ because that’s all I ever dream of you to be.

#kurt cobain x reader #nirvana #dave grohl #krist novoselic #kurt cobain #band imagines #my writing #smut #fluff #angst #grunge #90s #music #imagines

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