#and most of the new songs feel…off. like the sound is too heavy or something

[spookylostboy]

I’m…actually a little disappointed with Speak Now (Taylor’s Version)

[vapekingg]

You and Eddie have this running joke.

Or at least it started as a joke.

Once Corroded Coffin started to take off, it was hard to not get jealous. All those pretty girls throwing themselves at him at every show. They'd wait at the merch table or near the back door where the band smokes their cigarettes. Even with you hanging off of his arm, they were relentless.

So Eddie started finding you before they could find him.

You liked being in the crowd during their sets. Some of the guys' girlfriends would sit sidestage, some of them would stay in the green room, but you preferred the energy of the show. Eddie always made sure you were front row, center stage. That way he could always find you.

He made a big deal out of it, too. Pointing you out every night during their last song and handing you a VIP laminate that would get you backstage. To all of these new faces, you were just another face in the crowd. It became a thing amongst their fans. Who would be the lucky girl tonight?

But it was always you.

Because you're his favorite groupie, aren't you?

That's what Corroded Coffin's security team started calling you. Jokingly, of course. But it's carried over.

"You know why you're my favorite fucking groupie?" Eddie hisses close to your face.

You can't respond. He knows you can't respond. If it weren't for both of his hands wrapped around your throat, then because he's got your legs folded up against your chest with your ankles next to his ears. Eddie's thrusts are relentless, his cock punching into your guts with brutality, and you can't make a fucking sound.

"Because you can fucking take it," he continues, punctuating the last two words with particularly rough assaults.

Your face is getting warm from the blood pooling in your head. Your brain is pounding in your temples with each stroke of his thick cock against your slick inner walls. You need to scream, but the wail trapped in your lungs sits right below Eddie's fists at the base of your throat.

"Oh, you have something to say? Didn't lose your voice screaming my name all night?" His voice is beginning to sound far off beneath the sound of your own heart thumping in your ears. "Fuck, you feel good. Squeezing my cock, baby. Don't worry, I'm gonna let you sing."

Your throat is released and Eddie's fingers slide beneath your head, weaving into your hair. A rush of air enters your lungs, and then you hear your own foul sounds.

The sound of begging, of pleading, of crying for him to never stop, to give you more.

"Please, Eddie. Please, harder, harder, harder!" Are the only words you can remember.

And you expect Eddie to mock you. He usually does, and it's usually the final nail in your coffin. What you don't expect is the tightening of his ringed fingers against your roots. He holds your head in place and spits on your face, silencing you for only a moment.

"You know this is when you're the prettiest?" Eddie says between gritted teeth.

With the blood flowing back to your brain, you begin to hear everything again. His little grunts and moans hidden by heavy breathing, the slapping of his sweat slick skin against yours, the creaking of his tour bus bunk bed. It all comes together like some sort of symphony of filth.

"When you're all fucked out. Makeup fucked, sweaty, my spit dripping down your face. You'll be even prettier with my cum leaking out of this pussy."

Your back arches into him at the mention of Eddie filling you up. He doesn't do it often. You're careful most of the time. But on special occasions... the risk is worth it.

Eddie laughs at your response, his cock pumping into your cunt faster.

"That what you want? Me to fill you up?" He asks mockingly.

That knot in your abdomen begins to tighten. Eddie's hips rut against your sensitive clit, stroking it in time with each thrust.

"Then everyone will know you're my favorite groupie, huh?"

Eddie's hips hit your core, his cock buried to the hilt, and he grinds his waist against your clit. Stars dot your vision. Every atom in your body shivers on the edge of oblivion.

"Won't they?"

[kitten4sannie]

blinding faith (1)

fall in line now, bow your head

pairings: cult leader! yunho x disciple! reader (fem) x elder! mingi feat. husband! seonghwa

genre: twisted religious romance (if you can even call it that), smut, late 1970s setting

summary: when it’s revealed that you and Seonghwa are having trouble conceiving, the founder graciously offers his own divine solution.

bend your knee, Child of God

w.c: 4k

warnings: aged up dom! yunho, switch! mingi, subby innocent (?) reader, corruption kink, pet names (for mingi too <3), light pain kink, perversion, major sacrilegious vibes and behavior, heavy mxm, mingi sucks cock, breath play (m receiving), light spit/sweat kink, oral (receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, implied marathon sex, breeding kink, cum eating, squirting, an attempt at impregnation

a/n: this is dedicated to my loveliest lily <333 tho this is just part oneee i hope this helps you see the light if ykwim~ happy birthday baby 💕 so yeah this is pure filth,, like idk something must’ve happened to me when i wrote this but it’s prob bc i’m a yunwhore what can i say 🙂‍↕️🫶🏼 oh and thank you all so very much for getting me to 4.6k followers ;; it means the absolute world to me >< anygaysss happy readinggg and please do lemme know if you’re excited for the second part 🖤

song recs: sunshine of your love by cream - starboy by the weeknd - judas by lady gaga (i’m just a Holy Fool, oh baby, it’s so cruel, but i’m still in love with Judas, baby~~)

As a broke, faithless runaway, especially during such a turbulent decade, you didn’t have many options, to say the least. There was no phone that you could use for miles, not a single soul in sight that you could ask for directions or for a dime they could spare, no map to look at to familiarize yourself with your surroundings — not that it mattered. Why would God provide you with what you needed when your existence itself was an accident? Your own flesh and blood didn’t want you, instead dropping you off at some rundown orphanage while you were still coated in your mother’s vernix caseosa, and crying incessantly for her, for someone, to feed you. 

When you were old enough to make rash decisions, you decided that anywhere else was better than that hellish place, tired of waiting for a new pair of faceless parents to force you into their life like a misshapen puzzle piece, instead taking your fate into your own trembling hands. 

That was what led you to come across the small, seemingly abandoned town that was located within the forest that you had been wandering inside for so long. All of the quaint, hand-built houses and buildings surrounded a tall, white picturesque church — one you had recognized from the various postcards that you and some of the other orphans had been handed by someone in a long white robe outside of the orphanage, listening intently to their promises of the love and acceptance you would feel if you joined their cause. 

And that was when you met him, the man that would alter your life forever, taking away what could’ve been, and instead molding it into what He wanted, what God wanted.

He was hammering in the very last nail into the very last board of wood that kept the church together when he heard the sound of your dirty feet shift through the forest foliage behind him. As if he had been waiting for your arrival, he hummed softly and headed into your direction, not giving you the opportunity to escape when his sweaty, calloused hands enveloped yours, inviting you in with his friendly honey brown eyes, his cracked lips twisting upwards into a smile that sent a wave of instinctual fear into your heart, before his soft, warm words lured you in, forever holding you captive. 

“You’ve finally arrived, my child. Welcome home.” 

-

Over the years, you were taught by Yunho, your beloved leader, your savior, your everything, that God allowed those he loved the most, those that remained tied to their earthly bonds, to endure deep suffering and endless tribulations — because within that pain, within that humiliation, laid pleasure. Unimaginable pleasure that sat just below the surface. Yunho took great satisfaction in reaching into the darkness, into the depths, and ripping it out with his silver trimmed talons, always willing to graciously bestow it upon his followers. 

There was no greater joy than to witness the moment his dear flock began to walk in the truth. He savored the sweet sounds of ecstasy that tore out of their sweat-ridden throats, longed for the moment their rosy faces ceased their contortions, their lips, wet with saliva, their unfocused eyes, wet with tears, knowing that another one of his beloved disciples had seen the light. And they would always look up at him with delicious desperation, begging for another chance to catch a glimpse of heaven once more. And, only because of his unending benevolence and boundless love, he brought them back, expecting nothing in return, except for their undying loyalty. 

Yet, none of them were ever as loyal as you, even after you met a lovely man within the congregation to wed. You were still his angel from above. If only he had clipped your wings sooner.  

There you were, sitting inside the garden with the other couples, the prettiest flower of them all, just waiting to be plucked, with your husband’s arms wrapped around you from behind, his hands resting gently against your stomach, your hands over his, your head hung downwards, a small, sullen frown gracing your lovely face. Why was his sweetest lily wilting the way she was, instead of holding herself high, closer to the sun, to his everlasting love?

As soon as Yunho made his presence known within the bountiful garden that he had planted with his own two hands so many years ago, his followers grew quiet and offered him their full attention. He basked in it as he made his way in your direction, offering his touch to many of the people nearby, allowing them the privilege of bringing his jewelry-adorned hands up to their cheeks, which he caressed, or their trembling lips, which he brushed gently with his thumbs. 

The warmth and light of the sun on your face suddenly disappeared, causing you to look up, your reddened eyes growing wide upon the sight of your savior standing before you. You watched with bated breath as he reached his hand out from behind his back and brought it up to your face, placing a small flower behind your ear. “Savior…”

“Savior, what have we done to be blessed with your presence?” Seonghwa asked, nuzzling his cheek into Yunho’s rough palm once he offered it to him. 

“I wanted to check on the progress of your union.” Yunho smiled kindly down at Seonghwa, before returning his attention to you, who continued to gaze up longingly in his direction. “Are you with child, my dearest Y/N?” 

You bit down into your bottom lip, your eyes brimming with tears. “I’m so sorry, Savior….We’ve been trying our hardest to contribute to your beautiful congregation, yet I remain barren.” You shook your head out of frustration, a stream of tears spilling down your cheeks. “We don’t understand why God has not graced us.” 

“Oh, my sweet child. Do not ever allow yourself to cry for sorrow, or pain, but out of joy, of pleasure,” Yunho taught, angling his head down further to gaze at your deliciously distraught expression, unable to keep himself from running his tongue across his bottom set of teeth, pressing one talon underneath your chin, so that you obediently angled it upwards without him having to tell you.

“Yes, Savior…” you whispered, gasping softly at the feeling of the cult leader’s sharpened fingers carefully wiping your remaining tears away, your admiration and love for him sprouting more and more within your beating heart. 

Humming, Yunho lowered himself to his knees in front of the both of you, pressing his hands into your stomach through your thin garments. His benevolent smile deepened, his eyes displaying a darkness neither of you could see, not with the allusive veil he had placed over your own. “I will assist you in bearing offspring, my dear. Please come to my bedchambers after supper, and I will show you the true meaning of faith.” 

“We offer you a thousand thanks for your grace, Savior…” Seonghwa bowed his head to Yunho, just before he pressed his lips lovingly against your cheek, which you reciprocated without hesitation. Your dear husband sighed with great relief, resting his temple on yours, his long, curled locks tickling your face, his hands returning to your stomach, placing them over Yunho’s this time around. 

Despite the tranquility you felt, the sun still shining, a gentle breeze cooling your warm skin, the comforting smell of earth and flowers keeping you grounded, the sound of birds chirping in the trees above your head — there was still something else that you couldn’t quite shake off, something that sat just below the surface of your distorted mind. If you truly wanted to see what it was, you would have to get your hands dirty and dig it up yourself. But, for now, you would live in bliss, in heaven, feeding off of the love and mercy your savior offered you.

Yunho tilted his head to the side, reaching up to adjust the flower that began to fall from your ear, pushing a few strands of hair behind it. He studied your suddenly unreadable gaze from underneath his wispy lashes, his tongue just barely slipping past his curled lips to lick at them. “Is there something on your mind, my lily?”

You simply smiled back at him, your eyelids lowering, batting your own lashes at him. “I’m just admiring my savior and the safe haven he created for us. Makes me want to cry those tears of joy.” You briefly mirrored the perversion he had let slip out only a moment ago. “Of pleasure.” 

It was then that Yunho began to grow stiff from beneath his heavy garments, biting at his lip as an attempt to keep himself grounded. This was why you were his favorite. You were his flower to water, to grow, and to tear away from your roots as he pleased. Everything in the garden was his, after all. God told him so. 

-

“My love, my heart, my dearest angel, why do you look at me this way?  With those tears in your eyes? With such devotion?” Yunho sighed out against your flushed cheek, his body flush against yours, the cold metal of his rosary splayed across your hot skin. You simply couldn’t speak, not with the way he was spilling inside you yet again. 

The corners of his lips quirked up into a sadistic smile, his warm, uneven puffs of breath hitting the bottom of your jaw, as he clutched your slick, trembling thighs, holding them farther apart to ensure that he could continue accessing the heaven you kept in between them, the hot, wet haven you allowed your savior to access. “Is it because I’m filling you with my own devotion? Does knowing that my seed will soon grant new life inside of you bring you to tears, Y/N?”

You gazed up at your savior past your wet lashes, reaching down to press your hands into your stomach, feeling the outline of his pulsing cock that twitched inside of you and dribbled a few more beads of cum into your womb, a lust-struck expression carved into your flushed features. “It would be an honor to carry your young, Savior. I’d do anything to carry on your legacy of love.” 

“Anything, my dear?” Yunho whispered carefully near your ear, as though he were testing you, before running his tongue along your jaw to get a taste of your essence, slowly making his way down your body, unable to keep himself from tasting your salty skin along the way. “Even though Seonghwa is your beloved husband?” 

“Anything. I might be his wife, but you’re my savior, Yunho,” you sighed lovingly as a delightful shiver shot down your spine, not a single doubt present within your meticulously molded mind. Your ideas of the world, your life, its purpose — your saving grace had always been Yunho. How could he not be? Considering he built you himself, with great precision and care. You were the intricate tapestry he painstakingly sewed together year by year, each painful jab of his silver needle acting as a reminder of his divine love for you. 

“Say my name again,” Yunho exhaled, his lips ghosting along your abdomen to your navel, unable to keep himself from tonguing it for his own pleasure, his talons leaving red streaks along your skin. 

“Yunho,” you repeated, watching as the older man settled in between your thighs, his lips and tongue already exploring your slick entrance, gasping at the sensation of him lapping up his own release once it dribbled out of you.

“Again,” he commanded, his sharp eyes boring into yours from below, pinching your clit in between his teeth, his talons digging into your thighs. 

“Yunho..!” You looked down at him with such sincerity, it had the potential to touch Yunho’s corrupted heart, your fingers sifting through his sweat-soaked raven locks, tugging on it once he filled you with his long tongue. You were growing feverish, losing sight of why you were there in the first place. “Don’t stop, Savior…Need more...”

Yunho dragged his tongue over the entirety of your cunt, blowing on it just to make you shudder. “Is that what you tell your husband when you want his cock? What else do you tell him?”

You chewed on your bottom lip, feeling your cunt pulse. “Am I selfish for wanting more of your love? Am I a sinner for wanting you to fill me? I’ll go to hell a thousand times if it means I can have my savior’s love inside me once more...”

The seasoned cult leader’s long-lasting poison was far stronger, far more potent than your sincerities, especially when he administered it to his favorite prey in the most pleasurable, most effective way — with his sweet, saccharine lies that poured out like honey past his shiny, pointed teeth and rough, curled tongue that continued its ministrations on your puffy, used cunt.  “Oh, please don’t say things like that, angel. You’ll ruin me for everyone else.” 

In reality, you were the one he was ruining, corrupting, defiling — and all in the name of God. It made the cult leader so stiff, he could hardly keep his composure. 

You whined softly, shuddering underneath his touch, your hand forming a fist, gripping Yunho’s hair tighter and tighter, the longer he licked at your slit and sucked on your clit like a starved man. “Yunho, please…I won’t last much longer….” 

“Would that be such a sin, angel? If you released onto my tongue?” Yunho asked in between lingering licks, his tongue hot and heavy against your leaking cunt, using two fingers to keep your fluttering hole on display for his viewing pleasure, his silver talons gently pressing into your soft flesh. He wondered if he should continue admiring the mess of cum he painted your walls with, or use his saliva-streaked tongue and lips to slurp it out of you, his free hand attempting to milk his slick, throbbing cock. Decisions, decisions. 

Yunho wouldn’t have the time to make one, because just then, the cult leader’s most trusted confidant, Song Mingi, knocked on the door and entered without being granted permission, very aware of the privileges he had as a respected elder. The white-haired man saw the nude, disheveled state you were in, your white ceremonial garments laying in a pile on the floor, the love-struck look in your teary, doe eyes, your trembling, marked-up legs still obediently spread open wide for your savior, knowing you’d let Yunho fill and abuse your poor cunt until he saw fit. 

“Elder Song, are you going to continue standing there drooling like a dog or are you going to come here?” Yunho asked gruffly, rubbing the pad of his thumb relentlessly into your clit, all while he glowered at the younger man over his shoulder. 

Mingi quickly strided over to his leader’s side, sinking to his knees, looking up at him with his apologetic, round eyes. “I…have news, sir. It is of great importance.” 

Yunho shook his head slightly, letting out a small chuckle. “The news can wait, Mingi,” the cult leader began softly, reaching over to caress the other man’s cheek, making sure the younger man’s gaze was fixed solely on him. “Can I ask you for something?” 

Mingi nodded intently, his lips parted, taking short breaths, as if he was waiting with great anticipation. “Anything, Savior. What do you need from me?” 

It was then that Yunho brought the tip of his reddened cock to Mingi’s mouth, drops of pre-cum getting onto his plump, parted lips, his once softened gaze contorting into one of pure perversion. “Can you be a good boy and open up? Hm, princess?” 

Mingi closed his eyes, as an attempt to hide the way they rolled underneath his eyelids and the influx of arousal that had spread throughout his body like a virus, his sudden heavy breathing and flushed cheeks betraying him. “Yes, savior,” he moaned out, just as Yunho’s stiff cock filled up his drooling mouth, trying his best not to choke as he repeatedly took it down his tight throat. 

Yunho tossed his head back, a few drops of sweat sliding along his straining jaw and staining the bed below, gripping the back of Mingi’s head to make sure he didn’t stop worshiping his cock. “That’s it, princess. You’re taking it so well.” 

Mingi groaned wantonly, beginning to grind his own leaking cock against the side of the bed, not even caring that his knees began to ache from being pressed into the hardwood floor below. He found himself gazing down at you, his body on fire from being watched by his savior’s favorite angel, beginning to gag around Yunho’s thick length once he began ramming it down his throat with abandon. 

When you let out a small whine from witnessing such a visceral display of power and submission taking place right in front of you, Yunho reminded you with shaky words, “Don’t worry, my angel, this is all for you. Mingi here is going to transfer my love to you once I…Oh, God–”

Mingi’s gaze returned to his savior above, a few tears slipping down his flushed cheeks, his jaw aching from the way Yunho bottomed out completely inside his bulging throat, only to find his oxygen supply suddenly being cut off when the older man pinched his nose. 

“You trust me, don’t you, princess?” Yunho asked in an eerily calm tone, not bothering to hide his sadistic tendencies in that moment, throbbing inside the young man’s throat upon seeing his small nods and hearing the tiny, breathless squeaks he made. It was then that he held Mingi completely still until his face began to grow red. 

Just when he thought he might pass out, his vision sporting a fuzziness around the edges that reminded him of the television set Yunho had put inside the community room, his throat had finally become unblocked. As he gasped for air, he watched Yunho’s eyes roll into his skull, hot, white ropes of cum splattering onto Mingi’s lolled-out tongue. Before he could swallow, Yunho grabbed his chin and guided him in between your legs. 

“Impregnate her, princess. For me,” Yunho whispered into Mingi’s ear, his digits forming a V against your pulsing cunt, spreading you open for Elder Song. 

Not letting a drop go to waste, Mingi pursed his lips and sent a wad of cum directly into you, before shoving his tongue in as deep as it would go. He fucked the warm milkiness into you, with sloppy desperation, like the demon dog he was. He looked up to you for approval, which you gave, through your cries of pleasure and your fingers suddenly tugging at his snow white hair. He didn’t even realize he had lost his own composure, until he was whining and whimpering against your slick cunt, soiling his once pristine garments with his sticky load.   

Once Yunho watched Mingi pull his tongue out, a few strands of milky saliva connecting his plump lips to your cunt, the cult leader tapped your puffy pussy. “Good boy. Can you fill her up with those thick fingers of yours now?” 

Mingi huffed and puffed, trying to catch his breath, his pupils blown wide when he looked to Yunho for guidance. “Two? Three? How many, sir?” 

“As many as you need to make sure my seed reaches her womb,” Yunho reassured in a gravelly voice, watching as Mingi hovered over you, drops of saliva falling from his open mouth and onto your pleasured face, easily slipping in three fingers up to his knuckles. 

Yunho leisurely flicked, squeezed, and rolled your puffy clit, admiring Mingi’s relentless pursuit in finger-fucking you into a state of pure ecstasy, throbbing at the sight of his precious loads dripping down along the other man’s straining wrist and along his veined forearm. “Very good, princess. She’ll be nice and round soon, thanks to your support. Your hard work won’t go unnoticed.” 

Mingi bit down into his bottom lip, a few groans slipping out, despite his effort to conceal just how much his leader’s praise affected him. “Thank you, Savior. Now, I’ll make your angel cry out to the Lord,” he began breathily, locking eyes with Yunho for a moment, their digits working in tandem to send you over the edge, their focus returning to you. “Let it be done.” 

“Amen,” Yunho sighed, bringing his precious rosary up to his mouth to kiss, the metal cold against his warm lips. 

When you began to writhe around, your focus shifting to the various crosses that were nailed to the wall, your forceful release causing your bruised body to seize up, the cult leader suddenly grabbed your chin with his talons, the tips of them stabbing into your skin, drawing blood, making you whimper. His crazed eyes bored into your barely open ones, looking as if he was about to come undone himself, despite not touching himself. “You see it, don’t you, Y/N? Heaven? Isn’t it beautiful?” 

It was all too much. The pain. The pleasure. Elder Song watching closely as your squirt soaked his tan skin and the mattress underneath your jolting body, a demonic smile painting his sharp, seraphic face. Your savior clutching you so tight that you bled, his seed blossoming within your womb. It was then that you fell unconscious, your body falling limp against the feather-filled quilt. 

Yunho ran his jewelry-adorned fingers along your jaw, letting them graze your neck, down to the cross necklace that laid against your chest. “What did you need to tell me, Mingi?” 

Mingi pushed his sweaty bangs back, taking in a deep breath and letting it out, trying to find his composure. “We have two new visitors. They mentioned Y/N by name, and claimed that they grew up in the same orphanage as her. They were hoping to find her here, so that they could…” 

Yunho turned his head to glare at Mingi, his gaze alone making Mingi cower. “They want to take her away from me, don’t they? From us? From God?” 

Mingi began to scratch at his neck, leaving red streaks behind. “They believe that they can provide her with a better life.” 

“And what life could be better than one of enlightenment? Of purity? What could those heathens possibly offer my Y/N that I can’t?” Yunho suddenly erupted, his anger being directed towards Mingi, who lowered his head down, staring at the cross that hung past his chest. 

Yunho’s face twitched slightly, his once rage-filled expression dissipating as soon as it had surfaced, as if it had never been there in the first place. It was a simple trick of the light. He placed his hand on Mingi’s shoulder, squeezing it gently, until the unusually timid man found the courage to meet his gaze. “Mingi.” 

“Sir?” 

Yunho hummed to himself, catching onto the way your breath hitched, as if you had suddenly held it, his honey brown eyes gleaming with pride, and something else, something indistinguishable. “Offer them a room and dinner, oh, and invite our guests to the annual communion on Sunday.” 

“Right away, sir,” Mingi replied, getting up from the bed and exiting the room. He pressed his back into the mahogany door and shut his eyes, carefully sliding his fingers into his drooling mouth to savor the taste of his savior’s seed and his angel’s release. 

Once he was alone with you, Yunho reached down to brush a few strands of hair out of your eyes, smiling knowingly at the sight of them opening. “How much did you hear, sweet girl?”

“Enough,” you whispered carefully, as if you were testing him. You might have been the flower inside his clutches, but you still had thorns. 

Yunho began to chuckle softly, before it grew louder and louder, his pleased laughter ringing out through the halls. 

One of your threads was beginning to come undone. Nothing a little stitching couldn’t fix. 

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© kitten4sannie, 2024.

[m4rv3l-girl]

Saying Something Stupid

Bucky x Y/N

Sometimes things just slip out…

Requests Open!

Warnings: None. Just fluff!

The soft hum of a tune filtered through the compound’s kitchen, mingling with the gentle sizzle of something sweet in a pan.

The hour was early, most of the team still tucked away in their rooms, leaving the vast halls and polished countertops empty save for one person: Y/N. The floor was bathed in warm sunlight, casting long, golden shadows as she worked. And Bucky, who had only come down for a cold beer, paused just outside the kitchen at the sound of her voice.

She was singing softly to herself, her back to him as she swayed in time with the song. He recognized it immediately—a tune from the ‘40s that always brought a bittersweet twinge to his heart. Her voice was soft, but rich with emotion, and she sang with a quiet confidence that left him breathless.

“Don't let this parting upset you I'll not forget you, sweetheart…”

Bucky swallowed hard. It had been years since he’d heard someone sing that song, and something about hearing it here, in the compound kitchen, with Y/N at the stove, made his chest feel heavy and warm.

He didn’t dare move, just leaned his shoulder against the doorway, watching as she flipped something in the pan, still singing.

The lyrics carried him back to old dance halls and sun-dappled parks, to nights spent singing and dancing with friends who had been gone for longer than he cared to remember. But here, now, he felt something new—a warmth that filled in the cracks in his heart, a sense of belonging he hadn’t felt in years. Y/N was here, and her voice was bringing back all the good things about his past without the shadows. She brought only light.

It wasn’t until she turned, wiping her hands on a dish towel, that she saw him there. Bucky grinned sheepishly as her eyes widened in surprise.

“Bucky! How long have you been standing there?” she asked, a flush coloring her cheeks. The music fell silent as she turned off the burner, setting her utensil aside to focus on him. Her voice still held that warmth, that energy, but now there was something new: a spark of embarrassment that Bucky found incredibly endearing.

He shrugged, pushing himself off the doorframe. “Long enough to enjoy the show, Doll.”

She let out a laugh, shaking her head, but Bucky could see the delight in her eyes. “You’re ridiculous.”

“I mean it,” he said, crossing the room to stand beside her. “That was... really somethin’.” He paused, searching for the right words. “You’ve got a beautiful voice, Kitten. I haven’t heard someone sing like that in a long time.”

Her smile softened, and she ducked her head. “It’s just a song,” she murmured, but there was a glint in her eye that told him she knew it was more.

Bucky looked at her, wondering if she knew what her singing did to him, how it lifted the shadows he often found himself lost in. She didn’t know the half of it.

“Not to me,” he said, voice dropping low, almost reverent. He could see her gaze flicker, a shiver running through her as she looked at him, something unspoken passing between them.

“Well,” she started, clearing her throat, “if you’d told me you were here, I could’ve given you a proper performance.”

He chuckled, the low rumble filling the space between them. “Wouldn’t want to distract you while you’re cookin’. Smells amazing, by the way.”

Her eyes lit up. “I had a craving for pancakes,” she said, a little too quickly, like she wanted to cover the silence that had grown between them. “Blueberry, to be specific. Want some?”

“Wouldn’t say no,” he replied, leaning back against the counter, his arms folding casually across his chest as he watched her return to the stove. She worked quickly, flipping pancakes with practiced ease, and he couldn’t help but let his eyes wander over her—her face set in concentration, the way she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, the little smile she wore when she thought he wasn’t looking.

It was moments like these that Bucky cherished. They didn’t come often, but when they did, he held onto them, savoring every detail. She filled the spaces in his life that had once felt empty, brightening the corners of his mind that had been shrouded in darkness for so long. And in this light, he found a feeling he hadn’t dared to name until now.

As she plated the pancakes and turned to him, holding out a plate with a grin, the words slipped out before he could catch them.

“Thank you, darling. I love you.”

The words hung in the air, and Bucky’s heart stopped as he realized what he’d just said. He hadn’t planned it, hadn’t even thought it, really—it had just slipped out, as natural as breathing, like it was something he’d been saying for years.

Y/N’s eyes widened, her mouth opening slightly in surprise, the plate of pancakes momentarily forgotten in her hands. There was a flicker of something in her gaze—hope, maybe, mixed with a wonder that made his stomach flip.

He cleared his throat, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. “I, that…was stupid..uh, I didn’t mean—”

“Yes, you did,” she interrupted, a soft smile growing on her lips. “I can tell when you mean it, Bucky.”

The warmth in her voice, the tenderness in her eyes, made him feel as if his heart might burst. He swallowed, searching her face for any sign of uncertainty, but all he found was love—love for him, unspoken but unmistakable.

“Yeah,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “I did mean it.”

She stepped closer, setting the plate on the counter beside them, her gaze never leaving his. Her hand reached out, brushing his cheek with a touch so gentle it felt like a promise. “I love you too, Bucky. Always have.”

Those words, so simple, so honest, hit him harder than any battle he’d ever fought. All the walls he’d built, all the fears he’d carried, melted away in an instant. For the first time, he felt truly seen, truly known. And in that moment, he knew he was home.

He reached up, taking her hand in his, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. “You’re my whole world, Doll. I don’t know how I got so lucky.”

She laughed, her eyes sparkling as she laced her fingers through his. “By singing in kitchens at seven in the morning, apparently.”

He chuckled, pulling her close, her warmth grounding him in a way that felt like magic. “Guess I’ll have to start waking up early more often,” he murmured, nuzzling his face into her hair.

“Please don’t,” she teased, her voice muffled against his chest. “You’re terrible in the mornings.”

He laughed, the sound deep and free, and held her tighter, knowing he’d never let her go.

——————————————————————————————————

Enjoy the fluffiness? 🤭

[miniwheat77]

Shakin’ (Ghost x Reader.)

!I aged Simon up a bit for this chapter. He’s around 44. Smut, unprotected p in v sex, (wrap it up-_-) military talk, teasing, you know the drill babes, absolutely NO MINORS, enjoy!

(Bc I bet Simon totally listened to Eddie Money when he was a teen XD. Obvi my song inspo is Shakin’ by Eddie Money.)

At this point, everything he did was routine. 141 had Simon busy most of the time so he didn’t spend too much time off base anymore. He had nothing better to do, the most exciting thing he did was stop by a bar with Johnny and Price. That was it. A round of new recruits were coming and this was always the hardest part, getting used to the newbies. Because some of them were insufferable. Ghost liked to be left alone. But the new recruits were always all over him. Trying to make friends and be nice and ask for advice which he didn’t mind, not at all. But sometimes he’d just want to be left alone.

For some reason, there weren’t many women on base. Aside from a couple that didn’t work out for… inappropriate reasons. There was no one but Laswell around.

“Ghost.” The scot accent pierces his ears and he turns to see Soap approaching with a girl by his side. “This is Y/N. She’s one of the new recruits.” He tilts his head to you. Ghost nods his head. “Hi.” You send a small wave his way. “Hey.” He says. “See, he doesn’t bite.” Soap laughs. “No, but I might.” You smile. Your sly smile pierces Simon right to his core, a feeling he hasn’t felt in a long time. As you walked away with Johnny, he wondered what the hell that was.

He didn’t know it, but it was the start of something special.

You settle in pretty quickly and Ghost sees how well you and Johnny get along together. He sees the both of you together quite often. Ghost worried about him catching feelings for you, and having you turn out to be like every other girl that’s come onto this base. A barracks bunny.

His worries all came to an end when he watched you resist every guy on base. Seriously, they’ll hit on you while you’re sitting across from the both of them and you’ll have to spin around and tell them to piss off.

You’re usually eating, listening to something Soap is saying and someone will walk up behind you and start trying to flirt with you. He can see the immediate anger on your face, wanting to be left alone.

Something Ghost didn’t expect is the both of you to start spending time together. Without Johnny around. You were a productive soldier. Always offering to help, always busy doing something around the base. You hardly ever complained about something and when you did it’s usually because you hurt in some kind of way. Which he understood all too well. You always offered to help him with anything he was doing. Jumping right up when he was going to do some heavy lifting. So the two of you started hanging out and doing those things together like it was second nature. A routine. Ghost started catching feelings for you pretty quickly and he tried to avoid it.

Especially after he found out how young you were.

You followed him out to load up the Humvee, and you spoke about your parents. Something about the age of your mum made Simon perk up. “Wait. How old are you?” He asks. You smile. “Why you want to know?” You smirk. “Because it sounds like your mum is about the same age as me and that means you’re really young.” He freezes up. “Yeah, I’m 21.” His eyes widen. “Jesus Christ. You do not look that young. You’re really mature for your age.” He mumbles, tossing a box into the back of the Humvee. He hears you chuckle. “Yeah, I get that a lot. But.. age doesn’t bother me if it doesn’t bother you.” The slyness of your words have the hair on his neck standing up. “Yeah right, I’m old enough to be your dad.” He rolls his eyes.

You set a box down, only maybe a foot away from him. “Doesn’t scare me.” You smile. Stepping away from him. What exactly did you mean by that? Were you… flirting with him?

—

“Rosanna’s daddy had a car she loved to drive.” You mumble out the lyrics as you pass by Ghost. You don’t see him yet but he’s there. As soon as those lyrics hit his ears, he smiles. Reminding him of when he was a teenager, being crazy. Something he didn’t seem to think about too often anymore. “Stole the keys one night and took me for a ride.”

“Fuck.” You mutter as the box splits open, the contents of it falling out the bottom. Ghost steps out of the darkness. “What you singing there sweetheart?”

You jump when you hear him behind. “Jesus Christ.” You breathe. Tugging an earbud out of one of your ears. “Gave me a heart attack.” You laugh. Theres something inside of him brewing. Looking at you now, he knows there’s no going back.

He can only pray Johnny has no feelings for you, because there’s no going back. “Price told me to get you and check out some surrounding areas. Take the Humvee.” He nods. “Really?” You ask. He nods his head, lying through his teeth. What Price doesn’t know won’t hurt him.

He could still hear your music through your earbuds.

“Turned up the music just as loud as it could go, blew out the speakers in her daddy’s radio. She was shakin’” he smiles. “Eddie Money ah?” He asks. Hearing you laugh.

“Of course.”

“Snappin her fingers, she was movin’ round and round. That girl was shakin’”

“Come on, let’s go.” He helps you put everything back into the box, telling you to worry about it later. When you get inside the Humvee, he snags one of the earbuds from you. Sliding it into his ear. He pulls out of the garage. He could get in so much trouble over this, but can’t remember the last time he’s done something this crazy. You haven’t done anything and you’ve already lit a fire inside of him.

“We started drinkin’ wasn’t thinking too straight. She was doing 80 and she slammed on the breaks. Got so high we had to pull to the side. We did some shakin’ til the middle of the night.”

He reaches his hand across the middle, resting it on your thigh. You tense up immediately, turning to look at him. “Ghost.. what are you doing?” You ask. His hand glides further up, and he hears you gasp. “Simon-“ you laugh.

“Shakin’, snappin’ her fingers. She was up and down and round and round. Shakin’”

“Cmere baby, sit in my lap.” He forces you over onto him, facing the steering wheel. You can feel his bulge against your ass. You twist around in his lap. Straddling him and keeping your face tucked into his neck so that he can see. He groans as you start attacking his neck. Sucking and biting at his skin. “Fuck.” He mutters under his breath. “Drive me fucking crazy.” He hisses.

“I got a little nervous. She took her coat off. She looked so pretty, ah yeah.”

He takes in a deep breath as you reach for his cargo pants. “Focus on the road. Don’t kill us.” You laugh. “Fuck- doing my best.” He laughs. You unzip his pants, tugging his cock through the hole in his boxers until you could see it. Taking a deep breath. You wiggle your own cargo pants down, off of one leg, freeing up your hips, you straddle him.

“I’m always talkin’ baby, talkin’ too much. I love that little girl and I just can’t get enough. It takes a lonely night with nowhere to go, just call Rosanna and it’s a hell of a show.

And she’s shakin’”

A hiss leaves his lips as he grips your hips with his rough hands. You swallow him up, sliding down onto him. He’s driving fast, way faster than he should. But he’s so fired up from you, he can’t help it. It’s fucking thrilling. Your skin is soft compared to his calloused hands. He grits his teeth, muscles tightening in his body as you slide down around him. Clutching onto him like a glove. The music is loud, nearly hurting your ears as you rock your hips into him. “Fuck- fucking hell you’re a minx.” Simon grits his teeth harder, gripping onto you and rocking his hips up to meet yours. He presses his foot into the gas harder, thanking whatever god is out there that this road is empty.

The pleasure is white hot, wrapping around the base of his spine and working its way up. You make him feel young again, like a crazy teenager. You attack his neck, you’re loud and you can’t help it as you ride him, raising yourself up onto him and moving back down. Riding him like your life depends on it. Chasing after that high. You bury your face into the crook of his neck, crying out. You gasp out when he slams onto the breaks, pulling over onto the side of the road. He forces you to look at him after he throws it into park. He grips your hips tightly, thrusting up into you. “Fuck, you’re so fucking sexy.” He growls. He grasps the bottom of his balaclava, tugging it over his head. He grips your chin, pulling you in to kiss him. You’re whining as he fucks up into you.

The windows are starting to fog up, your bodies are sweaty as they move against each other. He feels hot, fully dressed. Feelings just how hot the two of you have made it in the car. The fat of your hips clutched hard between his massive hands. Making you feel small as he fills you up. You stare him in the eyes, keeping eye contact. You smile, making him narrow his eyes. “What?” He asks. “Do I intimidate you Simon?” You smile. He shakes his head. “What are you talking about?”

“You seemed intimidated by me flirting with you.” You wrap your arms around his neck, rocking into him. He’s panting almost. “Just not used to it. Usually it’s the other way around. I’m supposed to intimidate you.” He laughs. Clutching onto the seat of the Humvee. “Fuck- you’re getting me close sweetheart.” He grits his teeth. “Me too.” You breathe, adjusting yourself one last time. He tilts his head back against the seat and you lean in, biting down on his throat, feeling his pulse against your tongue. His breaths pick up. He’s getting close, you can tell. He wraps his arms around your waist and holds you tight. Thrusting up into you. “Fuck- fuck baby. I’m gonna cum.” He gasps. His eyes roll back and his lips part. He gasps, hips jerking up into you. Your eyes narrow shut, closing tight. That knot forming in your belly. The warmth of him sends you over the edge, crying out into the crook of his neck. He holds you tight to him like you’ll fall apart if he lets go.

Your thighs shake as he adjusts you in his lap. “You did so good.” He breathes. “Such a good girl for me.” He breathes. He hears you laugh into him. “Fuck. We’re gonna be in so much trouble when we get back.” You mumble against him. “Yeah, probably.”

“One more, make it worth our while?” He smirks. You glide your tongue over your bottom lip. “Let me restart the song.” You giggle.

[dollfacedsl1ut]

Crystal Moon

dynamic: g!p ning x siren!fem reader

synonsis: ningning went to a nearby beach to clear her mind but there’s a unexpected visitor who she meets along the way

warnings: dubcon, manipulation, exhibition, seduction, dacryphilia (crying), begging, overstimulation, both are dominate at one point, Ning is a little depressed lmk if I’m missing smth !!!!

wc: 1,329 or 1.3k

A/N: in honor of my LONNGGGGG awaited return I’ve made something new plus I’m accepting bg requests!!

The old sand molted the shape of ningning feet as she walked along the beachside, this was the only way she would be able to think, everything was just so clouded in her mind and she needed to catch a break, whether it was paparazzi or stalkers following her it was all too much, this beach reminded her of the good times she had as a kid although it looked different….. it was windier and cloudy all the time not a lick off sun in sight..

Ning rested against a large rock near the ocean the tidal waves marking their path in the brown sand, her eyes felted heavy as she glanced at the empty vodka bottle she had tucked away in her jacket, she knew she’d have to go back and face reality eventually but a little break wouldn’t hurt anyone

She let her eyes close for a brief second before a a sweet yet seductive tune played in her head, maybe it was the alcohol she thought over and over until the rhythm changed…”Yeah theres no way I’m dreaming” she thought as her legs dangled from the large rock, the tune got louder and more intense but the voice of whatever it was made her head foggy, foggier than it was before it was mind controlling in a way, she counted complain it was such as beautiful thing to hear but she felt like it was the only thing she heard the sound of the ocean water hitting the rocks gone, the sound of the birds chirping and flapping their wings erased, just the tune was heard, yeah she was in denial until a dark figure was seen moving from under the wooden brown bridge in front of her.

Maybe her suspicions were true she’s not dreaming…but in fact hallucinating Ning groaned as she lifted her body off the rock before plopping down on the sand, she could’ve swore she stepped on a seashell or a hermit crab? But nonetheless her foot was on a sharp object, she didn’t know if she wanted to check on her foot or follow the figure who released the tune..

She just couldn’t think straight so ignoring her very aching foot she went after it but the song got louder and more hypnotizing and intoxicating it felt like drinking the most throat burning alcohol in the world, right when it felt like she was gonna faint she spotted a dark purple tail she reached out to try and grab it but it moved upwards like it was begging Ning to touch it, but that’s when the song stopped as the tail turned into a pair of long soft legs

“H-hello” Ning said with a shaky voice unaware of the creature that was before her eyes, the now human walked in front of ning as she gawked, your skin was glistening as her eyes trailed from your body to your chest then your dark eyes, they looked lifeless to Ning but she didn’t move..she couldn’t move..it was like someone was holding her in place.. you were holding her place the song she heard wasn’t a dream or a hallucination it was you..you lead her here to do what exactly??

Your dark eyes pierced her skin, it made her feel invisible but when your hand touched and grasped her shoulder she knew you were real “w-who are you” she whispered “if I told you who I was I’d be banished so let’s just call me siren” her voice gave her chills as she nodded your presence drove her crazy but your body was hypnotic, needless to say there was a visble tent in her pants as she looked at you trembling “I must say I never seen another human on this beach in months” Ning almost came right there when you kept speaking to her, she didn’t know you could sense her arousal, your arms brung Ning in for a bare hug before dragging her under the wooden brown bridge, she wanted to scream and fight, she didn’t want to go with you, she didn’t know if you wanted to kill her or even take her away she was defenseless because she just had to come to you, she just had to be attracted to your song and follow you…

You reached the bridge as you placed her down on the sand this part was much darker and colder it made her nipples perk up under her gray hoodie, Ning was afraid but aroused, you straddles her hips as your hands rested on her shoulders “you know what I’m gonna do to you is your own fault right…..you purposely followed me for you’re own reasoning” she wanted to believe it wasn’t but your words persuaded her, a smile formed on your lips as you unzipped her hoodie, her skin was so and delicate, it was life one slice with your claws and her skin would be tainted

Your hands trailed to her pants as her tent was visible you smiles softly before pulling them down but leaving them on her thighs although you were gonna take advantage of her you didn’t want her to get horrifyingly sick, there was a sight of precum left in her boxers as you pulled them down revealing her cock, it stood upright as it smacked against her soft belly it was so thick and long, this was visibly the biggest you’ve ever seen even male sirens didn’t have this much girth you thought as you slide down your panties, there was a hint of worry on nings face as you lifted yourself up then guided down on her cock, the stretch was painful but bearable, you sank down until your clit reached her pelvis, Ning gasped and whimpered under you as her hands immediately went to your hips kneading the soft flesh, you tried your best to stay silent but it just felt too good your body weakened as you moved your hips against hers her cock felt good in your tummy, her tips was pushing and hitting your cervix as you got leverage and started to lift your hips and bounce on your cock, your whimpers didn’t go unproved by Ning as she kept kneading your hips while letting out whimpers or curses every other second, your cunt squeezed her cunt deliciously as your hips moved restlessly it was so magical and synchronized, her flesh slapped against yours as liquid ran down your legs she didn’t know you came yet until the white ring formed around her cock, she felt her high coming as you clamped around her, she didn’t know you could get this tight it was unbearable as tears rolled down her cheeks, she came inside your cunt with a loud cry as her hands squeezed you tight, but you didn’t stop you wanted to be full you haven’t felt like that in a while and she was your only option, her cock veins bulged and dragged against her spongy walls as you came again, your cum was beginning to soaked her joggers, Ning hiccuped as she pleaded and begged you to go faster, her feeble voice was such a turn on it made your cunt quiver around her, you felt her hands snake up your body and grasp your chest fondling with your nipples, you moaned at the sensation, as your hips stuttered.. you were close again but so was Ning her cock throbbed inside of your cunt as she squeezed and pinched your nipples your bottom lip tucked under your teeth as you came around her for the last time, Ning followed as her warm cum coated your walls.

Nings eyes closed as you lifted yourself off her, you cleaned her up but left her on the sand unconscious or conscious you’ll never know, but you did know she’d be back to look for you and always you’d be singing your tune wishing she would be the one to come find you….

[unofficial-writing]

HIII! I loved your, “Sunlight” fanfic! I was wondering if you could do an elrond x fem!elf!reader (close friends who have feelings for each other) fic where after the battle for eregion elrond is upset and depressed abt it, and the reader finds him crying alone on a cliff or by a tree (like on outdoor setting) and begins to comfort him and finds out that he’s been dealing with this for a long time? thank you!

Gravity

✵ Pairing: Elrond Peredhel / f!elven!reader

✵ Word count: 1.5k

✵ Summary: Nothing was the same after Eregion’s destruction. But you had yet to discover just how difficult it had been for Elrond.

✵ Warnings: Angsty but still touching. Pretty heavy theme of depression. I think the summary paints a good picture of what to expect

✵ A/n: Thank you anon for the beautiful request. I absolutely love how this turned out and I hope you do too! I think this is now a favorite of mine ♡

Time seemed to pass slowly following Eregion’s downfall. Hours stretched into days, and days stretched into weeks. One by one, each elf found themselves able to let go of their sorrow. But each would be bound to carry the tragic memory until the end of their days.

Despite the new-found acceptance, a feeling of grief still lay heavy in the air. It was a gravity that tugged at each soul that walked there. You could feel it in every part of your body. It was as if you were being pulled toward the ground by some force invisible to your eye, making each step more difficult to take than the last.

It was taken this way by most. For the race of elves did not take a loss of their own lightly. Even those who were not directly affected by this massacre felt its sharp sting.

Today, however, your feet felt lighter to you. It was the subtlest of changes, but it brought to you a small flicker of hope. Like the first sparks preceding a great flame. It was a welcome relief following the past several weeks. You could only hope those close to you had begun to feel the same.

Elrond concerned you most. He had closed himself off from everyone around him, yourself included. You didn’t believe he was to blame for any of what occurred, but you knew he had taken on that burden all the same. It pained your heart.

Despite your best efforts, he would not share his thoughts aloud. At least not all of them. There would be no way to know the full extent of his grief unless he shared it with you. Therefore, you could not do much to comfort him.

A gentle breeze touched your skin, returning to you your optimism. It was then you decided to seek out Elrond, in hopes of seeing an improvement in his state.

The temporarily built camp was quiet, for stories had been told and songs had been sung late into the night. This was how your people found comfort in even the darkest of times; by finding comfort in one another.

In the silence, you could feel a gentle shift from sadness into peace, making it seem less like something to be avoided. Normally, you would relish in this peace. However, today it only brought to your notice the absence of just the person you were searching for. You had sought him out in every place you could think of within the little sanctuary, but you were so far unsuccessful.

A new thought crossed your mind and your eyes drifted beyond, out over the freshly discovered land. Elrond was likely not in the camp at all. He would prefer a quiet place away from the weight of the group. A place where he could feel his burden lifted, even if only for a moment. You changed direction, weaving your way back through the refuge toward where your instincts led. You could only hope those instincts would prove correct.

Your feet brought you far from the rest of the elves, high into the cliffs above. The sound of rushing water crowded your sensitive ears, covering up any quieter noise that could not succeed in the fight to be heard. It led you on toward the spot where you first looked over the valley many weeks ago. A quiet spot tucked cleverly into the cover of rock and greenery. This is where you found him.

Elrond sat on his knees, his body facing out over the land so you could only see the backside of him. As you approached, his frame stiffened a little, sensing your sudden presence. The sight of him there made your heart sink, dwindling your enthusiasm away. “Oh, Elrond—” You started quietly, only to be cut off by the faintest of sounds managing to climb above the water. It was a muffled whimper, barely audible to even your ears until you were closer.

The little noise stopped you before another step was taken. Even after all the time you had known Elrond, you had never truly seen him cry. The sound felt like a wound to your heart, dropping it in your chest. It was then you realized why he had chosen this particular place to escape to. It concealed him perfectly, sight and sound. And it was not the easiest to find either. Even you did not think to search here for many hours. How many times had he come up here?

Wordlessly, you approached Elrond and settled onto the ground beside him. He tensed initially, so you set a hand on his arm to wash it away. Out of shame, he hid his head in his hands, but it was not before you caught a glimpse of his face. Tears stained Elrond’s cheeks and dampened his usually tidy curls. The sight enabled you to feel for a moment the weight of sorrow he carried on his shoulders. Oh, how you desperately wished to lighten it for him.

“I am sorry, y/n.” He managed to get out shakily, ashamed to have let you see him in such a state. The words twisted at you. Elrond thought it best to hold is tears inside, only expressing his pain in isolation. This way he can protect those he cares about from his feelings

You set a hand on the side of his face, using your thumb to brush a fresh tear off his cheek. “Do not apologize for what shadow weighs down your heart. It should have never been yours to bear.” He took a much steadier breath upon hearing your words, which was a small victory. However, he sensed your thoughts. You still wished for him to share his sadness with you, and he was still reluctant to do so.

“If you continue to carry this burden alone, it will become unbearable.” You told him, searching for any sort of give. Elrond gazed back at you with round, tearful eyes, giving him an almost childlike appearance. It only furthered your longing to relieve his misery. “Let me carry it with you.” Your words pleaded directly with his soul.

Something in him finally caved, willing to give in to you. But his next words came out slowly, as if he had to force himself to say each one. “There is a heaviness that has made home in my heart. It feels as if I am underwater, being pulled further and further below the surface. And every time I try to swim to safety, I can only sink deeper.” Elrond’s eyes fell away from yours, tears escaping and rolling down his cheeks. He had to take a shaky breath before continuing, preventing himself from breaking down completely. “At times, I feel like I am drowning, suffocating. All I want is air and it is always just out of my reach.”

The pull of your own tears burned in your throat. He had hidden these thoughts so well from you when you could have provided comfort. “Elrond,” you whispered, feeling his body sink lower toward the ground. “How long have you suffered this alone?”

His gaze was drawn back up to yours, hesitant even after what he had already said. A sigh escaped his lips. “It has been longer than you know,” Elrond admitted quietly, his voice barely touching your ears over the raging waterfall. “I often longed to share my feelings with you, but I did not wish to place my sorrow on your shoulders.”

The statement was enough to split your heart into several pieces. Elrond had isolated himself out of fear. Fear of burdening you with his pain. You moved to kneel in front of him, taking his hands in your own. “You fear increasing the weight of your burden. But if you let me, I would help you lighten it.” You gave his hands a careful squeeze. “Elrond, the only sorrow I have is in knowing you feel this way. And that is something given to me by my love for you. Not by the thoughts you have been afraid to tell me.”

Something inside Elrond gave way. He freed his hands from yours and pulled you into a deep embrace, burying his face in the dip of your neck. You held him tightly in return, a hand finding home amid his soft curls. It was there he wept, his body shaking with tears that dampened your skin. You could not tell how long you stayed there, but you did not move until he had freed every ounce of pain that had been caged and stored away. Elrond had finally given you the opportunity to comfort him, and you would not take it for granted.

Your embrace had begun to heal a small part of him in a way that words could not. Though it would be a long and winding road to being free from this burden, you had been able to relieve some of its weight. Just enough that he could begin to feel the same hope that flickered in your mind. Hope that it would not always be this way. That one day you both would come out better than even before everything that had happened. Even though it was only a small fraction of the hope it could be, it was a vast improvement from only moments ago. And for now, that was more than enough.

✵ Find more like this here

[minhosimthings]

love.

Synopsis: in which Hyunjin comforts you on a hard day

Warnings: fluff fluff fluff, heavily self indulgent because I can, hurt/comfort, reader cries, mention of food

A/N: yay I did this finally it's out of my notes Woohoo! Idk when this idea came into my brain but it did and I couldn't stop thinking about it so now it's here. For my loves @chlorinecake and @astraystayyh they are my Hyunjins

Song rec: love by Wave to Earth

The weight of the world on your shoulders.

You had often heard that phrase as a child. It was ridiculous, initially.

The world can't possibly weigh that much.

You were the smartest in your class, you knew the multiplication tables by the time you were five, the capitals of the world by eight, and by fifteen, the weight of nothing but your own shoulders dragged you behind everyone.

University was an easy affair, that's what you told everyone. Someone's got to keep up the smart girl, book child status up right?

Studies were easy, just understand it, write it down better. Yet, fuck, you could feel the words fading by, was it a stalactite or a stalagmite?

Graduation was easy, you were peaking and nothing was in your way!

Then you realised something.

The world did weigh too much.

Everyone weighed too much.

Your mind weighed greater than your heart, something you fought off for eons now.

And diamonds are formed under pressure, but hadn't you learnt that diamonds turn into graphite every now and then too?

You were so smart as a child, what happened?, You wished ever so fervently that you could tell them that you weren't a child anymore.

No longer the child that thought the only thing that she needed to do to be loved was to get a good grade off her papers.

Or was that love starved part of you still inside?

"Rough day, love?"

Love. It was the nickname you most adored. Lucky for you nicknames were Hyunjin's personal favourite job.

"Fuck..." You swore softly, immediately collapsing onto your couch, and wrapping yourself into the warm cocoon that was your boyfriend's arms. You swore you would become a butterfly from your current catterpillar state one day.

The gruesome world always seemed to calm down on its axis of rotation as soon as you reached Hyunjin's touch. As if he was the petals of honeydew calming down the speed of a hummingbird. Would you have been the overactive bird rushing around to cater to the needs of everyone around her?

You could hear your own heartbeat in the moments of silence, when the dust seemed to still and the winds seemed to wait, eavesdropping on conversations old and new. The hauntedness of the thumping sound made you shiver.

The tightness around your throat felt tighter by the moment, like an invisible rope hanging round it. Your heart felt too heavy too for some reason. It's a heart, you tried to convince yourself, you need it to live. But you knew that you could rip it out of your chest at this moment, and you would still keep living on. But did you really have to-

"Want to talk about it, love?"

That was the straw that broke the camel's back.

A loud sob ripped through the thick air, coating the curtains of the atmosphere in a blueish paint that seemed to have rotted inside it's bucket far too long. Hyunjin was quick to bury your head further into his chest.

You know you smell really comforting?, that went on in his mind, the thing you said on your first cuddle session, in which, he remembered fondly, you described his scent a bit further than most people usually did.

Broken strings of words escaped your lips, I'm sorry—im so sorry! Guilt always flowed through your veins whenever anything like this happened.

But Hyunjin understood, he always understood. And fuck, you both hated and loved that he understood.

One hand lay on the back of your head, while his other caressed your back, rubbing circles on it. As if a magical void would appear and take all your problems away.

Hyunjin was your magical void.

"Can you talk to me?" Hyunjin asked quietly. He felt you shake your head against his shoulder, causing him to tighten his hold on you.

"It's going to be okay love. I promise you."

Another wave of tears surged through you, nearly making you double over at the rush of fresh emotions popping off in your brain, your jaw tensing as you tried to stifle the illegible babbling falling from your lips. 

Hyunjin's words in your ear and his hand rubbing ribbons of comfort onto your back made you catch your breath, and slow down. Silence rose once you had stopped crying, you felt even more tired now and you had to admit, Hyunjin was a nice pillow.

The occasional sniffle and tired breath from you, broke Hyunjin's heart even more. He hated seeing you cry, so much so, he'd always distract you if he ever sensed you were in a depressed mood. Even if there were times that you poured your entire heart out of him in tears, he'd always shed his own tears in private, sometime later.

"Love?"

"Hmm?"

"Want me to run you a bath?"

"With the candles and everything?" You managed to say in a quiet, exhausted voice. Your throat was tired from all the crying.

"With the candles and everything." Hyunjin smiled down at you, pushing back stray strands of your hair behind your ear, "Can we go up to the bedroom, love? Can we do that?"

He was speaking so softly to you, and it was making you want to sob rivers again.

Silently nodding, you felt yourself droop down all over again as soon as Hyunjin got you up, strong arm wrapped around your waist, hugging you to his side.

Pressing a sweet kiss to the side of your head, Hyunjin started with shuffling moments upto the bedroom, which you followed, not even being able to lift your head up from the pure exhaustion.

Sitting on the bed felt like you were hung down by iron nails, while Hyunjin prepared the bath for you. Even a moment without him felt down, and even if it was a bit dramatic , you were willing to admit it.

"Hands up?" Hyunjin looked at you softly, taking off your shirt for you and discarding it in the empty laundry basket, "You did the laundry yesterday? Wow, I'm proud of you baby."

You let out a breathy giggle at his words. Hyunjin somehow always knew every word in the instruction manual of how to make you laugh.

"Is the temp alright?"

You couldn't get yourself to say yes so you hummed what seemed to have been a 'yes'. Your throat was raw, and your face was congested as well as your chest. You sounded like you swallowed a frog, and the frog was also now sick and subsequently congested.

The water truly didn't have any texture or temperature to it when you got into it. The world felt numb again as you relaxed into the tub, which, evident from the scent, Hyunjin had filled with your favourite bath salts.

What seemed like a year's worth of time, passed in silence, as Hyunjin quietly stroked your skin with soap, was it the lavender one or the tea tree one? You couldn't tell, remembering how you often joked that both of them gave off the same perfuminous vapours and that Hyunjin should just buy one of them. The water seemed more mellow now.

"Love, look at me?" Hyunjin's voice broke you out of your seemingly never-ending stupor. Like it always did.

You turned your head and rested your eyes on Hyunjin's softened ones, and you felt that familiar tightening of your throat again.

"Hyun I-"

"Don't you dare apologise." Hyunjin said before you could even get a word out, "You never have to apologise to me. Not for this."

His hands were sickeningly sweet as they ran over your back, washing lathers of soap off of your back, his voice even more so.

“You deserve to relax, you know that right?" Hyunjin said, as he wrapped you up in your purple coloured towel, "“You did so well today and you do so well everyday and you deserve to rest for a while."

Hugging you into his arms again, Hyunjin provided you with a little den, a cave where you could settle into whenever you felt that you were too tired for a lion's hunt. And you were forever grateful to him for him.

"Now-" Hyunjin looked down at you with a cheeky smile, "You are not allowed to leave the bed until you finish every single cupcake I got you."

"You got me cupcakes?" Your lips broke into a smile, a genuine one this time, "What flavour?"

"Beef." Hyunjin joked, sending both of you into a frenzy of laughter, as you pressed a kiss against his nose, making it turn the touched skin like a tomato.

The one thing that you'd have never admitted to anyone when you were younger was the fact that you wanted to be loved. That was a silly notion to you.

But maybe now, under the watchful gaze of Hyunjin as he saw you devour the cupcakes, you'd admit it.

You'd want to be loved, even if it was another weight on your shoulder.

Maybe that'd be a weight you'd like to ephermally lift.

[tiiraameesu]

The One That Got Away Pt. 2

Gojo Satoru x F!Reader

PART ONE

Synopsisજ⁀➴ Gojo is a charismatic college student, known for his carefree approach to relationships, never letting things get too serious. You are his longtime best friend and have quietly harbored feelings for him but never acted on them, knowing Gojo’s aversion to commitment. But when Gojo shares an unexpected connection with another girl, the dynamics between them start to shift. As the lines blur between friendship and something more, you are left grappling with your emotions—unsure of whether you'll be able to stay by Gojo’s side, or if it’s time to move on.

tagsજ⁀➴ college au, hockey player!gojo, band member!reader, angst, slow burn, eventual friends to lovers (maybe), gojo is dumb af

NOTESજ⁀➴ hi everyone! here's the next chapter of TOTGA ❀ to stay updated with new chapter releases, you can follow the tag #tiiraameesuTOTGA, or leave a comment below to be added to the tagline♡ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ౨ৎ ‧₊ .ᐟ

wcજ⁀➴ 7.8k

taglineજ⁀➴ @kaemaybae @laviefantasie

The practice room was a blur of noise—normally something you’d lose yourself in, but today, it felt distant. The hum of the synthesizer, the steady beat of Choso’s drums, the rhythmic pluck of Nanami’s bass—they all blended together into background noise. You weren’t really hearing any of it.

Your fingers dragged across the strings, the notes flat and hollow as you strummed through the song again. The chords meant nothing, and you didn’t even know why you were still holding the guitar.

Iori’s voice cut through the music, soft and steady, but it barely registered. Naoya, hunched over his equipment to your left, twisted knobs and layered beats into the track with quick, precise movements. The flashing lights of his console pulsed, but the sound was just another thing happening in a vacuum—detached and distant.

Your thoughts drifted, tangled in the events of last night.

Gojo, his laughter echoing above the party’s music. Gojo, dancing with Mina like it was the most natural thing in the world. Gojo, pulling her close, his hands on her waist.

And then the kiss.

The memory hit you like a crashing cymbal. It wasn’t just a kiss. It was passionate, intentional—the kind you’d only ever dreamed of sharing with him. It was the kind that told you exactly where you stood: on the outside, looking in.

Your fingers faltered on the strings, and the wrong chord echoed sharply, cutting through the music like a wrong note on a piano.

Iori stopped singing, turning to you immediately. “Hey, you okay?”

You flinched, realizing everyone was now looking at you. “Yeah, sorry. Just slipped up,” you said quickly, trying to adjust your grip on the guitar.

Iori frowned, her dark eyes soft with concern. She set her microphone down, resting her hand on her hip. “You’ve been off all morning,” she said gently. “What’s going on?”

“I’m fine,” you said too quickly, your voice tight.

Iori didn’t press further, though the look she gave you said she knew there was more. She straightened, brushing her hands on her jeans. “Alright, everyone, let’s take five before we start the next round,” she said, her voice light but firm enough to get the others moving.

The band began to disperse, Choso heading to grab water, Yu fiddling with his synth settings, and Naoya muttering something under his breath as he checked his laptop. Nanami leaned his bass against the wall and quietly stepped outside, likely for some air.

You made a beeline for the couch, slumping against it with a sigh. The soft cushions were a brief reprieve from the weight sitting heavy on your chest. You reached into your pocket and pulled out your phone, only to be greeted by a flood of notifications.

Gojo.

You hadn’t replied to his last five attempts to contact you, each message growing more puzzled, more curious. The first few had been typical Gojo banter. Then the messages started asking if you were okay. By the fifth, there was a shift—an underlying concern.

"Is everything okay?"

You could practically hear his voice in your head. His obliviousness, the way he never thought twice about things that might actually matter to someone else. Part of you wanted to throw your phone across the room just to stop seeing his name pop up again. But you didn’t. Instead, you sent a simple reply back, not giving him anything he could really latch onto.

"Busy with band practice. Catch you later."

It was the perfect excuse. You were always "busy." With the band. With your gig. It was enough to get him off your back, for now.

You threw your phone down on the couch, face down, determined not to let Gojo’s messages ruin this moment. As much as everything about him felt like an ache you couldn’t ignore, you wouldn’t let it distract you.

Time seemed to fly during the short break, but soon Iori’s voice cut through the silence as she clapped to get everyone’s attention. “Alright, let’s get back to it. From the top, everyone!”

You lifted your guitar, the weight familiar in your hands. You should’ve been able to just lose yourself in the music, but today wasn’t one of those days.

The first few bars went smoothly, and for a moment, you thought you were breaking through the fog. But then the chorus hit, and everything fell apart. Your fingers faltered, the sound wrong, the chords foreign. The song didn’t flow, like trying to speak a language you once knew but had forgotten.

The music grew hollow, pulling your mind back to Gojo—his carefree laugh, that damn kiss. You thought of the way Mina had melted into his arms, the kiss that had felt so natural. It wasn’t supposed to hurt, but it did. Each thought dug deeper.

The worst part? You couldn’t even make yourself hate him for it.

Your fingers froze on the strings. Another missed note.

“Stop.”

Naoya’s voice sliced through the tension in the room, louder than the failed chord ringing in the air. “What the hell was that?”

You looked up, startled by the sudden harshness in his tone. Naoya’s eyes were fixed on you, brows furrowed, his lips curling in a scowl. The intensity in his gaze made your stomach twist, a feeling of unease creeping up your spine.

“What do you mean?” you asked, though you already knew the answer. It was obvious you hadn’t been playing your best, but the sting of his words made you defensive.

“You know exactly what I mean,” he snapped, stepping closer, his hands gesturing wildly as he spoke. “You’re distracted, and it’s fucking up the whole song. This isn’t the time to be spacing out. We have a gig coming up, remember? This is supposed to be our shot.”

You could feel your chest tightening, the weight of his criticism hanging in the air. You didn’t want to feel this way—not with Naoya. He was always blunt, but something about the bite in his words felt like a punch to the gut.

“Give it a rest, Naoya,” Iori’s voice cut in, her tone quieter but still firm. “We all know she’s having a rough time today. Lay off.”

But Naoya wasn’t having it. He shot her a quick glance, then turned back to you, his expression hardening. “She’s having a rough time?” he repeated, his voice rising. “We all have rough times, but we still show up and do our part. This is important, and you—” He pointed at you, his finger trembling with frustration. “—are holding us back.”

Your fingers tightened around the neck of your guitar, a dull thrum of anger mixing with the frustration already brewing inside you. How could he possibly understand?

Naoya’s words hit you harder than they should have, stinging deep into a part of you that you couldn’t ignore. Your grip on the guitar tightened as if it could somehow steady the storm brewing inside you.

“You’re holding us back,” Naoya repeated, his voice sharp like a knife. “We can’t afford to have you slacking off, not now.”

Yu, who had been mostly silent up until that point, shifted uncomfortably. He adjusted the dial on his synth, casting a glance at the rest of the band before speaking up. “Naoya, maybe dial it back a bit, yeah? We all know she’s not in the best headspace, but yelling isn’t gonna help anyone.” His words weren’t defensive of you, but they weren’t exactly in Naoya’s corner either.

Choso, seated behind his drums, tapped one of the cymbals lightly with his stick before speaking in his usual low, rumbling voice. “We all have our days, man. Doesn’t help to turn this into a fight. Just play the damn song.”

But Naoya wasn’t ready to back down. He narrowed his eyes, his jaw tightening in frustration. “You two are just gonna let this slide? We’re on the edge of something big, and she’s acting like she doesn’t care. She’s messing up, and it’s dragging us all down.”

You could feel the heat of his words burning through you. The anger swelled in your chest, mixing with the ache in your heart that you’d been trying to ignore. What right did he have to criticize you when he didn’t know what was really going on?

“Maybe if you didn’t make everything sound like the end of the world, I’d be able to focus,” you snapped, voice cold and sharp, the words spilling out before you could stop them.

Naoya’s eyes flashed with irritation, and for a moment, you both just stared at each other. His lips curled into a sneer. “Yeah? Well, maybe if you actually gave a damn about this band, you’d stop fucking around. You think your problems are more important than the rest of us?” His words were venomous, laced with anger and something deeper—something raw.

But before either of you could escalate it any further, a voice rang out, clear and authoritative.

“Enough.”

The sharpness of Nanami’s tone cut through the tension in the room, freezing everyone in place. All eyes turned to him as he stepped forward, his expression unamused but not angry—more like someone who was simply done with the drama.

“Naoya, you’ve said your piece,” Nanami continued, his voice calm but heavy with authority. “Now shut it. This isn’t helping anyone. And you,” he continued, not softening his voice, but not harsh either, “stop letting whatever’s going on in your head mess with this. We’re all here for the same thing. If you’re going to be here, then be here. Focus.”

The weight of his words settled on you. He wasn’t yelling, wasn’t trying to drag either of you further into this mess. He just spoke like it was a simple matter of fact.

“This isn’t the time for personal drama,” Nanami added, his tone still clear but without a trace of malice. "We’ve got a gig to prepare for. Get it together."

The room fell silent. Naoya, though still visibly irritated, seemed to recognize the finality in Nanami’s words and stopped pushing. You took a breath, your chest feeling a little lighter. Nanami wasn’t sugarcoating anything, but he wasn’t piling on either. He was just being direct, reminding you all of why you were here in the first place.

Yu and Choso exchanged glances, both of them letting out quiet sighs of relief. The tension was still there, but it was more manageable now.

The silence hung in the room for a moment longer before Nanami broke it with a more relaxed, but still authoritative tone. "Alright, take a 15-minute break," he said, his eyes scanning the band. "Everyone take a step back, get your nerves settled. We’ll come back to this in a bit, but it’s clear we need to cool off before we get back into it."

There was a collective sigh of relief. Yu and Choso both took a step back, leaning against the wall and quietly talking amongst themselves. Iori fiddled with her mic stand, clearly giving the rest of you space, while Naoya just stood there, his posture stiff, but he didn’t say anything else.

You didn’t wait for the others to move. With your nerves still frazzled, you found the couch and collapsed onto it, running a hand over your face. You hadn’t even realized how tight your jaw had been until you released the tension with a soft exhale. Your mind was racing with everything that had been said, and despite the anger you felt bubbling beneath the surface, it was all a bit much.

Instinctively, your hand reached for your phone. You unlocked it without really thinking, the screen lighting up in the dim room. There was a missed call from Gojo. You cursed softly under your breath. The last thing you wanted was to talk to him right now—not with everything that had been going on. But you couldn’t deny the pull to hear his voice, even if the sting of seeing him kiss Mina still burned in the back of your mind.

Without thinking much further, you pressed “Call.”

The moment his voice came through the speaker, a part of you immediately softened. “Hey, hey! Finally pickin’ up, huh?” Gojo’s voice was a little more hyper than you’d expected, as if he was bouncing off the walls, and for a second, it caught you off guard.

“I was startin’ to think you’d forgotten about me or something!” he continued with a playful pout. “You left the party early last night, no goodbye, no nothing. What’s up with that? Did you not like my dancing or was the music not up to your standards?” He chuckled, as if teasing you, completely unaware of the unease swirling inside you.

You swallowed hard, forcing a light, breezy laugh. It’s fine, you told yourself, trying to shake off the knot in your stomach. It doesn’t matter. Just act normal.

“Ah, you know how it is,” you said, your voice coming out a little too bright, a little too cheery. You could practically hear the smile you were trying to fake. “I wasn’t feeling the best, you know how I can be with loud crowds.” You even threw in a little chuckle for good measure, hoping it’d cover up the sting that still lingered in your chest.

But Gojo didn’t pick up on the forced tone, of course. He never did.

“Aww, that’s a shame,” he said, his voice playful. “I thought you were having a good time! You should’ve told me, I would’ve saved you a dance. You know, I’m the best dancer at those things. You really missed out.” There was a cocky grin in his voice, and it made you want to roll your eyes even though you couldn’t help but smile despite yourself.

You sat back on the couch, trying to focus on Gojo's teasing, but your mind kept drifting back to the images of him with Mina. The playful tone of his voice almost seemed to mock the knot in your stomach, and no matter how hard you tried to push it down, you couldn't shake the way your chest tightened at the thought of them together.

With a quiet sigh, you leaned forward, your phone still pressed to your ear.

"Well, I didn't plan on staying all night, anyways," you said, trying to keep your voice light. "You know me—crowds and I don't always get along."

Gojo’s laughter rang through the phone, a little louder than before. "Next time, I’ll save you a dance," he teased. "You missed out, for real."

You chuckled softly, but it didn’t quite reach your eyes. “Yeah, next time,” you repeated, trying to keep the lightness in your tone, even though your mind immediately flashed back to the sight of Gojo dancing so close to Mina. The way he moved with her, effortlessly, the chemistry between them so obvious—it made your chest tighten in a way you couldn’t ignore.

Stop it, you thought to yourself. It’s none of your business. You’re just being dramatic.

But no matter how hard you tried to shake it, the image lingered. You couldn’t help but picture him spinning Mina around, laughing, his hand low on her back, pulling her in close. There was something so… easy about the way they were together. So natural.

Gojo, however, didn’t seem to notice the shift in your mood. He was too busy playing the charming fool, oblivious as always.

You stood up slowly, trying to shake off the lingering thoughts, and made your way to the door.

As you walked toward the door, the sounds of the studio felt distant, like you were drifting away from them, seeking the brief peace of the hallway.

But then, just before you stepped out completely, you heard Naoya's voice from inside the studio. It was low, almost under his breath, but sharp enough to catch your attention.

"Yeah, maybe if you spent as much time on your notes as you do chatting on the phone, we wouldn’t be here all day," he muttered, the words barely loud enough for you to ignore, but sharp enough to get under your skin.

You froze, your hand on the door handle.

A surge of irritation bubbled up inside you, but you forced it down, knowing it wasn’t worth responding. You didn’t have time to get caught up in one of his petty comments, especially not now.

With a quick glance back at the studio, you let out a quiet breath and stepped outside, closing the door gently behind you. You leaned against the wall, just for a moment of peace—just enough to breathe. Gojo’s voice was a stark contrast to the tense silence of the studio, his words carefree and oblivious to everything that had been bubbling under the surface.

“So, are we still on for later?” he asked, completely unaware of the knot still sitting in your chest. “You know, after practice like usual? I thought we could grab dinner or something—at the convenience store. You in?”

You hesitated, biting your lip. The last thing you wanted to do right now was spend time with Gojo, especially after everything that happened last night. But despite the hesitation, the thought of seeing his face, the way his smile always managed to make everything feel lighter, pulled at you.

You could already imagine his playful grin, the way his eyes lit up when he saw you, and the stupid, unexplainable flutter in your stomach every time he spoke to you.

“Yeah,” you said, your voice sounding a little too quiet, a little too unsure. But you pushed it down. “I’m in. I’ll see you after practice, okay?”

“Great!” Gojo’s cheer was immediate and overly enthusiastic, like you’d just agreed to go on an all-expenses-paid vacation with him. “I’ll be there in thirty. That should line up with when you’re done, right? I know your schedule better than you do.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the small smile creeping across your lips. “Stalker much, Satoru?”

“Am not! M’just a great best friend.” He replied and you could hear the smirk in his voice as he spoke. “Anyways, I’ll be there in thirty minutes. Be ready to bask in my greatness.”

“Sure, can’t wait,” you said dryly, though his excitement chipped away some of the tension still lingering in your chest.

The call ended with a playful beep, leaving you alone with the soft hum of the hallway. You tucked your phone into your pocket, inhaling deeply before making your way back to the practice room.

You took one last deep breath, steadying yourself as you pushed open the door to the practice room. The chatter and clatter of everyone getting ready for another round immediately filled your ears, the energy in the room buzzing as usual.

Naoya caught sight of you as you stepped in. His eyes narrowed briefly, the usual smirk tugging at his lips. “Oh, look who finally decided to rejoin us,” he said with a tone dripping in sarcasm. “I figured you’d still be out there, busy on your phone with your friend, instead of keeping up with your notes like you should.”

You clenched your jaw, the irritation from earlier creeping back. Before you could open your mouth to retort, Iori, who had been nearby, shot a sharp jab to Naoya's side, sending him stumbling a little.

“Knock it off, Naoya,” Iori muttered, her voice low but firm. “Not everyone spends their whole life under a microscope like you.”

Naoya shot her an irritated look, but Iori’s usual no-nonsense attitude had managed to shut him up for the moment.

You shook your head, a small smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. As much as you hated to admit it, you appreciated Iori’s timing.

Just then, Nanami glanced up from where he’d been tuning his guitar, his gaze turning toward you with that calm, almost calculating look he always had. “Ready for another round?” he asked, his voice steady and even. His presence had a way of grounding you, always somehow making things feel just a bit more manageable.

You nodded quickly, your breath steadying as you mentally prepared for another round of practice. "Yeah," you said, your voice coming out a bit breathy but confident. You grabbed your guitar, adjusting the strap over your shoulder. The familiar weight of it brought you back to your element, where everything else faded into the background.

Nanami, bass in hand, gave you a small, reassuring nod as his fingers started to slide over the strings. The deep, rich tones of the bass filled the room, grounding everything, and Iori, standing front and center with her mic, was already singing a few warm-up notes under her breath.

Choso, behind the drums, cracked his knuckles before taking his seat. He glanced your way, offering a brief smile before letting the sticks rest lightly in his hands, ready to hit the snare. Yu, standing by his synthesizer, was already tapping at the keys, humming along quietly to himself as he adjusted the sound levels. Naoya, being Naoya, was fiddling with his DJ equipment, testing out the next track or whatever his role was this time.

As always, you were the one to bring the electric spark to the group. You adjusted your fingers over the strings of your guitar, a sense of focus washing over you as the rest of the band began to sync. Maybe it was hearing his voice just now, or maybe just the familiarity of the music, but it felt a bit easier to let go now. The chaos of the day and the undercurrent of frustration faded as your hands moved over the fretboard.

Iori caught your eye for a brief second and, with her usual fiery energy, nodded toward you. She shot a quick wink as she raised her mic. "You ready, guitar hero?" she teased, her voice still smooth as silk, but with that playful edge you were all too familiar with.

You gave her a small grin and strummed a chord. "Yeah, let's do this."

Nanami's bass throbbed, the beat of Choso's drums kicked in, and Yu’s synth melodies began to echo through the room. Naoya hit the button on his DJ equipment, the crisp sound of beats layering over the instruments as the song began to take shape.

With a few final adjustments, you let your fingers fly across the fretboard, the strings vibrating with each strum. Music filled the air, and for that brief moment, everything outside of the band—the tension, the distractions, the stress—vanished. The only thing that mattered now was the sound.

The music built steadily, each layer blending effortlessly with the next. Nanami’s bass pulsed like a heartbeat, steady and sure, while Choso’s drumming added sharp, driving energy. Yu’s synths shimmered in, wrapping around the melody, and Naoya’s samples wove through it all, giving the track its signature edge. Iori’s voice soared above the instrumental, smooth and steady, like it had always been meant to blend with the rest. You leaned into the groove, the guitar feeling like an extension of yourself, as if the music was pulling you forward with every note.

When the last notes faded, silence settled over the room, broken only by the soft hum of the equipment. The band had done well today. And for the first time, the guitar had felt right, the strings humming under your fingertips, as if they were just a little more in tune with you than they had been before.

You didn’t think you’d played it perfectly—there were still moments where you stumbled, where your fingers missed a beat, or the rhythm wasn’t quite right—but it felt like you were getting closer. Maybe it was the focus you had finally found, or maybe it was the call with Gojo that had calmed your nerves, but your playing had finally come with a little more ease. For once, you felt like you could actually breathe while playing, instead of getting caught up in the pressure and self-doubt.

“Well done, everyone,” Iori said, her voice bright as always. She flashed a grin your way, nodding with approval. “That sounded killer.”

“Yeah, I agree,” Yu added, his voice soft but content. He adjusted his headphones, his fingers tapping out a rhythm against the synth keys, a gesture of satisfaction. “We’re getting there.”

Choso, pulling himself out of his seat, stretched his arms above his head before chiming in. “I think this is it. We just need a bit more polish,” he said, his tone casual but upbeat. “Great work today, though.”

Nanami gave you a brief, silent nod as he packed away his bass, his expression calm but pleased. It was rare for him to show much outward emotion, but you could tell he was satisfied.

Iori grabbed her bag and slung it over her shoulder, looking toward the door. “Well, I’m off. Got plans with the crew later,” she said, giving you a wink before heading toward the hall. Yu followed shortly after, adjusting his jacket with a content sigh. “Same here. See you at the next rehearsal,” he said with a smile, his voice still carrying that laid-back ease. Choso stood, picking up his drumsticks and slinging his bag across his shoulder. “Bye,” he said simply, before heading out the door.

Nanami was the last to leave, offering you another silent nod before grabbing his own things and following the others down the hall.

The usual warmth of the band lingered in the room, but the energy shifted the moment they were gone. The chatter of their plans faded as the door clicked shut behind them, and the room felt quieter, more still.

As you reached for your bag, you heard the soft shuffle of footsteps behind you. You turned, expecting to see Naoya packing up, but instead, he was still standing near his DJ setup, his eyes locked on the equipment in front of him, his posture tense.

Naoya’s posture was rigid as he leaned against the DJ equipment, arms crossed tightly over his chest. His usual smug expression had been replaced with something sharper, his eyes narrowed as he took you in. His voice cut through the silence, harder than you expected.

“Honestly, it’s hard to take you seriously when you can’t even pull it together for a gig that actually matters. Are you even all in on this band, or is this just some hobby for you?” Each word came out tight, like it was a challenge you weren’t quite ready for.

Your chest tightened. His words stung more than you'd like to admit, especially after everything. You stood there, waiting for him to keep going, unsure if the barb was meant to break through your tough exterior or if it was just his frustration spilling out.

But then, something in his posture shifted. The tension in his shoulders seemed to drop, and he let out a long, exhausted sigh. The harshness melted away as he spoke again, softer this time, his eyes losing that sharpness. "Look... I just wanted this gig to be our big break," he said, his voice quieter, laced with something you hadn't expected: real frustration, but also a hint of desperation. "We’ve been grinding for months to get noticed, trying to make something out of this. You know how important this is to the band, and to me." His gaze softened just a bit, like he was trying to make you understand without saying too much.

He paused, running a hand through his hair, his fingers brushing against his forehead in an almost tired gesture. "I just… don’t want to mess this up. Not now. We can’t afford to fall short, especially now that we’ve got a real shot at making it big."

His eyes flickered briefly, and for a second, you saw that familiar wall of stubbornness break down just enough for you to catch a glimpse of the person behind it—the one who was just as worried about everything falling apart as you were. He exhaled deeply, then added, quieter than before, "I just want this to work. I want the band to finally get the recognition we deserve. That’s all."

You could see it in the way his shoulders slumped, in the slight softness in his gaze—he wasn’t just angry, he was invested. This wasn’t just about you being off tonight. This was about the band, about him putting everything he had into something that had the potential to change everything.

Naoya let the silence settle between you for a moment before he gave a small, almost resigned nod. "Just... don’t make me regret it, alright?" And with that, he turned, not waiting for a response, but his voice had lost its bite. It was still firm, but it carried an unspoken weight—he was hoping you'd understand.

You stood there for a moment, taking in the weight of his words. The sharpness of his earlier jabs still echoed in your chest but hearing the shift in his tone—hearing the real concern beneath his frustration—left you at a loss for words.

You couldn’t deny the pressure. You’d felt it too, the stakes of this gig, how important it was for the band. But his harsh words still stung, especially after everything that had happened. You opened your mouth to speak, but the words caught in your throat.

After a moment of silence, you let out a slow breath. “I’m not trying to mess this up, Naoya,” you said, your voice steady, though there was a tightness in your chest. "I know how much this means to all of us." You met his gaze, trying to show him you understood, even if you weren’t sure how to fully express it. "I’ll… get it together. You don’t have to worry about that."

You paused, the space between you feeling more fragile now, like the air had thickened with everything unspoken. "I get it, though," you continued, a little softer. "I just... need a minute sometimes." You forced a smile, though it was tight at the edges, trying to lighten the mood a little. "But I’m here. I’m all in, okay?"

Naoya didn’t immediately respond, but you could tell by the slight softening in his eyes that he was hearing you. Maybe he didn’t fully believe it, but the tension had shifted just enough for him to nod, as if satisfied—at least for now.

With a short, almost reluctant glance your way, he walked off, leaving you standing there, feeling the weight of his words lingering in the silence.

You turned off the lights, the dimming of the room a final sign that practice had officially ended. The buzz of lingering tension in the air still clung to you, but you pushed it down as you headed toward the exit. The familiar echo of your footsteps against the floor was the only sound now, and you let it soothe you, clearing your head as best as you could.

You made your way down the stairs slowly, each step carrying the weight of the conversation you’d just had with Naoya. The band’s words, his frustration, the unspoken understanding—it all swirled in your head, a mix of emotions you couldn’t quite sort out. The usual hum of the building felt muted now, the buzzing energy from practice having faded into something heavier, something more uncertain.

As you reached the bottom of the staircase, you spotted him.

Gojo.

He was standing near the door, arms casually crossed, his signature grin stretched wide across his face. The moment his eyes landed on you, the grin only grew brighter, as if your arrival had somehow sparked his whole mood.

"Took you long enough," Gojo called out, his voice teasing but warm. His eyes twinkled with that usual spark of mischief, but there was something else in his gaze, something softer, like he was actually waiting for you—like he’d been expecting this moment.

You couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips despite the weight of everything that had just happened. There was something undeniably comforting about Gojo’s presence, like he was a small oasis of calm in the middle of all the chaos. His grin, that ever-present playfulness, had a way of easing the tightness in your chest, even if just for a moment.

You offered a tired smile, feeling a small amount of the tension lift at the sound of his voice. “Had a lot to wrap up.”

Gojo pushed off the wall and stretched casually as he started to walk off. “Well, now that the hard part’s over, you’re free to hang out with me. Sound good?”

You shrugged, a teasing smile curling at your lips despite the exhaustion weighing on you. “I guess.”

Gojo stopped in his tracks, feigning offense, his hand clutching his chest dramatically. “I guess?” he repeated, his tone incredulous, “Is that really all I get after I graciously offer to spend my valuable time with you?”

You couldn’t help but laugh at the exaggerated pout that tugged at his lips, his usual playful confidence now tinged with mock hurt. His act was so over-the-top that it almost felt like a personal insult—except it was hilarious.

“C’mon, you’re lucky I’m even agreeing to hang out with you,” you shot back with a smirk, trying to match his theatrics as you turned to walk beside him.

Gojo’s pout deepened for a moment, but then his grin returned, wide and knowing, like he had won some small, unspoken victory. He waved a dismissive hand. “Fine, fine, I guess I’ll take what I can get. But next time, at least give me a ‘thank you’ or something,” he said, his voice dripping with mock seriousness.

You rolled your eyes, shaking your head as you chuckled. “You’re insufferable sometimes, you know that?”

“Yep,” he said with a grin, stepping up beside you, his playful demeanor as natural as breathing. “But you still love me.”

The words hit you like a sudden wave, and for a moment, everything else around you seemed to fade into the background. You froze, caught off guard. But you still love me. It felt like your heart had skipped a beat, the words coming from him so casual, so light. But in that moment, they resonated deeper than you expected. You couldn’t help but feel a pang in your chest, knowing it was just him teasing—but the reality was, it wasn’t entirely untrue. You did love him.

But you couldn’t let that show, not now. Not when he was being his usual playful self. You let out a soft exhale, the moment passing as quickly as it had arrived.

“Love you?” You shot him a look, the teasing smirk back on your face. “Not sure about that. But I guess I’ll let you stick around a little longer.”

Gojo laughed, clearly not picking up on the slight shift in your tone, and nudged your shoulder. “A little longer? I’m wounded,” he said with exaggerated drama. “But I’ll take it. I guess that’s as close to love as I’ll get from you, huh?”

You chuckled, shaking your head, the tightness in your chest still lingering, but you'd buried it under the sarcasm. “That’s about the best you’re going to get.”

You both walked to the convenience store, your footsteps in sync, though your mind felt a little distant. Gojo's usual teasing banter floated around you, but you couldn’t help but feel the familiar knot in your stomach. It wasn’t the first time you’d hung out with him like this, but tonight, everything felt… heavier. You pushed the thought aside.

Inside the store, the familiar warmth and low hum of the lights made you feel grounded. You grabbed a cup of instant noodles and a couple of snacks, trying to focus on something as simple as preparing food. The act of cooking your noodles in the microwave seemed to calm your racing thoughts.

Gojo, naturally, was in a good mood as he picked out a drink and snacks, then casually plopped down next to you. As you set your bowl of noodles in front of you, you couldn’t help but notice the way his shoulder brushed against yours as he sat—just a little too close for comfort, but you didn’t pull away.

Gojo took a sip of his drink, leaning back casually against his seat, his usual carefree demeanor in full force. The silence between you two was comfortable, yet your mind was all over the place. You were trying to keep your thoughts in check when, out of nowhere, Gojo dropped his usual carefree remark.

“By the way,” he began, his voice casual, almost as if he was talking about the weather, “I’ve got a girlfriend now.”

And for a split second, the world seemed to freeze.

Everything—the soft hum of the convenience store, the clink of distant cans, the faint rustle of plastic bags—vanished into the background. Your breath hitched in your chest, and the next few seconds dragged by like slow-motion, the words echoing in your mind.

Girlfriend?

Your fingers gripped your bowl of noodles so tightly that it almost slipped from your hands. Your vision blurred slightly, and for a heartbeat, you couldn’t remember how to breathe. A heavy weight settled in your chest, like you were sinking into an endless pit.

The memories of last night—the soft hum of the afterparty, the way he’d danced with Mina, their kiss, the way she smiled up at him—came crashing down all at once. It was like someone had grabbed your ribcage and squeezed. You blinked, feeling a tightness in your throat, a flood of heat behind your eyes.

How did things advance so quickly in the span of a night?

You’d seen them together, you knew it was coming, and yet—this? Why Mina?

Why her?

Out of all the people, why had it been her? You’d watched the way he looked at her, the laughter that came so naturally as they danced, the way she’d fit so effortlessly into his orbit. The kiss had been a final confirmation, one you had tried to pretend wasn’t real, but now, hearing the word "girlfriend" spill from his lips—it felt like a punch to the gut.

You thought you understood him, at least enough to know that he wasn’t one for commitment. He’d told you that himself. You’d heard it countless times: "I don’t do relationships. Too much hassle, too much commitment."

But here he was, talking about Mina like it was nothing. Like the man who had sworn off ties, who had never seemed interested in anything beyond his casual flings, had suddenly—and without warning—shifted completely.

It didn’t make sense. You blinked rapidly, fighting the sting behind your eyes. How did this happen? How had his stance on relationships changed so fast, so suddenly, without any hint of it? And why now? Why Mina, of all people?

You felt your grip on the bowl tighten, your knuckles turning white. The ache in your chest wasn’t just about him moving on—it was about the sudden shift, the betrayal of all those times you’d tried to convince yourself he’d eventually come around, that maybe he’d see you as more than just the friend who always tagged along.

And now this. Her. A girl who seemed to get him, who was everything you weren’t: confident, carefree, like she belonged beside him.

For a fleeting moment, you felt that familiar, hollow pang again. What did she have that you didn’t?

The thought lingered, gnawing at you, but you pushed it aside. You couldn’t afford to indulge in that kind of self-pity—not right now. Not in front of him.

You took a breath, steadying yourself. Don’t let him see it. Don’t let him see how badly this hurts.

You swallowed, forcing your chopsticks to meet your noodles again, but it felt like your throat had gone dry. "Mina, right?" The question slipped out before you could stop it, and you instantly regretted it. Your voice was too quiet, too unsure, but you couldn’t take it back.

Gojo didn’t seem to notice the change in your demeanor. He flashed you that usual grin, the one that always made you feel like you were the only person in the room. "Yeah, that’s her," he said, a little more animated now, clearly pleased with himself. "She’s awesome. Thought you’d like her."

You didn’t expect the surge of pain that hit you at his words, but it was sharp and unmistakable. You kept your eyes trained on the noodles in your bowl, afraid they’d betray you if you looked up.

Gojo continued, clearly not picking up on the shift in your mood. “Honestly, she’s just... everything I never knew I needed. She’s got this energy, you know? It’s like—everything about her just makes sense. The way she talks, the way she laughs, the way she looks at me, it’s like she sees me—really sees me, you know?”

You could feel your heart tighten at his words, the little cracks in your chest deepening with every praise. His voice was full of that certain warmth, the one that made everything he said feel like it was wrapped in a soft, golden light. It was a tone you had never heard directed at you.

You swallowed thickly, your stomach twisting with each word that slipped past Gojo’s lips. He didn’t notice, of course—he was too wrapped up in whatever glow Mina had cast over him.

"It’s like she really gets me, y'know?" Gojo continued, the edge of his smile softening into something more thoughtful. "Like, every little thing I do, she just understands and… and we’re on the same wavelength. No effort. No trying. It’s just… natural."

You blinked, and for a moment, everything went blurry. Your hands tightened around your chopsticks, but you barely noticed.

I get you too, the thought screamed in your head, but you swallowed your voice down your throat, forcing out a smile instead. Why doesn’t that matter?

The words you didn’t say swirled around you, a dull ache in your chest that refused to quiet down. You’d spent years trying to understand him, trying to be the person who got him—the way he looked at the world, the jokes he made, the way his mind worked at a million miles a minute. You’d always been there, hadn’t you?

And yet here he was, saying Mina was the one who got him.

In that split second, the words stung with a cold finality. It wasn’t about the girl. It wasn’t about Mina. It was about how effortlessly Gojo had found someone else to fill that space in his heart that, for so long, you thought maybe—just maybe—was reserved for you.

He continued, unaware of the quiet storm in your mind. "She just gets me, and I don’t have to explain anything. It's so easy with her. I can't even remember the last time something felt so right, you know?"

Your mind went blank for a moment, and you couldn’t stop the thought that broke through: But I get you. I’ve always gotten you.

You blinked and cleared your throat. The sting was still there, but you couldn’t show it. You forced a smile, even though it felt like your lips were glued together. "I’m glad she makes you happy," you said, the words coming out smoother than you felt. You didn’t trust yourself to say anything more.

Gojo’s grin widened. "Yeah, she’s great," he said, leaning back in his seat, completely unaware of the quiet battle going on inside you. “I’m really lucky.”

As he went on, your thoughts circled back to that question—Why her? Why had he found someone who fit so effortlessly into the life you’d imagined you two would share? And why wasn’t it you who had earned the privilege of being the one to "get him"?

For a moment, it felt like the world outside the two of you faded into the background. The convenience store, the noise, the bustling sounds—everything felt far away.

It was just you, Gojo, and the words he couldn’t take back.

You continued to stare at him, your gaze flickering over every little thing—the way his eyes lit up when he talked about her, the almost reverent tone in his voice, the soft, almost dreamy expression that crept onto his face. He wasn’t just saying it; he was feeling it, every word a reflection of something deep inside him, something he couldn’t hide even if he tried.

His smile, usually so playful and confident, was softer now. His eyes were full of that familiar warmth, but there was something new—something brighter. It was a look you had never seen before.

Your breath hitched again, and for a brief moment, it felt like your chest was tightening around you, the world shrinking as his words continued to wash over you, louder and louder.

He was in love.

The thought hit you with a quiet finality, and you swallowed hard, feeling something inside you crack just a little more. You couldn’t look away, even though you wanted to. Even though everything inside you was screaming to pull back, to stop pretending, to let it all show.

But you couldn’t.

Not now.

You could feel the ache swelling in your chest again, but this time, you forced yourself to hold it down, to swallow it back where it belonged. You have to be happy for him. He deserves this. The words rang in your mind, a mantra you tried to hold on to. You had never been selfish with him, not once. And no matter how badly it hurt, no matter how much you wished it was you sitting there beside him, you couldn’t let him see it.

You have to support him.

You blinked, trying to clear the sudden haze in your vision, and when you looked at him again, you made sure your smile was there—genuine, warm, and kind, just like always. The lump in your throat made it difficult, but you forced it down.

"She sounds amazing," you said, your voice steady, even though your heart felt like it was breaking with every word. "I’m really happy for you, Satoru."

He didn’t seem to notice the subtle strain in your tone. His eyes brightened further, the love for Mina practically glowing in them. “Yeah, she really is. I really think you two will get along well once you meet. She’s easy to talk to, you’ll see.”

You nodded, forcing a bit more enthusiasm into your voice. "I’m sure we will."

But as he continued to talk about her, the way his voice softened with affection every time her name left his lips, something inside you cracked again. You tried to push it down. You had to. You had to be supportive, even if it felt like the air was being slowly squeezed out of your lungs.

Because he was happy. That was all that mattered.

And as much as it hurt, you couldn’t be the one to hold him back from that. PART 3

[saturnville]

stolen moments, major john egan

pairing: major john "bucky" egan x black fem oc (amelia mae egan)

content: john manages to call amelia after not hearing her voice for weeks.

an: this was the top choice in the poll so far. I've been anxious to write so we knocked this off the list first lol. enjoy!

“Are you alright, Major?” 

They’d just arrived at a new station. It smelled like sweat and fear. Men streamed throught the doors like a school of fish. Their deep voices shook the brick walls as their conversations bellowed throughout the building. Dozens of men struggled to keep their composure. He was one of them.

He was overwhelmed. Tired. Desparate. His clothes felt tight against his body. The scent of gasoline and fumes clung to his vest. His hat damp and chilled against his forehead. His shoes were coated in black soot.

John’s eyes caught the telephone in the corner of the station. It was secluded from the rest of the quarters, in a corner, protected by a frosted glass divider. John's shoes grazed the dirty floor as he strode purposefully towards the telephone.

“M’fine. Head in and get your rest. Long day in the morning.” He didn’t know how he was able to make out coherent sentences. Gale stepped in, noticing his friend’s disheveled state and guided the men to the resting quarters. 

John’s shoes kissed the dirty floor as he stood long strides to the telephone. He shrugged off his backpack and slid it by his feet. His hands trembled as he plucked the phone off the hook and typed in the number he had engraved in his heart. 

It rang. And rang. And rang. His heartbeat was in his ears. His nails scratched as the black paint around the phone as he succumbed to his anxiety. He sent a silent prayer to God above. 

Then he heard it. “Hello?” John’s forehead tapped the frosted glass as he rested against it. Relief washed over him like a tidal wave. He’d never been particularly sensitive, but he was overwhelmed with emotion, good and bad, and hearing her sweet voice made his eyes well with tears. 

The words were stuck in his throat and all he could release was a heavy sigh. That seemed to be enough for her to identify the caller. “Johnny?” 

He shut his eyes. A lone tear fell from his eye. “Hey, Rosie.”

Amelia let out a soft cry. “Oh, thank God! I-I thought something happened to you; I hadn’t heard from you in weeks. Are you okay, where are you now? Is Gale alright, when are you coming…” His first instinct was to cut her rambling short, but the sound of her voice was the choir-like song his soul ached to hear. 

He’d gone three weeks without hearing her voice. It was the most tortuous three weeks of his life. For 21 days, he survived by remembering the last words she said before they hung up, Whatever you do, do not die on me, do you understand? I love you, John. I love you. I love you. I love you. It kept his heart beating.

A small smile tugged on his lips. “I’m okay, baby, I promise. Things got a little rough; didn’t stay in one place too long. I didn’t mean to scare you.”  

“I’m just happy to hear your voice…are you okay?” 

His stomach churned at her question. A feeling of despair threatened to creep upon him. Thirty men lost. A plane in the middle of the ocean. An uneasy stomach and even more uneasy mental state. His head pounded, his body shook with unwanted adrenaline, and his hands craved the feeling of her hot skin. He was not okay. 

“No,” he replied honestly, rubbing his eye with the stump of his palm. “I’m not okay but I will be. Especially because I get to talk to my favorite girl. Tell me about your day..”

He heard her heavy sigh. “Deflection won’t rid you of what you’re feeling.” 

“Talking about it won’t do too much good, either. It’s…it’s hard, Rose. I just.” John’s jaw clenched as he struggled to articulate what he felt. “I just can’t talk about it right now, Amelia. If I do, I don’t think I’ll be able to keep it together.” 

Silence stretched on, interrupted only by the sound of her shuffling on the other end. She was probably sitting at the edge of her bed. He imagined her, looking pretty in her long-sleeved pajamas and satin scarf, with a blanket tucked under her chin.

“Then how about this,” she started. “You make it home in one piece to tell me about it later, yeah?” 

“Always making demands,” John laughed. The first genuine sound of joy he’d made all day. And it made her smile. So wide that her cheeks were sore and her dimples made an appearance. “But you’ve got a deal.” He readied himself to speak again, but a tap on his shoulder interrupted him. 

Gale. Meeting with the CO in five minutes, he mouthed. John nodded. He ran a hand through his dirty hair. “Darlin’, I’ve got a meeting in five minutes; I’m sorry.  If I don’t call in the morning, know I love you, alright?” 

“I know. I love you, too. Don’t apologize. Just make it back to me.”

“Always.”

[gatheringbones]

[“Later in the day, while Heather and I were making the bed and talking about the chores we needed to get through the next morning, she used a male pronoun in regard to me. “Well that’s gonna be weird, huh?” I said. “Not saying ‘he’ for me anymore.” “What do you mean?” she asked. “I mean I want to transition. I want to become a woman… fully.” She paused and fell silent. I think the revelation that I was a transsexual truly hit her in this moment. She slowly started to comprehend that this didn’t mean I’d simply be cross-dressing around the house. It started to hit me, too. I wanted to transition genders, and there was a lot more to that than just hormones and surgery. Neither of us fully understood what it meant yet, or where to start.

The next day Andrew and James met me at the studio to talk about plans around the album and the future of the band. Jordan came, too, as he was again filling in as our manager. Until then, I’d been telling them that I was writing a concept album about a transsexual prostitute—the metaphor behind the feeling of having whored myself out to a record label was thinly transparent since James, Andrew, and I were all processing our own post-traumatic stress disorder from the past couple years of music industry hell. Previously, I’d been able to sneak a few subtle metaphors about my dysphoria in here and there. But an album focused entirely on it? I didn’t know how to explain that, and the new songs were not sticking with the guys.

James could make out a few lyrics to the title track through his in-ear monitors: “You want them to see you like they see every other girl / But they just see a faggot.” “Hey, man,” he said between takes. “Are you saying ‘faggot’ on this song? It sounds like you’re saying it a lot. Are people gonna be cool with that?”

I realized that the reason the words weren’t connecting with them was that they didn’t have the context. So I came out with it. I didn’t mean to, I just wanted them to understand. I couldn’t hold back the momentum of the day before. Once the truth was spoken, it could be contained no longer.

“It’s about me, and how I’m a transsexual. This is something I’ve been dealing with for a long time,” I told them. Once I started explaining it, I couldn’t stop. It was like an out-of-body experience where I saw myself, but was powerless to hold back the flood of words. “I want to start living as a woman, and to be referred to as Laura. This is something I’ve thought about a lot and isn’t going away, so I might as well embrace it.”

No one knew what to say once I finally stopped rambling. The three of them just sat there in the studio control room, looking down at their feet or at whatever lit-up piece of audio equipment their eyes could find, focusing anywhere but on me. We’d had some heavy conversations over the years—emotional moments where we’d told each other off or outright quit the band—but nothing compared to this. Andrew’s usually warm smile was locked in since I started talking, and it looked like it was going to melt off his face. His skin flushed red, trying not to flinch. There was nothing any of them could say. I broke the silence by asking them to come smoke a joint with me. We got high standing in a circle in the open back doorway. “OK, well,” I said. “I guess that’s all we’ll do today. How about we try again tomorrow?”

We shared the most comically awkward group hug, a horrible mess of pats on the back and overly extended stiff arms. They left, and I locked the door behind them. Oh fuck, I thought. I called Heather and told her that I had just come out to them. It felt unreal to speak these secrets aloud, hearing myself verbalize thoughts that had only ever existed in my head.

The guys had an hour and a half back to Gainesville to think about all that had just been unloaded on them. James has since told me that as he sat there stoned on that long drive home, a lot of memories over the past 15 years suddenly started to make sense for him. My lyrics, my behavior on tour; one by one, he had tiny flashes of realization about me in this new light.”]

laura jane grace, from tranny: confessions of punk rock’s most infamous anarchist sellout, 2016

[mushies-stories]

Could you write one with konig coming home all beat up and sore and his new plus size gf gives him a massage? Thank you!

do i know how to give a massage? no, BUT i did try my darndest. I'm also plus sized, but short XD i hope you like it! thank you for the request! <3

Authors note: this is also my first time writing for König and I do not at all know German so thanks google aha. If anything is wrong or something doesn’t fit right, let me know please!

König X plus sized Reader

König’s body ached and his mind was tired. Thanks to his last mission he had a very long and rough past few days and just wanted to sleep. With a heavy sigh he unlocked his apartment and pushed through the door with his shoulder. From the hall he saw the kitchen light on and froze for just a moment before he heard your soft humming. A smile came to his lips as he kicked his boots off.

Abandoning his duffle bag by the door he made it to the kitchen without another sound. Not like it would have mattered, you hadn’t even noticed him coming home. He leaned against the door frame, body taking up most of the space while he watched you fuss about the kitchen. You were cleaning and putting dishes away. Swaying your hips and humming along to a song in your head you were completely oblivious to König's wandering eyes. He loved your curved, plump ass and thighs he always found himself groping. 

He had given you a key so if you needed anything while he was away or needed somewhere to go you could go there. In this moment he was grateful to himself. He was getting to see you like this, in his home and caring for him.

You had been so busy with cleaning up after cooking dinner for König so he had something when he got home, assuming it would be really late like he told you. 

It was only when you were finally done and put the last utensil away that you noticed him. Spinning on your heel to leave the kitchen you're started by your boyfriend towering in the doorway. You let out a high pitched yelp and hold your chest over your heart. "König! You scared me!” you gasp. “And what are you doing home so early?” you ask, looking up at him with a raised brow. 

“Tut mir leid.” he apologies and pushes off the door, taking the short stride to you. “Mission went better than I thought it would, got home early.” he mumbles and wrapped one arm around your shoulder and the other on the back of your head to bring you into him. 

Your head rests against his chest, listening to his heartbeat. It told you he was alive and safe with you for the moment. “I made you dinner, I just wanted to make sure you ate something decent when he got back.” you told him. The relationship was still new and you didn’t want to push any boundaries by stepping into his space too much. 

“Liebling, it makes my heart warm knowing you care so much to do something like that.” he tells you and kisses the top of your head through the fabric. He really was happy, seeing you here after a long grueling mission set him at ease. He was more thankful for the meal, even if at the moment the only thing his body wanted to do was rest. “Need to shower first.” he says and goes to turn for the bathroom. 

Your hand wrapping around his forearm halts his movements and he looks back down to you, eyes questioning. You give him a shy smile and reach your hands up to the loose fabric of his mask and tug softly, silently asking permission to remove it. You wanted to kiss him, feel his lips since he had been away for a while. Reluctantly he nodded, not wanting to deny you when you looked up at him with big eyes and fluttery lashes. He lowered his head so you could slide it over his head. You set it down on the counter behind you and gasped softly. Brining your fingers to graze over your cheek you frown. He had a few bruises on his cheek and neck, clearly leading under his shirt. He got beat up badly this time around.

His hand engulfed your own then he tilted his head enough to kiss the palm of your hand. “I'm okay Liebling, no need to worry.” he whispers against your skin. 

Your frown never leaves but your heart does skip a beat, he was so soft with you. Even when he was in pain and beaten he stood before you being as gentle and caring as always. Shaking your head you take his hand in yours and start leading him to his bedroom. 

“What is it, Hase?” he asks.

Once you're in his room you let his hand go point to the bed. “Shirt off and on the bed.” you tell him. You know he's not normally one to take orders but he was also a stubborn man, something you learned early on. So, you thought being stern was your best bet since both of you knew you could do him no real harm. 

He cocked a brow at you and looked from the bed to you uncertain. He was still dirty, patched up but he didn't want to take the time to shower on base and came straight home. 

You noticed the look of worry in his eyes and chuckle with a shake of your head. “I'm going to give you a message, then you can take a hot shower and let your musicals relax.” you tell him and crawl into the bed, sitting on your knees. You motioned for him to hurry with a small smile. “Let me help take care of you König, please?” you ask, voice as sweet as honey.

He looked at your plush thighs as you sat. He thought being buried between them would be just as relaxing but he wanted to let you help him however you wanted, either way he would be right here with you. “Alright Hase.” he smiled and the plain black hoodie he had on over his head and dragged his undershirt with it. You contained your look of dislike over the bruises covering his body. You knew he was strong, tough and they just showed you just how well he would protect you… they also meant he was in danger more often than not and that thought scared you. He grounded when he finally relaxed onto the bed. He leaned back a little so he could turn and look at you. “Liebling, it’s really not that bad, just a little sore.” he made another attempt at reassuring you. He knows how bad it looks and just because he was used to it doesn’t mean you were, or really ever would be. 

You smile softly and nudge his shoulders to sit forward. “Hush, just sit there and relax.” you tell him with a little chuckle. Slowly your hands start to smooth over his back, locating the new cuts you found and giving each one a little kiss. 

König let out a content sigh and let his shoulders relax. His muscles loosened up a little too with just your sweet lips on his skin. Taking one more look over his back and shoulders for any you may have missed you started to really give him a message. Pressing your palms into his back and smoothing them up and over his shoulders. you take care to be gentle around any bruises and welts. When you hear a soft groan and see his head tilt forward, hanging lower and much more relaxed, your heart melts. 

The room is quiet for a while you work the knots from his shoulders. His breathing was slow and steady and from what you could see of his face, he had his eyes closed and his lips parted just a little. He was falling asleep.

Leaning up you press a tender kiss to his shoulder and his eyes flutter open. “Falling asleep on me?” you tease with another kiss to his bruised skin.

He nods and turns his body around enough to scoop you into his arms and bring you to his lap. You tried to swat at his hands and protest, telling him he was hurt and shouldn’t be lifting you but just ignored you and buried his head in the crook of your neck. “tut mir leid, your hands felt so good, puttin me to sleep.” he mumbles, his arms wrapped around your cushy middle. 

You lean your head on his and rake your fingers through his short hair. “Alright, go shower so you can get some rest.” you tell him and pat his shoulder. For a moment he doesn't move but when he does it's with you in his arms and is heading for the bathroom. “König, what are you doing?” you giggle sweetly.

“M’still sore, need you.” he says.

And that was that. König soon became accustomed to your skilled hands whenever he came home from a tough mission. Which meant you stayed over more and more, even while he way away. Soon permanently, he would make sure of it.

[iamthecomet]

𝘔𝘶𝘴𝘩𝘺 𝘔𝘢𝘺 𝘋𝘢𝘺 𝘛𝘸𝘦𝘭𝘷𝘦: 𝘍𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘛𝘪𝘮𝘦

Rating: M (nothing explicit on screen but the thoughts and intentions are there) Pairing: Aeon/Swiss Word Count: 847 Mushy May by the beloved @forlorn-crows divider by the amazing @ghuleh-recs

Swiss’ hand is warm and heavy where it rests on Aeon’s thigh. Innocuous to the crowded bar around them, but Aeon feels every twitch of Swiss’ fingers. He tries to focus on his drink–something syrupy and much sweeter than it sounded on the menu. It's hard though when all he can think about is the feeling of Swiss’ thumb sliding up and down just above the seam on the inside of his thigh. 

He's wearing jeans. But he might as well be wearing nothing for how electric this feels. 

Swiss is engaged, fully, in a conversation with Cirrus, and Aurora is saying something to Aeon that he can't quite hear over the blood rushing through his ears. 

He takes another sip of that sickly sweet drink. All the astringent bite of alcohol covered by the taste of something artificial that makes his skin crawl a little. 

He has a lot to learn about life topside. About his vessel. About what he likes and what he doesn't. Above all else he is built to chase pleasure. To drown himself in hedonism until it consumes him. He wants nothing else. He could order another drink. Find something he likes better. But that easy, temporary, pleasure is dwarfed by the way it feels when Swiss touches him. 

What had started as a small pocket of warmth in his gut when Swiss put his hand on the small of his back earlier, has grown into an inferno. 

Swiss tips his head back and laughs at something Cirrus says, and Aeon knows he's staring, but he can't help it. Can't take his eyes off of deep brown skin, And the bluntness of Swiss’ cheekbones or the way his eyes crinkle in the corners. 

Aurora nudges him. “Are you listening?” 

Aeon shakes his head. “Honestly? No. Sorry. What?” 

Aurora rolls her eyes. “I asked if your drink is good.” 

He shrugs. “It's too sweet. You'd like it.” 

He pushes it over to her, watching only long enough to see her take a sip and hum happily. 

“Want me to get you something else?”

Aeon shakes his head. “I'm fine.” 

He's already looking at Swiss again. Watching him tell a story. His free hand moving wildly as it gets more intense. The hand on Aeon's thigh squeezes. The thumb digs in just a little. Aeon gasps. 

Of all of the things he wants to try–this is the most pressing. He wants to know what that hand feels like on bare skin. Wants to feel the burn of those thick fingers inside of him. Wants to know what it feels like to be pinned beneath the solid weight of Swiss’ body. 

He wants to know what Swiss sounds like when he cums. 

He's not inexperienced. He's been topside for months. But between being new and learning all the songs and preparing for tour, there hasn't been as much time for Aeon to get as acquainted With Swiss as he'd like. The blow job in front of the altar after mass barely counts. He's sick of waiting.

He wants it all. 

Swiss looks over at him like he can hear Aeons thoughts. Eyes narrowing into mischievous slits when he catches sight of the flush on Aeon's cheeks. 

The hand squeezes again. More intentional this time. And slides higher until Swiss’ thumb is dragging over the growing bulge behind Aeon's zipper. 

“You want something, bug?” 

“I want to go back to the hotel,” Aeon says it a little louder than he intends to. Aurora laughs into her drink, eyes bright as she looks at the two of them looking at each other. She nudges Aeon’s leg with her knee playfully and he ignores it–fully engrossed in the amber of Swiss’ eyes–the barely human color he picked for his glamor. As he watches he seems them flash, a quick show of their true gold and amethyst and Aeon can feel himself get harder against his zipper. 

Swiss smiles at him, easy. It’s not his usual hungry grin and it makes Aeon’s stomach swoop. There’s softness in it that is unexpected, but very welcome. And Aeon knows Swiss will take care of him–that they will be slow and methodic and they will bathe in each other’s pleasure until they can’t keep their eyes open. 

“Lead the way,” Swiss says, and Aeon practically springs from his chair–maybe too eager but he can’t help it. His pants are tight, and when Swiss sets his hand on his lower back again–warm and solid. Guiding him toward the door, Aeon feels like he might literally swoon.  Swiss laughs at him, just a little chuckle that feels warm and good natured. Laced with excitement over Aeon’s excitement. 

Swiss kisses him softly on the temple as they slip through the bar’s front door without saying a word to the rest of their packmates. The air outside is warm and damp, and Swiss’ hand slides a little to the side to rest just above Aeon’s hip. 

He doesn’t let go until they're in the hotel room. After that–his hands have much more interesting places to be. 

[theworldofotps]

The Nights (Drabble)

Pairing: Hook x Reader Word Counter: 780 Description: He's just trying to get over the thought of you.

Loosely based off the song Stick Season _______ Tag list: @omg-im-such-a-masochist​ @melissahausen​ @new-zealand-chic​ @writtingrose​ @hotgirlgraps @madhatterbri @sjwrites22 @sassymox @mrsacklesevansmgk @xladyxfatex @adamcolesbaybay @irish-newzealand-idian-dutch @demonqueen29 @itsicantbelievethis666 @lilred91 @rebellious-desires @claymorexpunisher @letsgivethisonemoreshot @ava-valerie @shortyiceheart @serpantscorpio8497 @thatpanpal @thatnerdwriter @wrestlersownmyheart @vebner37 @seeingstarks @whenimakeitshine1234 @legit9thlunaticwarrior @blaquekitty @ironshamelessyouth @unoficialy-married-to-ace-austin @ripleyswhore @moonrosekk @xbreezymeadowsx @alyyaana @elevennbloom @melblacc @alliwant456  @mcreignsera @auburnwrites​ @aews-four-pillars If you wanna be added to the list lemme know. Hook Tag list: @wickedval ________ Another night, another cloud of smoke encircled his head as he sat on his fire escape watching the city buzzing by. His phone lit up illuminating his face as he read it hoping but knowing it wouldn’t be a text from you.

‘We’re really worried about you man nobody’s heard from you in a week least let someone know you’re okay.’ Setting the phone back on his lap Tyler took another inhale of the joint holding the smoke until his lungs burned then blew it into the dark night sky. Of course, he was okay well at least physically he was but emotionally he probably wouldn’t be the same ever again. Not after losing the most important person in his world.. “This is going to be amazing mamas I can’t wait for you to come back to New York I have so much for us planned.”

Tyler smiled as he put away the last of the laundry making sure his apartment was clean and suitable enough for you. The line remained quiet with the only sound being the tires on the road before you let a breath out. “Actually, I’ve um changed my mind.” He didn’t know this but at the time you spoke these words you passed his exit and continued driving. “I’m sorry what?” “I know it’s a shitty thing to do on the phone but I’m going up to Canada to visit a friend for a few weeks. I didn’t know how to tell you and honestly wasn’t sure how I was going to.” “Why didn’t you just say anything?’ “Because breaking up over the phone isn’t something I planned to do but I think it’s for the best. We’ve been growing apart with your traveling and my work schedule. I’m tired of not seeing you and of not having a boyfriend close by. I’m sorry this is the last thing I wanted to have happen, but I think it’s for the best.”

Thinking back over that night all these weeks later and if he was honest with himself, he knew something wasn’t right. You had been acting weird ever since the two of you started making plans for a visit, you’d trail off or switch the subject to something else.

He was still dealing with all the feelings that came from having a relationship suddenly end, he felt pain that he never experienced before not even in ring. His chest was heavy and often felt tight, he was angry that you wouldn’t even give him a chance to try and make things better or reassure you it would work out.

But he knew it wasn’t just all on you, he’d been a bit too busy with work and didn’t call you as often as he should have. He never imagined he would be at this end, sure other relationships failed but he always had faith that yours would last. And now just like that you were gone, you who was supposed to be Tyler’s future. The love of his life the person he hoped to marry someday not that he ever got the chance to ask you.

Despite the breakup being over two months ago he still felt like he did the night it happened; felt like a whole opened in his chest. It got worse because he saw your mother recently. She stopped by to pick up some of your things and told him that you were taking it hard despite everything she knew that you loved him. It helped a little but not enough to make him want to rejoin society.

He'd called a couple of times and even sent a few texts to try and see if he could change your mind but you never returned them. Tyler knew it was only a matter of time before he would have to get back to real life. Tony was trying to be understanding and give him time, they wrote him off with an injury, but he knew he needed to get back. Most days he spent smoking trying to numb the longing and loneliness he felt for you, but no matter how much he smoked he still thought about you. At night was the worst when the rest of the world was silent his mind and dreams were plagued with different versions of you. No matter what he tried he just couldn’t escape it all. Tyler knew in time he would get over you, knew that one day in the future you’ll be nothing more than just a thought in his mind. As for now? He would just have to take it a day at a time trying to get over loving you.

[moxfirefly]

Please please please with a cherry on top! I am in NEED of a thigh fuck with Raph xFemReader. I’ve had this scene stuck in my head of Raph and his girl making out and she’s finally had enough of him pushing her away when she’s about to bust so she straddles him on the lair couch. They’ve only made out with some semi-heavy petting before he pulls away and gets all “tough” and tries to change the subject. She’s a needy woman and she needs some attention and validation or at least an explanation as to why he’s so hesitant. She doesn’t get it because she’s been after him forever & now that she has him she’s not about to let him go. This could be completely filthy ❤️‍🔥 I just need my big boy to come undone (pun intended) No pressure but I just love your writing & have been going through and rereading all of your amazing stories! — Much love, Phera

Ngl this has been festering my noggin for a while because I’ve been in a big Raph mood lately. I hope you don’t mind but this is a combination of something I’ve been working on with like a portion of your request into it but I think you’ll enjoy it nonetheless.

Rated Explicit (18+ only)

Raphael always found the word “obsessed” to be a tad too exaggerated.

Whenever Donnie said he was obsessed with some new tech thing, or Mikey was obsessed with a new song, or even Leo was obsessed with some new form of meditation.

Obsessed sounded too big of an adjective to explain it.

Raph didn’t consider himself obsessed with his workouts or even knitting. He liked them sure, maybe even loved them because they brought some semblance of balance to an already complicated brain. But obsessed felt too outrageous of a word.

That all went to hell the second his eyes had landed on yours. Because suddenly the word began to ring out loudly in his brain in blood red caution style letters. Something chemically switched in his brain the very moment you had spoken. He felt sweaty, clammy and downright sick to his stomach.

How many hours in the day could somebody think about another person?

He felt like his ass was going numb from sitting on the bench thing long contemplating this situation. He’d only done one rep of his bench presses when he had to sit up and breathe and quiet his mind.

You were April’s friend, her latest and most stable roommate and somehow the idea of mutants in the sewers had been easier to swallow than he could ever hope for in human reactions.

He felt pathetic, a little dirty but overall weightless whenever you were near by. You’d stepped in several times to help whenever April simply couldn’t. You’d come down with groceries, hand me downs and all sorts of necessities simply because you wanted to help. Raph wasn’t some inconsiderate chump though, he was thankful, he’d (somehow) engaged in his fair share of small talk with you.

And sure your eyes had lit up with him.

Sure there were moments he wanted to do a double take because he swore your eyes had lingered on him.

Pesky pesky pesky ‘ifs’.

Quite often the sensation of your eyes lingering on him had taken him to places he hardly entertained. He didn’t want to place you in that box, that ‘potential’ box where he wondered what a normal life could feel like. He much less wanted to stuff you in the other box.

The one where when he slept and saw nothing but your eyes and mouth and hands all over him. The one where when he woke up and felt like a fever was burning him in the very pits of hell, all because he swore he heard you moan out for him. How many ruined sheets carried your name. How many showers he’s tried to burn you off of him only to simply get off to the idea of your skin against his own.

God he was obsessed wasn’t he?

The hypocrisy alone wouldn’t mortify him.

What would kill him is if you suddenly developed mind reading powers and saw one third of his thoughts on you.

From the fruity gushy romantic ones.

To the filthy debauched images he painted daily ones.

He felt sick again.

Sicker the second you walked in the shorts you wore when summer was approaching.

You had a scar on your knee cap he wanted to taste. He saw how skin spread when you sat down, the plushness, the softest of chubbiness that had him thinking how divine it would be to wake up to those thighs crushing his face. A tremble in his hand urged him to lay a palm on your thigh, just to touch, just to get a taste of human flesh against his calloused scales. Raph wanted nothing more than to feel you sit on his lap and ask him if he could be a good boy for you and-

“Yo bro if you ain’t taking a plate I’m eating it” When had Mikey gotten in front him and why was food being shoved into his face?

Oh, right, you brought dinner tonight.

He had mumbled a grunt of an apology and had poured the rest of his energy into eating.

Unbeknownst to him, you had felt that shift that could only be described as the earth shaking. Raphael wasn’t necessarily subtle, sure he’s gotten away with it a few times but there’s no way he expected you to not notice his eyes burning a hole through your thigh as you sat next to him.

And who said you couldn’t be a little cruel in your endeavors of letting him get the fucking hint that you wanted him too?

So when you had finished eating and Casey and Donnie had started up one of their heated debates, you had placed a hand on his knee to push yourself up from the couch.

You had dug just a little bit of nail.

You had let your palm slide on your way up.

If Raph could implode he would’ve.

If he could set himself on fire he would’ve lit a match by now.

That had messed him up for days. He had rutted against his pillow three nights in a row and none of it had been enough to silence the voice, the itch of his skin.

All it had done was open his eyes a little wider, to watch you like a damn hawk.

And he began to notice things. Notice the little games you played with him.

From the way you crossed your legs when his green eyes landed on you. To the way your smile felt just mischievous enough to let him know he had been had.

You knew.

God, could you read his thoughts?

He had been tasked one evening to walk you to the exit of the Lair. It wasn’t too late, but work and deadlines were impeding you from torturing him longer this evening. He had quietly gotten you to the latter that led closest to your place.

“Ya let us know when ya make it home safe” Came that gruff voice of his, that almost constipated pit nesting in his stomach. Just before your hands could grip the ladder, you had gripped the length of the white cloth that adorned his shorts. You twirled the fabric, gentle twists and a knowing smile that made him hold his breath.

“And you let me know the next time you’re thinking of me at night. I think we’re past this little game.” You didn’t give him a second to recover let alone form a coherent sentence before you were up the ladder and gone.

Raphael looked up, the beam of light as the cover was opened to allow you out into the buzzing city. It felt too much of a spotlight highlighting his desires. You watched him down below, the shadows hiding just enough but not the stunned hungry look. If he were a religious man, he could say that you looked like a god, above him all knowing and with the power to turn him into ash.

And how he wanted to fall to his knees and pray in between your legs.

He hadn’t slept that night.

He had watched the ceiling of his and Mikey’s shared room and contemplated your words. He turned them over and over, examined every vowel and consonant. He tasted the sounds in his mouth. Your haughty smile as the wind blew a few strands of hair.

He lasted a week.

Seven days of self loathing.

A hundred and sixty eight hours of working up the courage.

Ten thousand and eighty minutes of wanting to even the playing field.

So on that last day, last hour, last minute, he had snuck out after patrol and a shower and headed to your apartment. He had climbed up the fire escape with every intention of telling you how evil you were for making him so obsessed.

His simply texted,

‘Window.’

His tried to mask a neutral face as you pulled back the curtains and found him crouched there.

The second you smiled though…

He had lost.

You lifted the window open and rested your hands on the windowsill.

“Couldn’t stop thinking of me?” Your words stabbed him, and he loved it.

He wanted to snarl, wanted to show you that this was stupid of you to even consider. So when he moved forward, brought his face close to yours, you didn’t flinch.

“Don’t be such a coward and show me what kept you up this late?” Your warm breath caressed his scarred lips.

Raph blinked, taken aback on how easily you had taken hold of him. When your hand reached up, knuckles caressing his jaw before they rested on the lip of his plastron, he closed the distance with an innocent kiss. A pressing of lips that froze him against your mouth. He felt that hand run up his neck, a scratch of your nails bringing some life back to him as your lips moved against his own.

Just as his mouth began to catch up, to lose itself against the wetness of your tongue you had backed up into the room and beckoned him inside the living room.

And like a trained pet he slid inside and felt smaller than he had ever imagined he could.

And god, he loved it.

He let you lead him to the couch, watched obsessively as you straddled his lap and kissed him with every intention of devouring all the secrets he possessed inside of him. He can’t and won’t be able to forget the sensation of your hands grabbing his own and letting them hover over your chest.

“Do you want me? Do you want to keep doing this?” You had asked cautiously, adamant in letting him know this could stop the second he felt it needed to. It took every power in him to not yell out a resounding and firm ‘yes’.

“Good, that’s a good boy” And fuck his dick twitched and almost came undone right then and there. He felt his hands cup your breast, the soft tender flesh from above your sleep shirt, just as you rolled your hips against his painfully hard erection.

Between the kisses he groaned out a desire.

“Wanna feel more of ya, can I?” He whispered it against the corner of your mouth as desperate as he ever could.

Your reply came in the simple gesture of lifting your shirt and your reward came in the form of hungry eyes and lips finding your breasts.

He was gutted, how could something this beautiful also be perfect and soft and right now against his lips?

Raph felt your hand on the back of his head and the quiet little yelp as he bit down gently on your nipple almost be his second undoing of the night. He kissed the perked bud, wrapped his tongue around it and savored the texture, the taste, the way that with each suction you grew needier and wetter.

He could feel you so perfectly through the fabric of your underwear just gush against his clothed crotch. His hands held your waist as he devoured your other breast and delighted ‘ha!’ escaped your lips when he his bit down just a little harder than before. Raph’s eyes looked up, the flush pink of your neck, the sweat starting to form.

The two of you still needed to be quiet, you weren’t alone after all.

And this was simply still a taste of things to come.

“I want you, so fucking bad, but not here, not like this” You kissed it up his neck, felt those big hands grip your rear. His eyes held confusion and a stupor that could only mean he was drunk off of this.

“We’re gonna be a little creative and very very quiet” Your hands rested on his shoulders, to which allowed yourself the luxury of a good firm squeeze to the muscle. God he was a fucking sight to behold.

With a remorseful push you got up on wobbly legs and slid your underwear down and off. He had followed the path, mesmerized and hungry. Just to tease, just to be the cruel god you could be, you rubbed along your folds, gathered slick and offered up to his willing and devout lips. He sucked greedily, loved the way you slowly pulled out the digits from his mouth.

Next to his spot you climbed on the couch and rested against the backrest and urged him closer. “Y/n I um, I’m too big-“ And he wanted to cringe at the admission that there was no way this could happen like this without some lube and patience.

“Thighs, use my thighs Raphie” That stupid name sounded like salvation when spoken in your voice. Nervously but ever so in need he settled behind you, pushed his shorts past his hips and saw the mess he had become due to you, much like he did on nights.

His hands ran up the globes of your cheeks and found your waist. He slid himself between the thighs he had dreamt off for far too long and just as he hoped, they felt better than he could ever imagine. “Oh-fuck…” Was his breathless response to the first slide, your thighs locked up as tight as they could be. The move allowed his cock to perfectly slide along your core, rub against your clit and you tighten your lips in a muffled moan.

The next thrust wasn’t as gentle, as slow. But enough to have his navel slap against your rear in that all to familiar lewd slap he often heard in ‘videos.’

He fell slightly forward, massive arms wrapped around your stomach and lips at the top of your head. “God, Y/n, fucking wanted this” He grunted against the crown of your head. “Me too baby, me too” You braced yourself better, if he was like this…

The thought alone made your toes curl as he began to thrust, building a rhythm that had the two of you on the brink of screwing up and moaning louder than allowed. A hand clasped down on your breast as the couch began to protest with the force of his movements.

“Come on Raphie, just like you dreamt of, do just like you’ve always wanted to” You turned your head, did your best to catch a glimpse of his debauched features as he thrusted faster, that squelching sound combined with your moans making him lose control.

“Shit-I’m gonna…” He buried his face against the back of your neck.

“Do it, do it for me, make a mess” Your own undoing so close you could taste it.

It’s a gut punch, it’s like a bomb going off in his chest and stomach all at once. It’s the hardest he has ever cum, and he’s clutching you and not a pillow for once. He can feel it mix in with your own release, feel it drip down against your thighs and shot against the couch. He feels you slap against him as you ride your own wave whilst biting down on your forearm.

He feels dizzy, tired and drained.

He feels you against him. Sticky and sweaty and panting.

He feels so fucking obsessed.

He feels so fucking obsessed.

[slay00ryu]

KC cast with a reader who makes songs about them or their murder

A singer and their song.

A short list of Headcanons for each love interest.

Ronin

Playing: Judas by Lady Gaga

Ronin was fascinated by the sound of your songs, he found himself listening to them on repeat. He could admire the feelings you were pouring into the lyrics and every sound.

When he discovered that you were writing a song inspired by him he was even more captivated by the music. "Is this how I sound to you, darling?" He would ask when you were presenting the music itself.

His songs were loud, fast, aggressive in a way. They were pure chaos, but that chaos was controlled just like Ronin. He was a chaotic serial killer, yet he kept control over his life.

The songs you were basing him off were mostly metal or rock songs, the bands you picked out were Slipknot, Black Sabbath, Korn. You used some emo bands too, you couldn't forget about Lady Gaga, Judas, Monster and Disease were just screaming Ronin for you.

Ronin was a regular guest at your concerts, he was usually in the first rows or on the backstage, watching you with admiration as you put on a show worthy of being a devil's worship.

"Come on darling, play me a song." Is a regularly used phrase by Ronin, mostly to get on your nerves, sometimes because he actually yearns to hear your song.

Angel

Fruits by Paris Paloma

Angel was in awe of your music, even before she discovered that song about her. She loved the melodies, lyrics and the emotions that she could feel in every sound.

When you played her that piece inspired by her, Angel felt like she was falling for you all over again. The sound was so beautiful, yet there was some darkness laced under the sweetness, she could feel her soul being wrapped by every new note.

The melodies you wrote for Angel were sweet, just like how she presented herself in front of people, as a sweet model with an adorable smile, but under all that sweetness there was poison and your music reflected that. You mixed her sweetness with the murderous nature, creating sounds that left people wondering what was true and what was false.

The songs that inspired you were mostly Paris Paloma's songs like Labour (because of it's meaning), Penelope Scott's music, you mixed it all with pop artists like Sabrina Carpenter or Chappell Roan, making the mirage of the songs being just pop music.

Angel not only goes to every single concert (if time lets her of course) she also talks about your music on her channel, recommending her fans to see your music live too.

Whenever you spend time together, you will play Angel a song, it's a form of quality time for the two of you, she is relaxing and you can be her background noise.

Misaki

Playing: Heavy Metal Lover by Lady Gaga

Misaki is your biggest fan, they're blasting your music daily, bragging about how talented her partner is to the server. They're proud of you for the music you create.

When they discovered the music about themselves, they were squealing like a little kid, jumping all around their house like a kid and giggling.

Their sound was fast, just like they are. It was mostly songs that felt exciting, they gave of that childlike happiness that most people lost. The sound you wrote for them was showing their escapism perfectly, they were escaping from their problems by acting like a teenager, and it reflected in your music.

The artists you were mostly inspired by when it came to the sound without the music meaning's were Chappell Roan, some Lady Gaga's songs, even Olivia Rodrigo.

Misaki was ready to save money just to go to your concerts, they loved the energy hearing your music live gave them, and seeing you on that stage? That was also something Misaki would never complain about. her partner's hot and she's not ashamed to admit it.

They plead you during every call to play them a song, and you give in. Who wouldn't want to make their partner happy? Especially when they're just so excited like Misaki is.

V

Playing: Strangers in The Night by Frank Sinatra

V has a strong admiration for your music, he is proud to a be witness to your artistic soul's creations. He appreciates the time and effort you put into music greatly.

When you played him one of the newest pieces you wrote about him, V was flustered. He would never expect anything like this, but his admiration for your art was much deeper now, after all he was a part of it now.

V's sound was serious, but soft around the edges, just like your vigilante. It was a mix of classical music and jazz, two things you knew that V enjoyed the most.

The artists that inspired your pieces about V when it came to classical music were Beethoven and Tchaikovsky, fr the jazz ones it was mostly Frank Sinatra.

V would be at your every concert and if he couldn't be at one he would find the video recordings of your shows just to watch them.

V doesn't ask you to play him anything, but he does appreciate it when you do, finding the sound truly peaceful.