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dakusan · 1 month ago

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S U R P R I S I N G S K Z O N T O U R — B A C K S T A G E

stray kids ot8 x reader | post-show sweat. backstage chaos. and the person they missed more than sleep.

🌙 synopsis: they’ve been gone for weeks—sweating under stadium lights, screaming into mic stands, hearts beating to the rhythm of a thousand voices. they’ve given everything. every night. to everyone. and then—it’s you. standing in the hallway. soft smile. no warning. no cameras. just you. and suddenly, the lights aren’t the brightest thing in the room anymore. this isn’t just a surprise. it’s home. it’s you.

💌 a/n: welcome to Tender Tuesday™. yes i made sure it's tuesday this time not like last time!!! this was written under the influence of 1 delusional daydream in a dressing room mirror and the mental image of Han Jisung tripping over his own mic pack trying to hug you. p.s. reblog this like you’re the one showing up in their hoodie p.p.s. drink water or bang chan will fly home and force-feed you oranges p.p.p.s. do yourselves a favour and go listen to the song. it’s disgustingly cute. if you somehow haven’t heard it yet—first of all, how dare you. second of all, fix that. also. watch skz react to their own mv for it. it’s unhinged. they are unwell. you will be too. you're welcome ♡

📍credits: @cafekitsune for the dividers

🎧 » Your Eyes — Stray Kids « 0:58 ─〇───── 3:16 ⇄ ◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹ ↻

Bang Chan // 방찬

The show ends in a blur of lights, sweat, and deafening screams. Chan’s still catching his breath, chest rising and falling beneath the drenched tank top clinging to his body, mic still clipped to his jaw. The rest of the boys are collapsing into couches or toweling off, high on adrenaline and crowd energy.

Chan’s scanning the staff in the hallway with that ever-present leader instinct—checking on everyone, nodding at sound techs, offering quick praise to dancers. He turns the corner near the dressing rooms.

And stops. Like, full stop.

Because you’re standing there.

In his hoodie. Holding a bottle of water. Smiling like you belong here. Which you do. But he wasn’t expecting you for another week.

“…No way.”

He blinks twice. Looks behind him, like maybe you’re a mirage conjured by exhaustion. Then his whole face shatters into the softest smile you��ve ever seen.

“Wait—no, wait—no way.”

You laugh, arms opening before he even moves.

And then he runs.

No hesitation. No chill. Just full-speed Chan, sweaty, glowing, chest heaving, launching himself into your arms like gravity gave up on him the second you appeared. His arms lock around your waist instantly, head tucked into your neck, and he just holds you.

Tight. So tight it’s like he’s scared you’ll vanish if he lets go.

“You—” his voice cracks, and he laughs into your shoulder, breathless and slightly delirious. “You’re really here.”

You nod, arms around him. “Surprise.”

“Are you kidding?” he whispers, pulling back just enough to look at you, eyes wide, glassy. “That was the best surprise of my entire life.”

You brush his hair off his sweaty forehead. “You killed it out there.”

“I missed you out there,” he says, no filter, no hesitation.

And then he kisses you. Hard. Fast. Desperate. Like he doesn’t have time to say everything he feels and this is the only language he has left. When he pulls back, he presses your foreheads together and murmurs, “Don’t leave. Not yet. I need you right here.”

So you stay. In the hallway. Wrapped in each other. As the rest of the world continues spinning—but he’s only looking at you.

Lee Know // 리노

He’s calm. Collected. Leaning against a wall backstage post-show, sipping from a water bottle and nodding along as someone from staff debriefs him on the schedule. Typical Minho—quiet confidence, unreadable eyes, dancer precision. He just performed for 30,000 people and still looks mildly bored.

Until his gaze shifts. And lands on you.

For a second, he doesn’t react at all. Just stares. Like you short-circuited his brain. Eyes flicking from your shoes, to your hoodie (his), to your soft little smile like:

No. No no no. That’s not real. She’s not supposed to be here—

Then—

“…You’re kidding.” His voice is flat, but his ears are bright red.

You open your arms casually, like this isn’t the most romantic ambush of his life. He blinks. Slowly. Then glances at the staff member, mutters a distracted, “Sorry, I gotta go fall apart real quick,” and walks straight into you.

No running. No drama. Just quiet urgency. Hands on your waist. Forehead against your shoulder. Breathing you in like you’re oxygen and he’s been holding his breath the entire tour.

“I hate you,” he mumbles.

You smile into his hair. “No you don’t.”

He squeezes you tighter. “I really do.”

You laugh. “Why?”

“Because you showed up looking like that and now I have to pretend I’m fine when I’m actually thinking about skipping every stop on this tour just to drag you home.”

Your heart stutters. And then, softer—

“…I missed you.”

He doesn’t say it loud. Doesn’t need to. It’s in the way he won’t let go. The way his jaw’s clenched and his fingers are shaking slightly. The way he presses a kiss to your neck like it’s instinct. He pulls back just enough to look at you, and for the first time in a while—he actually smiles. That rare, real one. The one he only gives you.

“You could’ve warned me,” he says.

You shrug. “Wouldn’t have been as fun.”

He rolls his eyes. Then leans in, whispers in your ear, voice low and warm: “…You’re not sleeping alone tonight. Not after this.”

And you know. Under all the chill, the deadpan sarcasm, the perfect stage face—he’s shaken. And he’s so happy you’re here.

Changbin // 창빈

He’s pacing.

Shirt stuck to his back. Sweat dripping from his neck. Still riding the post-show high—wired, panting, glowing. He’s halfway through retelling a moment from the encore to a staff member, hands flailing, voice slightly hoarse—

Then he sees you.

And it’s over.

The world tilts. The noise dies. And his eyes go wide—like someone hit the brakes on his heart.

“…No way. NO WAY—”

He stumbles forward like his feet can’t decide whether to walk or run. His arms are already out. You barely get a breath in before he scoops you up into the most chaotic, all-consuming bear hug of your life. Your feet leave the floor. Your lungs get crushed. He spins you in a full circle before collapsing against a wall with you still in his arms.

“You—” he breathes, “I’m gonna cry. I swear. I’m not joking.”

You laugh into his neck. “Cry, then.”

“I might! I literally—what the hell. You were supposed to be in another country! You lied to me!”

You look up at him, grinning. “Yeah. And I’d do it again.”

He stares at you, eyes shining with disbelief and affection and something deeper that lives in his chest just for you. And then, he kisses your forehead. Slow. Grateful.

“I missed you so much it physically hurt,” he mumbles, voice cracking.

Then, a beat later: “You’re not leaving. You hear me? You’re staying with me ‘til tour’s over. I don’t care what we have to cancel.”

He presses his forehead to yours, and for a second, he’s not Changbin from Stray Kids. He’s just Binnie. Yours. Sweaty, shaky, and so, so in love.

Hyunjin // 현진

He’s sitting in front of the dressing room mirror. Still in his stage outfit. Still glowing. Still breathing fast. His head is bowed, fingers twitching over his knees, lost in the afterglow of a stage that nearly tore his heart out.

And then—

He looks up. Sees the door open. And sees you. Standing there. Wearing his hoodie. Eyes glassy with emotion, like you’ve been watching him the whole time.

At first, he doesn’t move. Just stares. And then—his whole body shatters. He’s up. Fast. But not loud. Not running. More like a storm gathering itself—slow, trembling, dangerous in how much it feels.

You whisper, “Hi, baby.”

And he’s in front of you before you can finish the breath. Hands cradling your face. Eyes searching yours like you’re not real.

“You—” he whispers, voice hoarse, “—you came?”

You nod. “I couldn’t stay away.”

And his lips part like he wants to say something profound, poetic, worthy of the art you are to him—but instead, all that comes out is:

“…I missed you.”

Then he pulls you in and hugs you like a drowning man grabbing the surface. One hand fisting your shirt. The other buried in your hair. His body shakes.

You feel his breath hitch once. Then again.

“Jinnie,” you whisper, “are you crying?”

He laughs through it, wet and shaky. “Shut up.”

You hold him tighter.

“You always do this to me,” he murmurs against your ear. “You always show up and make me feel like I’m seventeen again. Like love isn’t terrifying. Like I deserve it.”

You cup his cheeks, wipe the tears from under his eyes with your thumbs.

“Because you do.”

And he kisses you. So softly. Like a secret he wants to keep safe. Like he’s terrified this is a dream he’ll wake up from.

Han // 한

He’s still bouncing. Literally. Post-show adrenaline, sweat-drenched tank top, mic still clipped, rambling to whoever will listen about the crowd’s energy like—

“Bro, when the beat dropped in ‘Topline’? I almost exploded. Did you hear them? They were SCREAMING—”

Then he sees you.

You’re standing near the monitors. Hidden behind a stack of towels and staff gear. You’re just smiling, waiting. No cameras. No dramatic intro. Just you, soft-eyed and glowing in his hoodie.

He stares. And then? Absolutely. Freaking. Explodes.

“NO. WAIT—WHAT. WHAT—?!”

He screams. Actually screams. Everyone turns. Staff flinches. Someone drops a water bottle.

“YOU’RE HERE?!!” His voice cracks mid-yell. “YOU LIED TO ME!! YOU ABSOLUTE—ANGELIC—GENIUS—LIAR!!”

He’s running toward you now, full anime-level sprint, and crashes into you like a human wrecking ball. Arms tight, body buzzing, face buried in your neck like he needs to smell you just to prove this is real.

You’re laughing. “Hi, Ji—”

“Don’t talk to me,” he sobs. “You’re not real. I’m dreaming. I died on stage. This is heaven.”

“You’re sweaty.”

“I’m in love.”

You giggle and hug him tighter. He pulls back just enough to cup your face, eyes wide, pupils dilated, voice very serious: “Do you realize what you’ve done? You just caused an actual chemical reaction in my body. Like—my heart rate? THROUGH THE ROOF.”

“You okay?”

“No. Absolutely not. This is the most romantic moment of my entire life. I’m gonna need to sit down or I’ll propose by accident.”

You lean in and kiss the tip of his nose. He melts. Literally folds in half. “I’m keeping you,” he mumbles. “Like. Forever. Tour wife. This is happening. Don’t fight me.”

Felix // 필릭스

He’s glowing.

Skin glistening, hair damp, cheeks flushed from the encore. There’s glitter on his shoulders and stars in his eyes. He’s still catching his breath, thanking staff one by one with the kind of gentle sincerity only Felix knows how to give.

And then he turns the corner and stops breathing entirely.

Because you’re there. Backstage. In his hoodie. Hands behind your back. Smile blooming like spring.

He freezes. No words. No movement. Just a single, whispered—

“Angel…?”

You nod, eyes already brimming with tears. “Hi, sunshine.”

And that’s it. His body moves before his brain catches up. He walks toward you slow, almost reverently—like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he blinks. Then suddenly you’re in his arms. Pressed flush to his chest, arms wrapped tight, face buried in your shoulder as he sighs. Not out of relief—out of pure emotional collapse.

“I missed you so much,” he whispers. “Like—so much. Like every night I looked for you and had to pretend I was fine.”

Your hand runs through his hair. “I know, baby. I know.”

He pulls back just enough to see your face, cupping your cheeks with both hands like you’re made of porcelain and sunlight.

“You’re real. You’re here. You’re mine.”

And then—he kisses you. Soft. Long. Like he has nothing to rush. Like he’s home. When he pulls back, he giggles through a sniffle.

“Okay. No one tell the others but… this is the best part of tour.”

Seungmin // 승민

He’s standing by the water cooler, towel around his neck, completely sweat-soaked and still glowing with that quiet Seungmin-brand confidence. He’s mid-sip when he spots you—half-hidden behind some gear cases, just… watching him.

For a full three seconds, he doesn’t react. Just blinks. Tilts his head. Tries to process. Then you wave. And he chokes on his water. He coughs. Clears his throat. Wipes his mouth on his sleeve. Then squints like you have some explaining to do.

You walk toward him slowly, smiling like you didn’t just shatter his entire emotional equilibrium.

“You—what? You were—” He frowns. “You weren’t supposed to be here.”

“That’s the point,” you say softly.

He goes quiet. Eyes flicking over your face, your outfit (one of his shirts, because of course), the little hopeful twitch of your mouth. And something in him just… cracks. “...That’s really mean,” he mutters, eyes glassy. “I could’ve emotionally prepared. Now I look stupid.”

You smile, stepping into his space, hands finding his waist. “You look perfect.”

He scoffs. “Sweaty. Smells like a wet dog.”

“Still perfect.”

And that’s when he lets out the tiniest, tiniest sigh. Like all the fight went out of him. He tugs you into a hug, arms wrapping around your back, his chin resting lightly on your head. “Don’t let go,” he mumbles. “I’m not doing the rest of tour without this. Just so you know.”

You smile into his chest. “Noted.”

Then, softer, a whisper you almost miss:

“...Thanks for coming back to me.”

I.n // 아이엔

He’s doing his post-show ritual—sitting on the dressing room floor with his legs stretched out, sipping his drink, cheeks flushed from dancing and screaming, trying to act cool even though his adrenaline is still going crazy.

He’s giggling at something a member says when the door creaks.

He looks up. And freezes. Because it’s you. Peeking in, eyes soft, fingers curled around the doorframe like you were nervous to interrupt.

“...Hi, baby,” you whisper.

His jaw actually drops. He blinks once, twice, like his brain needs buffering time.

“…You’re joking,” he finally says.

You step inside slowly. “Not a joke.”

You expect him to run. Cry. Scream. But instead—

He just sits there, completely still. Like his soul left his body for a minute. “…You really came?” he asks, voice small.

You kneel in front of him, taking his face in your hands. “Of course I did.”

And that’s when it happens.

His whole body slumps forward and he buries his face in your neck—arms wrapping around your waist in this desperate, trembling hold like he’s afraid to break you. “I missed you,” he says, so quietly it makes your chest ache. “So much. It’s been so hard.”

You stroke his hair. “You’re doing amazing. I’m so proud of you.”

And then? He starts sniffling. “Noooo don’t say that, I’m gonna cry,” he mumbles, voice cracking. “I was literally fine five seconds ago. This is so unfair.”

You laugh gently. “Cry, Jeonginnie. It’s okay.”

He pulls back, eyes watery, lips trembling into a smile. “I love you,” he blurts out. “A lot. Just—so much.”

And then he hugs you again. Tighter. Softer. Like now that you’re here, nothing else matters. Like home isn’t a place—it’s you.

#skz #skz imagine #stray kids x reader #skz fluff #stray kids fluff #bang chan x reader #lee know x reader #changbin x reader #hyunjin x reader #han x reader #felix x reader #seungmin x reader #jeongin x reader #sundaysoftdrops

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bambieyedoll · 3 months ago

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⋆·˚ ༘ * SETH CLEARWATER HEADCANONS 𐚁̸.ᐟ

𐙚 you’re seth’s best friend and embry’s imprint

you’ve been seth’s best friend since you were kids. like, “climbing trees and falling out of them together” kind of best friends.

you were the quiet, observant one. he was the hyper, loyal puppy of a kid who stuck to you like glue.

everyone on the rez knew if they saw seth, you were probably nearby too, dragging him away from climbing trees or smoothing over one of his awkward jokes.

seth tells you everything. you’re his sounding board, his partner in crime, his therapist, his snack enabler, all in one.

you were the first person he told when he thought something weird was going on with his body. “like, my legs feel like they’re… too strong. is that a thing?”

“are you okay? you didn’t drink any weird energy drinks, right?

you’re basically a second clearwater sibling. sue knows your favorite meals and leah used to babysit you both (reluctantly).

when harry passed, you were the first person seth cried to outside his family. you stayed over for days, sleeping on the couch, making food, keeping the house a little less empty.

leah acts annoyed when you’re around, but if you don’t show up for a few days, she’ll casually ask where you’ve been.

you were there through leah’s heartbreak and his mom’s quiet sadness and the weird tension that started hanging in the air around sam’s pack. you stuck by seth like it was second nature.

you’re fiercely protective of seth. you’d swing on someone three times your size for making fun of him—and you have.

it was simple. and then it happened.

you meet embry briefly at the beach one day with seth, and you remember thinking, “he’s cute, but he looks like he thinks too much.”

then he disappears for a while, and you don’t think much of it… until he shows up again.

you’re sitting on the porch, joking with seth, when you hear the crash in the woods. seth’s immediately on edge, jumping up protectively.

and then he walks out. embry, but—different. taller, broader, and his eyes meet yours with this staggering stillness. he looks like he’s seen a ghost.

your whole body reacts before your mind catches up. it feels like gravity realigned to him.

seth notices. of course he notices. he stares between the two of you, then at embry. “wait… no way. are you serious right now?”

embry can’t even speak at first. just breathes out your name like it’s holy.

seth pretends he’s fine. “it’s cool, i mean, whatever. it’s just some ancient wolf magic soulmate thing, right? no biggie.” but he can’t hide the little cracks in his smile.

he’s never had to share you before. and now it feels like someone just took you without asking.

you try to balance everything—your growing connection with embry and your history with seth. you’re constantly checking on seth, making sure he’s okay, and he’s constantly pretending it’s not killing him.

embry doesn’t push. he’s careful. gentle. a little shy around you, even though everything inside him screams to be near you.

“i don’t want to take you away from him,” embry admits one night. “i just… can’t un-feel this. you’re… it’s you.”

embry’s naturally kind and quiet, but with you, he starts opening up. he’s funny, surprisingly sarcastic, and blushes really easily when you compliment him.

you help him feel more grounded after his shift. your voice calms him down. even just your presence makes everything less overwhelming.

once, when embry had a rough patrol and came back shaking, you touched his face and said, “i’m right here.”

he nearly cried. he didn’t realize how much he needed to hear that.

you start to fall slowly—not because of the imprint, but because of how embry treats you. how he listens. how he remembers the little things. how he looks at you like you’re the moon.

seth sees it too. eventually, he has to let go.

“he makes you happy, doesn’t he?” seth says, his voice small. you nod. he exhales and pulls you into a hug. “then that’s what matters. just don’t forget about me, okay?”

you promise. and you mean it.

leah warms up to embry because of how good he is to you. she sees the way he looks at you like you hung the moon.

you’re the one who gets embry to laugh even on his worst days.

he calls you “sunshine” sometimes, because, well—you were the light at the end of the chaos he didn’t know he needed.

at first, seth pretends to be cool with it. he jokes around. teases embry. but deep down, it starts to eat at him.

he’s used to having you around 24/7—movie nights, bonfires, venting about patrol. now suddenly, embry’s your shadow, and seth starts showing up to things where you’re already halfway curled into embry’s side.

he doesn’t say anything directly, but he gets quieter. laughs a little less.

it starts small—seth flaking on hangouts, showing up late, not answering your texts like he used to. you chalk it up to patrols, but deep down, you feel the shift.

you catch him giving embry this look when he thinks you’re not watching. it’s not anger exactly. more like betrayal.

the worst part? seth never says anything. he bottles it up. jokes through it. pretends to be okay. and that hurts more than if he’d just snapped.

embry feels it too. the tension. the guilt. he tries to keep distance when he can—lets you go on walks alone with seth, even when it physically pains him to be away from you. “he was here first,” embry says quietly. “i don’t want to take that from either of you.”

one day, embry tries to talk to him during patrol.

“y/n asks a lot about you, you know? she worries.”

seth scoffs but says nothing.

embry’s jaw tightens. “you’ve been weird for weeks, man. just say what you want to say.”

seth snaps.

“fine! i miss her, okay? i miss my best friend. i miss not being the third wheel in my own damn life. and i hate that i’m not enough anymore. happy now?”

silence. just the sound of the wind through the trees.

embry tried to reach out but seth steps back shaking his head, clearly distressed. “i know you didn’t choose this. i know it’s not your fault. but it still hurts like hell.” he turns around and leaves before embry can say anything.

you hear about it later from jacob, and it hurts. because seth was your person first. you hate the idea that he feels pushed aside.

you cry that night in embry’s arms. not because you regret the imprint, but because you feel like you’re losing someone who’s part of your soul in a different way.

embry holds you tighter than ever. “he’ll come back. you two… you’re still family. he just needs time.”

a few days later, there’s a knock on your door. seth, soaked from the rain, standing there with this hollow expression.

“i’ve been a jerk,” he says, voice rough. “you didn’t do anything wrong. i just— i felt like i was loosing you and i guess i couldn’t stand being the one left behind so i left you first instead. it’s stupid, i know.”

you throw your arms around him. he hugs you like he’s been holding that in for months.

“seth. you’re not losing me. you’ll never lose me. you’re my best friend. no imprint, no anything, could ever change that.”

he gets emotional. like full-on teary-eyed, trying to hide it behind sarcasm:

“yeah, well, maybe i just miss when you’d steal all my fries and not embry’s.”

you hug him so tight he nearly falls over. “you’re stuck with me forever, clearwater. don’t forget that.”

embry watches from the porch. quiet. giving you that space. and seth nods to him in thanks.

once the tension passes, the three of you fall into an easy rhythm again.

you, embry, seth, and the rest of the pack finally have a calm beach day together. frisbee. bonfire. teasing.

seth pushes you into the water. embry tackles him a second later, laughing like old times.

embry wraps you in his hoodie the second the breeze picks up, mumbling, “you always forget a jacket.”

seth watches for a second and then dramatically flops down next to you both, muttering, “disgusting. cute. but disgusting.”

you throw popcorn at him. he throws it back. embry gets hit in the eye and acts like he’s mortally wounded.

embry watches you and seth laugh about an old inside joke, and instead of feeling like an outsider, he smiles.

for the first time since the imprint, everything feels right.

#seth clearwater #seth clearwater x reader #seth clearwater headcanons #seth clearwater fanfic #seth clearwater x you #seth clearwater twilight #twilight seth #seth twilight #embry call #embry call x reader #embry call x you #embry call headcanons #embry call fanfic #embry call twilight #twilight wolfpack #twilight wolves #twilight werewolves #fanfic #twilight headcanons

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tojisrealwifey · 1 year ago

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Crybaby — f. toji (pt. 1)

ˋ°•*⁀➷ Synopsis: When you realize your husband might still be hung up on his ex-wife.

・❥・requests : rules

・❥・characters: fushiguro toji.

warnings: mdni, 18+, kind of angsty, smut, degrotary terms (slut, bitch), saying the wrong name (whoopsy), drunk sex, very very very slight anal penetration, you are megumi's step mom, age gap, Toji's ex-wife's name is Rei, half-assed proofreading.

・❥・wc: 2.1k

・❥・masterlist

・❥・crybaby masterlist

Your ears rang with the sounds of laughter, chatter, and the bustling of the crowd. Your arm circled your husband's as you walked through the festival.

The event was coming to an end, which called for everyone to gather for the fireworks. You excitedly made your way to the benches with Toji in tow.

You were surprisingly quick, even with your kimono weighing you down. You were not one to dress up for festivals but you had just wanted to look and feel pretty for your husband today.

You were having the best day. Your mouth was still burning from the spicy yakisoba you had slurped up earlier, so you were delighted when Toji handed you a plate of dango for the two of you to enjoy.

Settling yourself down on one of the stair benches, Toji takes the now empty plate away and sets it down beside him.

You hug his arm close, leaning and nuzzling into him. A hummed slightly, feeling content with the evening.

It wasn't long before the first firework exploded into life. The sparks fly as if they defy gravity with the subtle deafening ringing they bring.

The colors of each firework erupt into intricate shapes, sweeping the crowd in their wonder.

You couldn't look away at the beginning, not risking to miss the sight. But after a while had the urge to make a comment on the fireworks.

You turn to look at Toji, only, his sight isn't parallel to yours. His thin lips held a smile as his eyes were trained on someone else.

A woman sitting way ahead at the front. She was cheering with her friends, the radiant light displayed on her skin. The muscles of your cheeks twitch, not being able to stop the frown from embedding itself.

You felt the uneasiness bubble in your stomach when your eyes ghosted over her features.

Your chest felt heavy, not really knowing why. Sure, he was looking at another woman, doesn't mean he likes her, right?

He is just admiring something else, there's nothing wrong with that. You do so too, it isn't really a big deal.

No need to make it a big deal.

Goosebumps spread across your body, feeling very uncomfortable all of a sudden.

The fireworks show was over, yet, his eyes hadn't left her, and yours hadn't left him.

You softly shake his arm making him look at you, and seeing your glum face made him concerned, not that he showed it.

"You okay?" He asked plainly.

"My stomach's upset, I don't think the dango was prepared well."

"Oh? I feel fine though. Sure it wasn't something you ate before the festival?" He asks, taking his arm out of your hold and touching your back.

"Could be. Can we leave? I think I just need to sleep it off."

"Sure, let's go." He stands up, taking your hand in his as the two of you start walking away.

You take one last look at the woman he was staring at, making sure your eyes weren't deceiving you.

And your heartbeat only faltered noticing her uncanny resemblance to Toji's ex-wife.

Toji sat on the couch enjoying the music playing on TV as you took a bath. It had become a custom.

Despite the fact you took longer to clean yourself up, you would always shower before him.

It used to be the other way around when you first moved in together, but while Toji would be in the bath you would end up falling asleep, Toji not having it in his heart to wake you.

So he insisted that you shower before him while he could catch up on other things.

Like right now, getting daily updates from Megumi.

"Where's mom? I want to say good night to her as well." Megumi's voice comes through from the phone.

"She's in the shower. How was college today?"

"Good. Tired though."

"Then sleep ya lil' shit."

"Not before I talk to Ma."

Toji grumbles.

"She just went, it might be a while."

"I'll wait."

You on the other hand were scrubbing every part of your body with a subtle harshness. The stinging cold water rained on you, the coolness calming the overwhelming thoughts of your brain.

This wasn't something that bothered you usually.

You loved your relationship with Toji, and you loved him. You loved Megumi as if he were your own blood.

Yet there was always something off, something uneasy that always radiated off of Toji.

And you knew why.

You always enjoyed the stories Toji would share about his past, Rei, and baby Megumi. Listening happily to him describing the husband and father he was before you came in.

You loved listening about Toji's last wife because you liked the small twinkle in his eyes, and how a smile would form on the usually stoic Megumi's face.

You understood and accepted the love he had for her. And you knew if she hadn't succumbed to her illness, the three of them would be a happy family.

And you wouldn't be here.

You had an unspeakable amount of respect for the late Rei, but just sometimes you wished it wasn't like this.

Because you would catch Toji trying to remind himself that she's not here anymore, and it's the most heartbreaking thing.

It was the first time the 12-year-old Megumi accidentally called you 'Mom' and you remembered catching Toji's crestfallen face from your peripheral vision.

It had only been 2 years into this relationship, so you were caught off guard when Megumi did so.

You were really happy, but catching the look on Toji's face made your head fill with doubt.

4 years after your relationship, Toji finally got on one knee. So why did he hesitate before slipping the ring on your finger?

You still remember your third date with this man. It was a month after you both met and had invited him home for dinner.

He had declined but later changed his mind. Despite his dislike for alcohol, you both shared a few cups of wine.

Wine lead to dinner...dinner lead to more wine...and wine lead to talks. During your conversation, he had let it slip that his ex-wife had died 3 years ago today.

And before you knew it, he was moaning her name as he fucked you.

Your face was pressed into the pillow, letting out guttural moans at Toji's thrusts. You could feel the veins of cock against your walls, and your eyes rolled back, never having experienced something like this before.

"Ngh~ Yes! Please don't stop!"

"F-fuck you like this bitch?"

He gives you a harsh spank, making you stick out your ass more and push against him. He suddenly halts, and his strong hold on you means you stopped too.

You manage to crane your neck and look back at him, taking note of his dazed look.

His face was pink and he looked completely out of it, and you couldn't tell if he was drunk on wine or your pussy.

His fingers brushed against your virgin entrance. Your breath hitched when he put pressure against the muscle.

"Relax. Had anything here before?" He asks, bringing his hand to his mouth and spitting on it.

"N-no..."

"Thought so." His wet fingers smoothed over your hole, simultaneously slipping his cock out, making you whine.

He crouches down, bringing his lips to where his fingers were, giving you a slow lick.

You flinch at the foreign touch.

"Toji~" Your voice sounded like you were crying.

"Shhh, won't do much, baby. Just enjoy this." His tongue finally pressed against you, your hole flexing against him.

His tongue pushed in slowly making you move away from him from embarrassment.

"I can't Toji... 's too much!" You cried against the pillow.

His hands engulf your body, holding you close.

"Shhhhh...it's okay. She liked it too, so you'll learn for me, okay?" He slurs.

There was a flicker of discomfort from his words, but before you could question it, his cock was in you.

His thrusts were faster than before, hands working your chest as they painfully pinch your nipples.

"Hngg! R-right there! There! Toji!~"

"Such a fucking slut. Taking a cock that's too big for her. You're squeezing me out of you, nasty bitch."

"Fuuckkk~ Please! Please! I'm s-so close- Ahh!"

Never had you had anything so deep within you before, your body absorbing every bit of pleasure that this man could give you.

"Yeah? Gon' cum f'me? Fuck cum baby. Wanna feel your pussy cum on me."

Toji's hand leaves your chest and finds your chin. He cups your face and brings you close to him, lips on your cheek as he grunts in your ear.

Your vision goes blank and you can hardly process Toji's moaning.

"You're so good Rei. So fuckin' proud of my wife. Clenching me so good. Gonna give you another baby, yea? Want my cum Rei?"

And you stupidly nod during your high, blatantly ignoring his calls for his ex-wife.

"Want your cum! Please Toji!"

You gasp out desperately. His hands find your hair, and he is once again pressing your face into the mattress.

Your body is shivering as you leave the shower, hand desperately wiping your face to soothe your red face.

Chewing on your lip, you sat on the bed contemplating your decisions up until now.

Did you make a mistake?

You did, didn't you?

You remember that night, just how pathetic you felt when you came to your senses.

There had been a slight ringing in your ear after the session. You would joke in your mind that it was a siren, warning you of this budding 'relationship'.

Toji had made you feel a satisfaction like no other, yet it had left you feeling a sense of malaise.

Neither of you addressed it the morning after. You wanted to say something but were unsure if he had retained any memory from the night before.

So you let it go, just giving an excuse like 'he was grieving' or 'we're not even official, it's fine' and 'we were both too drunk'.

And something like that never happened again, but you still can't help but think if every time you both get intimate, is it really just you on his mind?

Toji is caught off guard when he enters the room, the concern now evident on his face.

You had been behaving distant since the end of the festival, but seeing you spaced out, sitting at the edge of the bed with only a towel around you as your nails worked to peel off the chapped skin of your lips, something was very wrong here.

"You chill, babe?" Toji asks, Megumi still on video call.

You don't even flinch when you hear his voice. You just simply stop picking at your lips, look up, and smile sweetly at your husband.

"Mhm...just worrying about Megumi." You lie.

"Well, he's on call, waiting for you."

"Oh! Gimme!" You stand up quickly, pretending as if there's nothing wrong as you snatch his phone.

Seeing Megumi's.....your son's.....face lifted your heavy heart. You walk to the right side of the bed and settle yourself on the floor, back supported by the bed.

You look back once more, smiling at Toji.

"You should take a shower. And be quick, or I might just fall asleep before you." You grin before turning your attention to your...son.

Thinking of Megumi as your son had started to feel uneasy, especially in front of Toji.

"Hi, baby! How are the dorms? Have you been attending all your lectures? You shouldn't miss any." You start.

"Yes Ma, I have. They are interesting but the teachers are old and boring." You let out a giggle at his response. As you speak, you hear the showers turn on.

"You know, you can skip a few lectures here and there, just don't let it affect your credits. I won't tell your father."

"I heard that!" Toji's voice is muffled yet his words are clear, clear enough to reach Megumi.

You and Megumi let out a chuckle at this.

"Yeah yeah." Megumi lets out a yawn and you 'aw' at the sight.

"Go to sleep, honey. It's late." You say, secretly hoping to end the call early.

"Mhm, I'll talk tomorrow, Ma."

"Sure. Night baby. Muahh!" You lean forward to give an audible peck on the camera.

"Good night." Megumi smiles subtly at your actions before hanging up the call.

BEEP BEEP BEEP

You stand up from your seat on the floor, placing Toji's phone on the nightstand.

Walking towards the bathroom, you drop the towel on the floor and open the door.

From the looks of it, Toji had just finished cleaning his hair. So, without wasting time you crept up behind him.

Your hands find his back, slowly smoothing them over to the front. Toji had seen you enter so he wasn't surprised by your touch.

Your right hand that settled on his chest was now trailing lower and lower. Toji watched your hand intently, his eyebrows furrowing.

Just before your hand touched him, he had intercepted your trail by clutching your wrist in his hand.

He turned around, your wrist in his hold as he looked at you with a confused glare.

"Why are your hands shaking?"

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with-my-calamitous-love · 4 months ago

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saved this for valentines day because i am so astronomically down bad for this man. anyway bodyguard! chuuya 🤍🫧❄️ gn! on the first section, nsfw f! below the divider 💌

bodyguard! chuuya, who born to do this job. who is a natural protector, who can be both rough and affectionate, fiercely loyal even to a fault, even if it seals his fate. but even statues crumble if they're made to break.

bodyguard! chuuya, who has lost everything that he's ever cared about. who is sure it's a curse- that whatever comes close to his heart is sent to fall into ruins, a product of gravity. he knows that he should have faith, but finds himself questioning the universe, if he's simply destined to be alone. who contemplates even getting close to you on this job, if he'll only end up more alone.

bodyguard! chuuya, who has the powers of a god that he didn't ask for. who sometimes wakes up in a cold sweat, dreary eyes picturing glowing red marks up and down his skin, weaving around his limbs, a monstrous form he's scared of bringing to late. who sometimes feels that his desire to be human are like the last drops of an ink pen- something that isn't going to work.

bodyguard! chuuya, who isn't sure if he should open up to you, who knows that the most singing pains of the heart come from stabs while vulnerable. who knows that by admitting his faults, he opens himself up to betrayal- the one thing he hates most in the world. who learns from you that to be hurt is to be human, and that his pain is a symbol of that humanity.

bodyguard! chuuya, who barely catches himself falling for you. who starts out his task as a simple mission- protect you, and nothing more. who fails to see you cracking the locks in his chest, crashing into you like a head on collision. who falls so hard and so fast, his feelings appear to him as a paradox. he's lost everyone, and the universe is giving him another chance to protect them.

bodyguard! chuuya, who you share a vow with, one that you'll both uphold. his is to protect you, to throw himself in front of flames and bullets to keep a smile on your face. where yours is to imagine things that haven't happened yet, keeping him grounded, teaching him that it's okay to love. that he may be dangerous, or deemed wicked, or a monster, but that you don't care. that you see him for him, and thats enough for you.

bodyguard! chuuya, who does so much more than protect you from physical threats. who holds your hand during panic attacks, stroking your hair and letting you breathe with him. who holds your hair back when you throw up, and carries you back to bed. who will kiss your hand and hug you when you need someone, when you need him. who sometimes struggles to keep his longings locked, knowing he needs to protect you, and wonders if that means protecting you from him- from the monster he knows he can be.

bodyguard! chuuya, who melts in your touch, never crossing the line, never wanting to make you uncomfortable or unsafe. who, even after learning you feel the same, hesitates. he isn't supposed to love, or care. everyone who has ever come close to him has ended up leaving. who learns that you have a funny way of surprising him, of assuring him that if this isn't forever, it'll be for as long as it lasts. a star that burns out is shines brighter than infinite darkness. given the choice between forever with someone or a night with chuuya? the choice is obvious.

✧.* ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ✧.* ✧.* ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ✧.* ✧.* ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ✧.* ✧.*

bodyguard! chuuya, who is a passionate lover. who indulges in messy kisses, setting your bedsheets ablaze with every touch. who will slowly undress you, pulling down the fabric, unlacing and undoing whatever he needs. who sees more and more skin as just more area he gets to lavish and love, gazing at every part of you- from the tip of your nose to the very depths of your soul- with nothing short of perfect adoration.

bodyguard! chuuya, who talks you through it. who asks if you like this position or if his fingers feel good. who looks up at you while he goes down on you, lips wrapped around your clit, fingers angled just right, and asks if you feel good- as if you haven't been bawling his name.

bodyguard! who does it slow and passionate. making sure his cock reaches in at your deepest parts, savoring how your pussy clamps down on him. who will take your wrists and pin them on either side of your head, forehead against yours, moaning in unison with you while he drags in and out so slow its agonizingly pleasurable. who draws out your orgasms for as long as possible, rubbing circles on your clit, kissing your tits, licking your body until you're on fire.

bodyguard! chuuya, who can just as easily be an asshole in bed. who flips you around and tosses you into positions until you find one you like. who is always open to experimentation- seeing what pet names you like, how long you can go, if you like getting worshipped or punished. who doesn't stop until your gushing, melting in pleasure or getting pounded into the sheets.

bodyguard! who grits his teeth in pleasure when he takes you from the back, feeling you wrapped around his cock like a warm, wet, vice. who lets you adjust for however long you need to, sensing your impatience and desperation to feel him deep. who holds your hands behind your back, leaning down, telling you how good you're doing before fucking you into oblivion.

bodyguard! chuuya, whose idea of a date is seeing how many times he can creampie you until you're thoroughly wrecked. who takes it like a challenge, pushing your thighs up to your chest, burying himself deep, finding the right angle before stuffing you full of his seed. who sees your teary eyes, mouth stuck in an O shape and hoarse throat, he knows he's doing something right. who, after about the 3rd or 4th time he's gotten you cumming (he's lost tracked) finally stops bullying orgasms out of you and lays you down on the bed.

bodyguard! chuuya, who has found something worth protecting, laying next to you, pulling your body close to his. whispers that he'll pick up where he left off in the morning, before kissing you goodnight. <3

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darlingdarlingdontlookhere · 2 months ago

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have some omo things ive been obsessed with lately as compensation for my lack of existence on here lol

someone who's desperate while playing a video game that they CAN pause. they just dont because theyre SO close to beating this level or they're just having SOOOO much fun. and! they can hold it! theyll get up soon they just wanna keep playing! but as they keep going they do worse and worse at the game and become a squirmy whiny mess and theyre not even having fun anymore. they dont know why theyre still sitting but they HAVE to keep playing. and theyre leaking and starting to cry and it's coming out and it won't stop- then theyre in a mess. embarrassed and ashamed and oh so blushy

someone who's distracted by the tv, they barely register they have to go but theyre squirming and doing a little potty dance. they just wanna see what comes next! they dont wanna miss the next bit! theyre practically on the edge of their SEAT. whether thats because they unconsciously feel the need to hop out of their spot to rush to the bathroom or because of their interest in whats on the tv is... irrelevant... they only really realize that it's BAD when they leak. they try to get to the bathroom but end up with a puddle that spreads down the hall instead

someone who's sitting at a table with others, really REALLY needs to go bad... but can't be excused for whatever reason. so theyre just quiet and trying to hold on until they can leave. crossing their legs and squirming and subtly holding themselves. theyre completely tuned out of the conversation, face sweaty and red. its brushed off as them not feeling well but it just keeps getting worse and then! the pattering sound of liquid dripping onto the floor starts coming from under the table. and all they can do is try to hide their blushy teary face in their hands as the others at the table realize what happened

sleepy wetting where they know they need to go but they just cant get themselves to wake up enough and out of bed. theyre so full it hurts but their body feels so heavy and so so so tired. they do eventually get up but gravity isnt kind to them. and the floor right by their bed gets soaked. or maybe they do make it! but the relief is so nice that they end up falling asleep in the bathroom. (and making a mess and falling over if they stand to pee)

someone who's drunk or high and hilariously pathetic at holding it. theyre leaky and squirmy and a whole mess. they dont know what to do and need someone to help. half way through stumbling to the bathroom they get distracted and FORGET they need to go, until theyre cruely reminded. when they have an accident they just owlishly stare at the wet spot as they slowly register what happened. or maybe theyre overly emotional and just start bawling! either way! theyre a mess

when someone is so obviously desperate but nobody says anything. theyre shifting from foot to foot, crossing their legs, squeezing their thighs, constantly moving, their voice is wavering and they let out noises and huffs and whines. little quiet "o-oh!"s and "mm!"s every so often. its the perfect picture of someone having a full potty emergency to the highest degree but they dont say anything and nobody else does either. everyone knows! and everyones thinking about it! but it's not acknowledged at all until finally the person has an accident. and they apologize, say they thought they could hold it... theyre an embarrassed sad mess and they desperately need a hug

on the other side of the coin, someone who practically shows no emotion when theyre desperate. the only person who can tell is their partner/closest friend. its subtle tells- their muscles tense a bit every now and then, brow furrowed more, tiny shifts in their stance, occasional sighs- nobody else sees it except for the one who knows them the best. and when they have an accident, you wouldnt be able to tell how upset they were... but on the inside theyre VERY upset. and their partner can tell, and they get a long deep hug

just. yeah-

#darlingdoesntspeak #omorashi #soft omorashi #omocute #im so tired man im not proof reading this #yall get my omo thoughts raw

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wandanatsub · 6 months ago

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Hugs and Body Heat

Agatha All Along Week - Day 4 - Hurt/Comfort

Agatha Harkness x Rio Vidal x Reader

Summary: You come home after a grueling day at work and need comfort. Agatha is happy to provide. Honorable mentions to Rio who cooks dinner.

Tags: fluff, mentions of choking, pet names for reader, a lot of cuddling, they/them pronouns used for reader (once)

Words: 2k

First time posting on tumblr. Agatha and Rio might be my new favorite MCU characters! AAA week had perfect timing as I wrote this during election night but only posted it to AO3 a few days ago

Key in lock. Key in lock. It wasn’t that difficult.

You finally managed to jam your key into the door. The door pushed open, and you almost fell through it. Getting the key out should have been easier than getting it in, but nothing about this day had been easy.

You closed the door behind you. Your bag slipped off your arms to the ground and your keys should’ve landed on the little side table by the door but fell to the floor. Shoes came off on your way through the hall to the living room. You pulled off your jacket when you stepped through the door. The last bits of energy left you the instant being home sank into your consciousness. Agatha sitting on the couch registered in the back of your brain on the way down to the floor.

You sank onto the hardwood floors and let out a deep, deep sigh.

You weren’t necessarily looking for a reaction, you were waiting for the stress to leave your body. There should be a scientific correlation between stress reduction and lying on the ground.

It took you a few minutes to figure that today lying face down on the ground wasn’t going to cut it. Another deep sigh and you pressed yourself up from the floor. You used the last vestiges of your energy supply to crawl over to the couch. Your body felt heavier than usual, pulling you down to the floor, making every inch gain a battle against gravity.

You finally made it to the edge of the couch. Getting up on the couch seemed impossible. Getting Agatha away from her book even more so.

You pulled yourself along a bit further and then half fell over to sink against the couch, or more importantly, against Agatha’s legs. Your head settled against her knees, making sure that you wouldn’t fall over when all the tension left your body.

Breathing. You could do that easily. Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe o–

Your breath faltered for a moment, feeling Agatha’s fingers slowly carding through your hair.

Breathe out. Breathe in. Repeat.

You could do this. Agatha was softly stroking your hair. A soft tingling spread over your head down to your shoulders and slowly helped settle the exhausted roar in your body.

Work had been a bitch today. Everyone expected you to help with their problems, not caring about the work you had to finish today. Working Saturdays was not worth the little extra pay it offered.

But you were home now. No more work. Only breathing. Feeling Agatha’s body heat warming your side and breathing. You tried to sync your breathing to Agatha’s hand. Stroking up from your neck and carding through your hair then softly caressing the edge of your forehead. The hand pulled back to your neck. Always moving slowly, stroking softly. Bit by bit lulling you to sleep without you even noticing it.

Suddenly you jerked awake. You couldn’t have been out for more than a few seconds. Groaning you let your head fall back against the couch. No rest for the terminally exhausted apparently.

Agatha’s hand had wandered to the side of your face, coming around your throat to pull up your chin.

“Up, pet.”

The words found you, loud and clear, even though you felt they were said to her book rather than in your direction. Agatha’s hand left your throat, expecting you to follow her order without lending a heavy hand.

You turned your head to look up at her. She was still engrossed in her book.

The few minutes of calm had recharged you enough to push off the ground and pull yourself up onto the couch.

Her arms opened as soon as you were level with her, one hand still holding onto her book. Agatha’s concentration never broke but her invitation was clear.

Heat spread onto your cheeks, but you didn’t keep her waiting, knowing the invitation to be temporary when she was busy reading. You swung your leg over her lap and planted yourself down, feeling her arms come around you immediately.

This was definitely better than lying on the ground. Your legs encased Agatha’s, stomach and chest meeting their warm opposites, arms rounding her neck while your head came to rest on her shoulder.

You breathed in deeply, finding comfort in Agatha’s scent, letting your lips briefly wander over her neck, seeking intimacy without starting something you didn’t have the energy to finish.

You settled down when Agatha’s hand returned to your head and the calm returned.

Soft strokes of her fingertips, the sound of pages being turned and the rhythmic rise and fall of her warm body underneath you soothed you enough to fall asleep.

A door closed somewhere far away, and your ears picked up the sound without awakening you completely. Agatha’s hand had wandered down to your back at some point and was brushing up and down your spine at odd intervals, soothing you back into unconsciousness.

Unbeknownst to you, the person coming through the door into the living room was fixed with a glare from your human body pillow.

Rio was known for her silent existence, though her footsteps fell heavy, announcing her imminent arrival. A glare from Agatha made her stop in her tracks.

"That kind of day?" She asked and Agatha nodded while stroking your back. Her eyes moved back to her book, not interested in diverting her attention even more.

Rio walked over to the back of the couch, taking care to soften her walk. She bent down, pausing to listen for your steady breaths and pressed a kiss to the back of your head, before grasping her wife’s chin to pull her away from her book.

The kiss is soft but forceful at the same time, a very persistent quality for Rio’s kisses.

"You know we should do something about their shitty boss. What's the use of a pet if they’re always tired?"

Agatha, wanting to return to her book merely grunted her agreement and continued to stroke your back. She might seem cold and uninterested at times, but Rio knew better.

Agatha wasn’t the type of person to ask you what you needed. That didn’t mean she didn’t care. Agatha spent hours and hours watching the people around her, learning their habits, and figuring out how they ticked. Calculating and implementing what she could provide, comparing your reactions, and choosing the most effective outcome. Depending on your mood, the most effective outcome wasn’t always what you thought you needed, but you had learned to trust Agatha and her methods of calming you down. Or riling you up. Depending on her mood.

But she knew when you came home exhausted, barely getting past the door, you didn’t need words or big gestures. You needed calm, preferably paired with body heat. Agatha had sat down on the couch with her book only a few minutes before you had come home, awaiting your arrival.

It wasn’t the first time you had come home only to crash to the floor. Agatha had learned to let you go through your progress. The phases didn’t always take the same time. Once you had fallen asleep on the kitchen floor, only crawling over to her after more than an hour.

But you would always end up cuddled into Agatha. Your head in her lap, sitting next to her with your head on her chest, or her favorite, sitting in her lap, breathing syncing with hers.

Rio knew all that, trusted Agatha’s instinct, and felt ecstatic when you crawled into her lap if she sat down next to Agatha when she came home.

Another kiss was pressed to your hair. Then Rio went into the kitchen to prepare dinner.

A while later Rio patted back into the living room, kneeling next to your still sleeping form. Her hand brushed her wife’s at the bottom of your spine and stroked up your back to card through the little hairs on your neck. You let out a deep sigh, not waking up fully but your body noticed the added touch.

Her hand ghosted down your neck to find purchase on your shoulder, kneading into the still-tensed muscles. A sigh turned into a deep groan, pulling you out of your dreamless nap.

"Hungry, mi amor?"

You unconsciously leaned into the pressure from Rio’s hands, your body immediately recognizing her touch.

"Mhmmm?" Your eyes still closed, your lips still in contact with Agatha’s neck, you slowly come to.

There was a hand softly stroking your lower back, right where your shirt had ridden up, and a different set of hands digging into your sore shoulder muscles. A great way to wake from a nap after a day in hell.

The only reaction the two women got from you was a drawn-out groan and an apparent lack of further movement.

"Hungry?"

This time the question was posed to both occupants of the couch, and Agatha nodded for the both of you, knowing food always improved your mood if only you were awake enough not to choke on it. Choking you was her job.

A kiss was pressed to your head and the hands on your shoulders left you.

"Want to get up, sweetheart?"

The words went against everything your brain was currently demanding, and you reacted in the most petulant way, strengthening your grip around Agatha and quietly whining into her skin.

"Rio cooked for us, pet, the least we could do is join her at the table."

"Can't we eat on the couch?" The first words you had spoken since you came home tickled Agatha’s neck.

Something in your voice made Agatha give in and she called out to Rio to bring the food to the living room.

There was still the problem of extracting yourself from the warm embrace you had burrowed yourself in, which seemed entirely too much for your still hazy brain.

Agatha’s hands went to your sides, trying to push you back a little, but your arms tightened their grip around her torso exponentially.

A chuckle could be heard. Rio was watching the drama unfold in real time and formed a plan to get your energy back enough to pull you out of your burrow.

She bent down, setting her hands on the back of the couch, purposely brushing your arm on the way there, and found her wife’s lips. A kiss that was definitely for your benefit, though also a way to get close to Agatha after having been apart the whole day.

It quickly progressed from a simple press of lips to something more intense. Agatha’s arm pulled up to grasp her wife’s neck, boxing you in in the progress.

Being pressed between Agatha and Rio was soothing on the worst day, overstimulating on the best.

You quickly grew uninterested in staying immobile and turned your head out of Agatha’s neck to watch your mistresses kiss. You managed to pull your arm out of your now more forced embrace and brushed Rio’s cheek.

They pulled apart and Rio turned her head to brush a kiss against your hand and gave you her signature smirk.

"You awake now, mi vida?"

Your eyes sparkling in her direction were answer enough and she leaned in again to press a kiss on your lips, peaking out her tongue to brush your lower lip, starting a spark in you that helped you wake up the rest of the way.

It had always been your problem, that if you had a taste of something intoxicating, you couldn't stop. You deepened the kiss, turning towards Rio and gaining some distance from the warm body below you.

"Our pet is definitely awake now. Save some of that hunger for dinner, little one." Agatha spoke, feeling life had finally returned to you.

Rio chuckled and ended the kiss, leaving you slightly breathless.

"Dinner on the couch means dessert in bed?"

That damned smirk had you hooked from the first time you saw it.

#aaa week #agatha all along #agatha harkness #rio vidal #agatha harkness x reader #rio vidal x reader #agatha harkness x rio vidal #agathario x reader

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honeydippedfiction · 18 days ago

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Marked By You LSU!Joe x Angel

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Synopsis: After a night of teasing and unresolved tension, Joe's jealousy boils over, leading to an intense, possessive encounter that pushes both him and Angel to their limits. But beneath the heat and dominance, they rediscover their trust and devotion—sealed with soft aftercare and unspoken promises.

Warnings: Suggestive/Spicy Scenes,Power Play/Dominance, Jealousy/Possessiveness, Overstimulation, Mild Dirty Talk/Threats (Consensual), Emotional Vulnerability, Rough Intimacy with Aftercare. MDNI🔞

WC: 10.9k

A/N: barking and snarling in my cage as we speak

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• you DO NOT have my permission to copy my work, upload as your own, translate, or repost on any other website •

Requested: No but @honeyncherry put the idea in my head from her tags from this little blurb I did, so everyone say thank you Lexi🙂‍↕️

LSU, Beta Upsilon Chi

The party was already in full swing by the time Angel and Joe arrived. The faint thump of bass vibrated through the floorboards and rattled the windows, a relentless pulse that seemed to echo every heartbeat in the crowded frat house. Dim string lights hung overhead, tangled with purple and gold streamers—the school colors waving like a banner above the chaos. Bodies pressed close, swaying to the music, voices rising and falling in a chaotic symphony of laughter, cheers, and half-heard conversations.

Before Angel had even crossed the threshold, a hand appeared out of the crowd, pressing a red solo cup into her fingers. She took it with a grateful smile, eyes sweeping over the sea of faces as she stepped fully inside. Joe lingered behind her, his shoulders squared and tense. The faint crease between his brows was a map of the frustration he’d been carrying all week.

He hadn’t wanted to come.

“You don’t have to stay long,” Angel had whispered just before they left, her voice light but firm. “It’s just Jess’s birthday, and I want you there.”

Joe had grunted in reply, rubbing at the back of his neck. The team’s schedule was relentless; practice had drained every last ounce of energy from him. Parties weren’t his scene, and the thought of the loud music and the endless sea of faces made his chest tighten.

But he always said yes when it came to her.

And now, standing just inside the room, Joe was already regretting it.

Because the second they entered, the atmosphere shifted.

The stares were immediate.

Heads turned like they’d caught a sudden breeze, eyes tracking Angel as she moved through the crowd, radiant and effortless in a tight black dress that hugged every curve. The strappy heels she wore lengthened her legs, giving her a confident, almost statuesque presence. She didn’t need to try—people just noticed her. She pulled the room’s energy toward her like gravity.

Joe saw the way some of those eyes lingered too long, the subtle shifts in posture as guys tried to edge closer, to get a word, a touch, a smile. It was the kind of attention that made the skin crawl, the kind that planted thorns deep in Joe’s chest.

He took a long sip of his drink, jaw clenched tight, arms crossed over his chest as he leaned against the wall near the doorway. From his vantage point, he watched her laugh, the way her head tilted back with ease and joy, the sparkle in her eyes lighting up the dim room.

She wasn’t doing anything wrong.

Not even close.

But watching her like this—so open, so magnetic, so beautiful—while others moved in her orbit, ignoring him—it was a different kind of hell.

“You good?” came a voice beside him.

Ja’Marr slid up next to Joe, a smirk playing on his lips as he followed Joe’s gaze. “You look like you’re about five seconds from throwing hands.”

Joe barely managed a grunt.

Ja’Marr laughed softly. “Man, she’s just being friendly. Don’t get twisted.”

Joe shook his head, bitterness curling in his gut. “She doesn’t need to be that friendly.”

“You mean normal friendly?” Ja’Marr teased, nudging him with an elbow.

Joe didn’t answer.

Because Angel laughed again—clear and bright—and Joe felt the tight coil of jealousy snap inside him.

His fists clenched at his sides before he could stop the reaction, and with a heavy sigh, he drained the last of his drink and pushed off the wall.

“I’ll catch you later,” he muttered.

“Yeah, okay,” Ja’Marr called after him with a chuckle. “Tell her I said happy birthday.”

Joe ignored the comment, already making his way through the crowd.

Angel noticed him coming—her smile faltering just a fraction—but she masked it quickly. “Hey,” she said softly. “You okay?”

“We’re leaving,” he said, voice low, tight with something she didn’t quite want to name.

Her brow lifted in surprise. “What?”

“I said we’re leaving.” His hand slid around her waist, firm and possessive—not rough, but unmistakably his.

Angel’s smile dropped away.

“Joe…”

“Now, Angel.”

There was a sharpness in his tone, a territorial edge that made heat ripple down her spine.

She didn’t argue. Not aloud.

She handed off her drink to a passing friend, murmured a quick goodbye, and let Joe lead her out into the warm Louisiana night.

The walk back to her apartment was heavy with silence, thick enough to choke on. Angel could almost feel the tension humming between them, the way Joe’s jaw clenched so tightly it looked like it might crack. His hand stayed on her back the whole way—not gentle, not angry, but insistently present.

When they reached her door, Angel fumbled with the keys, and before she could even get the lock undone, Joe was on her. His hand shot out, grabbing her wrist, spinning her around until her back met the door with a soft thud.

His body pressed against hers, heat radiating in waves. His eyes darkened with something fierce, something raw.

“You wanna tell me what that was back there?” he growled, voice low and dangerous.

Angel blinked, startled by the sudden intensity. “What are you talking about?”

“Every damn guy in that room looking at you like they had a shot. You laughing like you didn’t know exactly what you do to them.”

She sucked in a breath, heart pounding hard in her chest. “It was a party, Joe. I wasn’t doing anything wrong.”

“No,” he said, dipping his head lower until his breath ghosted along her jaw. “But you were enjoying it. Weren’t you?”

She hesitated, just for a second.

And that was all he needed.

“You’re mine, Angel.”

She swallowed, voice barely a whisper. “I know that.”

But Joe wasn’t looking for an apology.

He was looking to remind her.

And deep inside, she knew exactly how he was going to do it.

Angel arched a brow, a slow, defiant smirk curling her lips as she stepped fully inside the apartment. The door clicked shut behind her, the sound echoing in the quiet space now starkly different from the chaos of the party. Her heels clicked sharply on the hardwood floor, deliberate and unhurried. “Oh, so now I can’t smile at people without you dragging me out like some caveman?” she teased, voice dripping with playful challenge.

Joe’s eyes darkened, narrowing just a fraction as he stepped closer, the air between them thickening with tension. “You think this is funny?” His voice was low, dangerous, and not nearly as amused.

Angel let out a light, teasing laugh, brushing past him with a sway of her hips as she tossed her clutch onto the kitchen counter. She turned back, leaning casually against the smooth surface, arms folding beneath her chest. “I think you’re being dramatic,” she said, voice easy, almost breezy—like she wasn’t still feeling the heat of his hands on her wrist or the weight of his gaze burning into her back.

Joe’s jaw clenched, the muscle twitching near his cheek. He watched her move with a possessive intensity, like a predator circling its prey, and it made her pulse quicken despite herself.

“If you didn’t want people looking at me,” she continued, eyes sparkling with mischief, “maybe you should’ve kept me home. Or better yet—marked me up before we left.” Her smirk deepened, eyes locking with his, daring him to argue.

His gaze darkened even further, the warning clear and sharp. The space between them seemed to shrink as his voice dropped an octave. “Don’t test me tonight, Angel.”

She tilted her head, feigning innocence with a slow blink. “Or what?”

Step by step, Joe closed the distance between them, his movements slow but deliberate, each one charged with a quiet menace. Soon he was looming over her again, a mountain of heat and raw desire, and the air crackled electric.

Angel met his stare without flinching, chin raised, every inch the bold challenge he both loved and hated. “You can’t have it both ways, Joe. You want me looking good, but you can’t handle the attention that comes with it? Sounds like a you problem.”

Joe’s breath hitched slightly as his eyes flashed with a mix of frustration and something darker, something fiercely protective. “You know what,” he murmured, voice thick with warning. “Keep running that mouth, and I’ll remind you who it belongs to.”

Angel’s lips curled into an amused smile, the teasing sparkle in her eyes sharper than ever. “Promises, promises.”

He let out a low breath through his nose—more of a growl than anything else—and suddenly his hand shot out, gripping her chin gently but with unyielding firmness. He tilted her face up until her eyes were locked with his. “You think this is a game?”

A slow lick over her lips was her only answer, deliberate and slow enough to make the moment linger between them. “A little,” she admitted, voice a mix of honey and challenge. “You’re cute when you’re mad.”

Joe’s eyes flared. “You really wanna go there?”

She let a single finger trail down the front of his shirt, voice dropping to a sultry whisper. “I’m just saying… If you’re gonna get jealous, baby, at least do something about it. Otherwise, you’re just wasting all that pretty anger.”

That was the spark.

Joe’s control snapped like a frayed wire.

In one fluid, powerful motion, he grabbed her waist, spun her around, and pressed her down onto the couch’s armrest with barely restrained force. She gasped, but laughter bubbled up from deep inside her throat—breathless and electric—as he bent her over the soft fabric.

“Keep talking, Angel,” he hissed against the shell of her ear, fingers already sliding up beneath the hem of her dress, hands trailing hot and demanding along her thighs. “You’re about to regret every smart-ass word.”

She purred softly, voice teasing as she pushed back against him just enough to keep him on edge. “I doubt that. But go ahead and try.”

Joe's grip on her hips tightened, fingers digging into her skin like he needed to anchor himself—because the sight of her bent over like that, the hem of her dress rucked up around her waist and her bare ass fully exposed, knocked the breath right out of him. His breath hitched. The realization hit harder than it should’ve: she wasn’t wearing panties.

He hadn’t known. Hadn’t seen.

And now he couldn’t unsee it.

That final thread of restraint he'd been clinging to? Gone. Obliterated.

“You walked around that party like this?” he asked, voice sharp and low, roughened by disbelief as his palm cupped the swell of her ass possessively. “No panties, Angel? Really?”

She shifted just slightly beneath his touch, just enough to taunt him, and her voice came out syrupy and smug. “Didn’t see you complaining when we left.”

“That’s not the fucking point.”

His hand came down—hard. Once. Then again. Sharp slaps that echoed off the walls and sent shivers down her spine. Angel gasped, the contact blooming heat across her skin, but she didn’t flinch. She arched into it instead, shameless and aching, biting back a moan that still managed to slip through her teeth.

Joe’s jaw clenched. His hand soothed over the sting before squeezing, kneading the heat he’d left behind. “I should take you just like this,” he muttered, the words more like a snarl. “Bent over. Still mouthing off. Acting like you don’t fucking belong to me.”

Angel looked back at him over her shoulder, lips parted, eyes dark with challenge. “Then do it.”

God. She was impossible. Wild. Dangerous. And so goddamn beautiful it made his head spin.

His fingers tangled in her hair, tugging with a practiced grip until she gasped again, back arching, neck exposed to him like an offering. Her breath hitched audibly.

“You want punishment, Angel?” he growled, breath hot against her cheek. “You’re gonna get it.”

She shivered, thighs pressing together on instinct. “About time.”

And that was all he needed.

Without warning, Joe scooped her up like she weighed nothing and slung her over his shoulder. Angel squealed, kicking her feet playfully as the sudden shift stole her balance. “Joe!”

He smacked her thigh once—firm, claiming. “Stop squirming.”

Angel rolled her eyes, though she didn’t fight him. “God, you’re so dramatic.”

“And you’re lucky I didn’t bend you over the kitchen counter instead. Show everyone just how well you fucking take it.”

His voice was tighter now, deeper. More serious. The kind of tone that meant he wasn’t just playing. And it sent a jolt of heat straight through her.

Joe stalked down the hallway with a steady, heavy stride, ignoring the faint wet spot blooming against his shirt where her arousal soaked through. When they reached her bedroom, he didn’t slow down. Just kicked the door shut behind them and walked straight to the bed, dropping her onto the comforter with deliberate care, like even now—especially now—she was still something he treasured.

Angel landed on her back, breathless, hair splayed wild around her like a halo of chaos. The streetlights outside cast soft bands of gold and silver across her skin through the slats in the blinds. Her chest rose and fell fast, nipples pebbled against the front of her dress, lips parted in anticipation.

Joe stood over her, gaze devouring every inch of her like a man starved. His hands moved to the buttons of his shirt, but then his eyes slid to her nightstand. Paused. And lingered.

Angel followed his line of sight—and froze.

Oh God.

He looked back at her, slow and knowing, lips curling into something dark and dangerous. “Oh yeah,” he said, voice like smoke. “We’re using that tonight.”

Her stomach dipped.

The toy. His gift. Molded just for her. She’d used it plenty on her own, with thoughts of him on her tongue, his name whispered into the dark.

But never like this.

Never while he stood over her. Never while his hands undressed her. Never while his eyes burned like he needed to prove something.

Joe moved to the drawer and pulled it open, not breaking eye contact as his hand wrapped around the silicone. He held it up, slow and deliberate, then tossed it onto the bed beside her like a gauntlet thrown.

“You’re so damn cocky,” he said, stripping off his shirt now, one button at a time. “Let’s see how much attitude you’ve got when it’s me making you take every inch—even if it’s not my body doing it.”

Angel’s breath hitched. Her thighs pressed together.

She licked her lips, still trying to hold onto that edge of sass even as her pulse thundered in her ears. “We’ll see who taps out first.”

Joe let out a low, dangerous laugh.

“Oh, sweetheart…” he crawled over her now, slow and sure, his body fitting over hers, his hands framing her face as his lips brushed against the shell of her ear. “You won’t even remember your own name when I’m done with you.”

Angel’s breath hitched sharply as Joe kissed her—hard, hungry, unapologetically claiming. His mouth moved with purpose, possessive and fierce, pinning her beneath him in more ways than one. One of his arms was braced beside her head, the other wrapped around the solid, lifelike weight of the toy she knew all too well.

The pressure of his body hovered just above hers, and she could feel the heat of him radiating down like a furnace. His presence was overwhelming—in the best kind of way. He took up all the space, all the air, all the thoughts in her head.

“You wanna act like a brat?” he murmured against her lips, his voice rough and dark with promise. “Then I’ll treat you like one.”

Angel’s lips curled into a breathless smirk, even as her thighs involuntarily pressed together at the edge in his tone. “Promises, promises.”

Joe’s eyes flashed—sharp, dangerous, hers—and then he was moving.

His mouth dragged across her jaw, then lower, slow and unrelenting as he kissed down the column of her throat. His lips were hot against her skin, teeth grazing lightly in ways that made her breath stutter. He wasn’t in a rush. He knew exactly what he was doing—worshipping her with a precision that bordered on cruel.

He sucked a mark just above her collarbone, then lower, brushing his tongue over her nipple through the thin fabric of her dress before baring it completely with a swift tug. His mouth closed around her again, wet and warm and consuming.

By the time his tongue circled her nipple, Angel’s spine had arched off the bed, her hands buried in his hair, hips rolling instinctively. Her legs parted without thought, as if her body was begging him not to make her wait.

But Joe had no intention of giving in. Not yet.

He pulled back, eyes heavy-lidded as he trailed his fingertips down her side, anchoring himself between her thighs. “Spread wider,” he ordered, his voice calm but loaded with heat. “I want you open for me.”

Angel raised a brow, shifting to obey but unable to resist getting one more word in. “You could ask nicely, you know.”

Joe didn’t even blink. His hand shot out, gripping her jaw and turning her face toward him with just enough pressure to remind her who was in charge. “Keep talking,” he warned, voice like a knife wrapped in velvet. “And I’ll gag you with my boxers.”

That shut her up.

Her breath caught again—half gasp, half moan—and her lips parted in silence. That low, coiled threat did something to her. Something electric. Something primal. She didn’t say another word. Not out loud.

Joe eased back on his heels, letting his eyes rake over her like he owned every part of her—and he did. Angel lay sprawled out like sin, her flushed skin glowing, her chest rising and falling with anticipation. Her thighs trembled slightly, already slick with want. She was perfect. And his.

He ran the length of the toy up her inner thigh—teasing, slow, deliberate. The cool silicone was a stark contrast to the fire burning in her skin. He didn’t touch where she wanted him. Just traced circles, made her wait, made her squirm.

Angel whimpered, the sound soft and desperate. “Joe—”

“You don’t get to beg yet,” he said flatly, eyes never leaving hers. “You don’t come until I say. You don’t even think about it.”

She groaned, frustration flaring deliciously in her chest.

Then—finally—he let the tip of the toy ghost over her clit. Just once. Barely a brush. But it was enough to make her writhe, her hips lifting off the bed in search of more friction.

Joe smirked. “Feel that?”

Angel’s eyes fluttered shut, her breath catching in her throat.

“That’s me,” he continued. “Same curve. Same thickness. You wanted to show off tonight?” His tone shifted—sharp, accusing. “Wanted every guy in that room thinking they had a shot at you?”

Her eyes snapped open, wide and disbelieving. “I didn’t—”

He didn’t let her finish.

Joe slid the tip of the toy into her with excruciating slowness, his other hand pressing down on her belly to keep her from thrusting up. The stretch was familiar but overwhelming, every inch a reminder of who she belonged to.

Angel cried out, hips twitching despite the restraint. “Joe—fuck—”

“Don’t lie to me,” he growled, eyes dark and intent. “You knew how you looked tonight. You wore that dress, no panties, dancing like that—and you didn’t care.”

“I was just dancing—” she tried again, but he didn’t want excuses.

“You were flirting,” he snapped, voice like thunder. “And now you’re gonna take this until you remember who you belong to.”

And with that, he pushed the toy the rest of the way in.

Angel’s breath left her in a rush. Her head fell back, a strangled moan escaping her lips. It felt so much like him it was disorienting—the stretch, the weight, the curve that kissed every sensitive spot inside her like a fingerprint.

Joe leaned over her again, lips brushing her temple as he growled, “Yeah. That’s mine. Always has been.”

He set a brutal rhythm—slow at first, then steadily increasing. He held the toy with one hand, thrusting with skill and control, while his other arm looped under her thigh to keep her wide and open for him. Every motion was practiced, deliberate. Like punishment. Like worship.

Angel whimpered, moaned, gasped—nails clawing at the sheets, her body bucking helplessly under the onslaught. “Joe—please—I can’t—”

“You don’t get to come,” he snarled, fucking her harder now. “Not until I say. You wanted to act like a brat? Now take it like one.”

Her body shook beneath him. Every nerve was on fire. Every breath a plea. She was unraveling and he knew it—loved it.

“You love this, don’t you?” he growled, slowing his thrusts just enough to tease her again, dragging the toy nearly all the way out. “Getting punished. Being reminded who you fucking belong to.”

She whimpered, her body fluttering around nothing. “Yes,” she gasped, her voice raw. “Fuck—yes.”

“Say it.”

“I’m yours,” she cried, voice breaking. “I’m yours, Joe. All yours.”

That was all he needed.

With a guttural growl, Joe drove the toy back into her with a brutal snap of his wrist—and Angel came undone.

Her orgasm hit like a detonation, tearing through her as she screamed his name, her whole body convulsing, tears springing to her eyes from the sheer intensity. Joe didn’t stop. He fucked her through it, dragging her higher, harder, deeper, until she was trembling beneath him, wrecked and sobbing and soaked.

Only when she collapsed against the sheets, spent and boneless, did he slow down. He eased the toy out with reverent care and tossed it aside, eyes still locked on her.

Angel lay there, dazed and glowing, lips parted as she struggled to catch her breath. Joe crawled up beside her, brushing damp curls from her face with a tenderness that contrasted the intensity of just moments before.

“Still feeling bratty?” he asked, voice lower now, smug but soft.

Angel blinked at him, eyes glassy and satisfied. “I can’t even feel my legs, Burrow.”

Joe chuckled, easing her into his arms like she was something fragile now. “Good. That means I did my job.”

She curled into him, cheek pressed to his chest, his heartbeat steady beneath her ear. The molded toy lay forgotten on the floor beside the bed.

There was silence for a beat.

Then, her voice, muffled and wickedly sweet: “Next time… maybe I’ll flirt with the bartender too. See what that gets me.”

Joe groaned. “Angel…”

“I’m kidding,” she whispered with a grin, nuzzling into him. “Kind of.”

For a long time, they didn’t speak.

They just lay there, a tangle of limbs in the dim light of Angel’s bedroom, where the only sound was the soft whirl of the ceiling fan and the quiet cadence of their breathing slowly returning to normal. The intensity of everything that had passed between them still lingered in the air, electric and raw.

Angel’s body trembled in small, involuntary waves—tiny aftershocks that rippled down her spine, her muscles slack with exhaustion, her skin still buzzing. Every nerve felt stretched thin and sensitive, but beneath the fatigue was something else, something softer: peace.

Joe held her close, cradling her like she was something precious. And she was.

His hands, no longer firm and possessive, had gentled into something reverent. He stroked slow, calming lines up and down her back, fingers tracing lazy circles over the curve of her hip like he was drawing her back down to earth. His touch was still intimate, but now it was careful, protective. Worshipful.

He pressed a kiss to her temple. Then another to her forehead. And finally, his lips found hers—soft, unhurried, and lingering. The kind of kiss that didn’t demand anything. One that simply was. Like an apology and a promise wrapped into one.

“You okay?” he murmured, brushing damp curls away from her face, his thumb grazing her cheekbone with a tenderness that made her heart twist.

Angel blinked up at him, eyes heavy-lidded, still hazy in the aftermath. Her voice came out hoarse, roughened by her cries. “I’m more than okay.”

Joe let out a quiet breath through his nose, like he’d been holding it in for too long. Relief softened his features, even as he pulled her tighter into his arms, anchoring her against his chest like he couldn’t bear to let go.

“Did I go too far?” he asked, voice barely above a whisper. There was hesitation in it, the vulnerable kind he rarely let her hear. “I got a little... intense.”

Angel shook her head before he could spiral any deeper, threading her fingers between his and squeezing. “No. You gave me exactly what I needed.” She paused, eyes searching his. “Exactly what you needed, too.”

A flicker of something unspoken crossed his face—guilt, maybe. Or the quiet ache of understanding. He looked down like he didn’t want her to see it, but he couldn’t hide the faint smile that tugged at the corner of his mouth. Like she’d spoken the truth he couldn’t quite admit to himself.

“Still,” he murmured, “I wanna take care of you.”

She smiled faintly. “You already did, baby.”

“Let me do it more,” he said, and this time there was no teasing in his tone—just devotion.

With one last kiss to her lips, Joe reluctantly eased away from her warmth. The moment he slipped out of bed, Angel whimpered softly, her body instinctively reaching for the space he’d just vacated.

“Shh,” he soothed gently, already moving. “I’ll be right back.”

She watched him disappear into the bathroom, the soft sounds of running water filling the quiet. A few seconds later, he returned with a warm, damp towel in one hand and one of her oversized T-shirts slung over his shoulder—her favorite one, the black one with faded LSU lettering that used to be his.

He didn’t say anything. Just climbed back onto the bed, his expression all business but his eyes still soft.

“C’mere,” he said quietly, sliding an arm around her waist to help her sit up.

Angel let him guide her like she was weightless, and then she leaned into his chest, her cheek resting over his heart as he carefully parted her thighs again. The towel was warm against her skin, the touch of it careful and slow. Every stroke was deliberate, mindful of her overstimulated body, like he was tending to something sacred.

She hissed once at the contact, her hips twitching instinctively.

Joe froze. “Sorry, baby,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to the inside of her thigh.

“I’m okay,” she whispered, threading her fingers through his hair. “I like when you take care of me.”

That made him smile against her skin—this quiet, intimate smile like she’d just given him a gift. He finished cleaning her gently, then tossed the towel aside and reached for the shirt.

“Arms up,” he said, and she obeyed with a sleepy little grin.

He guided her into the soft cotton like he was dressing a porcelain doll, careful not to tug or shift her too roughly. Once she was covered, he pulled the blankets up over her and helped her settle against the pillows, adjusting them until she looked content and comfortable again.

Only then did he crawl in beside her, wrapping her in his arms and tucking her into his chest, his hand spread wide over her back like he was afraid she might slip away.

The silence returned—thicker now, but full. Comforting.

Until Angel broke it, her voice small but steady. “You scared me a little.”

Joe tensed. His hand paused mid-stroke on her spine.

“Not in a bad way,” she added quickly. “Just… that look in your eyes at the party. I’ve never seen you like that.”

Joe exhaled through his nose, jaw tightening.

“I hated the way they looked at you,” he said finally. “Every time one of them tried to talk to you or stared too long… I saw red.”

“I didn’t even notice,” she murmured.

“I did,” he said, brushing his fingers along her arm. “And I didn’t like it.”

Angel tilted her head up, her hand finding his jaw, thumb grazing the stubble along his cheek. “You don’t ever have to worry about anyone else. I don’t want them.” She paused, kissing just beneath his chin. “I want you. Always have.”

His eyes softened. That flash of possessiveness cooled, replaced by something more vulnerable. “I know,” he said, voice thick. “I just… I guess I needed to remind us both.”

Angel smiled, pressing another kiss to the base of his throat, right where his pulse beat strong and steady. “Message received. Loud and clear.”

He tucked her closer, pulling the blanket around them tighter like a cocoon. His chin rested on top of her head, his chest rising and falling in sync with hers.

“You’re mine, Angel,” he whispered.

“And you’re mine,” she whispered back.

Silence fell again, but this time it was warm. Full. Safe.

Joe didn’t fall asleep right away. Even after Angel’s breathing evened out, soft and rhythmic, he stayed awake—guard dog mode, always watching, always holding. One hand rested over her stomach, the other drawing absentminded patterns along her spine.

Not because he didn’t trust her.

But because he needed her to feel safe after he’d wrecked her—in every way, every inch. Because her peace meant more to him than anything. Because he loved her in a way that never truly rested.

And in the softest part of the night, when the shadows settled and only the dark bore witness, Joe leaned down and whispered something against her hair. Something just for her, and for no one else.

“I’d burn this whole place down for you.”

Angel, half-asleep and dreaming of nothing but his arms, smiled in her sleep.

She already knew.

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eats-a-berry · 11 months ago

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book of bill spoilers

i need everyone to see how insane this is like, immediately, by the way

hey guys what if they included in the book of bill how fiddleford got holiday gifts for stanford and then goes back home and specifically has a massive fight with his wife because he didn't get HER a present (when he MADE stanford TWO OF THEM) and then he went back to gravity falls and hugged him and then they got drunk together and made snowmen of each other hahaha ha wouldn't that be crazy if that happened Where am i. HE HANDMADE GIFTS SPECIFICALLY FOR STANFORD PINES AND NOT FOR HIS WIFE THAT HE WENT HOME TO SEE. IT CAN BE HARD SOMETIMES TO FIND A MOMENT TO CELEBRATE WHEN YOURE LOST IN THE COLD. BUT ITS EASIER WITH NEW GLOVES!!!!!!!!!!!!! !

and then BILL has the audacity to call fiddleford tje third wheel ❤️ Okay triangle ❤️

#gravity falls #book of bill #book of bill spoilers #fiddauthor #why would they specifically have fiddleford make 2 presents #if not to say that he had the time to make another present and he chose to make them both for ford.#HELLO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! !

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mononijikayu · 11 months ago

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ligaya — itadori yuuji.

“I’ve tried everything, guys!” Yuuji moaned, his voice muffled against the table. “I sang songs from outside their dorm window! Serenaded them like they do in those old movies! And I even left notes on their locker every day for a week, with little snacks. But nothing! Absolutely nothing! They just keep saying no!” Nobara snorted, taking a sip of her coffee. “Maybe because you’re coming on way too strong? That’s what I’d do if someone kept bugging me. And really, are they even into men?” Megumi sighed, crossing his arms and nodding. “Nobara’s right, though. Are they even into men?” Yuuji’s head shot up, eyes wide and desperate. “They are! They told me! But I don’t want to bug them! I just… I just want them to see how much I care! How much I—” He faltered, feeling the weight of his own words. “How much I love them.”

GENRE: Alternate Universe - Canon Convergence;

WARNING/s: Fluff, Romance, Love At First Sight, Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Light-Hearted, Slice of Life, Friendship, Confessions, Humor, Getting Together, Mutual Affection, Love, Pining, Kissing, Hugging, Track and Field! Yuuji, Pole Vaulter! Reader;

WORDS: 5.3k words.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: i got the idea for this after i kept seeing olympic couples and olympians and their partners just be the epitome of love in paris. itadori yuuji just felt perfect for something like this. and so does the song ligaya by eraserheads. anyway, i love you all!!! ill see you guys on together. that's about to get sad, but im not sure if it will have sad smut. we shall see~

main masterlist

if you want to, tip! <3

*:゜☆ヽ(*’∀’*)/☆゜:。*。

IF HE SPOKE TO HIS CHILD SELF, HE WOULD NOT BELIEVE IT. Because, how can he explain it? Him? The Itadori Yuuji— head over heels in love. It felt like a fever dream that can only come from fantasies. How could he be in love at all?

How did this even happen? When he swore that he didn’t need that in his life? Over doing his track practice? More than his mother’s food? He thinks that his younger self would have ended up with a coma. Hell, maybe Todo or his brothers — even Uncle Sukuna would be in shock.

Itadori Yuuji never imagined himself as the kind of guy who’d fall head over heels in love. Sure, he was friendly, enthusiastic, and had a smile for just about everyone, but love? It seemed like an impossible notion.

Perhaps an even more ridiculous thing. A feeling that was not for him, not in that way most people dream of. That was for other people, is what he always said—until you transferred into his department.

The moment Yuuji first laid eyes on you, it was like the world around him faded into the background, leaving only you and the pole vault. He had seen countless athletes, witnessed incredible feats of strength and agility, but nothing prepared him for the sight of you.

The way you moved, your body soaring through the air with effortless grace, made it seem like defying gravity was just second nature to you. To him, it was like watching poetry in motion—a dance between you and the sky.

Something inside him shifted as he watched you clear the bar with ease, your landing smooth and controlled, as if you had done it a thousand times before. In that moment, he felt an unfamiliar pull, a deep, unexplainable connection that made his heart race. You were different—strong, confident, and so completely at ease in your own skin.

It wasn’t just your athleticism that drew him in, though that was certainly part of it. It was the way you seemed to own every moment, how you faced challenges head-on, your eyes always focused on the next goal. There was a fire in you, a determination that Yuuji couldn’t help but admire.

He didn’t know why he felt so drawn to you, why his heart beat a little faster whenever you were near. All he knew was that something had changed, like a switch had been flipped inside him. It didn’t take long for him to realize that he was in deep—so deep that there was no going back.

It was as though he had never truly seen the sun before that moment, like he had been wandering through life in a shadowy half-light, only to look up at you, soaring above the earth, and finally see the full brilliance of day. You were the sun, radiating warmth and light, and for the first time, Yuuji felt truly alive.

So, Yuuji did what he did best—he jumped in with both feet, headfirst and heart open, determined to win you over. It was how he approached everything in life, with boundless energy and optimism, believing that if he just gave it his all, anything was possible. He didn’t hesitate to show you how much you meant to him, wearing his heart on his sleeve, unafraid to make grand gestures.

He showed up at your practices, cheering you on, even when you barely acknowledged him. He left notes in your locker, little reminders that he was thinking of you, that he was rooting for you, no matter what. He even stood outside your dorm window one night, singing a goofy love song, hoping to make you smile.

But you kept saying no.

Each time, you turned him down, politely but firmly. You appreciated his efforts, you said, but you were focused on your sport, on your goals. There wasn’t room for distractions, and you couldn’t afford to let anyone—no matter how sweet or determined—get in the way of what you were trying to achieve.

Yuuji understood, or at least he tried to. But it didn’t make it any easier. Every “no” felt like a small cut, stinging just a bit more than the last. But despite the rejection, Yuuji couldn’t bring himself to stop. There was something about you, something that kept pulling him back, making him want to try again, to prove that he could be the one to make you happy.

And it wasn’t the kind of no that meant “maybe later” or “try harder,” it was a clear, polite, and definitive no. You were kind about it, of course, always smiling and thanking him for the effort, but Yuuji could see through it. Because that’s who you were. You were sunshine itself.

And so each time, even if it became repetitive, you smiled at him and treated him kindly. Even though you weren’t interested, you were interested in being his friend and perhaps, he could live with that. But something in him, the most honest part of him knew that he couldn’t let go.

Each time you turned him away, Yuuji felt the sting, but he also felt the same determination rising within him. He wasn’t discouraged; he was driven. He saw each rejection as a challenge, a new hurdle to overcome, much like the ones he faced on the track.

And just like in his races, he wasn’t going to back down until he crossed the finish line. To Yuuji, it wasn’t about winning you over for the sake of it—it was about showing you that someone could care that much, that deeply, and that no matter how many times he fell, he’d always get back up. Because to him, you were worth every effort, every bruise, and every tear.

Today here he was, sitting in the school’s café, his head on the table, groaning as Megumi Fushiguro and Nobara Kugisaki sat across from him, trying their best to look patient. They were supposed to be working on their on class presentation for Cardiorespiratory Fitness by now, but with Yuuji being an utter lovestruck mess — his two friends were sure that they wouldn’t be able to get any work done.

Nobara snorted, taking a sip of her coffee. “Maybe because you’re coming on way too strong? That’s what I’d do if someone kept bugging me. And really, are they even into men?”

Megumi sighed, crossing his arms and nodding. ��Nobara’s right, though. Are they even into men?”

Yuuji’s head shot up, eyes wide and desperate. “They are! They told me! But I don’t want to bug them! I just… I just want them to see how much I care! How much I—” He faltered, feeling the weight of his own words. “How much I love them.”

Megumi raised an eyebrow. “Love? Yuuji, that’s pretty heavy. Are you sure it’s love?”

Yuuji nodded, his shoulders slumping. “Yeah, I think I really do. I just want to be part of their world, you know? Make them happy, love them. I’d even help with their thesis if that’s what it takes! And that says a lot, because we’re on different levels! They’re smarter!”

Nobara rolled her eyes, though there was a hint of sympathy in her expression. “You can’t make someone love you, Yuuji. Maybe you should back off a bit and just be their friend. They might appreciate that more.”

Yuuji sighed, his shoulders slumping as he thought about it. The idea of stepping back, of not doing everything he could to win you over, made his heart ache. He had poured so much of himself into trying to make you see how much he cared, but maybe Nobara was right.

“But what if they never see me as more than that?” he asked, his voice tinged with uncertainty. “What if I’m just that annoying guy who keeps bothering them?”

Nobara softened at his vulnerability. She wasn’t used to seeing Yuuji like this—so unsure, so worried. “Yuuji, you’re not annoying. Well, not more than usual.” she said, her tone gentler than before.

"Hey!"

“But listen, you’re sweet, and anyone can see how much you care. But sometimes, people need space. They need time to figure out their own feelings without any pressure. If you really care about them, you’ll give them that space.”

Yuuji nodded slowly, but the doubt lingered. He had always been the type to go all in, to give everything he had to the people he cared about. Holding back didn’t come naturally to him. “I just don’t want to lose them.” he admitted, his voice almost a whisper.

Megumi, who had been quietly observing, finally spoke up, his tone measured and calm. “Yuuji, you won’t lose them by giving them space. In fact, it might be what they need to see you in a different light. But you have to be patient, and you have to respect their choice.”

Yuuji looked at Megumi, searching his friend’s eyes for reassurance. “But what if they never change their mind? What if they never see me the way I see them?”

Megumi leaned forward, his gaze steady and full of understanding. “Then you have to accept that.” he said firmly. “It’s hard, I know. But you can’t force someone to feel something they don’t. If they ever change their mind, they’ll let you know. But until then, don’t push too hard. It’ll only make things worse.”

Yuuji absorbed Megumi’s words, the weight of them settling heavily in his chest. He knew Megumi was right—it wasn’t fair to push you into something you weren’t ready for, or maybe something you didn’t want at all. But the thought of just being your friend, of stepping back, felt like giving up on something he wanted more than anything.

Nobara reached out, placing a hand on Yuuji’s shoulder. “Look, I know this isn’t what you want to hear, but sometimes, being a good friend is more important than trying to be something more. If you really care about them, you’ll be there for them, no matter what. And who knows? Maybe that’s what they need to realize how special you are.”

Yuuji looked between his two friends, their words sinking in. It wasn’t the answer he wanted, but deep down, he knew it was the right one. “Okay,” he said quietly, his voice tinged with resignation. “I’ll back off… but I won’t stop caring.”

Megumi nodded approvingly. “That’s all you can do, Yuuji. Just be yourself, and let them come to you if they’re ready.”

Nobara smiled, giving his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “And remember, you’re not alone in this. We’re here for you, no matter what happens.”

Yuuji managed a small smile, the weight in his chest easing just a little. “Thanks, guys. I appreciate it.”

Nobara nodded approvingly, while Megumi gave a small, almost imperceptible smile. Yuuji might have been hopelessly in love, but at least he was starting to understand that sometimes, the best way to love someone was to let them come to you in their own time. And he’ll be patient. He knows how to do that. His brother Choso taught him how to be.

As they continued to sit together, Yuuji couldn’t help but feel a mix of hope and uncertainty. He didn’t know what the future held, but he was grateful for friends who would support him through it all. For now, he’d focus on being the best friend he could be. And maybe, just maybe, that would be enough. It had to be. He believes it to be.

Over the next few days, Yuuji did his best to dial things back. He still watched you from afar during practice, his heart skipping a beat every time you cleared the bar with that effortless grace. But instead of approaching you with grand gestures or serenades, he tried to be more subtle, more considerate.

He’d offer a friendly wave when you caught his eye and cheer you on quietly during your pole vaulting sessions. Every now and then, he’d strike up casual conversations, asking how your day was going or chatting about track and field events. It wasn’t easy, though. Every time he saw you, he had to fight the urge to blurt out how he felt, to tell you that all he wanted was to be with you.

One afternoon, you were sitting on a bench after practice, cooling down and scrolling through your phone when Yuuji approached you cautiously. He noticed that you seemed a little tired, maybe even a bit stressed.

“Hey.” he said, trying to keep his tone light and nonchalant. “How’s it going? You look like you could use a break.”

You glanced up at him, offering a small smile. “Yeah, just a bit tired. Been working on my thesis, and it’s been kind of a headache.”

Yuuji’s eyes lit up. This was it—an opportunity to help you without being too pushy. “Really? What’s it about? Maybe I could help somehow?”

You hesitated for a moment, and Yuuji’s heart raced, hoping you wouldn’t shut him down again. But then you sighed and leaned back on the bench. “It’s about the biomechanics of pole vaulting, actually. I’m trying to analyze different techniques and how they affect performance, but the data’s all over the place.”

Yuuji nodded, trying to focus on what you were saying rather than the fact that you were actually talking to him about something important. “That sounds tough. But hey, I’m pretty good at organizing stuff—maybe I could help you sort through the data or something?”

To his surprise, you didn’t immediately say no. Instead, you looked at him thoughtfully, as if weighing your options. “You really want to help?”

“Of course!” Yuuji said quickly, not wanting to sound too eager but failing miserably. “I mean, only if you want me to. I don’t want to, you know, be a bother.”

You chuckled softly, the sound making his heart skip a beat. “Alright, Yuuji. I could use an extra pair of eyes on this. But just so you know, it’s going to be boring. Like, really boring.”

Yuuji grinned, feeling a surge of hope. “Boring’s fine with me. As long as I can help you out.”

Over the next few weeks, you and Yuuji spent more time together, working on your thesis. He was true to his word—organizing data, making notes, and offering encouragement whenever you hit a rough patch. He didn’t push his feelings, didn’t try to force anything. Instead, he focused on being there for you, just as Megumi and Nobara had suggested.

And as time went on, you started to see a different side of Yuuji. He wasn’t just the guy who sang outside your window or left notes in your locker. He was kind, patient, and genuinely interested in your work. He made you laugh, and he always seemed to know when you needed a break or a bit of encouragement.

One evening, after hours of working on your thesis, you were utterly exhausted. The words on the screen blurred together, your eyes heavy with sleep. You leaned back in your chair, rubbing your temples, feeling the weight of the day pressing down on you.

Yuuji, who had been quietly organizing some of your research papers, noticed the slump in your shoulders and the tired sigh that escaped your lips. Without a word, he stood up and walked over to you.

“Hey,” he said softly, placing a hand on your shoulder. “You’ve been at this for hours. Why don’t you take a break?”

You shook your head, trying to muster the energy to keep going. “I can’t. I still have so much to do, and the deadline is coming up fast.”

Yuuji crouched down beside you, his eyes filled with concern. “I know, but you’re going to burn yourself out if you keep pushing like this. Just a short break, okay? I’ll make you some tea, and we can relax for a bit.”

Before you could protest, Yuuji was already in the kitchen, brewing a pot of your favorite tea. You watched him move with practiced ease, grateful for his presence. When he returned, he handed you a steaming mug and smiled. “Here, drink this. It’ll help you relax.”

You took the mug, feeling the warmth seep into your hands, and let out a tired sigh. “Thanks, Yuuji. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Yuuji’s smile softened as he pulled a blanket from the back of the couch and draped it over your shoulders. “You don’t have to do everything on your own, you know. I’m here to help. And right now, you need to rest.”

He gently guided you to the couch, where you reluctantly settled down, your exhaustion finally catching up with you. Yuuji sat beside you, his presence comforting and reassuring. As you sipped your tea, the tension in your body began to ease, your eyelids growing heavier by the second.

Yuuji noticed the way you were fighting to stay awake, and with a soft chuckle, he reached out and lightly ruffled your hair. “It’s okay if you want to close your eyes for a bit. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

You looked at him, his warm eyes and gentle smile, and suddenly, you didn’t feel so overwhelmed anymore. The stress that had been weighing you down seemed to lift, replaced by a sense of peace you hadn’t felt in a long time.

“Maybe just for a little while, you know?” you mumbled, already feeling yourself drifting off.

Yuuji nodded, watching as your eyes slowly closed, your breathing evening out as sleep took over. He stayed by your side, keeping watch as you slept, ready to offer support the moment you needed it. And as he looked at you, peaceful and relaxed, he felt a deep sense of contentment. This was all he wanted—to be there for you, to make sure you were okay, to be part of your world in whatever way you would allow.

As the evening turned into night, Yuuji gently adjusted the blanket around you, making sure you were comfortable. He leaned back against the couch, feeling the steady rhythm of your breathing beside him, and smiled to himself. He didn’t need anything else. As long as he could be there for you, that was enough.

When you woke up the next morning, your eyes fluttered softly against the sunlight streaming in through the window. You felt warmth beside you, and as you turned your head, inches away was Itadori Yuuji, still fast asleep. He was snoring softly, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm.

For a moment, you just watched him, taking in the peaceful expression on his face. You’d never noticed before how calm and serene everything felt when he was around. It was as if all the chaos in your mind quieted just by being near him.

A soft sigh escaped your lips, almost one of relief. You were glad that it was him—that he was the one who stayed with you, who was always there. This sweet angel, who had gone out of his way to support you, to make sure you were okay.

“I might as well cook you some breakfast.” you whispered to yourself, smiling at the thought. You carefully stood up, making sure not to wake him. As you passed by him, you couldn’t resist letting your fingers brush lightly through his fuchsia hair. “You worked hard, Yuuji.” you murmured, your voice filled with affection.

You made your way to the kitchen, the lingering warmth of his presence still wrapping around you. As you started preparing breakfast, the sound of sizzling eggs and the aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the small space. It wasn’t long before you heard a soft rustling from the couch, followed by a sleepy yawn.

Yuuji appeared in the doorway, rubbing his eyes, his hair adorably tousled. When he saw you, a bashful smile spread across his face, and his cheeks tinged with a faint blush. “Good….morning.” he greeted you timidly, still half-asleep.

You turned to him, returning his smile. “Good morning, Yuuji. Did at least manage to sleep somewhat okay?”

He nodded, his gaze drifting to the breakfast you were preparing. “Yeah, I did. Thanks… for everything.”

You set down the spatula and walked over to him, your heart warming at his shy demeanor. “No, Yuuji, thank you…..” you said earnestly, your eyes shining. “Thank you for helping me with everything. I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.”

Yuuji’s blush deepened, and he quickly waved off your gratitude as he rubbed the back of his head. “It’s nothing, really. I’m just glad I could help.”

You shook your head, stepping closer until you were standing right in front of him. “It’s not nothing, Yuuji. It’s a big deal to me. You’ve been here, doing all this because… because you’re a good person. And I know it’s also because you like me.”

His eyes widened slightly, and he opened his mouth to respond, but before he could, you continued, your voice growing softer, more vulnerable. “I… I feel something for you too, Yuuji. I didn’t realize it before, but… I do. It’s just… I want to take things slow.”

You lowered your gaze, suddenly feeling shy, your fingers fidgeting with the hem of your shirt. You didn’t know what he would say, or how he would react, but you needed to be honest with him.

Yuuji stood there for a moment, processing your words. Then, a gentle smile spread across his face, his eyes softening with warmth. “I understand.” he said quietly. He reached out, taking your hand in his, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “We can take it as slow as you need. I’m just happy to know you feel something for me too.”

You looked up at him, relief and happiness washing over you. His hand in yours was warm, comforting, and in that moment, you knew you had made the right choice. “Thank you, Yuuji,” you whispered.

He shook his head, still smiling. “No, thank you. For letting me be part of your world.”

As you stood there, holding hands in the morning light, the aroma of breakfast filling the air, everything felt just right. There was no rush, no pressure—just the promise of something real, something that could grow into something beautiful, one step at a time.

*:゜☆ヽ(*’∀’*)/☆゜:。*。

YOU MADE IT THE OLYMPICS, THE TWO OF YOU. The day you found out you had qualified for the Olympics felt like a dream. All the hard work, the long hours of training, the sacrifices—it had all paid off. You were going to the Olympics. And as if the universe had planned it, Yuuji had qualified too, in track and field. It was a moment of pure joy, a culmination of everything you’d both worked so hard for.

But what you hadn’t expected was the way your feelings for Yuuji would grow, almost as if they were catching up to the realization that he had been right there beside you all along.

You admired his determination, his relentless positivity, but you kept your distance, unsure if you could let someone in when you were so focused on your goals. Yet, Itadori Yuuji never wavered. He was at every pole vault tournament, even the ones miles away, often booking tickets last minute just to make sure he was there.

Even if he has to move around stuff for his own practice, even if he had other projects he had to do. It didn't matter. He wanted to be there. He wanted to go and see you and cheer you on. And every time, without fail, whether you won or lost, he would be in the front row, holding flowers and a letter, his bright smile shining through the crowd.

At first, you didn’t know how to react. How does one manage to, when such devoted acts are offered to you so genuinely, in front of the world? How would one function, when there’s so much love given by one person that it could fill the world with pints of it. You were touched, truly. But of course I was also confused. You could feel your palms sweaty, when he tries to take your hand to hold. Or when he smiles, you feel like you have butterflies in your tummy.

Was this really just a crush for him? What are crushes supposed to be like? You don’t think you remember. The last time you had a crush, it was on a 2D anime character. And that’s not a real experience. Or was it something more? You had to think it through. You care about him deeply, you do. But what do you actually feel for him? What does he actually mean to you? What is he to you?

Over time, though, as you saw how much he truly cared—not just about you as an athlete, but as a person—you started to see him differently. You noticed how he never pressured you, how he respected your space, but always made it clear that he was there for you, no matter what.

You began to anticipate his presence at your tournaments, looking forward to seeing his face in the crowd. His letters, filled with words of encouragement and affection, became something you treasured, often reading them late at night when you needed a boost.

And then, one day, as you stood on the podium after a particularly grueling tournament, looking out into the crowd, your eyes locked with Yuuji’s. He was holding a bouquet of your favorite flowers, his smile as radiant as ever, but there was something in his eyes—a mixture of pride, love, and unwavering support—that made your heart skip a beat.

In that moment, you realized that you had fallen for him.

It wasn’t just his persistence or his kindness; it was the way he made you feel seen and valued, both on and off the field. He didn’t just love you for your achievements—he loved you for who you were, even when you were at your lowest. And that was something you couldn’t ignore anymore.

After the ceremony, you found Yuuji waiting for you, just like he always did. He handed you the flowers, a bashful smile on his face. “You were amazing out there, you know!” he said, his voice filled with genuine admiration. “But you always are.”

You took the flowers, feeling a warmth spread through you that had nothing to do with the compliments. “Thanks, Yuuji.” you said softly, looking up at him. “For everything. I don’t think I’ve ever told you how much it means to me that you’re always here.”

His eyes widened slightly, surprised by the shift in your tone. “You don’t have to thank me, pretty.” he said quickly. “I just… I just want to be there for you, you know? I care about you. A lot.”

You nodded, taking a deep breath as you felt the words you’d been holding back finally rise to the surface. “I know. And I care about you too, Yuuji. More than I realized.”

For a moment, he just stared at you, as if trying to process what you were saying. Then, slowly, a smile spread across his face—one of pure, unfiltered joy. “Really?”

You smiled back, feeling a sense of certainty wash over you. “Really. I think… I think I’ve fallen for you, Yuuji.”

His reaction was immediate—he pulled you into a tight hug, lifting you off your feet as he spun you around, laughing like he’d just won the lottery. When he finally set you down, he looked at you with such adoration that it made your heart flutter.

“I’ve been waiting to hear that for so long!” he admitted, his voice shaking with emotion. “But it was worth it. Every single second. You will always be worth it. All of it.”

As you stood there, surrounded by the noise of the crowd and the smell of fresh flowers, you realized that your dream had come true in more ways than one. You had qualified for the Olympics, yes, but you had also found something even more precious—someone who loved you for who you were, someone who would stand by your side no matter what. And as you leaned in to kiss Yuuji, you knew that this was just the beginning of something truly beautiful.

*:゜☆ヽ(*’∀’*)/☆゜:。*。

epilogue

The energy at the Olympic Stadium was electric, buzzing with anticipation as the final race approached. You sat in the stands, surrounded by a sea of spectators, but your focus was entirely on the track below. Itadori Yuuji stood at the starting line, his gaze steady, his body coiled like a spring ready to launch.

You knew how much this race meant to him—how much he’d poured into his training, how every ounce of his determination was about to be unleashed in those few, crucial seconds.

The announcer’s voice boomed across the stadium, signaling the start, and you held your breath, your heart pounding in sync with the cheers around you. Then, the gun fired, and Yuuji shot forward, a blur of speed and power. The crowd roared, but you were barely aware of it, your eyes locked on him, silently urging him on.

He moved like lightning, his form perfect, his strides long and powerful. You could see the intensity in his every movement, the sheer will driving him forward. As he rounded the final bend, you knew—he was going to do it. He was going to break the world record.

The crowd was on its feet, the noise deafening as Yuuji crossed the finish line, the clock stopping at a time that stunned everyone. A world record. Yuuji had just shattered it.

But even before the cheers had fully erupted, Yuuji’s eyes were scanning the stands, searching for you. The moment he spotted you, he didn’t hesitate. Ignoring the cameras, the officials, and the chaos around him, he sprinted toward you, leaping over the barrier with ease.

And then he was there, in front of you, his chest heaving, sweat glistening on his brow, but his smile was brighter than you’d ever seen it. Without a word, he pulled you into his arms and kissed you, his lips crashing against yours with a passion that took your breath away. The world seemed to melt away, leaving just the two of you in that perfect moment.

When he finally pulled back, his eyes were shining with a mixture of disbelief and pure joy. He laughed, a sound filled with triumph and love, and then he threw his arms up in the air, shouting, “I did it! I did it! I’ve got you and a medal! This is the best day of my life, oh my god!"

The crowd around you erupted into applause and cheers, but all you could focus on was Yuuji—his infectious energy, the way his hands were still holding onto you like he couldn’t believe you were real. His happiness was contagious, and you couldn’t help but laugh along with him, tears of joy filling your eyes.

“You did it, Yuuji!” you whispered, your voice choking with emotion. “Babe, you broke the world record. I’m so proud of you.”

He grinned, pulling you close again, this time resting his forehead against yours. “None of this would’ve meant anything without you here. You’re the one I wanted to share this with. You’re my everything, pretty.”

Your heart swelled at his words, the sincerity in his voice making it clear just how much this moment—and you—meant to him.

“I love you, Yuuji.” you said softly, cupping his face in your hands.

“I love you too.” he replied, his voice thick with emotion. “And this… this is just the beginning. We’ve got so much more to look forward to—together.”

As you stood there, holding each other amidst the chaos and celebration of the Olympic Stadium, you knew that you had found something far greater than any medal or record.

You had found the person who would stand by your side, through every challenge and triumph, the one who had captured your heart with his unwavering love and dedication. And as Yuuji lifted you off the ground, spinning you around with pure, uncontainable joy, you realized that you had truly won in every way that mattered.

436 notes · View notes

kamisama1kiss · 1 year ago

Note

Okay okay, hear me out…what if the reader was a ninja part of the team but they would also be involved in a prophecy where they end up dying to save their lover, I need the ninja reaction to when Master Wu tells them 🫶🏻

This is actually so sad, tho.... I love it! 🤭😝 I was a little stuck on writing, but I hope I was able to deliver what you wished for 😚🫶

~~~

What would the ninjas reactions be as the prophecies say their lover will die for them?

~Lloyd Garmadon~

- Denial is a river in Egypt. Refusing to believe that they would die for the sake of his life.

- No matter how many times he convinces himself, he knows truly he can't do anything to stop it. Further pushing him into no limits of getting stronger to maybe, just maybe prevent it?

- Keeping a watching eye at you at all times to see if you're safe, more so in battles or training.

- Would try to convince you to do other tasks rather than join the team if he knew it could be risky for either you or himself.

- Consently tries to spend as much time with you so that when the time comes, he could make sure to not regret a moment.

- Would often spend time silently watching you just live and socialise with others, his heart falling into his stomach.

- Admiring you and everything about you as a person.

~Kai Smith~

- At first, he just laughed and shook his head. There was no way.

- After maybe a few hours or days, the gravity of it all dawned on him. He couldn't help but feeling so hopeless and useless to not be able to help or postpone it or anything for that matter.

- His mind of having a feature together with you was immediately crushed, all the plans of being able to hold you at night and talk into the long hours of the night.

- In the meantime, he changed a little for you as in allowing you to goof around with his hair as an example.

- Holding hands no matter where you walked to feel you close just to know you weren't gone. Not yet at least.

-Knowing he was absolutely broken after when Nya was gone, he would be just the same with just worse of completely letting guilt eat him up in silence. He would refuse to let anyone know how he felt.

As the hothead, he is the practice dummys would be all burnt to crisp

~Cole Brookstone~

- Again?

- Really? First, his own mother. Now, the one person he loves with the whole being of himself

- No matter how much he tried to collect himself, he could easily take it out on training.

- Would at some point start to distance himself from you so when the time came, the impact would be less painful.

- Didn't want to be like his father with absolutely neglecting everything when you we're gone, but anyhow, he tried to smile to everyone and act chill like he usually would.

- Often held his breath when holding you close, wishing for these types of moments to never end.

~Zane Julian~

- He was obvious to the fact that the one he loves could so easily die, but he could live on for many years on.

- Has already been over this with himself, but hearing it being sooner than expected shocked him.

- Acting no different than normally maybe a few occasional more hugs throughout the day, nothing too out of the ordinary.

- When he was alone, his way of grief was meditate. Maybe it could make the damage a little easier for his wires to handle?

- Occasionally turning off the emotions to just feel as if he could "breath" as it did get to his head at times more than he'd like to admit it ever did.

~Jay Walker~

- Immediately lost himself as he shook his head, refusing to belive what a dumb scroll had to say! It's dumb right?

- Spending every waking minute of his day with you by his side, alongside helping you with everything he could think of.

- Coping with occasionally stealing shirts with your smell on them to feel as if you mext to him, even though you are just a few doors down or so

- Would slowly communicate with others as he became more silent, which scared everyone. Everyone stood on their toes around him to not further upset him.

- He came in clutch and used every single excuse possible to man kind to have you for himself the first week or two after getting to know. He felt kind of pushy so he calmed down a little.

~Nya Smith~

- She genuinely just accepted it, what more could she say? The prophecy says so, she cannot deny it no matter how much this frustrated her.

- Checking up on you and acting for the most sake normal, as to not make you uncomfortable or worried for her sake.

- Used any or all frustration on training her powers in different ways, which was beneficial for her in the long right?

- Just like her brother, there was no communication from her side. Whenever the topic of prophecy popped up, she went silent and stood next to you, holding pinkys.

- Would cry to herself whenever everything got to her, just knowing you're gonna to eventually leave it snapped her multiple times. She would always refuse.

~~~

I've reached over 25 posts :00 and also over 50 followers!!! THANK YOU, EVERYONE 😭🙏🙏 I appreciate every single one of you so much

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paxaz535 · 1 month ago

Text

i threw a party 4 u

based on “party 4 u” by Charli XCX

second person POV / angst / no happy ending

pairing : paige bueckers x fem!reader

sorry it’s so short, i’m having an writer overload (i have way too many ideas that need to get out of my brain) but hopefully you enjoy this

You started setting up the party around noon.

Which was ridiculous—no one shows up until ten, maybe ten-thirty if they’re actually trying to pregame. But there you were, adjusting the angle of the string lights, placing drinks in perfect symmetry in the cooler, double-checking the playlist like it was a setlist for your own private concert.

No one knew how long you spent on that playlist.

Three hours. Fifty-seven songs. All curated with her in mind.

Songs she liked. Songs you two laughed to. And one song you weren’t sure she even knew—“party 4 u”—but you’d added it last. Quietly. Like a secret message at the bottom of a letter you weren’t brave enough to sign.

You cleaned the apartment top to bottom. Fluffed couch pillows no one would sit on. Made little snack plates you knew would be devoured within minutes and appreciated by exactly zero people.

You even picked out your hoodie carefully—something that made you feel like you might be seen. Not hot. Not flashy. Just… visible.

You didn’t want to admit it to yourself, but this wasn’t a party for everyone.

It wasn’t even really for the team.

It was for her.

Paige.

Every light you hung, every drink you poured, every breath you took today—all of it was stitched together with her name running through it like thread.

⸻

At around 3:07 p.m., you texted her.

you

you still thinking of coming tonight?

She didn’t respond until 7:41.

paige

might

One word.

Five letters.

And it made your heart do a flip it had no business doing. You told yourself not to care. She was busy. She was Paige. She had other things going on. You weren’t her girlfriend. You weren’t even really her friend, the two of you really only talked when you needed to. (which is basically just on the court or team bonding days)

But she had smiled at you two days ago after practice, told you your spin move was “kinda filthy.”

That meant something. Right?

Right?

By 9:30, people had started to trickle in. You offered drinks, hugged a few people, smiled in all the right places.

No one noticed you checking the door every two minutes.

Or how you flinched every time a blonde girl walked in.

Or how your shoulders dropped when it wasn’t her.

They laughed, posed for pictures, snapped videos with flash, asked who made the playlist. You played host like a pro, but you were fading at the edges. Smiling on autopilot. Holding your cup like it might give your hands something better to do than tremble.

You stood near the door once, for a little too long. Someone joked, “Waiting for your sneaky link?”

You laughed. “Something like that.”

Only it wasn’t sneaky.

It wasn’t even mutual.

It was a quiet crush, stretching itself across every nerve in your body. A slow-burning obsession you pretended was casual. An entire party you swore was spontaneous—except you’d planned it with her in mind from the moment you bought the first bag of ice.

She wasn’t coming.

You were almost sure of it now.

But a part of you held on anyway. That little piece of you that couldn’t let go, that rewound conversations for clues, that read into glances that probably meant nothing.

You had no proof she felt anything for you.

But you’d built this night around her like she was your gravity.

⸻

“I only threw this party for you…”

The song was coming up in the queue soon. You could feel it. Like something waiting just around the corner.

And that’s when the door creaked open.

There she was.

Looking beautiful as ever.

Her hair was down, falling in those soft waves that always made you weak. She was stunning. Magnetic. You were struck — so struck that you didn’t even notice someone else standing just behind her.

Until you did.

And your face dropped.

The girl was about her height. Brunette hair pulled back into a neat bun. They were standing close — too close. You froze in the middle of the room, confusion tightening across your features. People still surrounded you, dancing, laughing, talking but they blurred into nothing. Background noise to the wreckage happening in front of you.

You watched them.

The way the girl leaned in toward Paige.

The way Paige tilted her head back with a laugh, eyes crinkling at the corners.

“Watch me party on you, yeah…”

The lyrics hit just as your stomach sank.

Your eyes stayed glued to them. They looked so comfortable together. Like this wasn’t new.

Then—

Confusion turned to hurt. Fast. Violent.

Because they were kissing.

Paige’s hands found the girl’s waist. The girl’s arms looped around Paige’s neck like she belonged there.

And your breath caught in your throat.

“Party on you, party on you, party on—”

Your heart plummeted. Lips quivering. Fingers trembling. You felt the sting before the tears even formed.

She was kissing someone else.

Someone who wasn’t you.

And they didn’t stop.

It wasn’t a polite kiss. It was full-on, like they forgot the room around them existed. Like you didn’t exist.

Your throat tightened, hot with shame. Your eyebrows pulled together in silent pain. You wanted to look away — but you didn’t. You couldn’t.

You just stood there.

Breaking.

The music pulsed on, cruel and ironic, haunting you:

“Party on you, party on you…”

Before she could notice the devastation written all over your face. Because God forbid she saw what she’d done to you and felt nothing.

You pushed past people, out of the room, through the hallway, into the bathroom. The door clicked shut behind you.

And then?

Silence.

Except for the faint pulse of music bleeding through the walls, and the sound of your own shaky breathing.

You gripped the edge of the sink, knuckles white, blinking at your reflection.

Eyes glassy. Lips trembling.

She didn’t love you. Maybe she never even noticed you.

But you had noticed her.

And now you’d remember this — the moment your fantasy crumbled — every time that song played.

Because that party?

It was for her.

But the heartbreak?

That was yours to keep.

#Spotify #paige bueckers #uconn huskies #paige bueckers fic #paige bueckers x reader #uconn women’s basketball

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luvrgeorge · 2 days ago

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the thrill of the game

summary: this event was glamorous, everyone in their best clothing, sipping expensive champagne, but none of that mattered, because george was here, and you and him love to play a game at these events, who will cave first? pairing: george clarke x fem!reader warnings: mature (MDNI) WC: 4k

the room was crowded, loud, packed full of faces both familiar and unfamiliar. you loved these events, socialising with people you hadn’t seen in a while, getting a bit too tipsy with your friends, but there was one thing about these events you loved the most.

you could feel his glare every time you moved, his eyes following you through crowds of people, studying your expressions and movements. you loved the thrill of the game, seeing who can tip the other over the edge first, who can take it just a bit too far, but it always ends the same, you and george naked in a hotel room.

he looked hot—undeniably, effortlessly hot. he always did, of course, but these suit and tie events? they were something else entirely. They gave him a kind of elegance that made your pulse trip over itself.

tonight, his black suit hugged him in all the right places, the cut so precise. the fabric clinging to his shoulders, broad and powerful, tapering down to a waist that made restraint feel like a joke. the tie was the only thing that looked tight—everything else was smooth, commanding, deliberate.

he moved with that quiet confidence that always made people stop mid-sentence. even now, surrounded by people and murmuring voices, his presence pulled focus like gravity. and you stood there, trying to keep your own cool while your eyes betrayed you, tracing his every line, every movement.

you knew what was under all of it. the suit didn’t hide much, not really. it hinted, seduced. It left enough to the imagination, sure—but your imagination didn’t need to work that hard. you’d memorized the terrain, every muscle, every scar, every inch of warm, unforgiving strength that lay beneath those expensive layers. and the worst part? he knew you were watching. of course he did. that slight smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth wasn’t for anyone else.

you were doomed. absolutely doomed. you had no faith in yourself for winning tonight—not when he looked like that. and deep down, a part of you didn’t want to win. not really. you wanted to lose. badly. completely. willingly. but god, you were dying to win, just this once.

you tried to keep your glances to a minimum this time, only looking at him when you knew he was looking away, and this time, he was talking to a girl. you couldn’t see her face, but from behind she was slim, taller than you, and wore a gorgeous burgundy dress, falling down to her feet. it didn’t make you jealous, at least not enough to cave this early into the night, but it made you motivated, motivated to win this night, motivated to make him surrender first.

you scanned the room, eyes drifting lazily over glittering gowns and stiff tuxedos, all the polished elegance starting to blur together. you weren’t looking for charm or conversation. you were looking for a weapon. someone attractive enough to make george’s jaw tighten, to make his eye twitch the way it always did when he pretended he didn’t care.

your gaze paused at the bar.

he was tall—taller than most in the room—and built like he belonged on a rugby field, not behind a hotel bar. his black shirt strained ever so slightly across his chest as he moved, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows in that perfectly careless way that made it obvious he didn’t care much for the dress code. scruffy, but clean. confident without trying. his hair was short, messy in that intentional way that walked the line between rugged and boyish.

he was exactly the kind of distraction you needed.

not too polished. not too perfect. but solid, striking. the kind of man who’d draw george’s attention the moment you leaned in just a little too close. you pictured it already—the way george’s eyes would narrow, how he’d try not to look but wouldn’t be able to help himself. how his fingers would twitch at his sides, itching to pull you away, to remind you who you belonged to.

and god, you wanted to push him just a little further. make him feel it.

so you took one last sip of your champagne, set the glass down, and started walking toward the bar—hips swaying just a bit more than usual, every step deliberate. the game had started, and tonight, you didn’t plan on playing fair.

‘what you drinking?’ the bartender said, flashing you a smile. the event was classy, an open bar with smart attire, so you doubted they served your usual rum and coke combo. you looked around the room, women all holding glasses of champagne or cocktails.

‘surprise me, what do you think i’d be drinking?’ he smiled at you, walking away and grabbing a glass, mixing up something with whiskey.

‘whiskey sour?’ you took the glass, taking a sip. the whiskey burnt your throat, but you could handle it.

‘you’re good at this y’know’

‘i do a lot of these events, and i can always spot a girl who likes whiskey’ he clearly wasn’t good enough at spotting them, you hated whiskey, and the drink was disgusting, but that was never the point.

you were leaning over the bar, maybe a bit too far, listening to him speak, giggling a little to much, over-exaggerating all your movements.

‘just to let you know, i’m not into girls’ the bartender said. you moved back slightly, unsure of what to say. ‘but i know what you’re doing, that guy over there, the tux, the hot one’ he nodded towards george, but you didn’t look. ‘you’re making him jealous, what is he, an ex? a new thing?’ you laughed.

‘george? he’s…’ you started, but the words caught somewhere between your throat and your pride. what was george, really? not a boyfriend. not just a fling, either. he was a habit. a comfort. a storm you kept walking into, knowing full well how it would end. you could lie. say george was nothing. or say he was everything. but neither felt quite right.

george was just the guy you went home with after nights like these—after the noise, the lights, the tight dresses and fake smiles. he was the one who pulled you in like gravity the second you got too close. but he didn’t text you good morning. he didn’t ask about your day. he didn’t take you to dinner, didn’t hold your hand in public.

you weren’t dating. but you weren’t just sleeping together, either.

“he’s a friend,” you said finally, the words feeling a little hollow, a little dishonest, even to yourself. your fingers tapped against the bar, casual, careless. “a good friend.”

the bartender gave a knowing smile, not pushing for more. but it hung there, unspoken—how ‘friend’ didn’t quite cover it. how there were glances and touches and late-night calls that didn’t belong to friendship.

‘so what, you guys sleeping together?’ you laughed again, shocked at his bluntness, but finding comfort in the fact he understood. you nodded in response. ‘so why are you flirting with me?’

you sighed, rolling your eyes. ‘we have this thing, an unspoken thing really, it just started happening’ the bartender laughed. ‘at every event, we see who caves first, who can make the other more jealous before we give up and leave together, it’s all a bit of fun really’

‘so, it’s a sex game? he’s gonna come over, pull you aside and you’re gonna go have sex?’ you cackled at the bar tender, admiring his blunt charm.

‘that’s what i’m hoping for, you don’t have to entertain it though, thank you for the drink’ you pick up your drink, smiling at the bar tender.

‘he’s looking at you, you know’ you stopped. ‘the girl he’s talking to is still there, but he hasn’t said a word in a while’

‘does he know you’re looking at him?’

‘no, he’s completely fixed on you’ you smirked. ‘how long before he comes over?’

‘i don’t know, i’m usually the one to find him first’ the bartender moves closer to you, placing his hand lightly on your neck, whispering in your ear.

‘tonight’s boring, i’m happy to play along with you, just smile and laugh, he’s still watching’ you did exactly that, giggling at every word he said, despite having a completely normal conversation.

you could feel george’s sharp eyes like daggers in your back, you knew he was watching you, knew he was seething with jealousy as another man placed his hands on you.

after a few more minutes, you felt a quiet shift in the air beside you—someone new, close but not intrusive. you turned slightly, and there she was.

the girl george had been talking to.

you hadn’t seen her face before, not properly. god, she was beautiful. not just pretty—striking. effortless. her features were sharp and soft all at once, the kind of face that made people stop mid-sentence. she stood confidently, alone, ordering just one drink—a cosmopolitan. something crisp, pink, elegant. something george would never touch.

your stomach twisted, just slightly.

you glanced around for him then, for the first time in a while. scanning the crowd, looking for that familiar silhouette, that black suit that always seemed to cut through a room like a blade. but nothing. no george leaning smugly at the bar, no smirk waiting to meet your eyes across the room.

you turned back toward the bartender, your expression questioning. he only shrugged, brows raised like he had no idea either. he hadn’t seen where george went, and clearly, the girl hadn’t followed.

when she left, drink in hand and heels clicking softly across the marble floor, you exhaled.

‘thank you’ you said to the bartender, sliding him a generous tip. he grinned, pocketing it with a nod.

‘this was fun, good luck with the rest of your night’ he said, a little amused, a little pitying.

you move back through the bodies of people, searching for george. there was no sign of him anywhere. not a glimpse of that sharp black suit, not the familiar shape of him leaning in a doorway or watching from across the room. it was like he’d vanished into the glittering crowd, swallowed whole by champagne and chatter. the girl had wandered off too, back to the cluster of people you assumed were her friends, already laughing at something someone else said, his brief distraction forgotten like it meant nothing at all.

you were just about to search elsewhere, the lobby, the bar, the crowd—when you felt it.

a hand on your back. firm. warm. possessive without being rough. fingers grazing the bare skin on your back, resting just enough to let you know they could move if they wanted to. and then—hot breath on your neck, too close, too intimate for the public setting, but somehow exactly what you’d been waiting for.

‘you giving up yet?’ he murmured, voice low and smug, like he already knew the answer.

you turned, slow, letting him see the full weight of your reaction. and there he was.

that damn smirk stretched across his face like it belonged there—lazy, confident, a little cruel. his eyes held that familiar spark, something between amusement and warning. he was close, closer than necessary, his suit still immaculate despite the heat of the room, his tie slightly loosened like he was getting tired of pretending to behave.

‘didn’t know we were playing,’ you said, though it came out softer than intended.

he chuckled, not moving back. ‘you always know.’

and you did.

‘who said i’ve given up?’

‘you’ve left your boyfriend at the bar,’ he said, voice thick with amusement, eyes locked on yours like he was watching you unravel in real time. ‘so i assumed you were coming to find someone better.’

you scoffed right in his face, the sound sharp and disbelieving, even as your stomach twisted at how accurately he’d read you. you tried to roll your eyes like it meant nothing, like the heat creeping up your neck was from the whiskey, not him. like your legs hadn’t started moving the second you realised he wasn’t anywhere in sight.

“i’m not caving this time,” you said, lifting your chin just enough to make it sound like you meant it.

he smiled at that—slow, smug, knowing. the kind of smile that made it clear he didn’t believe you for a second. not because you were weak, but because he knew exactly how to make you forget why you ever tried to resist him in the first place.

“well,” he said, voice dropping to that low, dangerous murmur he reserved just for you, “when you’re ready, i have a room upstairs.”

your breath caught, just slightly. not enough to be obvious. but he noticed. of course he did.

“in the meantime,” he continued, leaning in close enough for your perfume to catch on his collar, “i’m going to ask your boyfriend for a drink.”

and just like that, he turned. didn’t wait for your reaction. didn’t give you the satisfaction of a final glance. his hand slid off your back as he walked away, slow and deliberate, the touch lingering. you felt the absence of it immediately, like a warmth torn away too fast.

you watched him head toward the bar, straight toward the bartender, the curve of his shoulders relaxed but purposeful. you knew him well enough to recognise what he was doing—staking territory without ever having to say a word.

he was playing dirty, and god help you, it was working.

you hated him, hated how unfazed he was by everything you did, hated how he never caved, always pushing you to your limit. as strong as you tried to be, he always won. but you were determined to for that to change.

he was leaving the bar, but just before he left, you walked up to him, leaning in close and taking the key card out of his jacket pocket. you turned to the bartender, reading the room number from the card ‘room 34, i’ll be there for when your shift is over’ the bartender smirked, knowing exactly what you were doing, but george was non the wiser.

you head towards the elevator, leaving george and the bartender behind, without sparing a single glance.

you enter the room, finding the mirror to check your hair and makeup, adjusting your dress. you loved dressing up for these events, you loved shopping for the most perfect outfit. tonight you had chosen a long black satin dress, backless with a sultry slit in the leg, paired with golden heels. you loved doing your hair and makeup too, spending so much time on the little details, ensuring your hair was curled perfect, each strand sat so beautifully down your back. it was almost a shame it would all be ruined soon.

you sit on the edge of the bed, ankles crossed, fingers twitching slightly in your lap as you wait. the room is quiet, apart from the low hum of the hallway beyond the door. then, a faint beep — the key card on the door — and the slow turn of the handle. you straighten up quickly.

he steps into the room, the dim light catching on the bubbles in the two flutes of champagne he carries. he looks at you like he’s starved — but his gaze is soft, gentle in a way that makes your stomach tighten. without saying a word, he crosses the room, hands you a glass, and takes a slow sip of his own, his free hand sliding onto your waist like it’s meant to be there.

‘took you long enough,’ you murmur, lips brushing the rim of your glass as you drink.

‘you played dirty tonight,’ he says, pulling you closer, his voice low and warm. his breath hits your collarbone, and you can already feel your skin prickling beneath it.

‘is that not how we play this game?’ you say, your voice light, teasing.

he smirks, leans in, and presses his lips to your neck — not hard, just enough to steal your breath. your body reacts before your mind does, tilting into him, heart racing under his touch.

‘you know…’ his hands are moving now, up and down your back, slow and possessive. ‘i hated seeing you with that guy.’ you felt a sense of pride, knowing that you made him jealous, knowing that he couldn’t stand seeing you with another man.

another kiss, deeper this time, and you gasp, gripping his shirt.

‘you knew what you were doing,’ he murmurs, voice rough against your skin, ‘and god, it worked, i've been waiting for this all night.’

he finishes his glass slowly, never breaking eye contact, like he’s savoring both the drink and the tension. then, without a word, he takes your half-finished glass from your hand, brushing your fingers as he does. he sets both flutes down on the table with a quiet clink that feels final, like the closing move in a long-played chess match.

he pulls off his tailored suit jacket and tie, his hands returning to you, fingers tracing up the side of your neck, brushing your jaw, then slowing over your lips. his thumb lingers there, pressing gently, parting them just slightly. he smirks, like he already knows what’s coming. he leans in — his mouth just a breath away from yours, and you can feel the warmth of it, the tension strung tight between you.

but you pull back, just enough.

‘not yet,’ you whisper, your breath catching.

he freezes, brows furrowing, lips parting as his eyes darken with need. there’s a flicker of frustration in his face, but it’s tangled with desire, with the hunger that’s been simmering between you both all night. your hands rest on his chest, grounding him, letting him feel how close he is — but denying him all the same.

‘tell me i win.’

he blinks, thrown off for a second. ‘what happened to this not being a game?’

‘just tell me,’ you say, your voice quieter now, more dangerous. ‘tell me i win, and then you can do whatever you want to me.’

his lips curl into a smirk again, but it’s different this time — there’s a flicker of surrender in it, a knowing. he moves in close, slowly, one hand sliding up the back of your neck, fingers tangling in your hair, the other resting heavy on your hip like he’s holding back from pulling you in.

his mouth brushes your ear as he whispers, low and deliberate, ‘you win.’

and that’s all it takes.

you crash into him, lips colliding in a kiss that’s messy, breathless, hungry. his hands waste no time — one slides down the curve of your bare back, the other hooks beneath your exposed thigh, pulling it up and around his waist with practiced ease. your body presses fully against his, and he holds you like it costs him nothing — like he’s wanted to do this since the second he saw you.

your fingers twist into his shirt, mouth moving against his like you’re trying to make up for every second you made him wait. he lifts you slightly, holding nearly all your weight in one arm, and the sound you make only pushes him further.

he lifts you up effortlessly, your legs tightening around his waist, arms locking around his shoulders. your fingers slide into his hair, gripping just enough to make him groan against your mouth. he walks you toward the bed, each step slow, controlled, like he’s savoring the moment. when he reaches it, he lays you down with a tenderness that contrasts the heat between you, like you’re something delicate and breakable. his lips never leave yours — not for a second — the kiss deepening as his body follows yours down.

his hands wander into your dress, fingers tracing outside your lacy, dampened thong, so close to what’s underneath. he hooked two fingers underneath, slowly inserting them into you. you let out slow, breathy moans into his mouth, untucking his perfectly uncreased shirt to grip onto his back, leaving marks in his skin. ‘god baby, so wet, just for me’.

he knew your body so well, he knew every inch, every flaw, everything you liked, everything you didn’t, and still, somehow, he could make you feel things so new, so intense, so raw. the rush was almost instant, no warning, no preparation, overcoming your entire body with an orgasm so passionate that you crumbled in his hands. you were breathless, finished, but so desperately needy for more of him.

you pull him back into your body, kissing him as you struggled to unbutton his shirt enough for him to pull it over his head. you unbutton his trousers, clawing for his hardened cock beneath. he kicked them off with his shoes and boxers as you went to unzip your dress, but he stopped you. ‘keep the dress on’ he growled, repositioning you both on the bed.

he laid down at the top of the bed, pulling you towards him. you straddled his lap, feeling his cock so close to your heat. ‘ride me baby, show me how much you need me’. you positioned yourself over him, sliding down slowly. no amount of experience with george could ever make you used to him, he was so big, stretching you out, hitting every inch of your insides.

you started slow, rocking back and forth, george gripping your hips, guiding you. ‘you’re doing so well gorgeous, fuck, you’re amazing’ he let out low, soft groans as you moved, sounding like a pure symphony humming in your ears. you let your dress straps fall down your shoulders, breasts spilling out to george’s pleasure.

your knees were buckling under the pleasure, you leaned on george for support, tired, but starving for more. george know you couldn’t handle it, not now. he pulled you off him, flipping you over and straddling the top of you, re-aligning himself. he thrusted deeper than you were willing to go when you were on top of him, going hard and fast, grabbing your hands and holding them above your head. he was insane, so gorgeous, build so perfectly, fitting in you like a jigsaw, like he was made to fuck you and only you.

he increased his pace, your moans growing louder and deeper. he moved in to kiss you, hungry and passionate, your arms still restrained, legs wrapping around his waist, your heeled shoes digging into his back.

‘you’re mine, only mine’ his words sounded so sweet, so possessive. he stopped kissing you, hand moving to your chin, tilting your head slightly to touch his and make you look him deep in his piercing blue eyes. ‘are your ready?’ you nodded, breathlessly, eyes locked together as you finished in harmony, george slowing down as he pumped inside of you, holding your hand and stroking your face. he kissed you one last time, deep, but romantic, slowly pulling out and laying beside you.

you were breathless and tired, head buried in george’s chest as it rose and fell, still warm and slick from your shared experience. the room was quiet, except for the faint hum of the city outside and the slowing rhythm of your heartbeats syncing beneath the thin sheets tangled at your waists.

‘i like winning’ you smirked, your voice a low whisper against his skin.

george let out a small, satisfied chuckle. his chest rumbled softly beneath your cheek as he dipped his head to kiss the crown of yours, lips lingering just long enough to make your pulse jump again.

‘you’re insufferable’ he murmured, but his fingers drew lazy, featherlight circles on the bare skin of your lower back, betraying the fondness in his words.

you turned your face slightly, your nose brushing his collarbone. ‘you love it.’

he didn’t argue. instead, he pulled you a little closer, as if the space between your bodies wasn’t already non-existent. The warmth of his skin, the faint scent of sweat and your perfume still clinging to the air—it wrapped around you like a cocoon.

‘you always do this,’ he said quietly, after a beat. ‘get all competitive, steal my focus, and then leave me like this—wrecked and entirely yours.’

you smiled against him, sleepy and smug. ‘that’s the intentions of the game’

his hand drifted to your thigh, squeezing gently, a silent reminder of the connection that still pulsed between you both. you felt his heartbeat under your ear, steady and real.

‘stay?’ he asked, softer now. vulnerable, even.

you didn’t answer right away. you just nuzzled into his chest and let your hand trace the faint line of hair down the center of his torso.

‘i was never planning to leave’.

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