#FIREWORKS IN SYNC HEARTBEATS IN SYNC

[deathberi]

AAAAAHHHHHHHHGHHGGGGGGGGHHHHH 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 very late but full gifset here!!!

[kissesz]

𝐢𝐬𝐧'𝐭 𝐠𝐨𝐥𝐝, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐦𝐞

caitlyn kiramman x f!reader

warnings : see above. mdni. angst. f!sub!reader. dom!caitlyn. mean!caitlyn, just briefly. cunnilingus. tribbing. vaginal sex. non-sexual intimacy. read: kissing. a lot of it. sapphic debauchery at its finest. arguing. emotional hurt/comfort. mentions of injuries & blood but not too graphic.

notes: (can be read as a standalone, part II of 'all that glitters') a oneshot—which, clearly, it isn’t anymore. i may have made a promise about making up. unfortunately, the dialogue is subpar at best, perhaps because i genuinely dread writing anything involving communication (which is why i attempted��only half-successfully—to compensate with overly long descriptions). on top of that, i’ve rewritten this at least a thousand times, meaning six and a half hours were spent agonizing over every single paragraph. i digress. i love you all, dearly.

Aged whiskey scorched a trail down your throat, amber liquid catching glimmers of the kaleidoscopic hues painting Piltover for Progress Day—sapphire tones of hextech glinting off effervescent fireworks, swirling and bleeding like watercolors through the fractured prism of your mind.

Or perhaps that was the alcohol, settling leaden in your veins as you draped yourself against the balcony railing. 

Revelry echoed distant and muted from the streets below, laughter filtering through as if from ripples underwater. Each scintillating burst a reminder of her, salt in wounds unhealed—nights of bare skin illuminated by those same lights, susurrous promises you'd been foolish enough to believe. Skin and sweat and lies, impermanent.

So naive.

The crystal tumbler in your hand caught light, throwing severed rainbows across your fingers. Watching them dance, you tried (and failed) to focus on anything but the ache that had made its home in your ribcage months ago, a persistent throb that no amount of liquor could numb.

Then, a knock cleaved through the silence like a gunshot.

Your heart seized—a pavlovian response so violent it stole the breath from your lungs, leaving you gasping. Two strikes against solid wood, precise, just like the woman behind them. 

"Don't you fucking dare," you hissed to the empty air, fingers tightening around the railing until your knuckles blanched white against the dark metal. After months of absence, after countless nights spent aching and alone, after everything—she had the audacity to return?

The knock came again, more insistent this time, the sound like a second heartbeat, out of sync with your own yet impossible to ignore.

"Open the door." Caitlyn's voice, muffled yet unmistakable in its authority. That voice that had once whispered such honeyed poison against your skin now felt like sandpaper against raw nerves, abrasive and unrelenting. "Please."

Your laugh spilled out bitter, a broken sound for a broken moment. "Or what, Officer? You'll break it down? Add that to your litany of things you've destroyed?"

Silence stretched between you—taut and ready to snap. Then: "I'll wait all night if I have to."

"Go ahead." The drink seared going down, a familiar burn doing nothing to thaw the frost in your veins. "You're good at that, aren't you? Waiting until the perfect moment to walk away?"

More silence followed, heavy and sticky as molasses. For a moment, you thought she'd left, until you heard it—the soft thud of something solid against wood. Her forehead, perhaps, resting against your door as if she couldn't support her own weight anymore, as if the burden of her choices had finally become too much to bear.

"I deserve that," she said quietly, her voice carrying a of vulnerability you'd never heard before. A hairline fracture in her usually impenetrable facade. "I deserve all of it. But please... let me explain."

"Explain what?" The words clawed their way from your throat, each word tasting of copper and acrimony. "How you used me? How you'd come to me in the dead of night, take what you wanted, then vanish like I meant nothing?"

"You were never—" Her voice splintered on ‘never’, the sound slitting something in your chest, a fissure spreading through the walls you'd built to keep her out. "You were everything to me. That was the problem."

The crystal glass shattered in your grip, a startling crack that echoed the something rupturing inside you. Shards scattered across marble tiles like fallen stars, blood and alcohol—you couldn't tell which—dripping from your trembling fingers. The pain felt distant, secondary to the storm of emotions threatening to rend you apart.

Your feet carried you to the door of their own volition, possessed by a desperate momentum that overrode any semblance of self-preservation. The handle felt unfamiliar against your palm as you wrenched it open.

And there she stood.

Caitlyn Kiramman, in your foyer, like a washed out black and white photo of a deceased relative you couldn't bring yourself to look at. Her uniform was spotless as always, every button polished, every crease perfect—but her eyes—her eyes told a different story. They widened at the sight of your bleeding hand, that familiar concern suffusing her features before she could conceal it.

"You're hurt–" She reached for you, her fingers extending with such tender intent that it made your chest constrict, your heart stuttering behind the cage of your ribs.

You recoiled as if scorched, spine colliding with the wall behind you with a dull thud. "Don't." Your voice emerged raw, stripped of all pretense. "Don't you dare pretend to care now."

"Do you hear yourself? How ridiculous you sound?" She advanced, her presence flooding your space like smoke, cloying and suffocating. The scent of her, vanilla and gunpowder, so achingly familiar, made your head reel. Or maybe that was the blood loss. The whiskey. Turning everything soft at the edges except for her, sharp and impossible to ignore. "Not once, for a single second, did I stop caring. I left because I cared too much, because it was destroying me. Every time I chose you over my duty, every time I let my heart overrule my head, we were—"

"Oh, spare me the noble sacrifice bullshit, Caitlyn. Your precious integrity, right? Let me remind you of what you said: 'You know where I am if you need me.' Do you remember that? How you kissed me goodbye like it wasn't the last fucking time?" A dismissive sound tore from your lips, acrid.

"Enlighten me," you continued, voice quavering in a way that made you want to claw the weakness from your throat, "in all those months, all those nights I spent alone, where exactly were you? Because I needed you. Gods, I needed you every single day! And you were nowhere to be found!"

"It wasn't—" she started, but you cut her off, unwilling to hear whatever justification she'd made up for her absence.

"Shut up." Your palm struck her chest, leaving behind a bloody handprint stark against her pristine uniform. The fabric drank it in like it had been starved for it, marring perfection with your pain. Some bitter part of you relished it, wanted her to wear your anguish for once.

Hands caught your wrists then, a grip gentle but resolute, like you were something fragile, something invaluable she was afraid to break.

The calluses on her palms, from her rifle, from years of relentless training rasped against your pulse points. "You think it was easy?" Her voice trembled, her composure fracturing like a teacup on the verge of shattering. "You think I wanted to walk away? To lie awake every night remembering how you taste, how you feel, how you cry out my name when you—"

"Stop." You tried to wrench away but her hold was unbreakable, fingers branding your skin with unspoken apologies, with pleas for absolution. Your heart battered against your ribcage, that traitorous organ that still raced at her proximity, even after everything.

"Why?" She surged forward, and suddenly you were pinned between the heat of her body and the unyielding wall, nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. 

Her breath ghosted across your face, expensive brandy chasing crisp mint—she'd been drinking too. She'd been drinking too, and that realization struck you like a knife to the sternum, twisting viciously. "Because it hurts? Because despite everything, you still remember? How I'd touch you, how I'd make you beg, how you'd unravel for me like you were made for it?"

"Fuck you," you spat, even as your body responded to her, muscle memory overriding reason.

"You did, darling." The endearment dripped from her lips, sweet and searing like honey on a spoon. Her face was a hairsbreadth from yours, close enough to count the individual flecks of navy in her eyes, to feel the heat of her breath mingling with your own. "Countless times. And I remember every single one. Every sound, every sigh, every way you fell apart beneath my hands."

Your breath hitched, catching on a breath suspiciously similar to a sob. "I hate you."

You did, truly.

Hating her felt natural, instinctual.

"No." Her thumb skated over your bottom lip, coming away stained with the smear of your lipstick. The tenderness of the gesture was devastating, a brutal reminder of everything you'd lost. "You wish you did. Just like I wish I could stop loving you."

The confession hung between you like a noose, tightening with each shallow breath.

"Why now?" Your voice cracked, splintering, jagged and razor-edged. "Why come back after all this time?"

"Because I'm tired," she breathed, resting her forehead against yours, the contact like a livewire against your skin. Her skin burned feverish against your own, her breaths labored. "Tired of pretending I don't need you. Tired of walking past your building every night, aching to come up but telling myself I shouldn't. Tired of being half a person without you."

Closing your eyes, the nearness of her was overwhelming, intoxicating; it made you dizzy, memories crashing over you in waves—lips on your throat, hands on your hips, her voice in your ear whispering vows she couldn't keep, oaths she'd shattered like porcelain against stone.

"You broke me." Words falling from your numb lips, more honest than you'd allowed yourself to be since she left, since she carved out your heart and took it with her.

"I know." Her lips brushed your temple, a benediction and a curse. A tear—yours or hers, you couldn't say—slid between your pressed skin, salt and sorrow. "Let me put you back together. Let me try."

"How?" You opened your eyes, meeting her gaze, stripped of all pretense. Your fingers itched to trace the circles beneath her eyes, proof that maybe she'd been haunted by your absence just as viscerally as you'd been ravaged by hers. "How can I ever trust you again?"

In lieu of an answer, she kissed you.

Not like before—not with the practiced restraint of Officer Kiramman, the consummate professional. No, this kiss was desperate, woozy and salty of mingled tears. Her hands cupped your face like you were something hallowed, her thumbs sweeping away the evidence of your shared misery, your shared sin.

Kissing her back, it bordered on violence, every shred of hurt and longing poured into the crush of your mouths. Your fingers knotted in her hair, yanking hard enough to sting, needing her to feel even a fraction of the agony you'd endured in her absence. Silken strands twined around your fingers like they'd been waiting for your touch, like they remembered every time you'd gripped them in ecstasy rather than anguish.

She gasped into your mouth, the sound caught between a moan and a whimper, apology and plea tangled on her tongue. "I'm sorry," she murmured between bruising kisses, each word a fervent promise falling from kiss-swollen lips. "I'm so sorry. I love you. I never stopped. Please..."

You bit down on her bottom lip, hard enough to taste blood of her own, the metallic sting a twisted sort of penance. "Prove it."

Her eyes met yours, understanding dawning like the sun cresting the horizon. With deliberate, measured movements, she began to strip away her armor. Her utility belt hit the floor with a leaden thud, bullets rattling in their clips. Her badge followed, the metal making a mournful sound as it clattered against marble. Then her uniform jacket, each button slipping free of its mooring until the garment slid from her shoulders like a remnant of a past she was shedding, a chrysalis giving way to something raw and new.

Each piece of her fell away until only Caitlyn remained.

The woman behind the title, the beating heart beneath the badge. She stood before you in her crisp white undershirt, more vulnerable than you'd ever seen her, her chest rising and falling with unsteady breaths, her eyes wide and shining in the low light.

"I'm yours," she said softly, her voice replaced by something fragile and aching. "Just me, loving you, for as long as you'll have me."

You stared at her, this woman who could command an entire city with a single look yet now trembled beneath the weight of your gaze. Who could stare down the barrel of a gun without flinching yet now looked at you like you held the power to destroy her. Who had walked away from you once yet now stood before you offering her heart, her future, her everything.

"If you leave again..." you started, the words tasting like rust on your tongue, sharp and metallic.

"I won't." She stepped closer, her hands finding the dip of your waist, the swell of your hips, relearning curves and planes she'd once mapped in the dark, in stolen moments that now felt like lifetimes ago. Her touch sparked wildfires in its wake, your skin remembering her, craving her, even as your mind screamed for self-preservation. "I can't. Losing you... it nearly killed me. Let me spend the rest of my life making it right. Making us right."

You knew you should’ve resisted, should’ve made her work harder for your forgiveness, for a second chance at the heart she'd so carelessly shattered. But then her lips found that spot just below your ear, the one that made your knees buckle and your breath hitch, and all rational thought fled, replaced by an all-consuming need, a hunger that had gone unsated for far too long.

Her hands relearned your body with admiration that bordered on worshipful—each touch an act of contrition. Her fingers caught on scars she'd never seen before, on new edges and angles wrought in the crucible of her absence, but she didn't shy away. Instead, she traced each one like a devotee tracing the lines of a sacred text, committing them to memory, etching them onto her heart.

"I missed you," she breathed against your throat, her voice cracking on the admission. "Missed this. The way you melt for me, the way your pulse flutters beneath my lips." To illustrate her point, she pressed a lingering kiss to the hammering beat at the base of your throat, smiling against your skin as you failed to bite back a whimper.

Her name fell from your lips like a benediction, like a curse, like an invocation of something bigger than both of you. "Caitlyn..."

She pulled back just far enough to meet your eyes, and the naked adoration in her gaze stole the breath from your lungs. 

Gone was the stoic persona, the enforcer of the law. In her place was a woman laid bare, stripped of all pretense. A woman whose eyes shone with unshed tears and unspoken promises, whose hands shook with the force of her need, her longing.

"I love you," she said simply, the words rusty from disuse but no less true for it. "I love your fire, your strength, the way you never once made it easy for me. I love the way you see me, all of me, even the parts I try to hide. I love—"

You swallowed the rest of her words with a searing kiss, your hands fisting in the fabric of her shirt, dragging her closer until you could feel her heartbeat against your own, a desperate staccato that echoed the racing of your pulse. 

She caught you as you swayed, strong arms banding around your waist, holding you up, anchoring you to her as she'd always done, even when you insisted you didn't need it, didn't want it. "Let me take care of you," she murmured against your lips, the words akin to a plea. "Let me show you how much I've missed you, how sorry I am, how I—"

"Show me," you demanded, the words scraping your throat raw with their urgency. "Make me believe you."

The sound she made was part growl, part whimper, animal and anguished. Her hands glided down your sides to grip the backs of your thighs, fingers sinking into yielding flesh, and then you were airborne, your back hitting the wall with enough force to rattle the abstract art piece hanging beside your head. Your legs locked around her waist on instinct, muscle memory overriding the part of you still screaming for restraint.

"I'll spend forever making you believe," she vowed, punctuating each word with a press of her lips—to your jaw, the edge of your lips, the sensitive spot where neck meets shoulder. "Forever proving that you're it for me, that I'm done hiding from this, from us."

As she carried you to the bedroom, her steps never faltering despite the tremors wracking her frame, you realized with startling, terrifying clarity that you wanted to let her. Wanted to give her the chance to piece back together the remnants of you, to rebuild from the rubble and ashes she'd left behind. 

A tangle of limbs and discarded silks draped upon the edge of your bed held nothing new, freshly washed sheets tousling as she haphazardly lowered you into their embrace. 

And then, she was on you, her hand sliding up the apex of your thigh, teasing.

Finally, finally, her tongue met the barrier of your underwear, the fabric the only thing separating you from the heat and wetness that promised heaven. She took her time, tracing every inch of you, biting and nipping, until you were writhing beneath her, begging for more. And then she pulled them down, your hips lifting off the bed to accommodate her, exposing you completely to the cool air and the burning heat of her gaze.

Her mouth followed the path of your underwear, leaving a damp trail of kisses as she descended. She hovered above your clit for a moment, her eyes searching yours for permission, for reassurance. You gave it with a nod, and she took it as the invitation it was, her tongue flicking out to taste you, to show you without words how much she'd missed this, missed you. 

The sensation was foreign in its familiarity, your entire body tensing before relaxing into the bliss she’d coaxed from you, licking and suckling, driving you closer to the edge with every pass.

And then, with a lingering kiss, she pulled away, leaving you panting and desperate. Deja vu, perhaps? "Take these off," she ordered, her voice thick with desire, gesturing to her own pants. You obeyed, your fingers fumbling with the zipper, eager to feel her bare skin against yours. When she was finally naked, she straddled you, the wetness between her thighs pressing against your stomach, leaving a damp heat that sent a shiver of anticipation down your spine.

Her hands roamed your body, touching, everywhere, and you watched her, breathless, feeling your desire for her swell until it was a living, pulsing thing between you. 

When she reached your breasts, her caresses were feather-light at first, teasing your already-sensitized nipples until they were hard points of pleasure-pain that had you gasping. Then, she took one into her mouth, her tongue flicking against the sensitive flesh, her teeth grazing the tight bud, sending skitters of desire straight to your core.

As she worked you over with her mouth and hands, each touch, each kiss, each lick brought you closer to the precipice. Your hips bucked against her, seeking more, seeking everything she had to give, needing to be filled, to be claimed by her again. You reached down to guide her, impatient (if it were another time, she’d make a show of rolling her eyes), fingers curling around hers, to show her where you needed her most, and she took the hint, sliding down your body, aligning herself with your aching sex.

Her hips rolled against yours, the friction building until you were both heaving and desperate. The world narrowed to just the two of you, the slick slide of skin on skin, the gasps and murmurs of pleasure. You felt her love in every stroke, every touch, every shudder of her body as she took you higher, until you were both teetering on the brink of oblivion.

The feeling of her was exquisite, the pressure just right—coiling tighter and tighter, until you were both ready to shatter. Your nails raked down her back, leaving red streaks on her skin, and she groaned into your neck. The sound sent you over the edge, your body convulsing with the force of your climax, waves of pleasure crashing through you like a storm at sea. She followed, her hips stuttering against yours, her own release a hot, wet rush that mingled with yours, until you were both spent, limp and trembling in each other's arms.

Perhaps there would be no gold at the end of this, no sunset-fade and happily ever after. Perhaps you'd end up right back here again someday, bleeding out on memories gone septic with neglect. Perhaps you'd lose as much as you'd gain, in the end.

But what a thing it was—to be shattered and scattered, to cut yourself open on the fractured pieces and trust that the other person would help you staunch the flow of injuries after. To hold your own heart in your hands and decide that theirs was worth the risk anyway, every time.

So you sealed your mouth to hers and poured yourself into the spaces between, the cracks and scars and fault-lines cobwebbing you both. Let her lick the hurt from your teeth, suck apologies purple-dark into your skin until you couldn't tell her contrition from your clemency.

And later, when you laid tangled up in sheets that smelled of sex and forgiveness, her head pillowed on your chest and the ghosts of your names still ringing in the rafters, you thought that maybe this was a new breed of faith.

To believe, against all evidence, that you could piece each other back together. To know that you'd never be what you were before, untarnished and golden all the way through—but that maybe, just maybe, there was something rawer and realer and infinitely more precious to be found in those broken places.

To reach your hand between each other's ribs and hold tight to whatever you found there, battered and bloodied but beating still. Whispering: I love you, I love you, I love you.

I love you enough to stay.

I love you enough to bleed.

I love you in ways only the shattered know how to love.

I love you, and all your splintered edges.

I love you, and the way you carve yourself into me.

I love you, and I'll spend every breath I have left proving it.

I love you, and that's the best and worst thing I know how to do.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

©️ kissesz

tags for the lovely sweethearts who requested a continuation: @prettyyyy-girl & @hiroklaiz

[missmaymay13]

true feeling - j.hughes

⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻

j.hughes x fem!oc

summary: based off of the song " true feeling " by galantis

masterlist

⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻

Jack didn’t remember what song was playing.

That felt wrong to admit, considering how music has a way of burning moments into memory. But that night—the night he met her—everything blurred into one long, golden haze. The guitars. The laughter. The fireworks bursting like small galaxies overhead. The scent of trampled grass, sweat, sunscreen, and summer in its purest, most unfiltered form.

He didn’t remember the song.

He just remembered her.

It was the third night of Boots and Hearts, somewhere between headliners and heartache. Jack had come with a handful of teammates, the kind of trip that was meant to be loud and rowdy, fueled by cheap drinks and stories they’d laugh about later. But under all that noise, Jack carried a quiet restlessness. Like he was waiting for something he couldn’t name.

And then he saw her.

She wasn’t trying to be seen, and maybe that was why he couldn’t stop looking. There was no glitter on her cheeks, no dramatic entrances. Just a girl standing by the second stage, hips swaying gently to a rhythm only she heard, boots coated in dust and eyes lit like lanterns. She looked like she belonged to the music. Like she was the music.

He found himself walking toward her before he even made the choice to. No clever line. No plan. Just instinct.

"Hey," he said, his voice surprisingly steady.

She turned. A smile played at her lips, lazy and amused.

"Hey yourself."

They didn’t trade last names or talk about what they did. He didn’t tell her he played hockey. She didn’t tell him anything more than she wanted to. It wasn’t about the world beyond the festival. It was about now. A bubble outside of reality, built from shared smiles and fleeting touches.

They danced. Not performative, not polished. Just two bodies moving with the music, letting it carry them. She laughed with her whole face. Her hand found his without asking. And when a slow song drifted in, she pulled him closer with a confidence that left him dizzy. She swayed with him like they’d done it a hundred times before, like they knew how to find the same heartbeat.

Jack remembered the way the stage lights curled around her profile. The glow of blue and gold kissing her cheekbones. The way her lips moved around lyrics he didn’t recognize, eyes closed like she was somewhere else. Somewhere he wanted to be.

And he remembered this aching, swelling thought: don’t let this end.

After the music faded, they wandered away from the crowd, laughter trailing behind them like footprints. They found a quiet patch of grass under an open stretch of sky, where the stars blinked and spun and didn’t feel so far. They collapsed side by side, hearts still racing, shoulders brushing.

"First time here?" he asked.

"Yeah. You?"

He nodded. “Guess we’re figuring it out together.”

She laughed. It was soft this time. Tired. Honest.

She lay back in the grass, her hair spreading out like ink, and stared up.

"You ever wish you could freeze a moment?" she asked.

Jack didn’t hesitate. "Like this one."

She turned, eyes locking with his. And then she kissed him.

There was no hesitation, no buildup. Just the warmth of her lips and the taste of lemonade and something more. Her hands curled into the fabric of his shirt, and time collapsed. The world faded. There was only her breath against his cheek and the electricity that bloomed in his chest, so overwhelming it nearly hurt.

In that moment, Jack felt more awake than he ever had. Like every cell in his body stood at attention. Like he’d stumbled into something sacred.

They lay tangled beneath the sky as the night deepened. They didn’t talk much. Didn’t need to. The silence stretched around them like a secret. Her head on his chest, his hand in her hair, their breaths falling in sync. He could feel the slow rise and fall of her body against his, like waves lapping the shore.

Eventually, they fell asleep.

And when he woke up—

She was gone.

No note. No number. No name. Just the cool echo of her absence and the imprint of her body beside his, pressed into the grass like a memory that didn’t want to fade.

He searched. Of course he did.

He combed the festival grounds. Asked strangers if they’d seen her. Replayed every detail in his mind like maybe he’d missed something—some clue, some hint. He waited by the stage they’d met. Waited until the sun set again.

She never came.

When the final artist performed and the last fireworks bloomed across the sky, Jack stood in the crowd, surrounded by thousands, and felt completely alone.

Summer ended. Life returned to its regular rhythm. Games. Flights. Flashing cameras and locker room banter. But nothing tasted quite right. It all felt just slightly off-key.

He searched in cities and crowds and moments that almost felt like magic. But it never matched. Nothing came close.

Because it hadn’t been about her name, or her story, or who they were outside that night. It had been about the feeling. That split-second ignition. That spark that made the whole world glow. Like the universe tilted and said, here.

He never found it again.

People always said love was something you built. A slow burn, a choice, a commitment. And maybe that was true. But what Jack had felt that night wasn’t built.

It was.

Immediate. Intoxicating. Infinite.

And then it was over.

Jack still thought of her sometimes. Not with the same sharp ache. Not with the same desperation. But when a summer breeze hit just right, or when the right song hummed through his headphones, it pulled something loose in him.

He’d remember the curve of her smile.

The weight of her fingers twined with his.

The way the stars had looked that night—too close, too bright, like they were leaning in to watch.

She was the best part of a song he never got the name of.

And Jack knew, in the quiet corners of his heart, he’d be listening for it forever.

[olive-treeeee]

Cuddles — 13th Doctor x reader

Synopsis: You and the doctor share an intimate moment before an adventure.

Warnings: None

Hey everyone! Hope you’re all doing well. I dug up an old fic I wrote a few years back and decided to give it a little revamp, figured it was time to show it some love. Hope you enjoy!

Requests are Open!!

“So!” The Doctor announced, her words slightly muffled as she popped yet another custard cream into her mouth. She chewed quickly, eyes twinkling as she leaned back against the console. “Where do you want to go now?”

“You’re going to make yourself sick if you keep stuffing your face like that.” You arched an eyebrow, crossing your arms as you watched her reach for another.

The Doctor huffed dramatically, pouting as a few stray crumbs tumbled from her lips onto her shirt. “Bugger off, I’m hungry, okay?” She wiped her mouth with her sleeve, then started pressing buttons on the console with an air of exaggerated defiance.

You shook your head, biting back a fond smile. It was ridiculous, really, this brilliant, time-traveling genius acting like an overgrown child hoarding biscuits. And yet, you wouldn’t change a thing.

“I’m not sure where I want to go,” you admitted, circling the console, your fingers occasionally grazing the cool metal.

The Doctor hummed, barely looking up as she flicked a few switches. “Oh, hey! While you were out, I found this lovely planet covered in grass.”

You stopped mid-step, raising an eyebrow. “Just grass?”

“Uh-huh.” She finally glanced up at you, a cheeky smile playing at her lips.

You narrowed your eyes, suspicious. “No trees? No oceans? Just… grass?”

“Endless fields of it,” she confirmed, still grinning. “Very green. Very grassy.”

You laughed, stepping closer until you were nearly chest to chest with her. “You’re telling me, out of all of time and space, that’s your big pitch? A planet that’s basically one giant lawn?”

The Doctor tilted her head, pretending to consider. “Well, when you put it like that, it does sound a bit rubbish.”

“A bit,” you teased, your voice softer now.

For a second, neither of you moved. The hum of the TARDIS filled the space between you, but the real electricity was in the way she looked at you, eyes flickering between yours, something unspoken hanging in the air.

Then, as if sensing the moment was getting dangerously close to something neither of you were quite ready to name, she cleared her throat and rocked back on her heels. “Right, maybe we’ll save ‘Planet Grass’ for a slow day.”

You smirked. “Good call.”

Her arms slid around your waist, pulling you flush against her. You smiled, your heart giving that familiar flutter. She’d been so affectionate lately, not that you minded in the slightest. If anything, you craved it. You adored the way she touched you, the casual intimacy of her affection, as though it was the most natural thing in the universe for her hands to be on you. And, honestly, it was. You loved cuddles from the Doctor. Loved the way her presence made the world feel quieter, safer… smaller in the best way.

Unable to resist, you wrapped your arms around her neck, your fingers idly threading through the strands of her hair as you leaned in, your lips brushing the shell of her ear. Your voice dropped to a soft, teasing whisper. “Well, someone’s being awfully affectionate today.”

She chuckled low in her throat, a sound that sent a pleasant little shiver through you. “Should I need an excuse to shower love on the best girlfriend in the entire universe?” she murmured, her breath warm against your skin. Without hesitation, she dipped her head to press a lingering kiss to the crown of your head, her hold on you tightening just a fraction.

You stayed like that for a while, bodies tangled, heartbeats syncing in the quiet space between moments. The Doctor rested her chin atop your head, her thumb tracing lazy, aimless circles along your lower back. It felt right. That was the only way you could think to describe it. It wasn’t fireworks or grand declarations. It was quiet, it was steady, it was home. You loved her. Fiercely, stupidly, in a way that made the stars themselves feel small and insignificant by comparison. Right then, you wanted nothing more than to forget the rest of the universe existed and lose yourself in her, to press closer, to kiss her slow and deep and—

“Right,” she said at last, breaking the comfortable silence with a reluctant sigh, untangling herself from your arms, though her hand still lingered at your waist. “Shall we head off?”

You grinned up at her, giddy and thoroughly smitten. “Yes, let’s!” you beamed, lacing your fingers with hers as the two of you made your way toward the door, and whatever adventure waited beyond it.

[the-strange-world]

Rating June Kpop Releases

Masterpiece (10) / Amazing (9) / Good (7-8) / Ok (6) / Meh (5) / Didn’t like (0-4)

Die For Love - B.I feat Jessi - 5/10 (2 title tracks for this album) ➕

Dare To Love - B.I feat. BIG Naughty - 8/10 ~ fav bside - Beautiful Life and Cloud Thought

Mañana (Our Drama) - ZHOUMI feat. EUNHYUK - 9/10

TIME DIFFERENCE - AaRON - 2/10

S-Class - Stray Kids - 8/10 ~ fav bsides - DLC, FNF, and ITEM. I liked Youtiful too (the “iiiii made it mine” and the other parts after that in ITEM really reminds me of another song so if anyone else knows what I’m song in thinking about please tell me)

Crush on you - Kassy - 5/10

SHALALA - TAEYONG (NCT) - ♾/10 - obsessed with this silly song ~ fav bside - Virtual Insanity

#menow - fromis_9 - ♾/10 - they are incapable of having a bad song! This song has been on REPEAT the most!!! The “yeah that’s me yeah that’s me” part and all the parts are EVERYTHING! The choreography is amazing. They never miss. I’m obsessed with this song ~ fav bsides - Attitude. I liked Don’t Care too

Wasteland - KANG DANIEL [Prerelease] - 10/10

Kick It 4 Now - THE NEW SIX (TNX) - ♾/10 - LOVE THIS SONG! The choreography is amazing. I’m obsessed with the “nostalgia deja vu” part so much!!! I’ve noticed a lot of the title tracks recently have felt very 90s or 2000s to me ~ fav bsides - 1000 Miles

Diaryy - YongYong - 5/10 ~ fav bside - Cheetos feat. ZENE THE ZILLA

Jump - P1Harmony - ♾/10 - INCREDIBLE ALBUM! WOW THEY NEVER MISS!!! The choreography is amazing too. Idk how they can do all that without passing out ~ fav bsides - More Than Words, Heartbeat Drum, and Love Me For Me. I liked New Classic too. The only one I wouldn’t listen to again is I Am You

Juliet - AleXa - 6/10

Can’t Go Yet - Amber Liu feat. Scott Hoying - 10/10 - if Scott’s involved, it’ll be good

Blooming Today - CHEEZE - 6/10

Let Me In - EXO - 3/10 - I really didn’t like this

C.C - Q6IX - 7/10

Designer - VAV - 4/10 ~ fav bside - Call U Mine

Ready to Move - REN - 6/10

Blank - OYEON - 7/10 - it’s pretty and of course nas are always good

Delicious - THE BOYZ [JP] - 10/10 - this song was already released last month ~ fav bsides - Lip Sync. I liked EYES ON ME and Take Me Back too

I Need Love - DKB - 8/10 - it was the best song off the album to me

FIREWORK - &Team - 9/10

Contrail - Baek yebin - 7/10

To Me - Jung Seung Hwan - 7/10 - not something I’d listen to often but it’s pretty ~ fav bside - Epilogue

Marshmallow - MISAMO - 3/10 - didn’t like it

BOUNCY (K-HOT CHILI PEPPERS) - ATEEZ - 8/10 - I liked it but it’s no halazia. It grew on me because I didn’t like it that much at first. I think DJANGO should’ve been the title ~ fav bsides - DJANGO and Outlaw. I liked This World too. Wake Up is guerrilas twin

Walk & Shine - QI.X - 6/10

Can’t Leave - Park Jeup - 5/10

LUV LUV LUV - GreatGuys - 8/10 - it’s fun

Broken Melodies - NCT DREAM [Prerelease] - ♾/10 - they popped off with this pop song of the summer. One direction vibes. Peak boy band energy. I love this song!

WE GO HIGH - ROY KIM - 9/10 - it’s a chill summery song

SOS - KANG DANIEL - 8/10 ~ fav bside - Liar

Queen - We;Na - 10/10 - they are soooo underrated! They only have 2 songs but both are so fun!!!

Orange, You’re Not a Joke to Me - Stella Jang - 10/10 - the lyrics are so silly

Lucky! - KIM JAE HWAN feat. BOBBY - 7/10

Pony - JANNABI - 8/10 - I love his voice

Unlock it - BABYS - 5/10

Voyager - LUN8 - ♾/10 - I think they have the same comeback as weki meki. GIVE WEKI MEKI A COMEBACK RN COWARDS!!! Anyway this song and album are really AMAZING! It shocked me how much I liked this album ~ fav bsides - Wild Heart, We Like It, Live In The Moment

BODY SHAKE - Bunny.T - 9/10

OVERDRIVE - I.M - 6/10 - not something I’d listen to a lot ~ fav bside - Not Sorry

The Feeling - SHINee [Prerelease] - 10/10

HARD - SHINee - 8.5/10 - of course shinee never disappoints me! The lyrics are so dumb which is fun. I wish the chorus was catchier tho. I love the choreography. Not really something I’d listen to too too much but a great song!!! ~ fav bsides - Like It (this really reminds me of another song but I can’t think of what it is. I think it’s a kpop song but I’m not sure) and Sweet Misery. I liked most of the bsides

Over the Rainbow - Hi-Fi Un!corn - 10/10

WICKED LOVE - YENA [Prerelease] - 5/10

Hate Rodrigo - YENA feat. YUQI - 10/10 - a yena and yuqi collab? That’s everything

Dive Into - Han Seungwoo - 6/10 - I would’ve picked runnin high as the title track ~ fav bsides - Burn and Runnin’ High

4:ever - 24 o’clock - 9/10

Summer Love - Kim Areum - 5/10

odd eye - YU YEON WOO - 9/10

EXCEL - 8TURN - 6/10 ~ fav bside - ING

2017 - Park So Eun - 10/10 - idk this artist but these songs were so good! I like the vibe of her songs ~ fav bside - 2:13 and I liked all of the songs

Party Tonight - U-KISS - 9/10 ➕

The Wonderful Escape - U-KISS - 8/10

House on a Hill - Eric Nam - 10/10

Small Talk - Kim Sung Kyu - 6/10 ~ fav bside - It Will Be. I liked Sometimes too

Signal - Rocking doll Roa - 5/10

OVERDRIVE - WEi - 9/10

GRL GVNG - XG - 4/10

Hear Me Out - EXO [Prerelease] - 5/10

[oppvenuz4456]

Event Anchors for New Year Celebrations: Building Memorable Experiences

The New Year is a global celebration marked by joy, reflection, and aspirations for the year ahead. Amid the festivities, event anchors play a pivotal role in orchestrating seamless and memorable experiences. Whether it’s a grand fireworks display, a countdown party, or a cultural showcase, the anchor’s energy, adaptability, and presence can transform an event into a remarkable celebration.

 Visit For More Info Oppvenuz.com

The Role of Event Anchors

Event anchors are the heartbeat of any celebration. They serve as the bridge between the audience and the event’s itinerary, ensuring that everything flows smoothly while keeping attendees engaged. During New Year’s Eve, when emotions run high and expectations are soaring, a skilled anchor becomes even more crucial.

Connecting with the Audience

An effective anchor knows how to connect with a diverse audience. They understand the cultural nuances, energy levels, and expectations of the crowd, creating a sense of unity and shared anticipation.

Whether addressing a live audience or a virtual one, their tone, language, and expressions should resonate with attendees, building excitement as the clock ticks closer to midnight.

Setting the Tone

The anchor’s energy sets the tone for the entire event. A New Year’s celebration often combines excitement, nostalgia, and hope. Balancing these emotions through the right words and actions can elevate the audience’s experience.

For instance, incorporating anecdotes or motivational quotes can inspire attendees as they reflect on the past year and look forward to the next.

Preparing for the Role

To be a successful event anchor, preparation is key. Here’s how anchors can gear up for their New Year’s role:

Understand the Event Theme

New Year’s events come in various forms: glitzy galas, family-friendly gatherings, cultural showcases, or community countdowns. Anchors should familiarize themselves with the event’s theme to align their script and energy accordingly.

Craft a Dynamic Script

A well-crafted script provides structure while allowing room for improvisation. It should include:

A warm welcome and icebreaker.

Segues between performances or activities.

Countdown segments that build anticipation.

Closing remarks with a call to action or wish for the year ahead.

Practice Timing

Timing is everything, especially during a New Year’s countdown. Anchors should rehearse transitions and ensure they’re perfectly in sync with the event’s schedule.

Key Traits of Exceptional Event Anchors

The best event anchors share common traits that make them stand out:

Charisma

A captivating stage presence draws the audience in. Charismatic anchors use their voice, expressions, and body language to command attention and maintain engagement.

Adaptability

Live events are unpredictable. An anchor must be quick on their feet, adapting to technical glitches, unexpected delays, or shifts in the audience’s mood.

Empathy

Empathy helps anchors connect on a deeper level. Understanding the audience’s emotions—whether it’s joy, nostalgia, or hope—allows them to tailor their approach for maximum impact.

Engaging the Audience

Keeping the audience engaged throughout a New Year’s event requires creativity and interaction:

Interactive Segments

Encourage audience participation through games, quizzes, or social media challenges.

For example, ask attendees to share their resolutions or favorite memories of the past year via a hashtag, and highlight a few during the event.

Storytelling

Share compelling stories that resonate with the theme of reflection and renewal. Personal anecdotes or uplifting tales can evoke emotions and keep the audience captivated.

Humor and Lightheartedness

A touch of humor can lighten the atmosphere and make the event more enjoyable. However, it’s important to gauge the audience and maintain appropriateness.

The Countdown Moment

The highlight of any New Year’s celebration is the countdown. This moment demands precision, energy, and enthusiasm from the anchor:

Build Anticipation

Use music, visuals, and audience cues to build excitement as the final seconds of the year tick away.

Encourage audience participation with synchronized claps, chants, or cheers.

Deliver the Countdown

Count down from 10 with infectious energy, ensuring everyone feels involved in the moment.

Use dramatic pauses or emphasize key numbers to heighten the thrill.

Celebrate the New Year

Lead the audience in cheering, toasting, or embracing the first moments of the new year. A heartfelt wish or message can leave a lasting impression.

Conclusion

Event anchors are instrumental in shaping unforgettable New Year’s celebrations. Through preparation, adaptability, and a genuine connection with the audience, they ensure the event’s success and leave attendees with cherished memories. As we welcome another year, let’s appreciate the skill and dedication of these unsung heroes who make every New Year’s Eve a night to remember.

[amanrathour]

Experience the Magic of Master Band: Top Band For Wedding in Delhi

Introduction:

Marriage is a very special and lifetime memorable day for more than just a husband and wife but for two whole families altogether. From the perspective of organizing a wedding that reflects unforgettable moments and memories come alive with the experience of the grand event through the captured pictures and videos of joy when marriage day is taken care of by Master Band which is among the top wedding bands in Delhi.

The lengthy process of detailing the perfection is challenging, considering there are numerous decisions which impact the overall experience of guests and hosts, and also there are many significant choices to be made and aspects to be acknowledged that have to be coordinated altogether as one tangible experience. When you’re getting ready for the big day, picking out the perfect wedding bands in Delhi is a key decision as well. You want the rhythm of the music to set the tone for a party and make the surrounding heartbeats sync to the dancing vibes which are extremely contagious and make you smile in the future when you think about it. If you are looking for a magic wand to compose musical art like Mozart and make that dream wedding come to life’s limelight where everyone is dissolved in the moment of happiness and joy and wishing it to last a bit longer? Master Band is your go-to for an unforgettable celebration in Delhi. Book early for higher availability chances and a promised unforgettable experience on the day of marriage.

What Sets Master Band Apart?

Master Band isn’t just another ordinary wedding band in Delhi, we are a standout leader in the field and famous for our top-notch services and unmatched skill plus our experience of hosting close to 2500 events in Delhi makes us the most preferred choice. We’ve made a name for ourselves by going above and beyond expectations to make weddings extraordinary and full of bright-coloured memories lasting a lifetime, earning us the title of the best wedding band in Delhi. Here’s what makes Master Band a class apart and above the rest:

1. All-in-One Wedding Solutions: Get everything you need for your big day with Master Band’s full suite of wedding offerings. From setting the stage with live music to lighting up the venue to even magical fireworks for that remarkable and genuine wow factor, you’re all set with Master Band to make it happen.

2. Cultural Flair: Vibe with Delhi’s traditional spirit of unconditional joy with Master Band’s holistic wedding services, where hosts make a grand entrance on a wedding Ghori, wedding Baggi which adds an authentic touch during the turban tying ceremony and delights your guests with the sweet sounds of the shehnai and Tasha music party.

3. Memorable Moments: Master Band is dedicated to making your wedding moments truly extraordinary by keeping a keen eye on detail to excellent experiences. Imagine the romance which can be felt in the warmth of your heart during a rose petal shower or the excitement of live folk dances on the auspicious day of your marriage anniversary.

4. Decorative Delights: Transform your wedding space into something from a fairytale with Master Band’s stunning light and wedding decoration services. From eye-catching welcome signs to royal wedding carriages and beautifully outfitted band uniforms, making your wedding be a feast for the eyes as an everlasting all-flavoured candy.

5. Trailblazing Entertainment: Keep your wedding trendy and memorable with Master Band’s contemporary entertainment and recording options capturing flower chhattar, and covered baggi with a real flower roof surrounded by familiar smiles. Our digital video photography service is skilled at capturing all joy highlighting moments, every laugh, tear, and dance move to be beautifully captured for you to cherish forever.

Why Choose the Master Band for Your Wedding?

When it comes to choosing the top wedding band in Delhi, Master Band stands as the best because we meet each and every demand at a reasonable price. Also, here are some more reasons why Master Band should be your first go-to-choice for crafting unforgettable wedding services in the capital of India:

Reliability: You can hands down count on Master Band to be dependable and professional in delivering an unforgettable wedding experience, making sure your wedding goes smoothly from the first moment to the last second.

Personalized Service: Master Band knows every couple is different and wishes for a unique marriage, so we make sure to provide customizable services that are just right for what you want and always dreamt of for your big day in life.

Attention to Detail: Master Band doesn’t miss a thing and is renowned for perfection. We magnify focus on every tiny aspect and crucial part of your wedding to make sure everything is just perfect and wonderful.

Legacy of Excellence: Master Band has a long history of making weddings special by entertaining 350+ marriages in Delhi, 2650+ parties and playing our in-demand music 18000+ times. We’re known for our top-notch services and have made a lot of couples and their families smile ear to ear throughout the marriage effortlessly.

Conclusion:

Your wedding is a super important day of your life and making it highly memorable makes it come to life each year when the marriage anniversary arrives is a dream of every couple. We at Mater Band know that you deserve the very best and that is why we provide top marriage services and are known as the best wedding band in Delhi. If you are looking for the best wedding band in Delhi then choosing Master Band means your big day will be amazing, full of excitement, glamour and picture-perfect smiles all around the marriage atmosphere. Book the top wedding band in Delhi i.e Master Band and make the wedding ceremony create memories worth remembering life-long.

[yoongsisbae]

BTS (as holidays)

Because I’m feeling nostalgic

Jungkook is Halloween. A fright followed by sweet laughter and a hug and kiss to raise your heartbeat even higher. Late nights out prowling the darkness, because it’s just you and him while the world is asleep. You happiness can scream, because you’re not scared to show your love for each other under the black of night. He grabs you by the waist walking down a dark alley, pulls you into a spin under the stars, and you screech in a fit of giggles. His lips are as sweet as candy, his touches make you shiver. He kisses all your fears away, smiles devilishly against your mouth. “Boo, I love you.”

Taehyung is New Year’s Eve. The rush of anticipation courses through your veins when he holds you in his arms. His smile is as bright as fireworks, eyes twinkling when he looks down at you. He hugs you tight in the cold night air after drinks, arms running up and down your shoulders in loving gesture to warm you, but his lips work even better at the task. Taehyung’s love feels new every single day, you’ll never get tired of the fire behind his kisses. He bellows out your name followed by, “I love you!” You grab his outstretched arms hurriedly, shushing him, laughing, not really caring about the scene he makes. He’s too mesmerizing, makes you feel special, younger. He holds you tight, moving in a dance and you follow shyly, letting him twirl you. He asks you if you trust him and your lips curve into a smile. 3, 2, 1…

Jimin is Valentine’s Day. You’re enamored, wondering how is there so much love in one man alone? Affection in his smile, his soft voice, his loving eyes, so much love. A fuzzy blanket full of warmth on a February morning, your favorite drink steaming next to you, his body snuggled against your back asking if you're okay. A day in the park, drinking and laughing, fingers woven together, his chin on your shoulder, singing you a soft song in your ear. A night out in fancy clothes, food beautifully presented and tasting so good, his hand on your thigh, his chin tilted towards you, a grin so wide and laughter so sweet. Every day, it’s love.

Namjoon is Chuseok. So thankful you found each other, Namjoon feels like the family you’ve always wanted. He envelopes you in his arms, appreciative for every moment that had to occur to bring you and him together, a serendipitous encounter blooming into a love stronger than anything you’ve ever felt before. You feel lucky to have him, on days you sit shoulder to shoulder working on different projects but still enjoying each other’s company, even on gloomy days when the branches of your love grow wilted leaves, his roots are strong enough to keep you grounded. He cherishes you, lays soft kisses upon your knuckles, a devoted man. He takes you to the top of a summit to look out at the coppery landscape, the sight makes you think of your place in the world, how you belong by his side. He kisses your forehead, whispers “Thank you, baby,” and bends down, landing on one knee...

Hoseok is Holi. When you see him, life once dull becomes injected with vividness. Instantaneous, love-at-first-sight, bright smiles, loud laughter, hands unable to keep to themselves, an infatuation with each other that burns white hot fire through your veins. Two very different beings, North and South poles, a magnetic love that has you conjoined at the hip, wanting to spend every waking moment together. You live in a technicolor state of happiness, blossoming emotions that makes you want to cheer and dance. His thumb drags across your skin, a kaleidoscope of sensations erupts as your bodies press together. A love bite, hearts beating in sync, a cheeky smile that colors your world. You’re falling hard already, captivated by everything he does, every touch he gives you. Your feelings are only just blooming, yet, the result, will become the most beautiful sight ever witnessed.

Yoongi is Lunar New Year. He was always there, until he wasn’t, and then you both realized what you needed was in front of you all along, a new beginning to a story, one that speaks not only of friendship, but of love. A new phase, a new chapter, and new shift in feelings. A love letter written, read out loud softly with eyed cast down, giving him courage to say all the things he wanted to tell you for so long. Your heart glows, sparking with each brave confession. Your best friend, your north star, your guiding light, your only regret was not seeing it sooner. You left your answer on his cheek, a red lip print. Tomorrow, everything will be better, now that he knew you loved him too.

Seokjin is Christmas. His presence is all you need, nothing fancy, just pajamas and socks in the kitchen, singing to songs like two carolers, a pair of lovebirds nesting for the winter. Cooking together as a couple, the oven heat warms the household, but it’s his laughter that provides the real warmth, Seokjin’s sweetness could melt the iciest snow. He makes you laugh, moves around you laying a hand on your hip, and you look at him from the corner of your eye and joy fills your heart. He catches your eyes and winks and the thought crosses your mind, “I could marry this man.” He leans over you to watch you chop, guiding your hand expertly, cozy against you. He lets you take the first taste, fixated on your reaction. You light up, cheerful and bright, egging him on to try it too. He doesn’t show his worry, qualms that it…he…might not be good enough, only smirks and raises his brow as if to say, of course it’s perfect, we made it together, and together we are miraculous.

[masterlist|as kisses|as drinks]

[fishstyx]

sloppy.

featuring. nagito komaeda x gn!reader

wc. 0.8k

genre. smut

tw. nsfw, oral, penetration, praise kink, creampie, overstimulation

synopsis. he just can’t get enough of you. even if it means overstimulating himself. even if it means cumming until you overflow.

Nagito never lasts that long in bed.

He can’t help it; the sight of your body writhing in pleasure beneath his own sweltering frame sets off fireworks inside him. And your face—he could never bring himself to take you from behind if it meant missing out on that beautiful face, twisted lewd beyond recognition under his hungered touch. He lives to see you gasp for air as he pistons his length in and out of your quivering hole, always wanting, always needing more. But he feels so bad when he lets loose inside you—filling you with his seed before you’re anywhere close to your high—that he always manages to get it up again. 

He tends to his softened member alone as he sucks your most sensitive spots with greed, lapping your juices up, taking in what you graciously give. It’s always been this way, his head bobbing along your arousal, the vibrations of his aimless humming spurring you on. You push him down by the head, seeking a higher pleasure; he welcomes the pressure with wide arms, overjoyed that you want him that way and that bad. 

Before you know it the head of his pale pink cock is up and running and rutting against you, smearing your thighs in a new coat of shiny precum, and you have to remind him of what he should really be bucking his hips into. The way you spread your pretty pink entrance for him almost brings a tear to his eye, but he knows how much you hate it when he pities himself, so he focuses all his energy on thanking you.

“Haaah, you’re so good to me,” he sighs contently as he sinks inside you, lack of stamina audible in his groggy tone. Through half lidded eyes he drinks in the bliss written in your knitted brows and parted lips as he waits for you to adjust... And then he realizes that you already have. Like maybe he’s already molded your twitching hole in the shape of his hardened cock, curve and all. The two of you go at it so often that it’s certainly plausible, and the minute chance that it’s even a possibility makes him burn with desire.

“Thank you, thank you thank you thank you,” he babbles when your walls close down on him, as if trying to milk his dick dry. He continues to hump you like you’re his favorite toy, hugging you close as if you’ll slip through his fingers if he’s not careful enough. Every time he pulls out a little, he’s mesmerized by the ring of cream that forms at the foot of his shaft. In no time flat he falls off his rhythm, too desperate and too needy to sync with you properly. 

But who’s really to blame here when you have your hands laced behind his neck as he fucks you into the mattress, pathetic attempts at his name: “Ko, Komae—nngh!,” bubbling over your lips before you have to start all over again?

“Shh, shh, let me take care of you,” he says, hoisting one leg over his shoulder, followed by the other. You gasp when you manage to take him even deeper, and he takes your hand in his when the delicious stretch has you digging into the bedsheets. “My hope, you’re taking me so well, better than anyone else ever could.” Fingers interlaced, his breathy groans harmonize with the lewd noises of your messy hole sucking him in, and the satisfying smack of his balls as they slap against your skin. 

With the brutal pace he’s going at, it’s no surprise when he cums again, milky white coating swathing your insides in warmth. Too early, too soon—but then again, this happens all the time. He keeps himself stuffed inside you as he leans down for a kiss, hungry lips chasing after yours. Trembling like a leaf, you moan into his mouth when he thumbs at your nipples, rubbing tight little circles. The two of you stay like that for a while, lost in each other’s proximity and the sharing of one breath, until he stiffens again. 

You know what they say: third time’s the charm.

With the help of his sloppy slick, Nagito sends you over the edge this time, letting you gush all over him as he fucks you through your orgasm. “K-Komaeda, it feels so good!” you cry, rewarding him with the call of his name and a clear view of your fucked-out face. Your pliant hole spasms as he continues his thrusting, rendered frictionless from all the liquid that has yet to ooze out of you.

He struggles to catch his breath as he spills inside you one last time, a panting mess even as he pulls his flushed cockhead out of you with a pop. A trail of cum leaks from your gaping hole and you can’t help but be amazed by just how much there is. It dribbles from between your legs and onto the sheets, soaking everything in its path. Nagito nuzzles into your back, arms wrapped around you, heightened heartbeat but a gentle thud against you as the entire world stills. Body melting into yours, he breathes in your scent, ignoring the dull ache in his sensitive member entirely.

“My everything,” he whispers weakly, totally and utterly enchanted. “You did amazing.”

fishstyx © 2021 ✸ all content and their rights belong to me. do not repost, reproduce, or modify anywhere.

[pleasantanathema]

Pairing: Tetsurō Kuroo x Fem!Reader

Rating: Explicit (18+ only)

Warnings: Consensual non-con (reader and Kuroo have agreed together to engage in a consensual non-consensual situation), degradation, rough sex, dirty talk, biting, choking, hair pulling, mentions of blood, spit, and smoking cigarettes

Word Count: 6k

A/N: This is a collab piece for the The Smut Pile Mafia Collab hosted by myself, @present-mel, and @linestrider​

You can find all the other wonderfully creative and smutty pieces on our masterlist!

And thank you @present-mel​ for this beautiful banner 💕

           Kuroo always took pride seeing you on stage, especially when you wore those provocative gowns that he bought for you. He sat back in his chair, one arm crossed across his chest while the other nursed a glass of bourbon to his lips. Tonight, you were more sensual than he’d seen you before, your hands cupped around the microphone, hips swaying as you sang. You were a harpy culling her crowd. The designer dress was dripping from your curves, every seam crafted to hug your body. He couldn’t keep his eyes off your waist, couldn’t keep his eyes off the high cut of the slit that exposed the smooth flesh of your thigh. He knew every man in that room was doing the same, all of them lost to the delirium of melody, but none of them got to have you like he did.

           You never asked for the dresses, or the shoes, or the pearls, or his favorite color of lipstick; no, you never asked for anything, his seductive little songbird. But you always said thank you, a peculiar glint in your eyes that he knew you saved only for him.

           His station in life as the leader of the Nekoma Mafia allotted him any woman he wanted in Tokyo—and he had plenty of playthings, but you? You were his favorite. You always fucked him like you loved him, let him do anything he pleased and still begged for more. But then you’d always let him go; there was no pleading, no big eyes and pouty lips begging him to stay the night. You let him be who he was, let him do whatever the fuck he wanted to, never asked where he was or what he did or who he killed, and it was your indifference to him that kept him coming back.

          He wanted to make you beg for him to stay, but tonight, he wanted you to beg for him to stop.

         Your voice rang in his head unconnected to the lyrics you were singing.

         You can force me to fuck you any time you want, Tetsurō—god his name sounded good in your mouth, even in his thoughts—surprise me one night. I’ll say no, I’ll fight back, but only stop if I say our safeword.

         The two of you had this conversation a few months ago and, at the time, he hadn’t thought much of it, still too blissed out after fucking your face underneath his desk. You’d still been swallowing his cum when he mentioned how he liked to take control of you like that, all rough hands and violent kisses that left bruises even on your cheeks where he had pulled you in to suck his cock.

          But now, after too many weeks of being away from you on business, he’d had a lot of time for the exchange to settle into ruminations. He came here tonight with the full intention of forcing himself onto you after you stepped off that stage, and the image in his mind alone was enough to have him resituating his aching cock in his trousers.

__________________________________

          Of course you spotted him in the crowd. He was unmistakable, black hair simmering beyond the heat of the stage lights. You couldn’t help but keep your eyes on him for a little too long at moments, excitement curling inside your belly.

          You hated to admit to yourself that you’d missed him, that you’d been looking for him within the throngs of people every night, just hoping to catch a glimpse of golden eyes and a loosened tie in his usual spot in the back of the nightclub.

          And there he was, eyeing you down like a predator would his prey, a grin so cavalier and catlike it made you shiver. The sleeves of his white dress shirt were already rolled up like he was prepared to sink his fingers into you at any moment.

          It was hard to focus on your set, hard to keep your attention on other members in the crowd. Your hands were sweating and you were glued to the microphone out of fear that, if you let go, you’d wander right off the stage and into his lap. It was an agonizing, and quite titillating, half hour of singing.

          You made a beeline to your dressing room in the back after taking a bow and blowing a few kisses, foregoing mingling at the bar with patrons. You needed to wash your hands, you needed to take a breath before you went out to see him, before you hurriedly texted him to come meet you.

          But he was already there, a fresh cigarette between thumb and forefinger as he lounged against the doorframe to your room.

         “Hey, kitten, been a while.”

          His voice had your hair standing on end, made you stumble in your stride.

         “Tetsurō,” a smile pulled at your cheeks, “you’re in my way.”

         “I would say give me a password, but I suppose a kiss will do.”

          You stood before him, plucking the cigarette from his fingers and pressing it to your lips for a drag. Your weight shifted to one heeled foot, your eyes never leaving his as you took a long inhale of the menthol and tobacco, the cherry of the cigarette growing hot.

          He reached for you, pulling you against him so his lips could capture the smoke, drinking in the taste. You both groaned at the contact, a voltaic hum syncing your bodies together. His lips were forceful, commanding, taking the lead and easily prying yours apart for him to explore the familiar home of your mouth. The action felt natural, but you could sense there was something unknown pent up inside of him.

          Your free hand fumbled with the doorknob behind him, the other holding the ashen cigarette at a safe distance away.

         “Mhm, did you miss me?” he mumbled against your lips, hand trailing down the satin of your dress to trace the slit at your thigh. Long, nimble fingers curled up to find your panties.

         “Not very much,” you were being cheeky, but he didn’t have to catch that.

         “Oh yea? Your pussy tells me otherwise.”

          A sharp moan erupted from your throat as his middle finger pressed against the dampness of your panties, his forefinger following and circling against your clit.

          “Fuck—get, get in the room,” you breathed, finally getting purchase on the knob and shoving him and his greedy hands into your dressing room.

           Kuroo snatched the cigarette back from your hand, taking in a pull before smothering it into the ashtray on the vanity built into the wall.

           You stood before the mirror, catching a flash of him moving behind you. You felt hot, a little overwhelmed, and you weren’t sure if it was the heat from the bulbs that lined the edges of your dressing table, or if it was his presence making you edgy.

          His hands were back on your hips as you removed your earrings and set them onto the table. His fingers were eager, one hand ghosting up your body to slide down the strap of your dress so he could kiss and suck at your neck and shoulder.

          “Shame you didn’t miss me,” there was a tonal shift in his voice, the timbre deeper, darker, “cause I sure did miss that pretty little mouth of yours.”

          His fingers dug into your jaw, roughly pulling your face to the side so he could nip at the corner of your lips.

         “Easy,” you warned, pressing your elbow back against him to get some space.

         “Easy? Oh kitten, there will be no easy, tonight. I haven’t had you in weeks, and I’m taking what I want.”

          Realization washed over you after a few heartbeats. You grinned against the fingers pressing into your cheeks, knowing and delighted.

          “Sorry, Tetsurō,” you added a vile bite to his name as you pulled your face from his grip, “I’m not interested tonight.”

         “Not interested?” he sneered, that wild, feline smirk back in its place.

          He was still behind you, pressing up against your back with fingers digging into the flesh of your thigh. He eyed you through the mirror. He looked menacing behind you, amber eyes narrowed and glowing within the reflection of yellow lights. You’d almost forgotten how big he was; his broad body dwarfed yours, meaty shoulders caging around you, strong, round biceps curling underneath your arms as he encircled you in a tight embrace. You were drawn to the moving hand on your leg, the entirety of his palm almost eclipsing your thigh as desirous fingers once again crept towards your pussy.

          “You should leave,” you meant for the words to sound serious, but there was clearly an underlying, breathy want within your voice.

          “Absolutely not,” he sunk his teeth into the juncture of your shoulder and neck, groaning at the taste of your skin, “I came here for you.”

           You held back your moan, struggling within his hold. Your hands flew over his, one on your thigh, the other on your stomach, bidding to pry off his ironclad fingers.

          “Get off me.”

           He only pulled you deeper into him, his grip tighter, teeth harsher. You winced at the pain of his bite. You struggled again, panting as you found no fruition to your efforts. God he was strong, and he was barely using any of his power to hold you.

           You stepped a heeled foot onto his, jamming the stiletto into the leather of his shoe. He hissed and shoved you forward, sending your hips to knock into the edge of the vanity.

           “I said get off me!”

           You thought he’d hesitate, that he would take a moment to see if you really meant it, but you were mistaken.

           He was into the game now.

          “I like it when you’re feisty, kitten.”

           You turned around to say something, but he was already on you, already one step ahead. The moment you turned, he had you in his arms, using his strength to lift you up onto the hot vanity.

          “Tetsurō—!”

          “Oh, shut up, you little slut, I know you want me, there’s no need to hide it.”

           His hands were on your legs, in your dress. Too easily he tore at the fabric, the threads snapping like crackling fireworks against your skin. You gasped, pressing your hands against his shoulders, pushing at him with a genuine amount of strength to which he didn’t budge.

           “Fuck, you can’t just—”

           “Yes, I fucking can,” he scoffed, continuing to tear at the seam that lined the side of your gown, “don’t forget who spoils you.”

           “Yea, a fucking mob boss,” you slighted, digging your nails into his wrist as if that would stop him.

            He slapped your left cheek, hard, quick, like the fast swipe of a panther swatting at restless prey. Your neck swung to the side and you moaned, deep and strained from your chest. Your face throbbed, blood welling under your smarting skin like it was trying to figure out what happened and how to dull the pain, even though the pain was blossoming into pleasure.

            “I’m someone who could end your life any time I want to, kitten. I can either hunt you down here or somewhere else, so I suggest you stop fighting.”

           The gown was finally tugged from your body, and what was left of its shape fell down to your sides, the fabric caught underneath where you sat on the vanity.

           With his hands free, he cradled your face, palms engulfing your cheeks. He forced you to look up at him. When you did, it brought you back to reality. He appeared wicked, enthralled, you could practically see thoughts churning inside his mind like the inner workings of a clock—he always was too smart for his own good, or, perhaps, for your own good. Your irises danced over the handsome planes of his face, over the feline curve of his eyes, over the full lips that you truly had missed feeling against yours. But you held yourself back; if he wanted to force you, you’d damn well let him.

           “You’re mine, all mine.”

           “No, I’m not yours. You don’t own me.”

           His thumb caught to the edge of your lips, keeping them parted.

          “Oh kitten,” he purred, sucking his tongue back into his mouth.

           Your heart began to race as you heard a swish.

           He spit down onto you, a slow, viscous string of saliva dripping from his mouth onto yours where he kept your lips pried open.

           “I do own you.”

            You tried to turn your face, but his hold was firm, keeping you from avoiding his territorial marking.

            “Stop,” your voice was weak.

            “Drink it all up like a good little girl.”

             He shoved himself between your thighs, getting even closer as he watched your eyebrows furrow while you obediently licked your tongue along your lips, gathering his saliva to gulp down.

             He groaned aloud at the sight, smashing his mouth down on to yours, wet and messy from spit. You didn’t kiss him back. You kept pressing back against his shoulders, trying to pull one of your knees up between your bodies to push him away, but he was quick. One of his hands snatched your thigh, roughly pressing it back down against the table to keep you in place. His mouth still worked against yours, hungry and ferocious, taking from you even though you weren’t giving anything back.

           You needed to do something before you gave into him, before you wrapped your arms around him and spoiled the fun. He was intoxicating, especially with one of his hands drifting around your back to unhook your bra with ease.

           One of your hands slid to his loosened tie, fingers entangling in the red fabric. You tugged, hard, attempting to force his mouth away from yours; he merely chuckled, continuing to pull at your own clothing, a little too effortlessly removing the cups of your bra from your breasts.

           As cool air swept over your exposed nipples, you shivered and groaned, attempting to swat away the strong hand reaching to grope one of them.

           You bit his greedy mouth, sharp and quick, catching his bottom lip between one of your canine teeth. He reacted immediately, shoving your head back against the mirror so harshly that a thick crack burst into the reflective glass.

           “Fuck!” it was both of your voices shouting together, you cupping your aching skull and Kuroo fingering his busted lip.

           “God you fucking bitch, you’ll pay for that.”

           Blood was slick down his chin, the plump flesh of his lip noticeably pierced and split.

           Your instincts were telling you to apologize, but you kept them at bay, choosing instead to take the moment to attempt to dash around his side towards the locked door. The remnants of your ruined dress fell to the floor as you quickly stood from the vanity, feet nearly tripping over one another in your heels.

           “Oh no you don’t!” He caught your upper arm, swinging your helpless body back towards his. The severity of his motions had your legs buckling underneath you, your balance completely lost. He caught you before you hit the floor, keeping his arms tight around your nearly naked body as he maneuvered you to where he wanted you.

           “Tetsurō,” your fingers were clawing into his forearms, feet dragging against the hardwood as he wrangled you to stand in front of him, “let me go.”

           You were startled to see yourself in the mirror, having already forgotten your nakedness. You both looked disheveled, wild, his normally pristine shirt wrinkled, the white collar soaking up the drippings of blood from his mouth. You had bite marks on your neck, dark and glaring against your skin, your breasts shaking as you struggled against his encroaching arms—it was sensual, to watch yourself wrestle against him, to see his smoldering eyes watching you just as intently in the mirror. You caught a glimpse of your panties, the rustling of your bodies against one another having pushed the fabric higher on your hips, and deeper within your sopping folds.

           One of Kuroo’s hands settled around your throat, using his fist as an anchor to keep your body still. His grip was harsh, fingertips solid but dormant against the sides of your neck, but there was the lingering threat that all he had to do was twist, squeeze, or press, and you’d never sing again, perhaps never leave this room again.

           “Do you know what normally happens to people who fight me?” he tilted your neck back in his hold, bringing your ear closer to his mouth.

           Your eyes stared at him through the reflection, your attention not leaving his face even as his free hand began to stroll across your body, fingertips tracing figure-eights on your stomach, climbing toward your breasts.

           “Answer me when I speak to you, slut.”

           “N-no,” it was hard to gulp underneath his palm, saliva pooling against your tongue, “I don’t know…”

           “Oh yes you do, you just don’t like thinking about it.”

           You could feel him smirk against your ear, see the catlike grin spreading like wildfire in the mirror.

           He groped your breast, fingers brutal against your sensitive skin, pressing into the fatty flesh with unbridled possessiveness. It was painful, making your back arch away from the touch and into his chest. But it was stimulating all the same, your nipple hardening and beckoning to be pinched, tugged, owned by his hand.

           “I kill the people who displease me, kitten,” he disclosed, admiring how large his hand looked against your breast as he kneaded your flesh. His knuckles were scattered with bruises, ring finger still forming a fresh scab from a recent altercation that required his fist. His skin looked barbaric compared to yours, scars and bruises against a fresh, smooth body.

           He captured your nipple, wringing it between thumb and forefinger. Your whine was stopped by his hand, trapped within your vocal cords and unable to emerge under his grip.

           “I could kill you so easily…” there was a pleasured grumble within his voice, bloodied mouth now kissing at the column of your neck between his spread fingers, “does that turn you on?”

           You tried to shake your head, your hands pushing at both of his forearms in an attempt to free yourself. He only clutched onto you more tightly, your nipple now stinging from pain, your vision blurring from the decreased oxygen to your brain.

           There was a panic brewing in your belly that you didn’t expect, true fear creeping up your spine. You knew you could mutter out your safeword and he would stop...or at least, so you thought. He looked lost within the mirror, bloodstained face almost drunk with power, his cock hard and nudging between your ass cheeks. He was getting high from this, and while you could feel a craving gnawing inside of you to give yourself up to him, there was also an edge of reality still pressing into your thoughts. Kuroo was dangerous, and if he wasn’t careful, if he crushed into your windpipe just a little too hard, and he’d have a mess on his hands, a dead plaything to throw in the dumpster behind the nightclub.

           “Do you know how many mouthy whores I’ve had to get rid of? I’ve learned it’s so easy to snap pretty little necks,” his fist grew tighter around your throat to emphasize his point.

           “Don’t say things like that,” you gasped, nails nearly tearing into the skin of his wrist.

           His hand released your breast, your skin hot and burning from his harsh ministrations. But the reprieve was brief, his fingers snaking down your body and into your panties. You jerked your hips backwards to avoid his touch, only to find yourself grinding against the fat cock straining against his pants.

           “I think you like what I’m saying,” he emphasized his words by running the pad of his index finger over your clit, your body shivering at his touch. He laughed in your ear, pressing his hips firmly against your body as you struggled to get out of his hold.

           His fingers were ruthless. He spread you apart, sliding between your shamefully dripping folds with quick ease. His palm was cupped against your sex, thumb shoved directly against your clit as the other long digits prodded your tight hole. You tried to clamp your legs shut, but his hand was more durable than you expected. There was no physical way you could wiggle yourself out of this situation, and that realization alone had a concoction of panic and pleasure toiling inside your belly.

           You bit your lip to stop the moans from bubbling out of your mouth.

           You’d always loved his fingers; they were long, thick, perfect for curling inside you and finding that fleshy patch against your inner walls that had you shaking and panting. Two of them pushed inside of you, your panties ruined and forgotten against your thigh. He wasn’t gentle. Each move of his hand was a satisfying jab into your pussy, jolts of hard pleasure racing up your spine. And his thumb was just as merciless. He twirled it in tight circles across your sensitive clit, the bliss turning hot under your skin.

           “Stop, stop, please stop, it’s too much!”

           He knew the words were a lie, he could tell by how your legs were shaking.

           You were Kuroo’s favorite instrument to play, he knew your melodies of ecstasy by heart. You might be able to cull him with that siren’s voice of yours, but he could string you along no other man could.

           Your slick was dripping against his fingers now, each squelching push of his fingers had you pressing farther into him. His cock was nestled perfectly between your ass cheeks and each convulsion of your body, every clenching, stimulated him just as much.

           “Fuck, no, no, you have to stop, Tetsuroō, please!”

           “Shut. Up.”

           His hand squeezed tighter around your throat, your eyelids fluttering at the increased loss of vision as your oxygen flow waned.

           Kuroo watched you in the mirror, watched how your stomach was tightening, your thighs clamping together, knees buckling together from his invasive touch. You could see him watching you behind your closing lids, could see his smirk growing like a weed in a garden.

           You felt his fingers begin to curve inside of you, wrist twisting to get the perfect angle. You were gasping, trying to catch short breaths beneath his hand before your inevitable fall.

           “T-tet—”

           You came hard and fast, the pleasure so blinding that you slumped within his hold, knees dropping to where the only thing holding your body up were his hands. Your cunt was aching, now cinching his fingers inside of you almost painfully. You cried out, sobbing at the intensity of it all, tears pricking at your lashes. Your body was humming, buzzing, almost like you’d left your skin and were hovering above your body in a cloud of euphoria.

           He kept pushing his fingers inside of you, thumb never ceasing against your clit.

           “Stop! Stop!” you were screaming it a little too loud now, if someone were to walk by your dressing room, they’d hear you. Kuroo’s hand flew to your mouth, finally giving your neck a reprieve from his monstrous grip. You exhaled shakily into his palm, your body calming down as his hand between your thighs came to a halt.

           “I’m not stopping, kitten. No one could stop me now. I think your filthy little body is finally warmed up enough for my cock, what do you think?” his voice was husky against your ear, breath fanning into your hair.

           “N-no! Anything but that, please don’t, Tetsuroō, please, I’m sorry!”

           Your words were muffled against his palm, tears now streaming into his hand.

           You didn’t expect that you could actually get yourself to cry—were you truly scared? Or had you fallen deeper into your role than you expected?

           Kuroo paid your sounds little mind.

           Your body was weak as he pushed you forward, hand releasing your face to grab the back of your head as he pressed your face into the vanity. Your legs were shaking, wobbly within your heels with your ass pressed into the air like this, your hands flat against the counter. You took a few moments to take deep breaths, your eyes focusing on the table. The ashtray was still lightly smoking from the half-smoked cigarette that had been shoved into it, your lipstick and earrings appearing like lost treasures drifting upon a sea out before you.

           You heard the clinking of Kuroo’s belt buckle behind you, felt his hand secure itself into your hair, keeping your face smashed against the vanity’s surface.

           Then his other hand was on your ass, kneading your flesh before smacking the rounded flesh. You winced, hissing between your teeth.

           “You’re a worthless whore, I don’t know why I even bother with you anymore.”

           That jab stung more than your smarting ass cheek.

           You whimpered, closing your eyes as you felt his hand pull at your panties, once again shifting them to the side so he could access your weeping pussy, already spent from your first orgasm.

           “Mhm, I can’t wait to see you cry when you're stuffed with my cock.”

           “Stop this, please. I’ll do anything else you want, I-I swear!”

           You felt the hot tip of his cock press against your folds, gathering your slick against his heated skin. You tried to angle your hips away, but Kuroo drew the back of your panties up into his fist, using them like reins to keep you in place.

           “I don’t think you understand, kitten. This is what I want.”

           He shoved his cock ruthlessly inside of you, the sharp pain of being spread racing across your nerves. You cried out, mouth hanging open against the cold countertop as his cock speared into your insides. But that pain quickly morphed into pleasure, his hips snapping up against yours with a ferocity that had moans spilling from your mouth even as you tried to stop them.

           Your body was bouncing from his actions, ass slapping against his unbuttoned slacks as he pounded inside of you. There would surely be cum stains against the threads once he was done.

           “Such a helpless little thing, aren’t you? Couldn’t stop me even though you tried.”

            And you had tried. You told him you’d fight back if he ever wanted to play like this, and you expected that you’d be able to stave him off to some extent. But you hadn’t been able to. Every attempt to run, to move, to get him to stop, had been futile. He was too strong, his will too powerful for you to overcome. And that’s what had you quaking beneath him; you’d truly fallen prey to him, and you knew that if this ever wasn’t play, he would probably use even more force against you. You were helpless, save for the trust you had in him.

           He kept a tight pull on your panties as he fucked you. His fingers were fisted around the fabric, pulling it tight against your skin, keeping it molded against your clit as his cock continued to barrel inside of you. Your walls were clamping down from all the sensations, fluttering with every thrust of his fat cock inside of you. You could feel that familiar, thick vein that ran along the underside of him rubbing against your pussy with every plunge. You felt stuffed, like your body was taking on more than you could handle.

          “St-stop,” it came out with a moan.

          “You know you love it,” he groaned, loud and deep and it made you shiver, “you love it when I treat you like the slut you are.”

           You weakly threw your hands behind you, hoping to claw at him, to throw him off his game, but all he had to do was fist his fingers into the roots of your hair and tug to get you to stop. You screamed at the searing pain, not used to him pulling your hair so roughly. Your neck arched back at the force, lifting your breasts from the cool table to bounce with his thrusts. Your hands were slick with sweat as you trained to gain purchase on the vanity, lewd sounds pouring from your mouth with every thrust of him inside of you.

          With his hand jerking your head back, now you could see him again in the mirror.

          He was grinning, that smear of blood still staining his lips, his chin. He looked wild, black hair tousled even more than usual from your tryst. The sight of him had your heart racing, blood pumping even faster to where your bodies were joined together. You loved that look in his eye, like at any moment he was going to devour you and spit you back out spent and needy. You felt violated, wrecked, but you knew he wasn’t going to stop soon.

          “You like watching, kitten? Like watching me stuff this pretty pussy of yours?”

           “I hate you,” you spit the words out like venom, narrowing your eyes at him through the reflection.

           “Say that again and I’ll slap you harder than I did earlier.”

            Your cheek stung with the memory of his palm.

            Before you could open your mouth again, he increased his pace, using the leverage of his hands in your hair and around your panties to slam you back into his cock as if you weighed nothing, as if you were nothing.

            Curses painted your lips each time his cock stretched you again, and again, and again, as the angle he pulled you into had his cock brushing against that sweet spot inside of you. Your underwear was pulled even tighter than before, each jostle of your bodies making the fabric rub against your swollen clit. The feeling of orgasm was growing again, your senses constantly being propelled into a state of bliss every time he took a deep stroke inside of you.

            “You think you’re special, don’t you? That’s why—fuck—you think you can tell me no? You’re just another whore to fuck,” he was growling, panting, “that’s all you are, you’re pathetic.”

             His words felt like acid on your skin, burning you, heating you in all the wrong ways, but your body loved it, soaked up every curse and slight and turned it into boiling pleasure.

            “Fuck, stop! I don’t wanna cum, I don’t wanna cum!”

            “You’re gonna cum, kitten. Cum so that little pussy gets tight enough to milk my cock.”

             You clenched your lower muscles, genuinely trying to avert the churning coil of pleasure inside of you, but all it did was make matters worse. Your pussy kept sucking him in, each thrust messy, loud, your ass slapping against his slacks and slick pooling down your thighs.

            “Oh you feel so good, feel so fucking good squeezing me like that.”

             That fresh praise had you coming undone. You felt him pull your panties even tighter against your curves, the fabric now almost cutting into your clit, and the sensation was all too much.

            “Tetsurō, Tetsurō, stop, stop, I-I’m cumming, stop!”

             It was more intense than before. You felt your whole body go numb, you watched as your mouth opened in a silent scream, every part of you trembling as the seams of sanity split with your orgasm.

             He didn’t stop, not even as he came inside of you, ropes and ropes of hot cum filling up your sloppy pussy and spurting out onto his clothes, onto your thighs. He was unrelenting, keeping you within the throes of orgasmic bliss with his cock plunging inside of you over and over again. His force had your underwear splitting in his fist, threads snapping against your ass as the cloth broke apart.

             The sound of your ripping panties had him slowing, now grinding his cock deep inside of your walls as you both came down from your highs.

             When your bodies finally came to a halt, he let go of your hair, allowing you to catch yourself with your palms flat to the vanity. You hung your head, trying to even out your breaths and let your heart rate calm down as your vision unblurred.

             You could hear him panting behind you, then finally felt his spent cock slip out of you, trails of cum and slick falling against your thighs.

             You finally began to move, reaching between your legs to pry the remnants of your panties away from your cunt, letting the ravaged fabric fall to the floor where the remains of your dress still lay.

             “Kitten?” Kuroo’s voice was soft, hands even more gentle as he wrapped his arms around you from behind, “are you okay?”

             “Fuck,” you groaned, straightening your back to look at him, to fall into his arms, “that was...exhiliarting.”

             He pressed tender kisses into your neck, tongue soothing over where he had bitten you earlier.

             “God I fucking missed you,” he mumbled into your skin.

             “I missed you too.”

             You turned in his arms, pressing your weary body against his chest, feeling the sweat that had cooled into his white dress shirt. He kissed you slowly, deliberately, the taste of iron still present from his split lip. You embraced him, kissing him back with the same kind of easy passion.

            “I need a drink after that,” you mumbled against his lips.

            “I need new pants.”

             You stepped back and looked down at his black suit trousers, finding them all kinds of soiled with creamy cum. You couldn’t help but laugh, the heaviness of your earlier actions breaking with the sound of your giggles.

             “You normally keep spare clothes in your car, right? In case they get all bloody? Let me get dressed and I’ll go get them for you.”

             You bent down to gather your own ruined clothes, wadding up the fabric of that beautiful dress and dumping it in the bin. You heard Kuroo mutter something about buying you a new one as you sifted through the small closet in your dressing room, slipping on a short cocktail dress and a fresh pair of panties to catch whatever cum was going to continue to leak out of you tonight.

              He was smoking another cigarette as you left him behind in your dressing room to fetch him a new pair of pants, car keys in hand.

             The music of the jazz band was loud as you meandered back and forth between the nightclub. You realized that no one could have heard you screaming over the sound of the plucking bass and the shrill of the trumpet.

             You hurriedly returned to your dressing room, pants in hand.

             You cleaned Kuroo’s lip with a damp cloth as he slung on his fresh pants, the cigarette now between your lips as you did your best to clean the blood from his face.

            “Sorry, I shouldn’t have bitten you so harshly.”

            “Don’t worry about it, made it feel real. I can’t believe you didn’t call the safeword.”

             He plucked the cigarette out of your mouth once he was done buckling his belt, grinning despite the clear cut on his lip.

             “I told you I wanted to play along.”

             You flicked off the lights to your vanity, grabbing his hand to pull him from the room.

            The two of you found empty stools at the bar, Kuroo ordering your favorite drink as a few patrons wandered by to compliment you on your earlier set. You leaned your chin into your palm, keeping your eyes on the handsome, wondrous creature next you. You never knew what each encounter would consist of whenever he came around, but you felt yourself falling deeper into his web every time he fucked you. But you were still a little afraid of his world, but knew you’d be on the mafia’s doorstep if he ever asked you to be.

            You thanked the bartender as your drink arrived, holding the cool glass in your hand.

            “I think tonight deserves a toast, don’t you?”

            That catlike grin was back on his face, amber eyes glowing with mischief.

            “Mhm, what to, Tetsurō?”

             He dipped his glass closer to yours, the rims kissing together.

           “To being daredevils.”

Taglist: 

@thirsthourdemon​  @tomurasprincess​ @badtimechara​ @present-mel​ @sgoldberg1997​ @donica95​ @hi-itsbonny​ @linestrider​ @shoutosplaything​ @kyberhearts​ @dhyaena​ @heyybrittannia​ @thisisthehardestthing​ @presmiic​ @kittifer​ @lemonsqueexx​ @iwaizumi-chan​ @kitten-on-ecstasy​ @dekulover​ @thatpeachybandgirl​ @skincrepe​ @whats-her-quirk​ @littlewhitefairy7777​ @unboundbnha​ @tinitimesims125​ @disasteren​ @misfitgirlwrites​ @tsum-samu​ @pineappleinmyass​ @nk-echi​ @wei-wuxian-wangji​ @sheneeza​ @buferfliz​ @marifujioka​ @bbyspiiice​ @deathcab4daddy​ @tenyacakebby​ @sadgirlsupremacy​ @hosino-a @donthurtmeimbaby​ @thingsladyjazzloves​ @bakarinnie​ @super-spooder​ 

[missmaymay13]

you belong with me - w.eklund

⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻

w.eklund x fem!oc | 4.5k

summary : based on the song by taylor swift

masterlist

⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻

The SAP Center was alive.

Not just with noise, but energy. Pulsing, electric, tangible. Every heartbeat of the building synced with the drums of anticipation, a sea of teal jerseys washing over the stands, fans chanting, clapping, waving signs with hopeful, glitter-covered letters. The ice gleamed beneath the lights like a frozen lake under moonlight, and William Eklund should have been focused on the game, on the puck, on the playbook burned into his brain.

But his gaze drifted. Again.

She was there.

Four rows back, lower bowl, just to the left of the tunnel. He’d seen thousands of faces from that spot before, but never one like hers. She had this quiet glow about her, like she belonged in a world apart from the harsh stadium lights. Honey-blonde waves framed her face, catching the glint of the overheads with every turn of her head. Her lips curved in a soft, warm smile, the kind that felt private, even if it wasn’t meant for him.

William's breath caught in his throat.

She was radiant.

Even through the plexiglass and distance, he felt the weight of her presence. He couldn’t hear her laugh, but he imagined it sounded like sunlight—like mornings when everything feels a little easier. She wore Will Smith’s jersey and leaned forward in her seat with pride, hands clasped as she watched warmups. She wasn’t watching William. Of course she wasn’t. Her attention belonged to her cousin.

And the guy sitting beside her.

Tall, broad, stiff. His jaw clenched so tightly William could see the line of it from the ice. The boyfriend. Obviously. He wasn’t watching the game. Just sitting there, arms crossed, his vibe more territorial than supportive.

William felt his stomach twist.

He tried to refocus, to shake it off as he moved through drills, but every few laps, his eyes found their way back to her. It was magnetic, involuntary, and completely out of his control.

"You good, Eky?" Macklin Celebrini’s voice broke through the trance, teasing as he skated up beside him and bumped his elbow.

William blinked, startled. "Yeah. Why?"

Mack followed the direction of his gaze, smirk curling with recognition. "Oh... I wouldn’t if I were you."

William’s brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"

Mack’s grin widened. "A) That’s Will’s cousin—Ella. And B) she’s got a boyfriend."

The name settled in his chest like a stone. Ella. Soft, pretty. A name that suited her.

William risked another glance. She was laughing now at something Will said, her whole face lit up like the first burst of fireworks on a July night. Meanwhile, her boyfriend sat stiff beside her, unmoved.

William swallowed hard.

She looked happy, but not in the way someone should be when they’re in love. Not in the way he imagined making her smile.

He exhaled and pushed off from the boards.

The game ended in a one-goal loss. Frustrating, deflating. The locker room was quiet, the air heavy with what-ifs. Still, the younger guys—always resilient—decided to shake it off. Someone suggested heading over to Mack’s place, and soon enough, laughter and the smell of pizza filled the apartment.

William found himself on the corner of the couch, half-listening to Zack argue with Cam about penalties when the front door creaked open.

And there she was.

Ella.

This time, dressed in an oversized hoodie, her hair pulled up into a high ponytail, strands falling loosely around her face. Her cheeks were flushed from the cold, and she looked even more beautiful than she had in the arena—realer, softer. Alone.

No boyfriend.

William sat up, heart thumping louder than it had when he stepped on the ice.

Will met her near the entrance. "Hey, where’s Jack?"

She shrugged, brushing a loose thread off her hoodie. "He was tired. Wanted to go home."

Will tilted his head. "That’s not all of it."

Ella sighed, voice quiet but not weak. "We got in another fight. He didn’t even want to come to the game. Said I didn’t need to be here for every moment of your career—that it’s not my place to act like it matters so much to me."

Will looked like he was ready to throw hands. He’d never liked Jack—never. From the first day he met him, something had been off. And the stories he heard from his mom Colleen or his sister Grace only confirmed it. Jack was selfish, cold, dismissive. He never cared about Ella the way she deserved. "That’s not just wrong—it’s insane. You belong here. And he doesn’t get to decide that you don’t."

She smiled, a little sadly, eyes flicking toward the floor. Will’s heart hurt every time he thought about it—how miserable she was with Jack. How lonely she felt, even when she pretended she wasn’t. Ella had always loved loud, with her whole chest, with everything she had to give. And Jack? Jack barely gave anything back. He never matched her energy, never held her the way she held him. She poured herself into their relationship, gave it her best and her patience and her loyalty, and Jack dropped her without hesitation the second something more convenient came along.

She had moved to San Jose a few years ago for school, hoping for a fresh start, but she didn’t have much family here—just Will. And somewhere along the way, Jack had managed to isolate her from even the few friends she had managed to make. Will had seen it all. Felt helpless through it all. And he hated it.

William’s chest tightened. That look—like she wanted to be happy but didn’t know how.

He couldn’t stop staring. Every time she smiled, even faintly, it was like a light flicking on in a dark room. He didn’t know her. Not really. But somehow, she already felt familiar.

Later, as the noise mellowed into soft conversation and low music, Mack waved him over.

"Ella, meet William," Mack said, grin knowing.

William shook her hand, trying not to show how warm his palms had gotten. "Hi. It’s really nice to meet you."

Ella’s eyes met his, curious and amused. "You too. I’ve heard your name more times than I can count. Will’s basically your hype man."

William chuckled. "Hopefully in a good way."

"The best way," she said, then tilted her head. "You were great tonight. Even if the score didn’t say so."

Something twisted in William’s chest. No one ever said that. Not like it mattered.

They talked. And kept talking.

She was sharp, funny, open. She asked questions with genuine interest, and when she laughed, it was with her whole face—unfiltered, bold. William forgot about the game. About the crowd. About the guy who didn’t bother showing up.

But every so often, Ella’s gaze flicked to her phone, where it buzzed quietly on the edge of the coffee table. She’d check it, eyes dim, thumb hovering over the screen.

Will caught it, too. He walked past, snatched the phone up.

"Hey!"

"Nope," Will said, slipping it into his pocket. "One night. Just one night, El. Be with people who actually want you here."

Ella’s mouth parted in protest. Then closed.

She smiled. For real.

William’s heart cracked open. Even in the short time he'd known her, it hurt him—physically, viscerally—to know she wasn’t being treated the way she should be. She gave so much of herself, and still came up empty. He hadn’t earned the right to feel protective, not yet, but he couldn’t help it. He could already see the difference in how he’d hold her if he had the chance—how he’d show up, make her feel seen, wanted, valued. He would never let her feel like she had to beg for affection or attention. And it broke something inside him knowing that someone else had the privilege of her love and didn’t know what to do with it.

Hours later, after the group had thinned out, William stepped onto the back patio. The air was crisp, stars half-hidden behind city glow. He found her out there, curled into a blanket on a lounge chair, watching the skyline.

She looked up. "Couldn’t sleep either?"

He shook his head. "Didn’t try."

He sat beside her, close but not too close. She smelled like lavender and cold air.

"You like it here? San Jose?" she asked.

"I do. It’s... different. But good."

She nodded. "You looked calm out there."

"Wasn’t. Not with you watching."

Her head turned, startled—but not annoyed. Curious.

"You noticed me?"

"Couldn’t stop."

Ella smiled, small and real. "Jack never notices when I go to games. He complains that I waste my energy cheering for other people."

William’s voice dropped. "You deserve someone who wants you to cheer for them. Who cheers for you, too."

Silence stretched.

Then she whispered, "You ever wonder what it would be like to be seen? Not just looked at, but really... seen?"

He did. All the time. And right now, he felt like he was seeing her. Really seeing her.

"I think you should know," he said, voice barely above a breath, "that there are people here who see you. People who care for you. People who aren’t afraid to show it."

He meant Will, of course. Macklin too. But mostly, painfully, himself. Not that he could say it out loud—not yet.

She leaned into him, her head resting on his shoulder like it belonged there.

William sat still, afraid to move, to break the moment. But inside, something bloomed.

He wanted her to be happy. He wanted her to feel loved, not tolerated. Wanted her to laugh and never second-guess it. He didn’t need to be the guy who saved her. He just wanted to be the guy who cherished her.

Because she belonged with someone who saw her clearly.

⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻

Practice had just wrapped at Sharks Ice, and the locker room buzzed with the usual post-practice energy—half-tired jokes, the hiss of showers turning on, the rhythmic thud of gear hitting the floor. William Eklund sat at his stall, tugging off a soaked shoulder pad when a strange stillness caught his eye.

Will Smith was standing in the doorway.

Still in full gear, helmet pushed back off his head, one glove still on. His other hand gripped his phone tight, pressed to his ear like the force of the conversation was the only thing holding him up. His brow was drawn, jaw clenched, and his back—usually relaxed even in tension—looked rigid. Like he was bracing for something.

William tilted his head, quietly studying him from across the room. He couldn’t hear what Will was saying. Couldn’t even read his lips clearly. But he could feel it. The emotion, the weight. Whatever this conversation was about, it wasn’t good.

Macklin Celebrini dropped onto the bench beside him, sliding his helmet off with a quiet sigh. He nudged William’s shoulder, nodding subtly toward the doorway.

"It’s Ella," Mack said, voice low. "She got in another fight with Jack."

William’s stomach dropped.

He hadn’t seen Ella in a few days, but since that night at Mack and Will’s, she’d started coming around more often. Sometimes she came with Will, sometimes on her own. Just to sit and talk. To exist in a space that didn’t demand anything from her.

But every time William saw her, she looked more and more like she was fading.

Exhausted. Smiling, sure—but never with her eyes. Never like that first night.

It killed him. Slowly. Watching it happen.

She’d sit on the floor of the apartment with her legs pulled to her chest and listen to Mack complain about the media or Will talk through new drills. She’d laugh softly, say something kind, or tease Mack for his dramatic reenactments of board battles. And William would just... watch. Quietly. Carefully.

Every now and then, she’d catch him looking. She never said anything. Just offered that same tired smile and looked away.

Will had vented a few times in the locker room—only when it was just the three of them. He talked about how Ella kept going back. How it was tearing her down little by little. How she believed she could fix Jack if she just loved him enough.

"He’s not the kind of guy you fix," Will had said once, face hollowed out in worry. "He just drains the people who try."

Now, watching Will pace near the locker room exit, William felt a familiar helplessness settle over him. He wanted to help. To step in. To do something. But it wasn’t his place.

Not yet.

A few minutes later, Will came back into the room in a rush. His eyes were red around the rims, not from tears, but from frustration—burned out and seething. He yanked off his helmet, ripped his jersey over his head, and started shedding gear so fast it looked like he was racing himself. There wasn’t even time for the usual post-practice banter.

He muttered something to Macklin, and William only caught the tail end of it: "...pick her up."

Mack didn’t hesitate. Just nodded once, solemnly.

Then they were gone.

The locker room slowly emptied out, teammates trickling away in twos and threes, the noise thinning until it was just William left sitting on the bench, still in his compression top, skates unlaced.

He pulled out his phone.

You good?

No response.

He stared at the message for a while, thumb hovering over the screen.

Then he added:

Everything okay with Ella?

Time stretched. Five minutes. Ten. Fifteen.

Nothing.

He tried to get up. Tried to move on. Shower, go home, focus on recovery. But his mind stayed caught in the image of Will on the phone, the stiff way he stood. The way Macklin’s tone had dropped.

Finally, as William was stepping out of the shower, his phone buzzed on the bench.

Will.

Not right now, but it will be.

William exhaled slowly, fingers tightening around the phone.

He wanted that to be true. For her. For Will. For all of them.

But especially for Ella.

Because she didn’t deserve to keep waking up in that same aching silence, wondering why her love wasn’t enough. She didn’t deserve to give her light to someone who only cast shadows.

She deserved better.

And even if William couldn’t be the one to give her that—not yet—he could hope. Quietly. Fiercely.

He could wait for the moment she realized it, too.

⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻

It was a rare off day for the Sharks—a quiet kind of gift in the chaos of the season. No practice, no team meetings, just open hours for rest and normalcy. Most of the younger guys had wandered over to Will and Macklin’s apartment again, lazily sprawled on the couch and floor with takeout boxes and sports reruns playing in the background.

Eventually, someone complained that it was too stuffy inside, and after a brief argument about who had to stand up first, the group decided on a walk. It was crisp but sunny outside, and they all figured a bit of fresh air would do them good.

William had waved them off, body half-buried in the couch cushions, utterly spent. His muscles ached from the grind of the week, and the idea of moving just to circle a park didn’t sound remotely appealing. He stayed back, letting the apartment go quiet around him.

It was peaceful.

Until a knock broke the stillness.

Not a loud one. Not urgent. Just... hesitant. Fragile.

He blinked, sat up slowly. Another knock. Fainter this time. Almost like the person behind it wasn’t sure they should be there at all.

He padded over to the door, yawning as he swung it open.

Ella.

And she looked like she had completely fallen apart.

Her hair was a mess, face blotchy and streaked from crying, eyes bloodshot, and her mouth quivered like she hadn’t stopped shaking since the moment she left. Her arms were wrapped tightly around her torso like she was trying to hold herself together with sheer will.

The second she saw him, her body sagged with the weight of it all, knees nearly giving out.

But then she blinked and realized it wasn’t Will.

"Oh," she whispered, stumbling back. Her voice was hoarse, nearly gone. "I’m sorry. I thought Will would be here. I shouldn’t have come—I’ll just—"

"Ella," William said firmly, stepping forward, catching her before she could slip away. "Come inside. Please."

She stood frozen for a moment, like her brain couldn’t process the invitation.

Then she broke.

Collapsed into him without another word, fists clutching at his hoodie like she was drowning and he was the last thing keeping her afloat.

She sobbed, hard and loud and aching, like every piece of her was shattering all over again.

"I can’t do it anymore," she cried, the words ripped straight from the deepest part of her chest. "I can’t. I can’t keep pretending. This isn’t love—this can’t be love."

William wrapped his arms around her and held her like she might vanish otherwise. Her body shook against his, and he didn’t say a word—there was nothing to say that wouldn’t fall short.

"I left," she gasped, choking between sobs. "I finally did it. I told him I was done. That I didn’t want to live like this anymore. And he just... let me. He didn’t fight for me. Didn’t ask me to stay. He barely looked at me."

The way she said it—like she was more devastated by his indifference than she ever had been by the pain—hit William like a punch to the chest.

She slid down onto the couch with him, curled into his side like it was the only safe place she had left.

"I gave him everything," she whispered, quieter now, voice brittle. "Every single part of me. And none of it was ever enough. I tried to be the kind of person he could love. I twisted myself inside out for him."

William felt a tear slip down his own cheek and blinked it away before she could see. He kept rubbing her back, his other hand gripping her shoulder like he could anchor her here.

"You didn’t deserve that," he said, almost too soft to hear. "Not even a little."

They stayed like that until her breathing steadied, until the storm inside her calmed just enough for her to lift her head.

Her face was pale, eyes dull, lips parted like she didn’t have the energy to speak anymore.

And William couldn’t take it.

"Come on," he said, his voice suddenly stronger. "Get your shoes."

She looked at him like he’d just spoken another language. "What?"

"We’re going out. You need air. And sugar."

She blinked, the smallest crease forming between her brows.

"You’re taking me to get ice cream?"

"Yup. My treat. And then we’re going somewhere quiet. You don’t have to do anything. Just exist for a while. Somewhere peaceful."

She didn’t argue. Didn’t smile, either. But she nodded.

Ten minutes later, they were in his car. She stared out the window in silence the whole drive, and William didn’t try to fill it. Not with words. Not with music. Just presence.

The little shop was quiet and tucked into the edge of a sleepy neighborhood. He ordered her favorite—he remembered from the night they all hung out, the way her eyes lit up when she mentioned cookie dough.

She didn’t even touch it at first. Just held the cup in her lap.

Until William took a bite of his, made an exaggerated, dramatic sound of delight, and she huffed out the tiniest breath that maybe, just maybe, could be considered a laugh.

It was enough.

They drove to the pier. The sun was dipping low now, casting long shadows over the water, painting the horizon in molten gold and soft lavender.

They sat at the edge, the waves crashing beneath them, and didn’t say anything for a while.

Then William spoke.

"You are... remarkable, Ella. You give and give and give, and you never ask for anything in return. You show up when people don’t deserve it. You fight for love when most people would’ve stopped trying. And that’s not weakness. That’s strength."

She sniffled but didn’t look away from the ocean.

"You deserved someone who tried just as hard. Who loved you with the same fire. Who made you feel safe and wanted and never questioned for a second if you were enough."

She looked at him then.

Her eyes were rimmed with red, lashes damp. But there was something else there too—just the faintest glint of hope. Of belief.

"You really think I deserve all that?"

William smiled, aching with how much he wanted to say yes a thousand times over. But he kept it simple.

"Yeah. I really do."

And for the first time all day, her lips curled up—not in a forced smile, but something real. Something slow and small, but alive.

He couldn’t tell her everything he felt. Not yet. Not now.

But watching that sliver of light return to her face?

It was enough.

For now.

⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻

Ella’s healing didn’t happen all at once.

It came in fragments—quiet mornings, tears that didn’t feel like drowning, laughter that didn’t feel forced. It was slow. Uneven. Some days she woke up and remembered how to breathe. Other days, she stared at the ceiling and wondered if she’d ever feel like herself again.

But the one constant, the one steady thing in the midst of it all, was William.

He made it his mission—silently, selflessly—to remind her of what she deserved. Not with grand declarations or sweeping gestures, but in the way he showed up. Again and again and again.

Ella moved in with Will and Macklin for a few weeks while she figured out her next steps. Her name was still on the lease with Jack, but she hadn’t gone back. She couldn’t. Not after everything. The apartment felt haunted by all the things she had hoped for and never received.

So William went for her.

Without question, without hesitation, he drove to her old place, boxed up her life with careful hands. He folded her clothes gently, set aside the books she loved, and left behind the things that made her cry. He found a storage locker on the edge of town, paid for the first two months himself, and made sure she never had to step foot into that apartment again.

He brought her flowers. Simple ones. Daisies, sometimes tulips. Never roses—Jack always got her roses, the same bouquet every time, like a script he couldn’t be bothered to change. William wanted her to have something different. Something thoughtful. Something real.

He brought her chocolate on the nights she looked particularly quiet. He’d drop it in her lap and say nothing, just sit beside her and let the silence stretch until she wanted to fill it.

He watched cheesy rom-coms with her—Notting Hill, 10 Things I Hate About You, Love, Rosie. And when she cried, he didn’t flinch. Just passed her tissues and let her fall apart when she needed to.

He listened. And when she couldn’t speak, he waited—always offering her a shoulder to cry on, never flinching, never pulling away. Just holding space for her pain, as if it was the most natural thing in the world to do.

And never—not once—did he ask for anything in return.

Will and Macklin saw it all. Of course they did. It was happening right in their living room. At first, Will had been tense, wary. Protective. But it didn’t take long to realize that William’s intentions weren’t about hope or romance.

They were about love.

Not the kind that demanded something. The kind that gave.

Will would catch William standing at the stove, making Ella tea without being asked. Or quietly folding the blanket she always left on the couch. He’d hear William laugh at her jokes like they were the only thing keeping him upright.

Macklin had started joking that it felt like living inside a rom-com.

But even he couldn’t deny it—there was something undeniably wholesome about the way William cared for her.

It wasn’t just sweet. It was healing—because William was loving Ella in the way she had always deserved to be loved. Out loud. Without hesitation. For the whole world to see.

And Ella started to notice.

She started to smile more. To sit a little straighter. To laugh without catching herself.

One night, after William had fallen asleep on the couch beside her—head tilted back, mouth slightly open—she looked at him for a long time. Her heart ached, but not in the way it used to. It ached with the unfamiliar weight of being seen. Of being cherished.

She didn’t know what would happen next. She wasn’t ready for more. Not yet.

But for the first time in a long time, she believed there might actually be something after the pain.

And somehow, William had become her first step forward.

⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻

It had been four months since Ella left Jack.

Four months since she stopped choosing pain over peace. Since she decided that her heart deserved more than what it had been given—more than silence, more than indifference, more than the ache of waiting for someone to meet her halfway.

And for four months, William had been there.

Always.

She didn’t think there was a single crack in her heart he hadn’t tended to. He never tried to fill the space too soon. Never tried to force the healing. He simply stayed, showing her over and over what it meant to be loved without conditions. And slowly, that love—quiet and constant—had stitched her back together.

Now, they were back at the pier.

The same one where, months ago, he had taken her to breathe again. To feel something other than heartbreak. The sun was dipping low, casting streaks of pink and tangerine across the ocean. The wind was soft, cool, curling around them like a whisper.

They sat on the same bench, side by side, their shoulders brushing every so often.

Ella watched the horizon, her thoughts tangled in the stillness between them.

She remembered the way William looked at her that night. Like she was fragile, but not broken. Like she was something beautiful that had just been hidden under too much weight.

And she thought about the little things—how he always made sure she had her favorite snacks in the pantry. How he never let her carry heavy boxes alone. How he laughed at her bad jokes like they were the best ones he’d ever heard.

Four months.

In four months, William had made her feel more seen, more safe, more loved than Jack had in three years.

And she wasn’t blind.

She had seen what he was doing. The way he’d leaned in but never crossed a line. The way his eyes lit up when she walked into a room. The way he never expected anything, even though he gave everything.

She hadn’t been ready before. Not to trust again. Not to risk what little she had rebuilt.

But now?

She looked at him.

Really looked.

He was watching the waves, calm as ever, one hand resting on the bench between them. And there was something in his profile—the way the light touched his cheek, the softness in his jaw—that made her heart ache all over again.

But this time, it was the good kind.

The kind that came with clarity.

"Let’s do this," she said quietly.

William turned to her slowly, confused. "Do what?"

Her eyes didn’t waver. "This. Us. I’m ready. For you."

He froze.

Completely still, like he needed to replay the words to make sure he heard them right.

"I’m ready," she said again, her voice a little steadier now. "For you. For us."

His eyes softened, and something unspoken passed between them—months of quiet devotion, of held-back feelings, of gentle love finally let loose.

He reached for her hand, his fingers threading through hers like they’d always been meant to fit.

He didn’t say anything right away. He didn’t need to.

His smile said it all.

So did the way he leaned forward and kissed her forehead, then rested his against hers.

She closed her eyes and breathed in the moment.

Because it wasn’t just a beginning.

It was finally finding home.

[antigoneidk]

can't help falling in love|t.h.

summary: when words can't speak enough, songs will do

pairing: tom holland × reader

words: 2k

a/n: well I think we all fell in love with this Tom right? I mean who wouldn't??? Wish more of that content cause I'm a sucker for him..

"Over yours tonight?"

"Yes. Bring your guitar too."

"We're about to have fun tonight."

"As we always do!"

And when it was just the two of you, you always had a great time. The chemistry that had been developed between you and Tom was indescribable and everyone seemed jealous of what you have created. It was amazing how much two people can connect, two different souls in such a little period.

You loved your little secret "rendezvous" as you liked to call them. He'd come to your place, or you'd go to his, sip wine and talk for hours and hours about everything. From how the world was created, to how your nail broke, or the way some theories of very famous scientists may be wrong, or how his brothers crashed his car without him knowing, even analyze the way social media work, or begging him to show you videos of the set for his upcoming film. Maybe you'd complain about how early you have to wake up the next day and he'd make fun of you before he realizes that he's going to wake up as early as you. And you'd beg him to stay, or the opposite. 

And after that, you'd grab your guitars and play until you fall asleep on the couch.

He looked so handsome concentrated on not losing any chord, not ruin the melody. His brown eyes focusing on the strings, his fingers following the sound in his mind, his body relaxed, and his ears longing for your voice.

How he adored listening to your angelic voice. He couldn't explain the way his heart melted with the sweet sound of yours, his stomach filling with butterflies, his mind following the heart on this chaotic, exciting, endless road. He didn't know if he was in love or not. It was confusing inside his head. He never knew what falling in love means, the symptoms are different from one person to another. But he was only looking forward to the time he'd have to spend with you, the feeling of enthusiasm getting stronger as the day went by. He knew that you were the only one that could bring the peace he searched for, it was you that brought those feelings that he wanted to see for himself. He admitted once that he wished you'd be more than just his close friend to himself. Yet, the fear of losing you was massive and your presence in his life was more important than his feelings. So the only way was to push them to the side.

You knocked on his doorbell and fixed your guitar on your shoulder while waiting for the door to open. You looked down at your shoes noticing how dirty they got but as you were about to somehow clean them with your hand, you heard the door open and your eyes met his.

"Hi," you said cheerfully leaving the guitar to your side and wrapping your hands around his shoulder. His familiar scent came to your nose, your eyes closing for a moment enjoying his smell, but also the sensation of his arms tightening around your waist.

"Hey, beautiful" he mumbled softly and let go of you. "How are you?" he asked grabbing your guitar and closing the door behind you. 

"Now that I am here I'm so much better" you confessed. "Oh, you didn't wait for me to help"  you complained seeing that everything was already prepared for you.

"Why would I need help?" he asked.

"Because...I am your friend and you don't have to do all of these for me"

"But what happens if I want to do all of these for you?"

You stared back at him without any answer to his question. You tried to read his face, understand if he was joking or not. If he was playing with your feelings or if he was just completely clueless. His puppy eyes nearly convincing your heart that everything was true, your mind shouting to not believe this. It was a battle happening right in front of you, however, you stood still and did nothing.

"I'm pretty sure you do not so stop saying things you don't mean and let's go drink"

____________________

"But she fell in love with him Tom. She was happier than ever. She was willing to be there for him  for the rest of her life, she stood by his side through everything, his madness, his anger, his sadness, his happiness-"

"He was suffering y/n-"

"If he loved her enough-"

"Do you know how is it feel to be stuck on a chair and not move even a single finger? No matter how big your love is for someone, sometimes you're losing the fight" Tom sipped his last drop of wine and looked back at you.

"If we were in this position, would you die just like him? Even if you loved me more than anything?" you questioned.

"I seriously have no idea y/n"

"I'd live for you Tom" normally you wouldn't admit this, the wine gave you the courage though to do so. "If I was William in that stupid chair, I would want to live with you for the rest of eternity" you glanced at him meaning every word you just said. Your love for him was like no other and for sure knew that you were more than willing to move every mountain to be with him forever.

"Stop saying things you don't mean y/n" he copied your words and grabbed your guitar from the floor, unsure if he should play it cool or say something more.

"You are not romantic babe" you played it off resting your hand on the couch and placing your head at the top of it while waiting for Tom to tune the guitar. "Also I was thinking of something today while I was working"

"You were thinking again?" he asked sarcastically.

"You piece of...give me that" you laughed and took the guitar in your hands."So, as I was saying, I was thinking that maybe today you should sing with me"

"Are you drunk?" Tom asked you disagreeing already with the idea you had in mind.

"What?"

"You know that I can't sing and even if it wasn't for that I would never sing with you"

"Why?" it felt kinda offending hearing those words as you didn't know why he felt that way.

"You have the voice of an angel y/n. I'm never gonna sing with you 'cause you'll hear how bad I sound and we don't want this trust me" he pulled his guitar close to him and smiled in your direction.

"I heard you singing before and you sound incredible so cut the excuses and follow me okay?" you didn't wait for any of his complaints. You started playing the song you imagined singing with him all day. The first reason being the fact that it was an easy song to play and sing. The second reason was the lyrics of it.

"Wise men say

Only fools rush in.." you began singing.

"Come on Tom..but I can't help falling in love with you" you continued hearing only whispers.

"Shall I stay?

Would it be a sin... I can't hear you

If I can't help falling in love with you"

Tom gained some courage and started singing louder. He didn't want to be unable to hear you, it was the thing his heart desired. But your expression, your eyes wide open begging him to join you. He could resist to them ever.

And the lyrics.

"Like a river flows

Darling, so it goes

Some things are meant to be.."

You both stared at each other as you kept going. It felt more than just a song, more than just a famous melody. Those were words that none of you had the strength to say, not even dared to try. The fear of loss, the shyness of the last minute. You were saying to yourself that his teasing was just for fun, nothing more. Tom was doing the same. It wasn't complicated at all, but both your minds trapped in this maze, wouldn't detect the way out that was right in front of your eyes.

"Take my hand, 

Take my whole life too

For I can't help falling in love with you..

For I can't help falling in love with you" 

You bit your lip and positioned the guitar to your legs keeping eye contact with him. The silence in the room was comforting, calming.  It definitely could say more than words.

Fuck it.

"I wish I could kiss you right now" Tom whispered under his breath, loud enough for you to listen. It was shocking. You blinked quite a few times doubtfully, assured that this was only a prank. But he was there looking at you, waiting for a reply. You were confused and he saw it too. His palms started sweating and his heartbeat increased in the blink of an eye. The voice inside him would stop yelling 'you screwed it' and his feeling got hurt quickly. He was ready to listen to you making fun of him, the plan that would break his heart in two. But your silence was currently the only thing he didn't want to. He searched for any signal on your face, even your body language but you were standing still as time had stopped.

"Then do it" 

He didn't hesitate for long. He was dreaming after all. Because this wasn't the reality he lived for sure. 

Fireworks, fireworks, fireworks.

He swore he heard them. The moment his lips captured yours he could hear those fireworks in his heart and ears. Bells were ringing and angels singing. Damn, I'm kissing one of them he thought. His right hand touched your neck deepening the kiss he was yearning for. Your lips in sync warm against his skin. His tongue over yours exploring your taste. Your perfume fueling his nose and brain, the butterflies dancing in their music now. 

It was magical. The goosebumps all over your skin making it even more real. Heart about to explode, all of the happiness hitting throughout your body. It was happening and still, it seemed like a fantasy. You slowly touched his chest and moved upwards to his shoulders making sure that you were really touching him and not any of your pillows. The sensation of his lips in yours was so much better than your imagination. Perfectly made for kissing you and only you.

You broke the kiss and the brightest smile he ever saw was on your lips. The lips HE was kissing.

"Y/n you have no idea how bad I wanted this to happen" he touched your forehead and with his thumb started to draw small circles. A tear rolled from your eye and dropped to his hand.

"Why did it take you so long?" you asked and closed your eyes feeling his breath hitting the skin of your face and hands.

"Baby don't cry. Please" he murmured.

"I'm just happy you know. It's no longer a fantasy or a dream. It's real" you admitted with your shaky breaths making your work hard. But you couldn't care less at that moment.

"I was afraid of losing you y/n. What if you didn't feel the same way? How was I supposed to know?"

"You wouldn't lose me okay? I'm feeling the same way Tom" you carefully brought your fingers at the top of his lips and touched them as you dreamed to. "I'm yours. I'll always be yours."

**the movie mentioned was me before you

**the song they were singing was can't help falling in love by Elvis Presley

Thank you for reading❤

[thatslikely]

under the gym lights - s.s.

under the gym lights - stiles stilinski x fem!reader

warnings: none! pure stiles fluff <3

word count: 984

requested?: yes!

a/n: prom with Stiles prom with Stiles prom with Stiles :) might have to make a longer fic based off of prom with Stiles because this concept tickles my fancy

A nimble, nervous tap on your shoulder was all it took to transform your prom night from lackluster to possibly one of the best days of your high school career.

It was no secret that for as long as you could remember, Stiles Stilinski, the previously buzz-cut donning boy who always had a flannel on his back, had been head over heels for you.

Things between the both of you were long due for a change, and Stiles was set on being the catalyst.

“Hey, uh, I know you’re like, probably flooded with dates right now but… do you wanna dance?” His eyebrows were wrinkled with worry; his voice lacked the confidence that usually exuded from the sarcastic comments he often remarked in class. 

Both giddiness and curiousity sparked like fireworks in your eyes as they glazed Stiles suit-clad figure: the inky black button-up that stretched across the expanse of his chest flawlessly, the lopsided, silver bow tie clipped around his neck, his hazelnut head of hair that was tinged with streaks of pomade, all of it. 

You almost felt as if you had been submerged under a pool of crystalline water and lifted to the surface again with reborn vision, for Stiles looked unexplainably different than he had before. It wasn’t just his exuberantly handsome ensemble, no, for reminiscing back to all the times he waved to you in the locker-lined hallways with a wide, almost boyish grin retained the new filter that shone over him.

With a now rapidly thrumming heart, and the cavity of your chest swarming with butterflies, you, at long last, realized. Shielded to you from years prior until just a few moments ago, you had a crush on the witty and equally adorable Stiles Stilinski.

Eagerly you took his shaking, outstretched hand, and he stumbled you clumsily, in a perfectly Stiles fashion, to the central dance floor of the gymnasium. 

Your hands found their way instinctively to the nape of his neck, where you let your arms rest on the fabric of his shirt, your fingers fiddling with the collar. After a few awkward moments, his palms situated on your waist, following the curve of your hips that swayed with the music.

The languid, amourous song that echoed through the rafters curtained with streamers flooded your ears from a distance, and soon you found that the rhythm of your heart had synced with the steady beat. 

A million thoughts sped through the flustered brunette’s head, but they were all put on pause when you cut the comfortable silence, saying with a soft tone of genuineness, “I really like you, Stiles.” 

If Stiles had known any better, known that the feelings you expressed weren’t as fantastical as his doubts had convinced him, he would’ve reciprocated the statement in a heartbeat. But the question that lingered in his mind before he drifted off the sleep each night, the worries that simmered on the back burner of his mind wouldn’t allow him to believe you. 

Why would the most devastatingly gorgeous girl at school like, of all people, me?

“Very funny, Y/N, but I’m not really into the whole public humiliation thing.” An almost reflexive comment that dripped with familiar sarcasm emitted from his mouth with the slightest quirk of his lips and a disbelieving shake of his head.

“I’m serious!” Your throat bubbled with giggles, but your sentiment was wholeheartedly authentic. 

“April fools’ was a month ago, you’re not fooling anyone, especially not me.”

“Why are you having such a hard time believing that I’d like you?”

“Maybe just the fact that you’re amazing, popular, breathtaking, the smartest girl I know, flawless, et cetera. Everything I’m not?”

“Oh come on, Stiles, you seriously can’t believe that, can you? Even if I have a sub-par day, you always manage to make me crack a smile in Econ. And you always know what to say when someone’s down; Lydia’s told me about all the times you’ve helped her when she really needed it. And your streak of intelligence doesn’t go unnoticed by me, either. I’ve seen you cooped up in the library reading until you can’t keep your eyes open any longer. You don’t realise all the things that make you as wonderful as you are, Stiles.”

His captivating chocolate eyes widened with surprise. He must’ve been dreaming, right? How many fingers does he have? Is there something around him that he could read?

“What’s wrong?” you queried concernedly, as Stiles’ mind finally absorbed the reality sitting patiently in front of him.  

“Nothing, nothing. I-I, I’m just still letting the fact that you could actually like me sink in.”

A smile crooked your lips upwards, an expression that Stiles could get addicted to; a look he’d do absolutely anything to grace your features again. 

“You look really beautiful under the gym lights.”

Small, lighthearted giggles escaped your fluttering chest ever so slightly; you retracted your hands from their hanging position around Stiles’ neck to cover your mouth as increasingly deeper laughs hiccuped from your throat.

“Sorry -uh, that sounded a lot more romantic in my head.”

Beads of perspiration formed on his palm as he combed through his soft hair flusteredly. 

Before his embarassed words could fill the magic-dusted air, or continue to sway to the steady rhythm of the music while panicking internally, you swiftly pressed your lips to his’.

Electric currents of passion swept over every inch of you skin, leaving prickles of addiction in their wake. What you'd give to stop time, savor this moment- this enrapturing state of emotions- until the end of time.

But eventually, the wide, goofy grins on both of your faces grew too wide to meld into each other any longer. You laid your buzzing head on his chest, listening to his rhythmic heartbeat, which was perfectly in sync with the song rattling through the gym as well.

"You look really beautiful anywhere, though."

teen wolf/stiles stilinski taglist:

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[angeli-marco-writes]

Loki Laufeyson - favourite crime

A/N & WC - I am not trying to pretend I am Olivia Rodrigo at all: total credit for all songs and lyrics used here goes to her and her team. No disrespect is meant towards her. I do not own the songs, I also do not own the characters I’m writing these blurbs for. Please read the preface. Yes I did correct the spelling of 'favourite'. 1.3k.

Warnings - slight Loki spoilers? but not really, just allusions. Please don't debate Sylki/Lokius here. Talk of heartbreak and breakups, mentions of murder and crime, crying.

Loki snatches me from Bucky’s arms when FRIDAY notifies him of his required presence. They share the solemn nod that only broody old men with similar mindsets can, an unspoken agreement between them as I’m passed over like a parcel. I don’t mind, it happens a lot.

“My darling,” he purrs, “I would love to hear your song. I won’t hinder you, just take your time, get yourself ready, I’ll keep my questions to myself.”

He lets me stand on my own two feet, but takes my hand and brings it to his lips, kissing me chastely on my knuckles before letting me tune my guitar. My cheeks are already burning, I can feel it, not because there’s anything between us, but more just because of how he treats me. Like a proper lady. Even though I was born into money, my dad isn’t exactly high society, so I wasn’t a debutante or anything. I’d contemplate doing it now, though, with Loki. He puts me in Asgardian gowns that make me look like a princess.

“I wrote this song… after you took me home. And pampered me. And talked to me about my breakup. I’ve never felt as accepted as I did then. I couldn’t have written this without you sharing your experiences with me, and listening to my own worries. This song is to thank you, Loki.”

He bows his head out of respect, and only after I gesture that he can does he sit down on the blue couch.

“You remember what I said to you. Despite my past, despite my reputation, I’ll be here for you…”

“Always,” we say in sync.

He settles as I begin to pluck at the strings. The feelings I felt when writing this song hit me like a truck: I haven’t played it since I finished transcribing it. Loki feels it too, his power palpable in the air.

‘Know that I loved you so bad

I let you treat me like that

I was your willing accomplice, honey.’

There's no point lying about the fact I bawled when he told me about his partner in crime. A beautiful person, he told me, as hell bent on vengeance as he was, more cunning and hedonistic than him, but with a heart of gold. Only for her to break his after all the time crimes they committed together. He did anything for her because he loved her, and if you ask me, he still would.

His long fingers flex, knuckles cracking as he endeavours to focus on my words and not the memories. Mine instinctively flex on the strings.

‘And I watched as you fled the scene

Doe-eyed as you buried me

One heart broke, four hands bloody.’

This was the way I felt after the fight that ruined us. No literal blood, but enough painful words and accusations hurled between us that the metaphorical blood stained like Lady Macbeth. Loki made those metaphors real, let me see the damage we’d done. That was the straw that broke the camel's back. He ran after he left me in that state? I already felt six feet under, but Loki wiped my eyes and showed me fireworks and made me feel ok.

‘Those things I did

Just so I could call you mine

The things you did

Well, I hope I was your favourite crime.’

I broke myself down to nothing, changed every innate part of myself on an aesthetic level just to be more pleasing to him. I did things, said things I never would’ve otherwise. And at the end, he didn’t even want me. I didn’t want me.

Loki shifts around on the cushions, drumming his fingers on the table with the beat. He somehow matches the song and my heartbeat all at once.

He did some terrible things to me, so awful that Loki claimed it on his level of, y’know, murder. Maybe it’s him being overprotective, but he promised he’d kill for me. I said no. He said it’d be his favourite crime to commit and worth the repercussions, ‘saving’ me from that wanker, but I’m not on the same level.

‘You used me as an alibi

I crossed my heart as you crossed the line

And I defended you to all my friends.’

Even when I came back bawling before the breakup, just after a fight or after he turned on me for no reason, I defended him. To every Avenger, every family member, I was fine, we were fine, he was an angel. Except Loki. The second time it happened, he broke my trust and entered my mind. I’ve never been so glad he did, because he shared a memory of his back. We made eye contact over the crowded room, his crystal eyes pooling with remorse, but we had an understanding. We weren’t alone. And after that, since I still wanted to keep up the façade, he became my alibi after I was already used up.

‘And now, every time a siren sounds

I wonder if you're around

'Cause you know that I'd do it all again.’

I wouldn’t necessarily: Loki would. He’d go back to them in a heartbeat, and after what he’s told me, I wouldn’t blame him. Sirens haunt us both, different sounds that echo through our dreams and wake us in the small hours. Even if my ex isn’t around anymore—not that he ever really was in the first place—I know Loki is.

His smile sustains as I sing through the chorus once more, but I see the tears forming, ready to spill down his flushing cheeks. A single one falls as I take a deep breath for the last chorus line.

‘I hope I was your favourite crime…’

I sustain this final word and leap into the bridge in one breath, the complex melodic idea scrambling my brain. I only strum lightly at my guitar, eyes squeezed shut as I focus on my words and melody, but I can feel Loki all around me, his presence like a magical hug.

‘It's bittersweet to think about the damage that we do

'Cause I was going down, but I was doing it with you.

Yeah, everything we broke, and all the trouble that we made,’

I feel his power ripple through me as I gulp down more breath to complete the bridge, high notes and all. He offers me love, support, breath all in one wisp of power. He shares my heartbreak, dissolves the memories of my descent into trouble and self-loss. The damage I caused to myself, my life, my relationships is irreparable. Trouble-making is only fun, I’ve learnt, when I’m doing it with the God of Mischief.

“Love should never be bittersweet,” Loki’s voice growls into my mind. He winks, I smile.

‘But I say that I hate you with a smile on my face

Oh, look what we became.’

After the high notes, I tail off and swallow as much air as I can, leaping into the final chorus with more vigour, ensuring Loki can see my heart, the memories we shared, how he consoled me.

‘All the things I did

Just so I could call you mine.’

My voice cracks, my heart breaking.

“Y/n…” he whispers.

I shake the cobwebs away and pick back up, my voice light and airy, the emotions flowing out of me, the pat becoming me as I finish the song unaccompanied.

‘All the things you did

Well, I hope I was your favourite crime

'Cause baby, you were mine.’

His head is bowed, his ebony hair hanging around his angled, white face. He reaches out for me without meeting my gaze, one slender, vein-lined hand, decorated with a single gold band on his middle finger. They gave it to him, and he let me wear it when he had to leave me once. I entwine my fingers with his, and let him hold my hand.

“Always?” he whispers, his voice full of hope.

“Always,” I confirm. “We’re safe now.”

[jyouromeshi]

¡ stranger's night !

characters : oh jerome (oh sungmin) x fem reader

genre : fluff

a/n : yup like this is gonna be the first i'll be writing here so i'm hoping for some little support out there, don't mind if you do. also, request are open, feel free to drop some scenarios you like, i mostly write for epex and to1 yoohoo please excuse my grammatical errors, english isn't my first language and i'm still learning, i hope i can improve better on the upcoming future, thank you !!

seeing how the night sky turned out as you look out from your window as your desk were facing the opening, you couldn't help but to admire the soft milky scattering of the stars across thw clear open dark skies of the night. the place surrounded you felt so empty, but the sky was so much full unlike yesterday's dark clouded atmosphere, perhaps the weather did turned a bit great today, you thought.

engraving a smile as your lips curled up, you felt the gentle breeze brushed off against your face before you look at the distance. the night was quite, and seemed like the whole neighbourhood had now gone to bed. sighing deeply as you took off your headphones, you put them down against your desk before dropping your pen along and soon stood up upon your chair, consciously making your way towards your door as you grabbed one of your coat near your closet.

'maybe a little walk would do,' especially on times like this, you'll need something to clear your head out. throwing your coat around you to cover you up and protect you against the cold wintery night, you finally made your way towards your front door and soon exited your whole apartment room and took the turn towards the clear hallway.

taking the elevator, you finally reached the first floor as you head out, tucking your hands under your coat's pocket as you can finally feel the cold fresh air brushing against your skin, touching every inch as you shiver.

you didn't mind it as you stepped out and breath in the fresh air of the quite city. no people around, just you and the whole world together, such a nice atmosphere to be with to be precise. untilㅡ

"you'll probably need some of these if you walk down the streets at 12:30," someone spoke. you immediately turn around upon hearing the unknown guy's remark only to be greeted by a new face. you're not gonna deny, you can actually that he's one of the most prettiest person you've ever met. cute cat eyes, thin adorable lips, pinchable tipped nose, all in all he was a handsome guy... and you don't even know why he was talking to you.

"pardon?" you asked, confused as you tried syncing in what he was trying to say earlier while entirely facing his figure only to meet his tall self.

your confusion soon sunk in after looking down to see him handing you a pair of white winter gloves, in which he probably own since it was close to his hand's size. he smiled at you, probably a smile that can be able to melt everyone's heart. you don't know if you were insane or what? but that kinda gave a shot and now you can't even help but to have your heart beating too fast and the warm sensation that was burning your cheeks was enough to warm you up.

"uh no thanks, you'll probably need it" you smiled timidly, bowing your head as you turn around and was about to avoid him and walk away when you almost tripped. you didn't realise what awaits you was the stairs, just three steps anyway but still... that's gonna hurt if ever you actually did tripped, also the embarrassment would be incredible.

luckily, this unknown guy was fast enough to sneakily wrap his arms around your waist, tightly holding you before pulling you up, resulting for your back to land against his chest. and as soon as you did, you immediately felt his hot breath against the back of your neck, enough to make those butterflies inside your stomach erupting like fireworks as you can't bare but to hold your breath, only to hear your own heartbeat.

screwed up you think, but the guy actually kinda liked it as a smile started to spread against his face. also, he kinda like the way you smelled like fresh toasted marshmallows. somehow, the way he held you by his arms made you did nothing but scream inside your head.

the stranger was prettily surprising like days, he's unpredictable. you maintain to keep yourself calm but your heartbeat says otherwise. "no need to panick like that, i'm not a bad person" he chuckled, still not letting go, and despite of the awkward situation you were willing to take even if he hold you like this for a whole night.

"i didn't say you were..." you said, lowly but audible enough for him to hear as you felt him smile behind your back, literally making regret your words in an instant.

"okay sorry..." you said, saluting yourself from not stuttering cause most likely... your throat would just want to give in right now. he's arm were still wrap around your waist and you can't even remember the last seconds. "youㅡ you can actually let go now" you finally said.

instead of letting go, a scoffed laughter was only heared before he let go of your waist and soon reach for your hand, gently tucking the winter gloves within your hand as it look like he was hugging you from behind. his actions literally made your heart melt but decided to stay quiet about it and let him do whatever he wants.

soon, after tucking in the last glove, you were surprised when he suddenly put his hand above your head, patting it as if you were a kid. "be careful," he said before finally backing off and went his way towards the same apartment building as you with his hands tucked inside his coat pocket.

you smiled at the sight of him walking away. you didn't even had the chance to ask for his name, but you were sure that it was pretty like he was.

[jerek]

be my girl, i'll be your man

As Midha grows into others' perceptions, the Pandaren provide fireworks and music.

“A slow song,” Kairoz observed. “You should look for Anduin.”

Midha smiled… a cold, wilting smile. “He’s probably teaching Wrathion.”

“And he wouldn’t spare you a dance, if you were to ask?” Kairoz returned her expression, though the curve to his recurved mouth was as wooden as a bow.

“I don’t know how to ask him. I don’t know how to dance, either.”

All the fireworks made the sky seem darker. Wrathion would sometimes joke– he’d do this or that when the sun went down. Light flickered on the planes of Kairozdormu’s elven face.

Laughter simmered in his chest. “I’ll show you, then.” He extended a hand, and asked: “May I have this dance?”

If the sun never moved, how could its warmth vanish?

She wordlessly nodded, and swallowed a moment later so he wouldn’t notice. Instead of taking her hand, he set his own on her waist, and stepped closer. He held her opposite shoulder, and guided her. “Place one hand on your partner’s shoulder, and the other at their side,” he said.

She did so. Underneath his robes, Kairoz was as solid as anything could be. Mogu, made of stone, felt more breakable under her daggers than he did under her hands.

“There’s little technique to a slow-dance… besides not stepping on the feet of one’s partner. Watch what I do, and follow along.”

Two steps to the left– his left, his right, her left, her right.

Then, to the right: his right, her right, his left, her left. Until, more easily than she’d expected, they were in sync.

She still watched.

“Your own spatial awareness should help you here.” He came even closer. “When your prince asks to dance, you and he will only be so far apart.”

Midha looked up, and fumbled a step. She didn’t step on his toes– he clipped her ankle, and they stopped in place.

“I’m sorry. I thought you meant…”

Kairoz seemed contented with her. “Whoever happens to ask first,” he corrected.

They went on. It took longer the second time, getting back in a rhythm. He even turned her around, so the fireworks made auroras of his hair. Like rain-shafts lit by sunset, which she could see now was obscured by clouds.

“Pay close attention.”

Her eyes refocused on his. He took a wrong step– and came chest-to-chest. The silver of his breastplate shoved into the leather of her own. Kairozdormu grinned at her, and a stray nerve of hers felt a sense of accomplishment.

He lifted her hand. Her whole arm, really. It seemed unnatural, the way he turned it over… until she spun alone, and wrapped herself up in his shadow.

“Is it warm?” he asked. She looked up, her forehead brushing smooth skin beneath his jaw…

And she nodded.

“Humans are tepid to our kind.” The hand on her waist had sunk its fingers in the muscle of her back. He rested his chin between her braids. “Most of them never live to draconic adulthood.”

“Is that a hundred years?”

“Nearly, yes.”

They barely moved to the music. It was more like the two of them were drifting. Two feathers, shifting in the changing wind.

Kairoz took her hand from his shoulder, and placed it on his jawline. The pulse of his throat was as slow and deep as his breath. “When I can no longer watch over you directly, remember: that whelpling of yours is praying that you will come to him and ask for immortality.”

Was he?

“I do not think he can grant it,” Kairoz added. He opened his mouth to speak, still clasping her fingers to his heartbeat…

“Excuse me.”

Anduin stood just a few feet away. He crossed his arms loosely over his chest, but he was fiddling with his sleeves at the elbow, and he interjected: “I’m sorry to interrupt, but Wrathion was asking about you.”

“We are well.”

Kairoz spoke for her. Her hands were suddenly back at her sides– she wondered if Anduin saw it, or remembered it, or if she’d be the only one who knew.

Anduin asked again: “Midha, right? I think he wanted you to come back over. He wants to talk to you.”

She gave Kairoz a look. Maybe it had already passed: the moment he couldn’t keep her to himself. For all he knew about time, he didn’t seem to know how long ago that was.

But Kairoz had raised his eyebrow at Anduin. “Go on, Midha. We can speak later.”

She chewed on her lip as she walked away. Following Anduin back to Wrathion, she wondered if all this had something to do with her growth spurt.

Friends like Kairozdormu wouldn’t last if she started to look as smart as she felt.