#If voting's all you got that's a fine start

[bluem1lls]

Hey I was wondering if you could do a se-mi fic where the reader is really sweet/kind and is apart of Gi-hun's group in the games. So when se-mi starts flirting with her the boys go all big brother/dad mode and start getting protective. I just think it would be funny to see Dae-ho and Jung-bae doing their goofy marines bit, while se-mi is absolutely unimpressed and sassy and the reader is just watching from afar happy that they're all 'getting along'. Thank you and I love your writing <3

✧₊⁺ i'd do it all again

✦ synopsis: she's very willing to flirt with you, even if there's two are always there to try to stop her from doing it!

tw: pure fluff!

authors note: hiiii, its short but its a week update and im DEAD so dhhdhdfh i hope u like it!!! tysm for the request💓💓

-> "fuck" my head hurts from the impact as i open my eyes to see a girl.. on top of me. her eyes widen as she tries to stay still. her arms keep my body trapped underneath her.

"shit- i'm so sorry" she whispers slowly, trying to not get caught by the doll from the game.

as i can hear it say 'green light' once again. she stands up quickly, lending me her hand as we start running. i can see my brother's eyes moving across the entire room trying to find me because he lost me out of his sight. when he does, he lets out a big sigh as he runs to my side, staying still as we hear the 'red light'.

-> once we're get to the finish line, i lay on the floor, exhausted. my eyes try to find the short haired girl. i stare as i see her bent over, trying to catch her breath.

"you're not allowed to leave my side, ever" dae-ho, my brother, grabs my shoulders as i rolled my eyes. "i'm serious."

"i know, i'm sorry. a girl tripped over me."

as we turned around to head to the main room, i see the girl's eyes follow me until we arrive.

-> as we're done voting, my brother, being the social butterfly he is, already got us a group.

i sit besides gi-hun as i stare the surroundings. i can feel my brother's arms around me as i groan. the girl who fell on top of me stares, quickly removing her eyes of me as i find her sight.

-> and i try multiple times to talk with her, but everytime i seem to get somewhat close, she's moving around as i frown. maybe she's awkward after the way we met but, i'm still curious.

-> as the second game begins, we get together until they announce 'group of 5'. their eyes widen as in-ho tries to move aside, i grab him as i shook my head no. i turn to leave as dae-ho grabs my arm, serious.

"there's no way-"

"listen, i'll be fine. i have an idea. i promise i'll be fine."

"no you liste-"

it's too late, because i'm already running to the pierced girl as she stares up and down at me with a smirk. great, finally an excuse to talk to her and i know she can't run away this time.

"you owe me. and i need a group" i said to her as she scoffed in amusement.

"oh? i owe you?"

"you fell on top of me!" i reply as she hums, playing with her lip piercing.

"what's wrong with your boyfriend's team?" she lifts an eyebrow as i stare wide eye. boyfriend???

"that dumbass?!" i point at dae-ho."he's my brother, ew."

her expression turns into a surprised one, quickly returning to her normal one. was that why she was avoiding me this whole time? i chuckled softly as she did too.

"oh- right. sorry. so um, let's go get three more people" she says, turning around as we see the purple hair guy coming in our direction. we both stare at eachother at the same time, smiling.

great.

-> as we pass the second same, i sit with them, waiting nervously for my brother and the group's return. i see them arrive with a smile as i get up to throw myself into his arms as he hugs me tight. i hug every one of them, happy to see them again.

-> as the night comes, i eat my food while chatting with the group until i see a someone in front of me. i lift my gaze to meet her brown eyes.

i lift my eyebrow as i slowly smile. "hi"

"hey.. thought you could use the company" she said with amusement, sitting next to me. "and, you never told me your name.."

as i tell her, she replies with hers. se-mi.

"pretty name for a pretty girl" i chuckle at her poor attempt to flirt as she laughs with me.

i feel arms wrap around me as i turn my head. of course. i roll my eyes as i sigh.

"hello ladies. i'm dae-ho" he says (to se-mi, mostly) with a serious expression as she stares unfazed and gives him a head nod. "her brother, but you probably guessed since we have the same 'pretty face', like you said." he tells her, trying to put his most 'older brother' face as i elbow him on the ribs.

"get out, oh my god you're so annoying" i said removing myself from his grip as he stares, offended.

"i'm trying to look after my little sister! you can't date someone from this game"

"we're not dating! leave!" i whisper/shout at him as he stares like a puppy while i push him out.

"i was in the marine, by the way!" he tells to her, turning around one last time as she smirks.

i sit again besides her as i huffed. she smiles, amused.

"so that was.. interesting" she plays with her lip piercing, the smirk never leaving her lips. i nod as i stare away, too embarrassed to meet her eyes. "does that mean every time i'll try to talk to you, you'll have a bodyguard?" she chuckles as i nod, embarrassed.

"i mean.. probably"

she hums as her gaze meets my eyes.

"i can do that."

and she means it.

-> and as the days go by, we become closer and closer. hugging eachother everytime we see the other one survived the game, teaming together and staying all night talking.

and she's so pretty, that it doesn't feel surprising when she's making me blush from staring too much, or when i get butterflies everytime she whispers sweet things to me because she knows i love it.

-> and after one specific hard game, i realize i wanna spend every little minute with her. too scared to loose her, i'm asking her to bring her mattress besides mine. as i'm helping her to move it, i can see two people standing in front of us, staring to see what we're doing.

"are you two sleeping together? i don't think thats a good idea." jung-bae says as my eyes widen. "you look like a good young girl, but we can't trust too much" he says to se-mi as this one stares and gives him a soft chuckle.

"that's true. sleeping together is a step too far. are you two dating?" my brother nods at jung-bae's words as i cover my face in embarrassment.

"not yet" she smirks at my brother as his eyes widen.

"can you two just... shush away?" i murmur to them, staring at both.

they look at each other as i move them softly aside.

"i can't believe the disrespect we face. from two young girls" jung-bae says as dae-ho nods.

-> and as the night comes, we lay side to side while talking.

"i really like this.. spending time with you" she says, making me smile. i feel her cold hands with the rings cup my face as i stare at her. "do you think your brother's awake?"

my expression turns into confusion. "um.. no? i don't think so?"

"good" she mumbles against my lips as she kisses me. i let out a soft moan in surprise as i melt into the kiss.

"i knew you weren't a good girl!" my brother jumps from the bed, his finger pointing to se-mi, making us break from the kiss to stare him.

"oh my god where you spying this whole time? you're a fucking-"

"hey careful!" he says, his finger now pointing at me. "now. if you want my sister, i will make your life a living hell" he warns se-mi as she lifts her arms, smiling.

"she's worth it" she says as we both stare at her.

-> and he means it. because even when we leave the game after voting 'x', she warns me many times i'm not allowed to disappear now that she's attached. not like i was going to. but wherever i go, he's also always there too.

and all the guys are also there. even gi-hun, jung-bae and in-ho, warning her every step of the way, as me and jun-hee chuckle. and se-mi starts loving them too, because she's sure she won't be able to get rid of them (she tried!)

with our poor relationship with our father, jung-bae ends up turning into more of a father figure to us, being the one supporting my brother through everything, but also being there for me everyday.

and with time (a lot of family dinners we have together) they start to soften up for her.

-> so it's not a surprise when a few years later, at our wedding, she takes a video of how our life together has been and a video of my brother and jung-bae shows up.

"are you- are you asking us for our blessing?" dae-ho sobs as jung-bae seems to be suppressing his tears. i can hear her laugh, although i can't see her because she was the one recording the video.

"i don't think i would be able to go through it if i didn't" she says, softly.

they're both crying now as they hug her.

"i knew you were the one!" jung-bae says, sobbing like a baby while she laughs.

"we knew it! that's why we went easy on you!" dae-ho says, wiping away his tears.

"yeah, i figured" se-mi says, her tone dripping in sarcasm.

i turn to the side to hug her while i kiss her, laughing as dae-ho and jung-bae stare at the video, blushing red.

"we agreed that was a secret!" jung-bae says, embarrassed as gi-hun hugs him with a chuckle.

"that's-that an edition. se-mi! you said you wouldn't play that" dae-ho says to her as she shrugs.

i cup her face on my hands as she laughs. her gaze meets mine. "i love you so much." my stare filled with love like the first day i met her.

"mh, i love you so much too. happy family, happy wife and happy life right?"

[peachycocaine]

namgyu smut..? perchance..?

ABSOLUTELY!! omg i should start writing for other characters too like where is the diversity :/ nam gyus so fine but his character rlly pissed me off but i hope you like the fic!!

Whine n' dine

Pairings: namgyu x fem!reader

Tw: oral (f receiving), language. 18+ minors dni.

During the second game; six legged pentathlon, you had formed alliances with thanos and his group. Solely because there were no other people that took you in, all of them told you off because you were a woman. After the game you started hanging around them more and stuck with them. They were a bunch of pussies who needed to pop pills just to overcome the fear. You knew they'd carry you throughout all the games and thats why you relied on them. Though you hated how they treated the people around them you had to stick with them, for your own safety. Thanos would just be in his own world whereas nam gyu would be occupied being a lap dog for thanos and manipulating min su into voting O. You noticed nam gyus behaviour towards you though, he was always so mean to you but he still kept you close at all times. Everytime you'd go wandering off, he'd follow you around, brushing it off with a "just making sure you don't get lose around here dumbass."

He claimed the bed right next to yours as his, always sleeping on his side facing you. You didn't think much of it, thinking he was just keeping an eye on each move of yours so he's sure you dont betray them. At times you'd hear thanos taunting nam gyu by your name and nam gyu always getting flustered and elbowing thanos when he notices you heard him. He's tried to feed you one of those weird pills they take but you'd always refuse and so would thanos. Thanos always said "dude i don't got enough for the 3 of us!" of course he wasn't willing to share his coping mechanism. You found yourself hanging out around min su more than any other person from the group cause he was the sanest one there. You'd notice nam gyu shooting glares to min su everytime you were talking to him. And of course, min su would cower under his presence. When you continued clinging to min su, you noticed nam gyu acting meaner to min su, always tormenting him whenever he was given the chance to. Everytime you stuck up for him, he'd glare at you without saying a word, which was weird because when you first met, he cussed you out every hour of the day.

After the third game, you decided you were going to vote X. The money had gone up and it was enough to pay off your debts. Yes, it was selfish of you as other people still needed more to pay off theirs, but they were also somewhat selfish for willing to risk the lives of other people who still had so much to live for. You saw thanos and nam gyu eagerly trying to convince min su into voting O. You noticed how pushy nam gyu was being but you didn't bother interfering. You walked up to the voting box, and pressed the button X. Ripping off your bloody O patch and replacing it with the X. The X team cheered as it was now coming to a tie. You saw nam gyu from the O crowd staring you down, you just looked the other way.

It was meal time and you sat down on your bunk on the X side, finishing up your meal as nam gyu came stomped towards you. He hovered over you with a disdained look on his face "you're one selfish bitch you know that? Running away now that you have enough money to pay off your debt." He said through gritted teeth. You just narrowed your eyes at him "and? People like you are the reason so many people are dying in here" you scoffed. "So what? Theyre roaches, why pussy out now? Even if they do get out, some of them would still be in debt. It doesn't change a thing." His words dripped with fury, his temper tipping to the brink. You glared at him before getting up "shut the fuck up and go sit down somewhere" you mumbled under your breath before heading to the bathroom.

Lights out was in 30 seconds, you started setting your bed, dusting off the pillows and blankets. After the lights went off, you got into bed and pulled the blanket over you. You tossed and turned, trying to sleep as horrific memories flooded your head, the way people screamed and ran and begged for their lifes before getting put out their misery haunted you. The faces, the bodies, the blood on the ground knowing you could end up as one of them if the O team wins to vote tomorrow. Your eyes got heavier as your thoughts started getting blurry, you were drifting off to sleep before you felt someone standing behind you. Your body tensed as you tried to gather the courage to turn around, and when you finally did you saw nam gyu standing infront of you. You sat up and looked around, you'd be lying if you said you weren't scared to death right now. The red light illuminated his face, giving you a clear vision of his bitter expression. "What the fuck do you want?" You whsipered loud enough for him to hear. "I want to make you change your mind, princess." He said as he kneeled down to your level.

Your body reacted weirdly to the nickname, your panties getting uncomfortably sticky to your core. "W-what?! What're you doin-" you were cut off as he covered your mouth with his. Devouring your mouth, the kiss was fueled with hunger. His tongue invaded your mouth and for some reason, you couldn't help but kiss back. He pulled away chuckling before crawling onto your bed. He pushed you against the pillow as he began kissing you again, his body pressed against yours. You wrapped your hands around his neck, pulling him in closer if it was even possible. He pulled away, his eyes filled with lust as he began kissing down your neck. Biting and nipping at the soft skin, leaving evident marks. He sunk his teeth into the tender skin of your neck, making you wince. You tugged at his long black hair, tilting your head in an angle that gave him better access to your neck. You hated yourself for craving more.

He pulled away, licking his lips "spread." He said in a demanding tone. Your spread your legs wide as he lowered himself, his mouth leveled to your crotch. He smirked as he pulled down your pants, watching you suck air in through your teeth as the cold air hit your naked pussy. He wasted no time diving in, making out with your needy wet cunt hungrily. His tongue flicked at your sensitive clit, gaining a whimper from you. You tried supressing the continuous moans that were pulled out of you by slapping a hand over your mouth. He ran his tongue up and down your slit before shoving his tongue into your folds, his nose nudging your clit. You grabbed a fistful of his hair, your muffled moans filling the air as he ate you out like a man starved since the dinosaurs. He grabbed your thighs as they were closing in on him, trapping his head between your legs. He kept licking and sucking at your clit eating you out like a full course meal until you could feel yourself getting closer. " 'm gonna cum!" You almost screamed and you felt him grin against your pussy. He started eating you out faster and harder, eager to make you cum. After a few flicks, you came undone on his tongue. Your body twitched and shook as you panted. He lapped at all your juices before getting up and wiping his mouth with his sleeve. A satisfied smirk tugged at his lips as he admired your shaking form.

"You know how to thank me doll, vote O tomorrow, got it?"

[antinousletmehit]

˚₊‧꒰ა Chapter 28 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

୨୧┇pairing: Telemachus x reader

୨୧┇mostly gonna be a filler chapter with acrisios

────୨ৎ──── ────୨ৎ──── ───

Acrisios leaned against the railing of the palace’s outer courtyard, enjoying the cool breeze that carried the scent of the sea. Telemachus sat beside him on a stone bench, his legs sprawled out lazily as he toyed with a dagger, tossing it between his hands.

“So, Acrisios,” Telemachus began, his voice light but clearly mischievous. “You’ve been oddly quiet lately. A bit distracted, I’d say.”

Acrisios side eyed him, already sensing where this was going. “I’m not distracted. You’re just louder than usual.”

Telemachus smirked. “Oh, I’m plenty loud, but not as loud as your heart probably is whenever you think about Lethea.” He dragged her name out teasingly, watching as Acrisios visibly stiffened.

Acrisios tried to play it cool, but the flush creeping up his neck betrayed him. “What are you on about now?” he muttered, looking out at the horizon as if it would save him.

“Don’t act dumb,” Telemachus said, nudging his friend’s arm. “You know exactly what I’m talking about. The thin girl with the classy walk, always looking like she belongs in the heavens with the Olympians.” He grinned as Acrisios groaned and rubbed a hand down his face.

“Don’t start,” Acrisios warned, but it only fueled Telemachus further.

“I mean, seriously,” Telemachus continued, his tone mockingly dreamy. “She’s so proper, so pristine. And you… well, you’re a sailor’s son who smells like saltwater half the time.”

Acrisios turned to glare at him. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, friend.”

“Don’t take it the wrong way,” Telemachus said with a laugh. “It’s just… Lethea? Really? I can’t picture her even looking at you without flinching, let alone returning your feelings.”

Acrisios crossed his arms, his jaw tightening. “And yet I’d bet she’d look at me with more interest than Y/N looked at you before your pillow incident.”

Telemachus froze, his smirk faltering as his face turned crimson. “That—was—different!” he stammered. “We’re not talking about me!”

“No,” Acrisios shot back, his smirk returning. “We’re talking about you shutting up before I throw you into the ocean.”

Telemachus rolled his eyes but couldn’t stop laughing. “Fine, fine. But seriously, you’ve got to tell me—how’d you even meet her? Did she drop a handkerchief, and you picked it up all gallantly?”

Acrisios sighed, clearly reluctant to share. “It was nothing like that,” he said, his voice quieter. “Her father’s religious practices take him near the docks sometimes. I… ran into her there, helping some workers distribute offerings.”

“And what? She smiled at you, and suddenly you’re writing ballads about her?” Telemachus teased, though there was a genuine curiosity behind his tone.

“No ballads,” Acrisios muttered, though his ears turned red. “But she… she’s different, alright? She has this presence, this way of holding herself. It’s like she’s untouchable, but she doesn’t look down on anyone. And those little strands of hair sticking out from under her veil?” He shook his head. “They drive me insane.”

Telemachus let out a low whistle. “Wow. You’ve really got it bad, don’t you?”

“Shut up.” Acrisios pushed him lightly, though there was no real force behind it.

Telemachus leaned back, grinning. “I’ll admit, she sounds like a goddess. Maybe I should meet her myself. Who knows? She might think I’m more her type.”

Acrisios’s glare could have cut stone. “If you so much as breathe in her direction, I swear—”

Telemachus raised his hands in surrender, laughing. “Relax, sailor boy. She’s all yours. Just… good luck convincing her father that you’re worthy.”

Acrisios sighed heavily, leaning his head back against the railing. “Tell me something I don’t know.”

Telemachus watched his friend with a smirk, but there was a glimmer of respect in his eyes. “You’ll figure it out. If she’s really as amazing as you say, you’ll find a way to reach her. Even if you do smell like fish half the time.”

Acrisios shoved him again, but this time he couldn’t suppress the small smile tugging at his lips.

——

Acrisios leaned against the edge of the palace balcony, gazing at the distant horizon, his mind far away from the bustling noise of the palace. He wasn’t thinking about the sea this time, though. No, his thoughts were focused on her. Lethea. The way her veil delicately framed her face, those stray strands of hair that peeked out like golden threads from beneath it, and the serene, almost ethereal way she carried herself.

“She’s so…” Acrisios murmured, almost to himself, before catching the faintest sound of muffled snickering behind him.

He turned to see Telemachus leaning casually against the wall, his arms crossed, and the widest grin plastered across his face. “So what, Acrisios? Pretty? Divine? A walking poem?”

Acrisios groaned, running a hand through his hair. “Do you always have to sneak up on me?”

“Well, when you’re standing here, looking all dazed and dreamy, it’s hard not to,” Telemachus shot back, laughing. “I’ve never seen you like this, Acrisios. You’re smitten! Absolutely smitten!”

“I’m not smitten,” Acrisios muttered, his cheeks flushing.

Telemachus gasped, clutching his chest dramatically. “Not smitten? You’ve been standing here staring at the sky for an hour, probably imagining her descending from Mount Olympus, all glowy and perfect!” He stepped closer, eyes wide with mock excitement. “Do you write her name in the sand when no one’s looking? Or carve it into the mast of the ship? Tell me!”

Acrisios shoved him lightly. “I don’t do that. And stop making such a big deal about it.”

Telemachus wasn’t deterred in the slightest. “Oh, no, this is a huge deal. You, Mr. Rough-and-Tough-Sailor, have a crush! And not just on any girl—on the daughter of a religious man, all classy and proper. You’re in trouble, my friend.”

“Thanks for the reminder,” Acrisios grumbled, though his lips twitched as if suppressing a smile.

“But seriously,” Telemachus continued, his grin turning a bit softer. “What is it about her? You’ve seen plenty of women at the ports. Why her?”

Acrisios hesitated for a moment, leaning back against the railing as he looked up at the sky. “She’s… different. Most people look at someone like me—a sailor’s son—and see nothing worth their time. But Lethea doesn’t. She… sees people, you know? Like she really looks at you. And she’s just so—” He paused, searching for the right word.

“Beautiful,” Telemachus finished for him, his grin returning.

“More than that,” Acrisios said, his voice quieter. “She’s like… sunlight. Warm, but not overwhelming. Just enough to make you want to stand in it a little longer.”

Telemachus froze, blinking at his friend before letting out an exaggerated squeal. “Oh my gods, Acrisios, you’re hopeless! This is the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard! I can’t believe it. You’re actually—wait, wait, I need a moment.” He pretended to fan himself as if overwhelmed by the sentiment.

“Are you done?” Acrisios asked, though he was clearly fighting back his own laughter.

“Absolutely not,” Telemachus declared. “I’m going to tell everyone.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” Acrisios growled, narrowing his eyes.

“Oh, I so would,” Telemachus shot back, still laughing. “But don’t worry, I won’t. For now.” He clapped Acrisios on the shoulder, grinning. “I’ve got to admit, though. You’re really into her, huh?”

Acrisios sighed, shaking his head but smiling slightly. “Yeah.

——

Acrisios leaned back in his chair, propping his boots up on the low table in Telemachus’s room. The two had been lounging for a while, enjoying a rare moment of peace. Acrisios took a sip of his wine, smirking as he glanced at Telemachus, who was sprawled out on the bed with his tunic messily half buttoned and his hair a wild, unkempt mop.

“You know,” Acrisios began, his voice dripping with mock seriousness, “it’s kind of amazing.”

Telemachus turned his head lazily, raising an eyebrow. “What’s amazing?”

“That in less than a month, you’re going to be married. To Y/N. Y/N. The daughter of the enemy. And not just married, married and crowned as king of Ithaca. And yet,” he gestured dramatically at Telemachus’s appearance, “you still look like a drunken sailor who’s been shipwrecked for a week.”

Telemachus snorted, throwing a pillow at him. “Oh, shut up.”

Acrisios dodged the pillow with ease, laughing. “No, seriously, how does Y/N put up with you? Does she think this whole ‘slob aesthetic’ is charming or something? I mean even Antinous has more manners.”

Telemachus groaned, sitting up and running a hand through his hair, making it even messier. “It’s not that bad.”

Acrisios pointed at the half-eaten loaf of bread sitting on the floor next to the bed. “You’ve got crumbs everywhere, your tunic’s hanging on for dear life, and I’m pretty sure your sandals are mismatched. Are you planning to show up to your wedding like this? Because if so, I want a front-row seat for Y/N’s reaction.”

Telemachus threw another pillow, this time hitting Acrisios square in the chest. “I’ll clean up, okay? Gods, you sound like my mother.”

Acrisios grinned, tossing the pillow back onto the bed. “I’m just saying, Telemachus, kings are supposed to look… regal. You? You’re one step away from being mistaken for a stable boy.”

Telemachus rolled his eyes. “What do you know about being a king? You’re a sailor’s son.”

“And yet I’ve got better manners than you,” Acrisios shot back, smirking. “At least I know how to brush my hair.”

Telemachus groaned, flopping back onto the bed. “Why are you even here? Don’t you have a ship to catch or something?”

“Nope,” Acrisios said cheerfully, crossing his arms behind his head. “I’m here to make sure you don’t embarrass yourself completely before the wedding. Someone’s gotta whip you into shape, and clearly, Y/N given up on that front.”

Telemachus sat up again, pointing a finger at Acrisios. “You’re lucky you’re my friend, or I’d throw you out of the palace right now.”

Acrisios laughed, raising his hands in mock surrender. “Relax, Your Majesty. I’m just preparing you for the kind of teasing you’ll get from your in-laws. Antinous isn’t exactly going to go easy on you, you know.”

Telemachus groaned again, flopping back dramatically. “Don’t remind me.”

Acrisios shook his head, chuckling. “You’re hopeless, Telemachus. Absolutely hopeless.”

——

Telemachus ducked behind his bed, clutching a pillow like it was a shield in the heat of battle. “You’ll never win, Acrisios!” he taunted, a mischievous grin plastered across his face.

Acrisios stood on the other side of the room, holding two pillows like weapons. “Oh, I’m already winning. Watch and learn, future king of Ithaca!” He lunged forward, hurling one pillow across the room.

Telemachus yelped as the pillow smacked him square in the face. “Cheap shot!” he cried, throwing his own pillow back with full force. It missed Acrisios entirely and hit a vase, which wobbled dangerously but didn’t fall. They were both laughing like children, the room an absolute mess of feathers and disheveled bedding, when the door suddenly opened.

“Telemachus, are you—” Y/N’s voice trailed off as she and Lethea stepped into the room.

Acrisios froze mid swing, his pillow raised in the air, as his eyes locked on Lethea. She stood beside Y/N, her veil perfectly in place but with a few strands of hair delicately escaping, framing her face. Her hands were folded in front of her, but her head tilted slightly, and her wide, curious eyes settled on him.

For a moment, it was dead silent. Then Lethea’s gaze flicked to the chaos of the room���the feathers scattered everywhere, the pillows strewn about, and Acrisios standing there like he’d just been caught stealing. “What… is happening?” Y/N asked, raising an eyebrow at her fiancé and his friend.

Telemachus cleared his throat, hastily tossing the pillow aside and trying to sit up straight on the bed. “Uh… strategy meeting?”

She gave him an unimpressed look, crossing her arms. “With pillows?”

“Very advanced strategy,” Acrisios mumbled, lowering his pillow slowly, but his eyes stayed glued to Lethea.

Lethea blinked, her gaze moving back to Acrisios. Her expression didn’t change much—calm, composed, with a slight air of curiosity—but it was enough to make Acrisios’s brain short circuit.

Y/N glanced between the two and smirked knowingly. “Anyway, we just came to—”

“I-I didn’t mean—” Acrisios stammered suddenly, startling everyone in the room. He dropped the pillow entirely, his hands going to smooth his tunic, which had been ruffled in the chaos. “This isn’t what it looks like. I mean, it is, but it’s not—uh—usually I’m not…”

Lethea raised an eyebrow, her veil fluttering slightly as she shifted her head. “Usually you’re not… what?” she asked softly, her voice calm but clearly curious.

Acrisios’s mouth opened and closed like a fish gasping for air. Telemachus, sensing his friend’s impending meltdown, tried to step in. “What he means is, Acrisios is just really dedicated to… physical activity.”

Y/N snorted. “Right. Physical activity. Sure.”

Acrisios shot Telemachus a desperate look, his face going redder by the second. “I, uh… I mean…” He trailed off completely, shifting awkwardly under Lethea’s steady gaze.

Lethea’s lips curved into the faintest of smiles, and she turned to Y/N. “Should we leave them to their… physical activity?”

She grinned, clearly enjoying Acrisios’s discomfort. “Oh, absolutely.” She grabbed Lethea’s arm and started leading her out of the room, but not before throwing a teasing glance over her shoulder. “Try not to destroy the place again, boys.”

As the door closed behind them, Acrisios let out a loud groan and collapsed onto the bed, burying his face in what remained of a pillow. “Kill me. Just kill me now.”

Telemachus burst out laughing, flopping onto the bed beside him. “You’re hopeless! Did you see her face? She was so judging you!”

Acrisios groaned louder, smacking Telemachus weakly with the pillow. “I made a complete fool of myself. I’ve got zero chance with her now. Zero!”

Telemachus wiped a tear from his eye, still laughing. “Oh, you had zero chance before this. But hey, at least now she knows your favorite weapon is a pillow.”

Acrisios rolled onto his back, glaring at the ceiling. “I’m never showing my face again.”

“Good luck with that,” Telemachus said, grinning. “You’ll need it for the wedding next month.”

Acrisios groaned again, throwing the pillow over his face to block out the world.

@procrastination20 @jackiepackiee @barrythestrawberry041 @blessedbyahuntress

@f3r4lfr0gg3r @permanently-nothere @eyuunho @jackintheboxs-world @simpingmyassoff @sunshinewhosketches

@sugarlillycookie @kaguraaaa @doodle-with-rhy

@0anodite0 @cocosparkel @tati-the-fangirl

@dazedemery @tsmaruchan

@holywizardprincess @galaxygurlil @pjopinkk @xo-cuteplosion-xo

[maeamian]

Lotta folks tagging this with stuff like "Vote" and what not, and like obviously that's a good thing to do and I approve of that being done here, specifically against Republicans wherever you can find them on your ballots to vote against. It's a great start to the project of crushing these ghouls.

But also that is the bare minimum amount of pressure you can be applying here, I'd urge you to go maybe a step beyond that and pick up some sort of weekly or monthly action item of some sort.

You can volunteer for whatever campaign speaks to you, be it the top of the ticket or a more local race. Your representatives have a publicly available voting record, once a week or month you can take a gander at it and give them a call to thank them for the best thing you find or yell at them for the worst one.

If electoral politics is less your thing and showing up for the holy days (elections) is all you have in you with that regard, go ahead and maybe organize your workplace or join the IWW. Show up at your local Food Not Bombs and help feed some people.

There's a world of difference to be made in the world around you, and part of how we beat back these clowns is by creating a world in which their illusory strength is unwanted and the cruelty it requires is unthinkable. We're gonna crush these fuckers, but we're not going to do it by voting alone.

Part of the reason that Republicans are so desperately acting like they will never lose again is because they are deeply terrified that this is their last real chance to win. The big orange dipshit came in and gutted the party of everyone who wasn't a loyalist, which left it full of nasty little gremlins who have gaping voids where charisma and human decency is supposed to go.

They still hold a lot of power, but if we stop them this year the next presidential election may not be the Most Important One Of Your Life™, that's not a guarantee or anything, but if they don't win here and now their future looks grim, this dipshit is the only guy they have left and he's extremely diminished and has his brains leaking out of his ears at this point. We can beat him into the ground.

So that's what we're gonna fucking do. We're gonna break these fucking fash. They will crash upon us and we're gonna break their fucking necks. When they come for us they will lose because they're fucking losers and we have each other's backs which is something they fundamentally are incapable of comprehending.

[screampied]

#THE PARTY & THE AFTER PARTY. g. suguru

☆ sum. the last thing you’d expect for a surprise birthday present by your friends was a visit to a men’s strip club. geto suguru—your dancer’s got it all. tall, handsome, and he wants waaay more than just thirty minutes with you.

wc. 6.9k (h.. haha)

warnings. fem! reader, stripper au, stripper! geto, unprotected, lap dancīng, dry humping, switch geto, lots of riding, 69, finishing too quick, choking, geto has nīpple piercings, hair pulling, spīt, dirty talk, he licks champagne off you, nīpple play, breedīng, praise, **** cameo :), petnames.

an. ty to the ppl who voted on my poll <3 kinda scared to post this LOL. this came on a whim ʅ（◞‿◟）ʃ

➤ kinktober mlist.

“i understand your body wants it. i know your thoughts, oh you ‘bout it ‘bout it . . ”

the erotic lyrics that blared through the club’s abject speakers nearly deafened your ears the moment you stepped inside. you were flashed with a plethora of luminescent jade lights as you read a glowing sign near the bar that read ‘welcome to the vixxxen lounge.’ your friends, who decided to surprise you for your birthday with nothing more than a girls’ trip to a men’s strip club told you they’d be getting drinks if you need them. of course . . that was probably code for: going to spend time near the private rooms.

apparently, it’s ‘happy hour’ which meant countless discounts—and you’d already had your two individual sessions paid for by one of your friends. crisp aerating air waves from the air conditioner chills against your skin as you lean against the bronzy brick pillar. you gather your surroundings, eyeing the oily attractive glossed men that entertained the screaming crowds of thirsty women. the wide stage was spacey, and it almost looked like a concert—you started to wonder just who you were paired up with. but right as you’re pondering deep in thought, there’s a light tap on your shoulder.

“miss.”

you turn around to face probably the most attractive man you’ve laid your eyes upon. he’s tall with lengthy long hair — tangled black tresses of strands that reach just about past his shoulders. you couldn’t help but openly gawk a bit . . finding your eyes to leisurely trail down toward his skimpy attire. near his neck, he had a stained smooch of a lip stick mark that was a dark shaded red. you then noticed a few hundred dollar bills stuck in between his red thin straps.

this guy, it appeared he was dressed as some kind of firefighter. he had on the helmet along with the matching baggy yellow pants, but was completely topless. the only thing that went against his chiseled pecs was the skinny straps that attached onto the belts of his pants.

“heyy,” he waves a hand in your face, arching a brow.

“o- oh, sorry,” you bashfully murmur, mentally cursing yourself out for wandering off into space again. embarrassing, embarrassing. fishing for your vip pass that gave you direct access to one of the secluded private rooms—you dig it out your pocket, staring down at the assigned dancer and room number. “are you uh . . geto?”

“i am. but ah, suguru’s fine,” he murmurs, and he takes your pass, putting the temperature lanyard over your neck. geto’s fingers brush against your skin and you nearly shudder.

his touch.. it felt like sparks of electricity, and near the far distance by the crowded stage, your friends waved at you. with a throaty, “follow me, birthday girl,” he swiftly turns his heels and starts making a beeline toward the back of the club. you follow him, continuing to eye his costume.

but phew, he had quite the ass.

but anyway—that’s not the point.

it never really occurred to you how all the male strippers had specific costumes—you were far too entranced by geto. it was probably because of how halloween was only a mere few weeks away, so it’d make sense how they’d be ordered to get into the spirit of things.

“and imma let you do it how you wanna girl i’ll riiiide with it, riiiide with it . . ”

the lyrics of that catchy same song that resounded through the speakers of the club grew louder—and as he guided you inside the dimly red lit room, he makes you lie back against a cushioned sofa. there’s a few piles of money scattered near the front, and you didn’t count but that amount could make anyone filthy rich.

geto rubs the back of his neck, rolling it around to stretch before he glances down at you. you struggle to look him in the eye and a faint smile creases across his lips.

you’re new, and he could tell you weren’t used to such carnal provocative environments.

“relaaax, pretty girl,” his voice was low purr. the way he talked was soothing, a good amount of teasing and playfulness. right at his words, your shoulders slumped and you lean back.

the air around you seems to close in, getting thicker ‘n thicker before he makes you haul your arms over the edges of the couch. “comfy?” and he doesn’t do anything else until you give him a subtle complying nod. geto takes off his amber-colored helmet before putting it on your head. “lean back. just focus on me.”

“o . . okay,” you exhale, and your eyes finally meet his.

the fake firefighter helmet crooks, tilting a bit to the side over the crown of your head as you watch him starting to sway to the bass dropping beats. you gulp as he gets closer . . and closer, following the exact steps to his usual routine before he gets on your lap.

he’s so pretty, and now that his helmet was off of him, you got an even more view of his face. geto starts to slowly grind against you, one hand resting near back of the couch that’s next to your shoulder. he’s fully in sync with the song that booming blares in the background.

the friction. he was moving up against you, and you couldn’t help but glance down his glossy chest. his legs were huge, and you didn’t even notice the clamped silver piercings that stuck against his reddened nipples. “is this okay?” he whispers, and you already feel yourself starting to heat up. the a/c was blasting—and yet, you felt like it was over a hundred degrees.

“ ‘s okay,” you breathlessly say, feeling your facial expressions serene. geto swiftly gets off you, and he starts to rock and grind his hips against the floor.

he’s slow and precise—each movement matches the following before he sits up, flicking against the straps of his costume. fuck, you couldn’t keep your eyes off of him. you knew he was probably used to this . . seeing so many women at a time, giving them a thirty minute private dance and going on with his day.

geto had charisma and lots lots of it.

it was ironic because he didn’t even have to say anything. throughout the duration of his entire routine, he let his hips do the rest of the talking. speaking of hips, you’ve never seen a more a slutty waist.

it’s unapologetically snatched, and you start to envision seeing his face plastered on every cover of a a men’s vogue magazine. he’s gorgeous—and the second he’s back in your lap again, he leans into the crook of your neck. “hey,” he repeats, and his voice was a lot more pitched and lower. it’s a dirty kind of husky that makes you clench your thighs together. as he’s up close—you get a whiff of his cologne. it’s quite loud, and you’d guess the scent was something between bergamot and rich aromatic oak moss. “do you wanna touch me?”

a breath gets trapped in the back of your clogged throat at the question.

geto continues to gradually grind his hips into you as pretty black strands of his hair tickles near your shoulders. “y- yes,” and the words smoothly flow from your lips like smooth molasses of chocolate.

geto was patient, and he wanted to make you comfortable—that was his number one priority.

he speaks in a more rough yet sly tone. “ ‘m gonna grab your wrists okay? just feel me,” and you feel mentally prepare yourself. biting down on your bottom lip—you mouth a soft, ‘okay,’ and geto gently grabs your wrists.

he’s still slowly jerking his hips against you, matching each sultry beat of the song. the base of the chorus rang through your ears and the lyrics flowed through once ear ‘n out the other.

as you stare up at him, he makes you press your hands firmly against his shaven flexing chest. sheets of slicking sweat that covers the top part of his body coats on your hands and you cutely furrow your brows. “heh, oh sorry love. ‘m a bit sweaty, hope that doesn’t turn you off.”

“it’s f . . fine,” you utter, and he resumes to guide your hands. his chest was as hard as a brick, and you felt how his muscles would freely tense.

god, geto was a literal sculpture. you probably looked stupid with how you kept openly staring at his perfectly carved abs. an entire six pack - each section even more strenuously ripped than the first.

as you continue to gawk, eyes nearly bulging out of their sockets—you feel him shifting his weight a bit so he wouldn’t crush you. your thumb snags against his pierced nipple and he grunts, breaking character for a second. he lets off a cute snarl. “sorry! i didn’t-”

“sweetheart, it’s okay,” he hums, releasing a low puff of air. so he was sensitive there, noted.

as he continues, he makes your hands reach lower. the thin straps of his costume glide against your plump fingertips before he stops at his fading raven-colored happy trail.

black ‘n bushy . . you could make out every single tiny speck of hair that stuck against the lower part of his abdomen if you squinted, and you did.

the rest was hiding underneath the upper hem part of his prop turnout pants. “now ‘m gonna let go of my hands,” he whispers, eyeing you intently.

it was so much lustful ardor in the air. the more you stared at the dancer, the more you started questioning why the hell you never visited a strip club sooner. a question that was probably gonna remain unanswered..

“ . . ‘n ‘m gonna let you do whatever you want while i finish.” he concludes his sentence, and as if his hands were attached to your own with adhesive velcro, geto slowly pulls away.

now, it’s just your two balmy palms pressing against his chest. you take it upon yourself to drag an invisible line down his flat sleek cheek with your fingers.

your hands then find themselves reaching for a few papery fifty dollar bills, tossing it at his glossed grinding body. geto sighs with a cunning simper, continuing to rock his slim hips into your lap. “that’s it, feel me princess. ‘m all yours.”

and in a way – he was.

it was only you two in the room, and yet it felt like you ‘n suguru were the only people on earth. the entire mood was sensual and you could almost smell the libido that radiated off his skin. it was a scent you couldn’t describe—but you didn’t want him to stop.

as your hands kept roaming down his puffed out chest, you stop right at the hem of his pants. poking out, his sharp carved-like ‘v’ shaped pelvis arches within each muscle he moves forward.

the crimson red lights that flicker every three seconds narrowly spotlights toward geto’s fit body. for a quick moment—you get a good glimpse of his face and he’s inches away from your shimmery twitching lips.

geto leans up to your ear and he hoarsely whispers. “birthday girllll,” and he huffs out a drawn breath, feeling you eagerly tug at his pants. a snicker leaves from him before he gets a nice smell of your citrusy perfume. “ah. is the pants gettin’ on your nerves?”

“a bit,” you murmur honestly, and you were already undressing him with your eyes. you were sure geto was most likely wearing a thong underneath but you imagined otherwise.

filthy - you couldn’t believe the thoughts you were having.

to think, if you hadn’t accepted this little ‘girls’ trip’ with your friends, you’d probably be sleeping the entire day away. after all, they did want you to get out more. especially for your special day. with a pout twisting across each part of your lips, you sigh. “can i—”

“what, undress me?” he tries to play coy, seeing your pouty expression increase. geto hums, amused as you lightly hook a finger underneath his hooked strap before he shrugs. “go ‘head, princess. knock y’rself out.”

geto found your hesitance cute. you didn’t wanna seed ‘needy’ but you were showing all signs of it. at the moment, you completely forgot you were at a strip club and he was just a dancer.

but fuck it.

you went slow as he still straddles your lap, slowly pulling down his loosely fitted pants. they were baggy.. a flashy color of yellow, and the more you tugged them down, the more you got a glance at his scanty thong.

it’s dark purple with his name embedded on the thin white strips.

from all sides, it spelled ‘s u g u r u,’ in bold lilac plum colors. he even had custom made thongs? as if you couldn’t get even more aroused—

yeah, you were aroused. leave it to your legs that remained glued together starting to swelter up with … stickiness.

not everyday did you have a man grind against your lap, and to be fucking frank you didn’t think you’d last.

“you’re so pretty,” you pant, watching him shimmy his pants down to where it flops down to his ankles. and oh, he had quite the bulge.

it looked almost painful—so swole and round, you just wanted to kiss it. it looked like at any second it was about to just burst through the cottony stretched fabric. the scenery grows more hedonic as the red lights dimmer. you could barely see his face anymore, just a silhouette that grinds against your lap at each beat of the song playing loudly.

as you nearly slip out a moan, you lean back before your heaving breaths start to accelerate. “suguru.”

“aw,” he coos, feeling your arms wrap around his slender waist. geto’s still swiftly grinding into you, feeling your cute nails claw into his back. the back of your brain kept chanting ‘more, more, more!’

you still have the helmet on, and with the way it’s crooked and could barely fit your head—he found that small detail adorable. as he remained seated on your squished thighs, it was embarrassing to think you were starting to feel yourself erratically throb.

leaning into your neck, he could loudly smell your sheer arousal and it makes him lowly chuckle against the soft shell of your ear. “not satisfied, yeah?” and he lets off a quiet bellowing grunt, feeling your hands trail down his sweaty body once more.

he’s so built, parallel to a literal tank.

geto’s rocking against you in rhythm with the same song that still trumpets through the speakers before whispering. “just say it ‘n i’ll give it to you.”

“you always come to the parties. to pluck the feathers off allll the biiiirds. . ”

the lengthy song continued to drag on—and the busted speakers in the private room sounded like it was about to break from the distortion. it was loud, but your panting breaths was even louder the more geto dances on you.

letting off a longing three second moan once a leg of yours voluntarily hooks around his slim waist, you mewl out a sweet, “i want you. suguru, fuck me.”

“oh. sounds like a demand, sweetheart,” he purrs, and he stills his hips against your lap.

geto’s got a plethora of rings on each of his fingers. pretty silver ‘n gold bands that would wrap around his digits. he had long fingers, thin and perfectly slender.

the more you stared, the more you thought how good they’d fit insi—

“eyes up here,” he cuts you off, and you shudder feeling his palms cup your face. your leg still wraps around his waist before another shortly follows.

he’s barely rocking into you now, and with a bumpy shimmy, you feel his bulge rub against you. “mhm,” geto grunts before meeting your needy gaze once more. as a thumb strokes your bottom lip, pulling it down gingerly, he whispers. “ask nicely. say pretty please.”

“you won’t … charge me extra?” you sheepishly say, beads of perspiring sweat trickling down all sides of your forehead.

geto smugly smiles, grumbling a subtle, ‘nah,’ before making you lean all the way back against the padded sofa. “okay,” you breathe, and you just didnt care anymore.

you wanted him – maybe even needed him..

geto’s hardened bulge that presses against his thong throbs harder before you sweetly murmur,“please, fuck me, suguru.”

“anythin’ for the birthday girl.”

and those words were the same exact words that ran through your mind as you now found yourself in . . quite the risqué position.

you’d be the one straddling geto now. he’s got you in a classic 69, and your pretty perked ass hovers over his face. right in front of you was his weighty fat cock, and it’s a pretty flushed pink with rosy-lime veins prodding from the sides.

you’re whimpering out sweet harmonic keynotes as his long pointed tongue slithers its through your inviting entrance, two broad arms clinging onto your hips. “fuuckk,” he’d groan, feeling you smear a thumb over his leaky mushroomy tip.

you’ve already got him sopping wet from the chin down thanks to your wet cunt – glossy pearly drool seeping from the sides of his dick.

geto’s shaft remains idle, and you wrap a hand around his base before pumping it, rotating your wrist – once, twice, thrice..

he was aching, and the entire time he was giving you a show he had a boner. it was rare, usually whenever he gave lap dances—he was one to never really crack, he was a trained professional and yet here you were.

“mmch,” his swollen puckered lips smack against your cunt as he eats you out entirely from the back.

your mouth drops, jaw dangling— goofily hanging open like a cartoon as he resumes to extends the length of his tongue inside the outskirts of your warm room-temperate-tastin’-pussy.

lolling it out all the way, he licks from top to bottom—stopping at your clenching hole. geto gives it a five second kiss, a sloppy one that glues a mixture of his spit and your slimy juices on his mouth. “sweetheaaart,” he rasps, biting back a greedy groan once he feels you starting to take him in your mouth.

your throat’s seraphic warmth draws a hot sharp breath out of him as he swats a hard palm against your ass for you to start. “when i say move your ass against my face, i fuckin’ mean it. move,” and you let off a candied whimper the second the temporary sting sends singles toward your weeping whiny clit.

feebly, you start to flop your ass up and down against his face and you hear a satisfy ‘hmm’ purr from his lips. you’re moaning, sinking his cock down your throat in the process before your sticky tongue swirls around his angered crownhead. “mmph,” and you take a few inches before you feel his tip swipe against the scaled roof of your mouth.

going back up, it loudly ‘pops!’ out as a bit of sheeny saliva trickles down your chin. you’re taking him deep within no time, and you let off a cute hiccup once his swollen sack paps near your jaw.

so full ‘n round…

you’re breathing through your nose, still shaking your ass against his face, swipin’ his nose occasionally like a credit card with your honeyed-slathered cunt.

his wide flat tongue felt so good that you felt your toes curling each time he playfully nibbles on your sensitive throbbing clit. his tastebuds felt each pulse and it was so hot. “sugu, fuck.”

“i know, i know,” he gruffly whispers against your runny folds. bringing a pair of long twinned fingers towards your pussy, geto strums it down the pulsating slit in a straight pillaring line.

with a bit of pressure—he spreads your lower lips apart, getting a front row seat view of your clit pumpin’ pumpin’ away.

you had such a pretty throb, the prettiest he’s ever seen.

“god, you’re pretty but you’re even prettier down here too,” and not only do you hear him swallow but you feel it too.

a long full gulp, and he’s making sure to savor as much of your sweet slick on his tongue as possible.

geto’s just nasty, and a proud eater. he zigzags his tongue everywhere until your vision’s murky and clouded. you’re left crossed eyed with puffed up cheeks, barely able to focus on his dick that’s laying flat on your tongue.

a hand of his squeezes against your ass before with a mean ‘whack!’ he spanks it again just to see the bouncy recoil. the way a ‘lil fat portion of your ass would jiggle all due to the hasty-rash contact of his palm makes him throb.

and you feel it right in your mouth.

as your head bobbles at a more quick yet languid pace, your tongue skims down one of the many veins that paint down his cock. your repeated moans become muffled, and geto groans at how sloppy you sound—from the front and from behind.

the more he slurps every syrupy drop that dribbles out from your gurgling pussy, his precisely-thorough licks turn into exaggerated four second sucks.

geto softly caresses a hand against the bare skin of your exposed flesh, tugging on your pulled up skirt. pulled to the side were your panties that had a pretty pink star imprinted on the back decorated with glimmery rhinestones. you moan as your back slowly arches inward ‘n out and your knees become to buck.

his tongue, he definitely knew how to eat.

“ ‘s good, juuuus’ like that princess,” he huffs, feeling minuscule dewdrops of your saliva pour down the sides of his cock, slicking all over his base.

your thumb traces a heart over his hefty sack, massaging his tender full testes before you hear geto whine out a sweet, “o- oooh shit,” he was tender there too, huh..

and the sound catches him completely off guard because he grunts, the swaying of his tongue gradually slowing down. geto’s pretty lashes flutter before he grunts, taking a second to breathe. “don’t . . stop, play with ‘em some more,”

“pf—” you pop your mouth off his dick again, wet slimy sounds following as you stroke him off with an closed palm. “are you sure?”

“yeah yeah, ‘m sure,” and there’s a bit of sass in his gruff tone.

geto’s getting flustered, and never in a million years would he admit that you playing with his balls made him feel so good but fuck, it did.

geto paws a hand against your ass before letting off a hurried breathless, “fuck, ‘m gonna cum.”

you went back to bobbling your head up ‘n down, pumping his fleshy pillar of length in your free hand before you start writhing your ass against his face even more quicker. geto moans, a surge of a trill nearly escaping out his gruff vocal chords before he grunts loudly. “mmp,” and your throat was so wet ‘n warm.

it enveloped him entirely, and as your cunt’s sitting over his slick lips—every so often rubbing against his nose and slick-streamed chin, he peppers it with a few kisses.

your hips were arched ‘n askew, and as your tongue occasionally darts down his sensitive slit you hear him grunt again. the burgundy colored sofa pathetically dips inward due to the stacked weight of both rutting bodies. geto’s eyes start to roll their way back as you continue, nearly sucking the soul out of him.

“fuck, baby. spit on it,” he groans, clasping his teeth at your needy clit.

he slides his tongue against your cute bulbous-shaped nub before sucking on it for the umpteenth time. you moan, still tossing your ass around for him in a slow meandering manner, feeling his tongue drag down the slope of your ass again.

geto’s pussy drunk entirely, and he didn’t care if this was against policy, having a customer touch him. when you tasted this divine, he couldn’t help devour your cunt like the starved, starved man he was..

at his words, you spat out translucent globs of saliva from your lips, pasting the slightly curved sides of his dick with your slick mess. “pff,” and you drench him from the base down, twisting his shaft with your wrist before hearing him groan.

geto’s about to finish and you could feel the vigorous pumps of his dick in your mouth growing weaker … and weaker – until, he cums.

geto’s jaw goes slack the moment his peak abnormally reaches, and growls out a husky ‘fuuuuuck,’ with the muscles in his neck tensing.

within a blink of an eye and a snap of a finger, the flat tip of your tongue’s now being sprayed with spritz of waxen cum. it’s a bittersweet taste that coats on your judgy tastebuds, and as you close your eyes with a humming moan departing from your lips, you hear him hiss. his body’s violently shaking, and his hips start to hungrily thrust into your mouth.

you wriggle your ass in face as he’s barely eating you out anymore, frantically heaving as he dumps his all down your pretty tight throat. “fuck, fuck, take it,” and his body still sporadically tremors.

as your mouth’s still full, geto gives your teary wet cunt it’s last few lapping licks before his head collapses back in lecherous defeat.

with cheeks still plumply puffed — his cock remains shoved inside. his aggravated red tip’s just swiping ‘n erupting near the roof of your mouth as you slurp him clean.

you swallow instantaneously, luxuriating in the mildly honey taste before feeling him shudder underneath you. “goddamn, so fuckin’ good. fuckin’ filthy, princess.”

with clammy palms, he turns you over and you lean in to kiss him. geto’s taken by surprise, and as you make him flop back against the velveteen cushion, you made your way on his lap. rough edges of teeth clash and roughly clatter against each other as each tongue plays a more salacious version twister.

geto reclines back, his hands moving toward your rocking waist as he grunts—tasting himself on your tongue. its bitter, but with the help of your lip gloss—it turns far more sweet within seconds. feverish breaths ghosts inside each mouth before you watch him reach near the side of him.

grabbing a half filled up bottle of mousseux, he flicks off the cork with a flick of his middle finger. geto’s eyes still closed as he’s delving his tongue right into your mouth.

the merciless smacking of lips grew louder before he pulls away, huffing breathlessly. “wan’ more of a taste real quick, princess,” and it sounds more like a needy plead. you see how flushed his face was, and geto’s eyes dart straight toward your bare chest. the top you wore was pulled down, clinging near the very bottom of your waist. “c’mere..”

and as you lean in, you watch as geto starts to pour down a small stream of champagne all down your chest. right between your tits, cupping underneath your tummy so none wouldn’t spill further down.

he makes sure a few glosses over your pretty round breasts before he grunts, closing the distance between your chest.

geto buries his face in between the valley of your tits, licking it right up. the bubbly fruity taste lingers on his tongue as he laps you up from top to bottom moaning at the spicy sweetness.

a mixture of your skin and champagne—better than any cocktail this club’s ever served.

“f- fuck,” he moans, lying his tongue flat. geto stares at you the entire time too, and his mouth gradually trails it way toward your damp neglected nipples. he cups his lips around the first nipple—slowly transitioning to the next before slurping the drink right off your body.

a tight breath gets caught in your throat as he continues to lick the rainy drops of sugary champagne off your body. geto groans, savoring the taste before with a loud ‘plop’, he pops your tender wet nipple out of his mouth.

there’s nothing but utter lust and infatuation in his eyes—and he then gets up to kiss you. the room’s nearly pitch dark without the help of the dim effulgent red lights that shined against you both. it added to the mood perfectly.

as tongues continue to try to assert dominance, you moan right in the dancer’s mouth, returning the gesture of swapping gauzy strings of gossamer spit.

abruptly though, you pull away, gently pushing geto back against the sofa.

with a raspy ‘ugh,’ geto lands on his back as you give him a light shove. he’s at your mercy, and you stand up from his lap, a wind of confidence coming out of nowhere and nearly pulling you forward.

he stares at you with hooded cunt-drunk eyes, watching you do a figure eight with your body.

“what’s . . this?” he huffs, burly arms stretching over each edge of the sofa. you looked so pretty, eyeing him up and down as he does the exact same to you.

the luminescent lights started to beam on you now, highlighting your curves and entire physique.

“lie back,” you murmur, slowly sashaying toward him. geto runs a hand through his hair, his dick twitching from the cool air wafting against it. you teasingly drag a finger down the scarred middle line of his bare-puffed chest, stopping at a hardened row of his brick-made abs. “i wanna try your little routine.”

“yeahh?” geto snickers, sucking in a sharp breath once you spin around, bending all the way over. the helmet that was still on your head—you put it back on him, watching him scoff at your audacity.

so you stole his profession now, great.

as you’re turned the other way, you slowly wriggle your ass in front of him, putting a hand over your sopping pussy and he kisses his teeth. “tch. don’t tease, sweetheart,” and geto’s allured stare fixates on you the entire time. his dilated irises frantically roamed around every and any part of your body like a laser. “fuck,” he grunts, watching you finally make your way on his lap.

geto’s all submissively underneath you—bare ‘n exposed with his poor tip flushed. its color was a sheeny carmine red that’s akin to a ripe cerise rose.

a few dried up splotches of cum stick near his weighty sides before he shudders. your ass sits on his flaccid dick before you start to move.

slowly,

you’re rutting into him—just like he was to you, grinding back and forth. geto looks so pretty though, underneath you. he’s still panting a bit, sweating bullets as you tease him with your crazed hips.

you weren’t at his level quite yet, but fuck could you move. geto groans, feeling your sloppy pussy rub off against his dick. you were so close to his tip that his foreskin would peel back a bit. “do you wanna touch me?”

touché..

geto narrows his eyes at you as you tease him, repeating his exact words from what he said to you earlier.

he doesn’t just touch you, he fucks you—

but in this case . . you fuck him.

geto holds back a moan as he’s watching his claret-colored cockhead disappear between your sappy folds. it’s like a magic trick, and with a ‘poof!’ half of length vanished within you.

you let off a soft shrilling whine, trying to writhe yourself around his length.

his dick was fat. ‘eyes-rolling-tongue-lolling-drag-your-nails-down-his back-’ type of fat.

and his girth only made things ten times more intense. you felt him rearranging your guts within each prolonged inch you took – literally.

you’re as slow as a snail with the way you try to take him wholly. even as you’re gingerly sinking your bare ass down with his cock snug ‘n deep inside you, he easily kisses against your g-spot.

it’s happening already, and you don’t even realize he’s fully in before a cooing whimper rawly snatches from the back of your dry esophagus. “oh fuck,” you huff, tossing your arms around the dark haired man.

geto’s got the same wide-eye-jaw-dropped reaction to you, and with one arm snaking around your waist—another’s tightly gripping onto your right ass cheek.

he spanks it, giving it a short squeeze afterward. your chest starts to heave in quickened intervals, and once he feels you starting to move it’s game fuckin’ over..

“god, pussy’s ‘ta die for,” he groans, eyes sexily rolling back until his sockets show nothing but white.

you had him whipped, and he can hear your cunt trying to have a word of its own, squelching out cute gargled squelches. you start to ride him at a mere hypnotic rhythm—and geto’s a lot more vocal now.

with his adam’s apple bobbing, both hands of his were now gripping onto your waist now. piles of money surround you too, a few sticking against his sweaty beefy thighs. “fuck me,” he grunts, and it’s more like he’s begging.

geto locks eyes with you, shaggy long bangs running past his eyes before he securely grabs your hips—trying to keep up pace with you. “mhm, thaaa’s it. ride it, ride . . the shit out of me, uuughhh.”

“ ‘m trying,” you moan, biting your lip each time his swollen cockhead plummets its way deep.

he’s just so big—you couldn’t wrap your head around how a guy could be so damn big.

the good kind of big, and each time he’d seep a single girthy inch into you, your stomach would churn like butter. he’s in sooo deep, your legs could barely support yourself anymore and he had to hold you steady.

as he pulls you all the way down, geto reaches waaay inside of your sloppy gripping cunt that’s oh-so desperate to wring him like a vice.

his thick cock greets your pretty fleshy cervix, mimicking a soft ‘knock’ before introducing itself with a welcoming pound.

he holds your hips, pumping himself into you again, and again, until your pussy remembered each stroke, each thrust, each fuckin’ letter of his name—front to last..

slow but fucking deep.

you gasp, clinging onto his neck before soft hurried pants of ‘yeah, yeah’ ‘s scurry past your glossed lips.

geto’s dewy eyes were half lidded and he’s never felt more pussy drunk in his life. trust—he’s had his fair share of women but oh, you were far different. it was something about you, and he just wanted more after each carnal second passed.

you’re so into his dick givin’ your pussy a fuck of a lifetime that you don’t even realize your hand was now wrapped around his thick neck. not too tight, but geto’s reaction time was slow also. once he realizes seconds after you did, he sheepishly scoffs before slyly humming.

“goddd, y’r so fuckin’ hot when you choke me,” he purrs, tugging at the panties that pull to the side of your thighs. of course he’d enjoy it, and as his dick’s still massaging your gummy walls, he moans. “harderrr.”

“don’t be greedy,” you mumble, burying your knees into his bulky thighs.

the way you rocked against him was hypnotic—and geto’s hands remain on your waist.

you nearly shudder, feeling the various cold bands of his rings run and tickle down your skin. he’s in love with your body, and even more in love with the way you feel from the inside.

leaning in close until you’re just inches away from his spit-slicked lips, your thumb runs its way down the bulging ball that lies inside his throat. “say ‘pretty pleaseee.’ ”

“tsk,” geto scowls, and even with a pout he’s effortlessly attractive. your hips continued to champion its way up ‘n down at a deranged pace as you moved, and his cock’s pumping you full over and over and over. with a vexed grunt, he utters. “pretty please, choke me harder.”

leaning in to kiss the side of his mouth, you whisper a crooning, “good boy,” and geto whines the moment you add a bit more pressure around his neck.

his hair’s all in his face, and your ass was just ruthless.

ferociously slamming down onto his stout cock, you’re drenching him from the base down with your syrup-coated slick. a bit of your own sloppy arousal glues against the pried apart crevices of your thighs—pasting against his as well.

it’s a mess, and with how close he was getting, he was about to create an even bigger one..

geto felt like he was ascending—and with how you were riding him, it didn’t take him long before he’s close again.

yet this time—so were you, and you could recognize the feeling all too well. geto’s cock stretched you to capacity, and he grabs the few dollar bills that scatter on the sofa, throwing it at your body whilst you rode him. he makes it rain on you, spanking your ass with a crumbled up hundred rubbing against your stung skin.

“fuck, ‘m gonna fuckin’ cum again,” he grunts in your ear, feeling your pace accelerate by a mile. you were draining him, preparing to milk him and the thought of him stuffing your cunt full made you pulse.

your tongue salivated at just imagining it..

the warmth, the stickiness, the way it’d spill between your thighs. you’re moaning out sweet noises yourself as you both rut into each other at a demented overzealous pace. geto’s thick thighs clench—and while you’re letting out cute blubs of his name on repeat until it’s the only syllables your dumb brain could register—he pulls you close. “ngh, same time, pretty girl. cum with me, let’s make a . . hah, mess together.”

“okay,” you mewl out, both hips pivoting in lascivious unison.

both sweaty mounds of flesh blissfully bounce into at other and each squelch makes you whimper out in ecstasy.

you cup geto’s pecs, smearing a thumb over his pierced nipples and he whines instantly. you lean in to suck against the bars that slash through his tender areola. geto leans back manspread, growling out husky, ‘fuuuuck!’ ‘s as you hum, giving both his nipples its few seconds of attention.

it lasts for seconds that felt like years, and one you pull away he lets out a cute blasé huff.

as your cunt’s in the midst of overflowing—your hips tremor once more time before within milliseconds, you both cum.

it’s quick..

and with your jaw dropping and geto’s shoulders fatally sagging after his big, heavy sigh—he starts to fill you up ounce after ounce.

it’s patching hot, and the second he’s beginning to spill ‘n dump out his perfect ivory ribbons of cum inside of you, you grunt out a melodic finishing, “fuuuck.”

swinish, weak hands grab at your ass as you come undone also—whimpering soft defeating babbles from the sensitive feeling of your cunt spasming right between your jittery numb legs.

you feel static … shock, electricity pulsing through your veins all at once. your entire body was turning haywire. as you start to grow limb right with geto underneath you—nirvana runs through each individual axon on your body before you hear a loud ‘pop.’

it’s more of a sopping squishing sound, and you were so dumbed down from his dick that you didn’t even realized how full you were..

peeking down, he filled you to the brim. wads and wads and wads of cum went inside of you and you moan, spreading your ass apart while craning your neck around just to see for yourself.

“ ‘m so full, suguru,” you pant, sliding a thumb down your sputtering cunt that’s plugged with both his cock and his thin oozing seed. you lick your lips before turning back towards geto and he’s absolutely fucked stupid.

you rode him so good to the point where he’s just stammering out inaudible whines. it’s cute, and you lean in to kiss him once more.

oh.. he was hooked.

he deepens with a few clingy hands feeling at your chest. the kiss gets more passionate rather than sloppy, and as he’s still buried inside of your cunt—he slowly starts to trail butterfly kisses down your neck. you moan, turning your head before you pull away. “shit, i almost f- forgot.”

“forgot what?” he hoarsely rasps, watching you unalign yourself, plopping down on the sofa with a big content sigh.

geto leans in, allowing his thumb to draw circles around your hips before you reach in for your purse, pulling out another decorated vip pass.

sheepishly, you utter. “my friends bought me two sessions with two dancers. so i have another one after you,” and you glance at the clock, squinting before you let off a bashful titter. “. . . oh, that was way past thirty minutes.”

“who? what dancer, sweetheart?” geto utters with a pout. he was still aching, already missing his you felt from the inside. he watches as you squint at your pass that reads the dancer’s stage name and / or full name on the back.

“uhh, it says t—”

“she means me,” and the both of you spin heads, ogling at the glittery red carpet and decorated pathway that was once covered up.

you could hear geto that laid beside you muttering out a jealous, ‘fuck,’ as you meet the other dancer’s gaze.

he’s wearing a leopard thong with an added on accessory of the most smuggest grin you’ve ever seen.

a slashed scar runs down the right side of his crooked curved lips and you spot bills sticking at both sides of his halfway on thong that nearly shows his sharp hips before he hums.

“name’s toji,” and you’re suddenly being lifted up by strong, tatted brawny arms before he turns around, winking at a very pissed of geto before trodding out the private room with you in his arms.

“i’ll take it from here,” and feral green eyes with an even more feral grin. “ain’t that right, birthday girlll?”

[buggachat]

I know there’s a lot of awful things at play here and a lot of reasons this happened. But I also can’t stop thinking about all the (supposedly liberal) blogs I’d been long time mutuals with that I had to unfollow over the months that started posting shit like “would it really be so bad if trump won? I think it’d be fine. I mean, I’D be fine! so who caaaaares. Maybe it’d start a revolution! That’s why we should all Not Vote” and it’s hard not to seethe. You got what you wanted, I guess.

[cryinggirlnamedhelen]

so i’m probably going to write a series of longfics for the bllk boys…vote on which one you guys want at the end of the post (+ the trope and who first first and who fell harder)

there will be a small excerpt of each longfic below, so after you guys finish reading each, vote on which one you guys want to read the most, and i will continue the story (while giving background context!!!)

———

itoshi sae -

“you’re that girl who went to elementary and middle school with me.”

you stopped in your tracks, stiffly turning around. shit, even that one time you messed up during your middle school graduation speech and forgot the rest of the essay was better than this. “well, uh, yeah. um, i was in the same class as you until our first year of middle school, when you left.”

sae ignored your reply. “you sent me chocolates and boxes of salted kombucha tea every valentine’s day ever since i was first left for spain. my manager found it creepy because i never once told the media that i liked salted kombucha tea, and yet you still sent it.”

the tip of your ears burned along with your face. did his manager find you weird or annoying? did sae find you weird or annoying? did he grow out of liking salted kombucha tea?

“and now you’re here in spain, watching my match and running away the moment i see you.”

TBC.

———

shidou ryusei -

“so, class prez, you upset about somethin’?”

you don’t reply to him. instead, you’re scribbling away at your paper, another length report coming your way. you don’t spare him a glance, which shidou takes as the opportunity to make all sorts of peculiar faces at you.

“you don’t like class prez or something? what about student council prez? in my opinion, class prez sounds way bett—“

“your excuse form.” you shove the lengthy form of how “it was a fight in self-defense” and how “the other student started it, and shidou was just ending the fight that the other student had started.” you knew that all you were doing was feeding the school lies to save shidou, and you could very well have your status taken away, but still. “i owe you one. for that one time.”

a grin crawled onto shidou’s face. “so this is your way of repaying me, class prez? well, you sure know how to make me happy, don’t you?”

TBC.

———

karasu tabito -

“ha! a 95? well guess what, i got a 100!” karasu held up the exam paper as if it were the world cup, although to him, it probably was. a large 100 written in bright red pen with a blue “GOOD JOB!” sticker next to it took up the right corner of the front page. fuming red, you gripped the paper with a disappointingly large 95 to the point where creases began to form.

“at least my hair doesn’t feel like cardboard.” you hissed. karasu stiffened for a moment before a smirk formed on his face. “fine, you win this time.” you took out your wallet before pushing a coupon into his hands; a coupon that granted him 10 free kelp teas from the aesthetic cafe near the school.

“changin’ the subject, are we? at least i don’t have split ends.”

“you little-! well, at least i wasn’t too scared to confess to my crush because i thought i was too ‘mediocre—!’”

“marisa was from when i was 8, okay?! and at least—!”

“alright, alright, split it up, you two. we get that you’re in love and all—“

“we’re not in love!”

TBC.

———

oliver aiku -

“oh, psh. oliver aiku doesn’t date. please, it’s just a fling. we’ll both move on from each other in like what, 3 days?” you’re swallowing down the lump in your throat from that sentence, the painted smile on your face not quite reaching your eyes. your friend looks at you in concern.

“i don’t get why you’re even in a casual situationship with him anyways. i mean, sure, he’s been invited to be on the U20 team, but you’re always first in exam rankings and you’ve got a bright future ahead of you.” she frowned. “should you really be wasting your time on him?”

“he’s just kind of for relaxation.” that’s a lie. you’ve liked aiku ever since you were both 4, and you still like him even now, at 18. you wish that there could be a cringy movie scene between you two where you both mutually in love with each other and you both end up together.

but you and your friend both don’t notice aiku standing right behind the two of you, clicking away on the vending machine rapidly. but only one thought is running through his head.

he’s miscalculated. you’d be the biggest hassle of all time to break up with.

because he doesn’t want to break up with you.

TBC.

———

POLL VOTING TIME!!!!!!

[babyimyurs]

𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐞, 𝐈 𝐜𝐚𝐧’𝐭 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟𝐟 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮.

~

Hwang in-ho ( the frontman ) x reader.

A/N: this will be a multi series. haven’t proof read

Warnings: nothing. I’m sure if you watched squid game you’ll be fine with this.

opening: you have been working alongside gi-hun for years after he came out of the games, after hearing his story it connected a few dots from your older brothers disappearance. After arriving at the games you found out that both of yours and gi-hun’s tracker implants have gone missing, you came face to face with your biggest nightmare… playing the game.

-

After playing red light, green light you hoped that you didn’t have to wake up the next day, you had no clue that a simple children’s game could have that amount of blood and death in it. After agreeing that you would join gi-hun’s plan, he told you all about the rule that ‘when your eliminated, your gone for good’ you didn’t really believe him but now you definitely do.

a part of you also wondered how long your brother survived.. a day? two? three? you wish you could of just slapped him silly and got him a job in your coffee shop. But- here you was awakening by the sound of classical music playing out of a speaker and metal squeaking as all the players started to move around in their bed.

you woke feeling not tired at all, not even doing the usual ‘rubbing your eyes and yawning’. Probably due to your lack of sleep or the amount of trauma you got from the day previous.

“y/n.. hey.. y/n” you heard a voice, a familiar one.. a frantic gi-hun was standing next to your bed, tapping your arm. “gi-hun, you okay?” you said which gi-hun replied with a shrug as he looked around at the players. “your telling me that everytime we wake up we’re going to hear that music?” you huffed, looking up at the speakers. “trust me, that should be the least of your worry.. I still can’t figure out how they managed to get our tracking chips” gi-hun said, now looking at you with a face of absolute confusion.

“players please line up in two cues to get breakfast” a woman’s voice from a speaker said in her usual happy tone. “come on, maybe a bite to eat will make us think” gi-hun proposed hitting the metal post of your bed, waiting for you to get up and join a line.

upon waiting in the cue, you and gi-hun got a load of looks and whispers.. few that said “look there’s the mad man” , “do you think they are a couple?” , “a nearly died because of that punk shouting”. you both ignored them and soon enough you received a bread roll and a carton of milk.

“hey y/n.. take my milk, you know my stomach doesn’t take it well” gi hun said, handing over his carton as you both took a seat on some steps next to jungbae and dae ho. you got to know the guys after red light, green light, gi-hun introduced jungbae to you saying that they were friends outside the game and well dae ho.. introduced himself to group after hearing over the discussion on what the next game could be which will now happen after the big vote that went on. That’s right. The vote. most of the players after red light, green light started begging to let them go and it ended with a massive vote to either stay or go and of course majority said stay.

“excuse me..” a voice approached the group, your wasn’t very familiar with it but after looking up it was the guy that came over to gi-hun after the vote, young-ill his name was.

“you all wouldn’t mind if I joined this group? a lot of players are talking about the next game being a team game. most of the groups formed already are teams of five and there are only four of y-“ young-ill said before getting dramatically cut off by dae ho “yes! you look very strong and have good thinking! reminds me of a pal i had when i was in the marines!” he said, putting his arm around his shoulder and patting his head.

you laughed, finding the situation of how dae ho was younger than young-ill and still acting like the oldest funny. “of course, take a seat” gi-hun said, his tone not one hundred percent certain on this guy as he gave you a look of ‘keep a eye on him’.

“I say why not! what about you y/n can 001 join us?” Jungbae asked to which you just shrugged and looked over at the group “I don’t mind..” you said which got a kind smile off young-ill.

“Well welcome welcome double one!” dae ho said, looking over at young-ill as he took a bite out of his bread roll. “ah.. Thank you” young-ill replied, taking a look at everyone but lingering on you suspiciously long. “I couldn’t help but overhear the conversation before.. wanna take my milk too? I’m in the same situation as 456” young-hill said, looking over at you.. passing his carton of milk over to you.

You looked at him for a moment before shaking your head with a smile “thank you, but I think dae ho wants it more than me” you replied, pointing over to dae ho who was staring at the milk carton like he was an lion eyeing up its prey. Young- ill understood and nodded passing it over to dae ho instead.. his smile dropping almost like he was planning to give you the milk from the start.

“All players please make your way to the game hall.. the next game will be starting shortly” an announcement called out from the speaker which gave you a fright, spilling the milk that you was drinking on yourself. “fuck!” You groaned out of annoyance, taking your zip up jumper off and throwing it besides you as you and your team stood up.

you started to walk to the game hall before young-ill couldn’t help himself but approach you “you’ve got some- may I?” He said, pointing to your chin which had a white stripe of milk running down it. how embarrassing. Before you could answer young-ill had already brought his jumpers wrist and wipe it off for you.

“there you go..” he said, looking at you with a kind smile. “thank you, I didn’t realise- that could of been embarrassing” you said getting a little too flustered in the moment, you couldn’t lie to yourself he was attractive. “ah.. it was nothing, don’t thank me.. okay?” he said, looking up at your eyes before glancing down to your lips in a quick motion. you nodded, noticing the look and shaking the intimate motion off completely by hitting his shoulder and walking ahead “we’re going to be late! come on!”.

young-ill watched you walk off out of the door, now being left in the holding room with a bunch of guards. “whatever you do, keep that one safe..” he said, which in return got a bunch of nods and with that he walked out the door too.

Part two

// ahhh! okay this was my first ever fic on here and why not make it a inho x reader because that man is the death of me at the moment. hopefully part two won’t take long to come out since I do have coursework to do and all but also let me know if you guys have any squidgame one shot ideas you’d want to request me to write :)

[clockwayswrites]

Danny is a minx and I am not responsible for him.

Okay, so, you all voted and I, um, failed? We didn't get to cuddling. There should be cuddling coming? Idk, darlings, this was my third start on this and Danny took over. I've got no say in this anymore. Canon-typical violence, crude language, cross dressing, discussions of prostitution

---

“You think you can fucking play us like that?!”

The shout carried easily through the crisp fall air. Red Hood sighed and changed direction away from his safe house and towards the noise.

“—fuck you up for that! Give us our fucking money back!”

“Fuck you,” snapped back a voice that Jason had come to recognize over the last several months. Right then the words dripped in fake, but damn convincing, heavy Crime Alley drawl, but Jason knew it all the same. “If yous don’t got it, don’t bet it. If yous don’t got game, don’t play it.”

“Yeah, no, I don’t think a little girl like you gets to say how this goes,” a third voice growled.

Hood clung to the edge of the roof just long enough to drop silently into the alleyway next to the dive bar. From the quick glance sent his way he was only noticed by the damn minx, so he leaned casually back against the grimy brick wall and unholstered his gun.

“Right? Yeah! Yeah, bitch! You don’t get to say how this goes!” the first voice shouted again. The guy’s shoulders were squared up as if he was some sort of threat in his overpriced, knock off bomber jacket and ill fitting jeans.

It almost made Jason want to sigh.

Actually, fuck it, Jason gave in and sighed loudly, knowing how it sounded through the modulation of his helmet. Bomber Jacket and his buddy, I Swear This is Real Italian Leather, spun around and then cowered so quick Jason swore they gave themselves whiplash.

“So,” Jason said with every ounce of disinterest he could put in his tone, “how does this go? Because right now, I’m thinking that it’s you two who are gonna be going before I put bullets between your eyes.”

“Right, um, yes Red Hood,” Bomber Jacket cowered and grabbed desperately at his friend’s pleather jacket to pull them out of there.

“And gentleman,” Jason said, making them freeze in their steps, “next time you lose your money to a pretty lady, you leave her the fuck alone about it.”

They nodded frantically as they backed the rest of the way out of alley and then took of running.

“I think you made one of ‘em piss himself,” the minx said, looking from the alley way to Jason with those striking aqua eyes.

Jason just shrugged and holstered his gun. “Probably.”

The short, tight skirt clung to the minx’s legs, pulling up enough with the sashaying steps that Jason had to wonder how everything stayed hidden. He kept still as fingers tipped in bright pink nails walked their way up his chest to the red bat. Aqua peered up from below thick, dark lashes. “And did I hear right? You think I’m a pretty lady?”

“Hair is nice like this,” Jason said brushing a gloved finger through the black strands that just brushed the edges of the chin. “But surprised your cock isn’t hanging out of that skirt with how short it is.”

Danny let out a started laugh, resting his forehead against Jason’s chest for a moment before he patted it and backed up to a more respectable distance.

“Duct tape and body shapers works miracles.” The fake Gotham accent was gone and replaced with the faint Midwestern drawl that Danny only seemed to let out around Red Hood. “And don’t make that face, the duct tape is outside of the panties.”

“You can’t see my face,” Jason pointed out, a bit grumpily because he had been grimacing at the thought.

“I was still right though,” Danny said with a smug little smiling pulling on his cherry red lips. It was a good color on him. He leaned back against the wall and spread his legs in a way that Jason couldn’t help but follow with this gaze. “Everything is fine down there, Boss, just a little squished. Offer’s still on the table if you want to check out the good. No charge for my darlin’ knight.”

Jason snorted at the continued offer from Danny; it was practically as good as ‘bye’ between them at this point since Danny seemed to offer it every time. “I’m not going to be one of your Johns, Danny.”

“Told you no charge. Could just be two people who like sex,” he offered with a little shrug, but pushed himself off the wall to leave. No, Danny pushed himself up off the wall with a wince.

Jason was at his side in an instant. “One of those fuckers get you?”

“No, so no hunting them down,” Danny said. His voice was confident, but the way he actually leaned on Jason’s offered arm was worrying. “Just a bad John— ex John. That’s why I’m sharking pool instead of working the corner.”

As if Danny had to work an actual corner anymore. He appealed to a very specific type of client that could pay to have something pretty and convincing on their arm and still get what they wanted between the legs and in the sheets.

“You taking anything for it?” Jason asked.

Danny just shrugged. “Nah, Boss, nothing over the counter works on me really.”

“Clinic?”

Danny snorted. “As if. They can test for STDs and that’s about as much as I want a clinic near me.”

Jason resisted the urge to cuss at Danny. He got it. After all, he only trusted Leslie or Alfred really— or a family member in a pinch.

Maybe he could just bluster Danny into getting some help. “Right, come on.”

“What?” Danny asked, digging his heels (and fuck those were some heels) into the ground.

Not willing to put with that right then, Jason just swung his arm under Danny’s legs and scooped him up like he was nothing. Fuck the Johns really had to be able to throw Danny around if they wanted that sort of thing.

“Boss, Hood, what the fuck?!” Danny hissed.

“Safe fucking house is what the fuck so I can check you over.”

“Boss, if you wanted in the skirt—”

“Danny, shut the fuck up and let me make sure you’re alright, alright?” Jason asked, looking down at him.

Danny stared back with a frown. Then his sighed, like it was the biggest concession in the world to make. Finally he rested his head against Jason’s chest. “Fine, Boss, whatever you say.”

“Thank you,” Jason said, more gently than he meant to.

-

Jason had to suck in several careful breaths as he took in the wound splashed across Danny’s ribs. “No fucking John did that to you and if they did—” if they took some sort of hot poker to Danny’s side— “I’ll kill them if they did.”

[visenyaism]

feastdance dashboard simulator

💋queen-cersei-defense-squad Follow

it’s so sick that people keep criticizing queen cersei as if she’s not the first female ruler of westeros??? literally elevating bastards and women to her small council is super fucking progressive as is creating the precedent of dismissing unfit kingsguard??

🪨dragonstoner Follow

aren’t all of her children literally bastards born of incest

💋 queen-cersei-defense-squad Follow

oh so now you’re going to listen to stannis baratheon, known misogynist, kinslayer, fornicator, team green supporter, and homophobe, huh.

🦑pykedyke

okay guys i know there’s no “perfect candidate” but you have to vote in the kingsmoot anyways not voting is how someone like e****n g*****y wins and literally anyone is better than him. suck it up and row to the polls

🦈reaveherihardlyknowher

ohhhh not this “vote your crew no matter who” “blue lips man bad” bullshit again. fuck off idgaf which godless man sits the seastone chair i’m not voting for asha shes literally a neoliberal

🦷 lastoftheegiants

first i had to give up my rights and then i had to give up my gods just to not get killed by fucking wights but i literally cannot believe the nights watch made me give up my strap as part of the treasure ransom. shit was expensive it was IVORY. i hate southerners so much i hope the lord commander dies

🌪️kinslayerr

DO NOT COME TO THE RIVERLANDS

🍓silverspurs Follow

why

🌪️kinslayerr

there’s riverlands here

🧜‍♂️theythemderly

freys

🌾maidencool

my cousin got eaten by rats in harrenhal

🐎brackennation Follow

dumb cunts wearing raven feather cloaks strutting around who think they’re better than you but they’re not better than you

🌟sevenstar

i saw a guy get killed and then just stand back up and start fighting again because his friend kissed him on the mouth down here once

🦌whitehart

giant feral pack of 60 wolves running around

🍓silverspurs Follow

ok understandable have a nice day

🫧bastardwaters

i hate the fucking sparrows can we be normal for five minutes or can we just not have shit in the crownlands

☠️real-stormlands-patriot Follow

ITS LORD COMMANDOVER #RIPBOZO

🐦‍⬛mormonts-raven-bot Follow

CORN! DEATH! CORN!

(CAW! I follow members of the Night's Watch to remind them of their oaths!)

🦷 lastoftheegiants

????

🍋floriansjonquil

Loras Tyrell x Queen of Love and Beauty!Reader Imagines

Keep Reading

🪻maidens-smile Follow

girl this is notttttt the time he literally just fucking died at dragonstone?

💎oathkeeper

should’ve stanned jaime #LORASFELLOFF

💐flowerknight

one kill yourself jaime lannister is an honorless kingslaying turncloak two i heard loras tyrell was literally fine?

👊fleabottomtop

lord davos seaworth, the class traitor from the stannis baratheon administration, is a nasty little thottie and just died from making it clap in white harbor

🌅girlheir

this tower fucking sucks.

🌅girlheir

i’m just like rhaenyra targaryen for real

🌅girlheir

🐀ratcook5000 Follow

people meat tastes good asf when you don’t have a wench in your ear saying it violates guest right

🐺threeeyedwolf

🍒ladylance

need that targ girl in mereen to get those lizards over here and liberate this website by any means necessary cause what the fuck is going on

[mcrdvcks]

Hi! I have a small request with Logan Howlett. I was wondering if you could write a fic where the reader and Logan are putting up Christmas trees together (with their kids if possible) and it’s just so heart-warming, so domestic life, so cozy, so tooth-rotting sweet, so hunky husband material, and AAAAAHH—! #needthat 😍🥰🩷

Deck The Halls

Summary: You and Logan decorate for Christmas with your kids.

Word Count: 2k+

Pairing: Logan (X-Men) x fem!reader

Notes: sorry if this took a bit too long anon! i had to listen to quite a lot of christmas music while also being stressed that finals are next week and having like 2 final projects due friday that i haven't started... anyways, i hope this is what you wanted!

(you can imagine any logan for this it's not specified. and thank you for 800 followers!)

warnings/tags: laura!!, reader and logan have a biological kid, fluff!!

Laura propped open the door, the cold chill rushing inside as you lugged the tree inside. Sierra, who was already inside, her beanie slipping down onto her forehead, her gloves a tad bit oversized.

“Careful, you’re going to scratch the walls,” Laura said with a smirk, standing off to the side with her arms crossed.

“I got it,” you huffed, struggling to balance the massive tree as it scraped against the doorway. “If someone actually helped instead of supervising, this might go faster.”

Logan appeared behind you, a grunt escaping him as he took the tree from your hands like it was nothing. “That someone’s right here.”

“Show-off,” you muttered, shaking your head but smiling.

Sierra toddled over, her beanie nearly falling into her eyes as she pointed dramatically toward the corner of the living room. “It goes there! Right there, Daddy!”

“Bossy, just like your mom,” Logan teased, earning him a playful glare from you.

“You better be glad it’s Christmas,” you shot back, brushing a strand of hair out of your face. “Otherwise, I’d make you do all the decorating by yourself.”

Laura leaned against the doorway with a grin. “I vote we let Dad string up the lights. He’ll get all growly when they tangle.”

“Keep it up, kid,” Logan warned as he hoisted the tree into place, his tone gruff but laced with affection. “You’ll find yourself untangling them.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Laura replied, grabbing a nearby box of ornaments. “I’m just saying, you’re the one who’ll probably break half the bulbs.”

“Okay, let’s focus,” you cut in, handing Sierra a tiny star ornament from the box.

“Laura said she’d lift me up so I can put the star on top!” Sierra announced, her words tumbling out in a breathless rush.

“Laura said what now?” Logan arched a brow at Laura, who shrugged, completely unbothered.

“She asked. I said sure,” Laura said, bending down to tug her boots off. “I’m strong enough. She doesn’t weigh that much.”

“Not the point,” Logan grumbled, shaking his head. “We’ll handle the star. You two can do the ornaments.”

Sierra pouted dramatically, her bottom lip sticking out in protest. “But Laura’s more fun! She said she’d spin me around so I could hang the ornaments way up high.”

“Logan, it’s Christmas,” you teased, nudging him lightly with your elbow. “Let them have fun. What’s the worst that could happen?”

“She falls, and I’ve gotta listen to Sierra scream and you yell at me for letting it happen,” he replied dryly.

“Dad!” Sierra gasped, looking scandalized. “Laura’s not gonna drop me. She’s a ninja.”

“Pretty sure ninjas don’t decorate Christmas trees,” Logan muttered, but the corners of his mouth twitched upward.

Sierra turned to Laura with a grin. “See? He didn’t say no.”

“That’s not—” Logan started, but you cut him off with a quick kiss to his cheek.

“Let them have their fun. We’ll supervise,” you said, your tone leaving no room for argument.

Logan sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Fine. But if anything breaks—”

“Nothing’s gonna break,” Laura interjected, already hoisting Sierra up in her arms. “We’ve got this.”

Sierra let out a delighted squeal as Laura lifted her, and you couldn’t help but laugh as Logan grumbled under his breath, something about how Christmas was supposed to be “calm, not a circus.”

“Relax,” you said softly, leaning against him as you watched the girls. “This is what Christmas is about.”

He glanced at you, his expression softening. “Yeah, yeah. Just don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“I won’t,” you rested your head on his shoulder. “Now, let’s get those lights untangled,” you spoke, moving toward the box of decorations.

“Why do they always come out of the box like this?” he muttered, pulling out a jumbled ball of lights.

“Because you never roll them up properly,” you teased, pulling the end of the strand from his hand.

“Excuse me? I wasn’t the one who packed them last year,” Logan shot back, narrowing his eyes at you.

“Details,” you said with a grin, carefully working the knots apart.

Across the room, Sierra’s laughter rang out as Laura spun her in a slow circle, letting her hang ornaments on the higher branches.

“Faster, Laura!” Sierra squealed.

“Faster, and you’re gonna go flying,” Logan called over his shoulder, his tone a mix of warning and humor.

“She’s fine, Logan,” you reassured, giving him a playful nudge.

“Yeah, I’m fine, Daddy!” Sierra yelled, her voice full of glee. “Laura’s a ninja, remember?”

“That’s what worries me,” Logan muttered under his breath, though his lips twitched with the beginnings of a smile.

“You’re such a softie,” you teased, looping a section of untangled lights around your arm. “Admit it—you love watching them.”

He grunted but didn’t argue, his eyes softening as he glanced toward the girls.

“You gonna help, or am I doing all the work over here?” you asked, holding up the strand of lights.

Logan reached for it, his fingers brushing against yours. “I got it. Don’t need you getting zapped if there’s a bad bulb.”

You rolled your eyes but let him take over, watching as he started stringing the lights around the tree. His movements were precise but slow, and you couldn’t help but laugh.

“You do realize it’s not surgery, right? Just wrap them around,” you said, crossing your arms.

“Keep it up, and I’ll let you finish,” he retorted, shooting you a look.

“Touchy,” you teased, stepping back to admire the tree. “But hey, it’s looking good.”

“Duh!” Sierra chimed in, still perched on Laura’s shoulders. “That’s because we’re helping!”

“Helping, huh?” Logan said, pausing to glance at her. “You’re just supervising, same as your mom.”

“Excuse me?” you gasped, feigning offense.

“Yeah, Mommy’s the boss!” Sierra chimed in, sticking her tongue out at Logan.

“Boss of what?” Logan countered, his tone playful. “Boss of making me do all the work?”

“That’s marriage, honey,” you replied with a smirk, leaning over to kiss his cheek again.

“Yeah, yeah,” he grumbled, but you caught the slight flush creeping up his neck.

“Alright, I think we’re done!” Laura announced, setting Sierra down gently.

The little girl ran to you, beaming. “Did we do a good job, Mommy?”

“The best,” you said, scooping her up and planting a kiss on her cheek.

“Tree’s not even plugged in yet,” Logan pointed out, but the soft smile on his face betrayed his words.

“Then plug it in,” you challenged, nodding toward the outlet.

Logan grabbed the cord and bent down, pausing dramatically as if he were about to detonate a bomb.

“Just plug it in, Dad!” Laura said, rolling her eyes.

The lights flickered on, illuminating the room in a warm glow.

Sierra gasped, her eyes wide with wonder. “It’s so pretty!”

“It’s perfect,” you said softly, wrapping your arms around Logan’s waist as the girls admired their handiwork.

He glanced down at you, his expression tender. “Yeah, it’s not bad.”

“Admit it,” you teased, resting your head against his shoulder. “This is your favorite part.”

He smirked. “You’re my favorite part.”

“Ew! Gross!” Laura groaned, but you caught the smile she tried to hide.

Sierra giggled, clapping her hands. “Kiss her, Daddy!”

“Oh, you’re full of ideas tonight, huh?” Logan said, his gruff exterior melting as he leaned down to kiss you softly.

The girls’ laughter filled the room, and for a moment, everything was perfect.

---

After the girls were in bed and asleep, you and Logan sat on the couch, your feet propped in his lap while you cradled a warm cup of hot chocolate in your hands. The faint glow of the Christmas lights reflected off the window, giving the room a cozy warmth despite the cold outside. Logan had his head tilted back, his eyes half-closed, one hand resting lightly on your shin.

“You good over there?” you asked, breaking the comfortable silence.

He cracked one eye open, smirking. “Tired. You and your Christmas tree schemes wore me out.”

“Schemes?” you repeated with a mock gasp. “Excuse me, but I distinctly remember you being the one who insisted we get a real tree this year.”

“Yeah, and I’m regretting it,” he muttered, his hand absently rubbing your ankle. “Needles everywhere. That thing’s gonna shed all over the place.”

“You’re such a Grinch sometimes, you know that?” you teased, taking a sip of your drink.

He snorted. “A Grinch who carried the tree in, set it up, and tangled with those stupid lights.”

“Hey, I untangled half of those,” you shot back, nudging his side with your foot.

“Half? More like a quarter,” he replied, a small smile tugging at his lips.

You rolled your eyes, leaning forward to set your mug on the coffee table. “Fine, maybe a quarter. But I provided moral support, which is arguably the most important part.”

“Yeah, sure,” he said, but his tone was warm. “Moral support.”

You leaned back, reaching out to cup his face with one hand. “Admit it. You had fun tonight.”

His eyes softened, and for a moment, he just looked at you. “Yeah. It wasn’t bad.”

You laughed, brushing your thumb across his cheek. “That’s as close to a compliment as I’m gonna get, huh?”

“Don’t push your luck,” he said, his voice low and teasing. Before you could pull away, his hand caught your wrist. In one fluid motion, he tugged you down until you were sprawled across his chest.

“Logan!” you yelped, laughing as you tried to balance yourself. “What are you—”

“Getting comfortable,” he interrupted, his hands settling on your waist to keep you steady. “You’re the one who started it.”

You propped your elbows on either side of him, grinning down at his smug expression. “Started what?”

“Touching me. Flirting. Trying to make me all soft and mushy.” His voice was gruff, but his hands rubbed soothing circles into your back.

You raised an eyebrow. “And here I thought I was just being nice.”

“Sure, nice,” he drawled, leaning his head back against the couch cushion. “You’re always up to something.”

“You’re impossible,” you muttered, pressing a quick kiss to his jaw before settling your head on his chest. His heartbeat was steady, his warmth chasing away the lingering December chill.

“Impossible, huh?” he murmured, his hand sliding up to tangle in your hair. “Guess you’re stuck with me.”

“Guess I am,” you replied softly, closing your eyes. “Lucky me.”

His chest rumbled with quiet laughter. “Yeah, lucky you.”

The room fell into a comfortable silence, broken only by the occasional crackle of the fire and the hum of the fridge in the kitchen. You let out a contented sigh, your fingers tracing absent patterns on his chest.

“You know,” you said after a while, your voice muffled against his shirt, “you’re not as grumpy as you pretend to be.”

“Don’t start,” he warned, though there was no heat in his tone.

“It’s true,” you teased, lifting your head to look at him. “You’re just a big softie, Logan. Especially when it comes to the girls.”

He gave you a look, but the corners of his mouth twitched upward. “Keep talking, and you’ll regret it.”

“Is that a threat or a promise?” you quipped, grinning as his hand slid up to cup the back of your neck.

“Both,” he said, pulling you down for a kiss.

The moment was unhurried, warm, and completely yours, a rare pocket of peace in the chaos of life. When he finally pulled back, his lips brushing against yours, you couldn’t help but smile.

“See?” you whispered. “Big softie.”

“Go to bed,” he muttered, his voice gruff but tinged with affection.

“Only if you carry me,” you replied, resting your forehead against his.

He groaned, but his arms tightened around you. “Fine. But if I throw my back out, you’re explaining it to Laura.”

“She’ll just say I’m bossy,” you said with a laugh, wrapping your arms around his neck.

Logan stood effortlessly, holding you close as he made his way toward the bedroom. “That’s because you are,” he muttered, his voice low and full of warmth.

And for once, you didn’t argue.

[pboogerswbb]

TOO LOST IN YOU - part IX

Paige Bueckers x bartender!oc

Warnings: emotional rollercoaster-ish? p having her last game :( SMUT (handcuffs...)

Wordcount: 11.9K

A/N: this is it, the final chapter. i know it's incredibly long but people voted to have a longer chapter instead of two parts so this is what i did. i genuinely can not thank every person who has read/liked/reposted this series enough - i never thought so many people would show so much love for what i've written and it genuinely moves me as a writer. i'm feeling surprisingly emotional letting go of Valerie and Paige, but i know the time has come. expect an epilogue eventually, but also tune in for my next series So It Goes, which will be a much longer project! anyways genuinely, ty from the bottom of my heart, i'm grateful for each and every person reading this <3 ALSO HAPPY GAME DAY WE BETTER DUNK ON ND IDC

-

“Shot clock at four, Chen to Bueckers,”

The four seconds somehow feel closer to a minute, time slowing down around me, people moving in slow motion as I step back and get settled behind the three point line. With a flick of my wrist I let the ball fly.

“Bueckers for three…”

My eyes follow the ball as it soars in an angle, silently praying it’s the correct one I had practiced over and over as it starts coming down. I barely hear the crowd roaring, everyone on their feet. This was our last chance and it was all up to me. What could be my final game in this uniform, with these people I loved could be over in a matter of seconds. I let the gratitude wash over me. If this is it then I’m incredibly blessed, but please God, don’t let this be it.

Like instant gratification for my faith, with a swish the ball slips through the net, the buzzer going off, barely audible over the uproar of the crowd deafening me. 

“GOT IT! Bueckers brings Huskies to a two point lead, taking them to the final four!”

The waves of relief and adrenaline fill me from head to toe when my teammates run to me, all of us jumping up and down. Clammy hands are grabbing me everywhere, squeezing my shoulder and ruffling my hair. We did it, the National Championship barely out of our reach now. 

“Thank God!” I sigh in relief, looking up to the sky in a silent prayer. I’m interrupted as the girls around chant “BDB, BDB” over and over, all circling me with excitement. I feel overjoyed, all the sacrifices, challenges I’d been through were worth this moment. I feel my eyes well up as I take it all in, the girls laughing with joy all around me, the crowd cheering louder than ever before this season, and Coach walking to me and patting my shoulder. That’s all I needed to know what he meant. I made him proud. The moment is nearly perfect, only one person missing to make it complete.

-

“BABE??” Valerie’s voice comes through the phone harshly, speaking loud over a chattering crowd of people.

“Why are we yelling?” I chuckle, leaning my back against the changing room wall, cold on my sweaty back.

“BABY THAT WAS INSANE!” She says, voice excited. “I’M AT TED’S SO I CAN’T REALLY HEAR YOU.”

“I’m so happy but fuck I miss you ma-”

“Wait Paige you there?!” She speaks over me, clearly not hearing a word.

“Val can you hear me?”

“P? You there?”

The beeps stop me, the call over before it even began. Rubbing my jaw I feel a twinge in my chest. All I wanted right now was her, the lost connection only reminding me more of the distance between us. It felt uncomfortable, almost painful in my body to be so far away from her.

the connections bad ):

paige i’m so fucking proud of you, you should’ve seen me i was jumping up and down

That’s okay ma. Wish I seen it too.

Wish u were here

It was selfish of me, in fact I had been the one to tell Valerie not to come watch us play. Last time she watched me, I’d been a mess. I couldn’t risk being distracted this time.

I had found my groove quickly, the fine line between being Paige Buckets and girlfriend Paige. A lot of it was due to Valerie’s surprising patience with me while I figured all this out. Somehow it made me better on the court too - I never found myself pretending to be someone else anymore. However, having my girl in the crowd watching me, cheering me on, well that was a different subject. I couldn’t help but fear that her presence would have me messing up, getting unfocused. And now wasn’t the time to test the waters. So I had told her to stay home.

Valerie wanted anything but that, her mouth quickly turning into a frown as I told her no. But after some arguing back and forth I sweet talked her out of it. 

“I thought you’d want me there,” her words still echoed in my head. As much as it pained me to admit, Valerie was right. Now that it was all done, all I wanted was my girl on my arm.

told you

Call me when u get home?

are you tryna get rid of me? 

Never

good

 -

My voice is slurred as I lock myself in the bathroom, hands clumsily handling the lock before I coo into the phone.

“Babyyyy,”

“Paige, are you drunk?” Valerie chuckles. I nod as if the girl on the phone could see me. After we won the drinks had been flowing, me and the girls locking ourselves into one of the hotel rooms and sharing a bottle of Tito’s. It wasn’t necessarily allowed but Geno and CD were usually good sports about it, turning their backs and letting us do what kids in college did.

“Perhaps,” I giggle, which makes the girl on the phone let out a bright laugh.

“You’re really milking that Unrivaled ad huh? Never heard you say that word in my life before that,” she teases.

“Are you tryna say I’m bad with words? What about ‘work tour’ and ‘I did all I could so God could do all I can’t’? Now those went hard.”

“Paige I’ve seen the folder on your phone full of lil things like that for you to say. You’re not that slick,” Valerie laughs into the phone. She was right of course. I wasn’t that slick. I might’ve been embarrassed by the way I’d been exposed, but I simply couldn’t. Hearing her voice, even when insulting me, had me weak in the knees.

“I love you,” I sigh into the phone, leaning against the cold marble of the bathroom sink.

“I love you too, P. I meant what I said earlier. I’m so fucking proud of you,” she murmurs, voice turning softer like it always did when she was telling me something important. 

Grinning to myself a sinister thought flashes across my mind, which I would usually keep to myself but the alcohol in my blood had me feeling bold.

“Whatchu wearing ma?”

Valerie scoffs and giggles into the phone, “Bro chill!”

“C’mon Val I won big today and I miss my girl,” I whine, the foolproof method to get the brunette to bend to my will working this time too.

“Well I just got in bed,” she murmurs, I hear her shifting. “Just in that T-shirt you left and panties.”

For a moment I close my eyes imagining her, smooth legs sprawled over the blanket, bare tits so easy to expose just by pulling that damn shirt off.

“What kinda panties?” I ask, my voice now hoarse and deeper than before.

“You’re not with the girls still?” Val asks but I’m quick to answer, impatient for the detail I had asked for.

“I’m alone, I’m in the bathroom in my room. What kinda panties?”

The phone catches the heavy sigh Valerie lets out, a sign of her own arousal growing, caused by the urgency, sheer need in my voice.

“Red ones, the lace ones with the bows?”

I cuss under my breath, pressing my thighs together, eyes still closed envisioning my girl.

“Take the shirt off,” I command, Valerie shifting to pull the top off.

“It’s off,” she whispers, her voice breathy with need. 

Biting my lip I throw my head back, desperate for her. “Can you show me ma?”

She doesn’t hesitate, less than a minute later a notification comes through. Fumbling with my phone I finally get the picture open, letting out an audible groan. It’s my girl lying on her back, back arching so her breasts are perked up, the bows of the red panties decorating her body, thick thighs pressing together deliciously. I can’t help but drag my hand into my sweatpants, sliding it beneath my boxers to find some sort of relief to my need.

“Fuck ma you’re so sexy,” I groan, my fingers swirling in my folds, making my knees shake. “You should- ah shit, you should play with yourself.”

“Yeah?” she asks so innocently I nearly come.

“Yea baby, I am.”

Suddenly I hear her gasping, which only makes me groan more. The adrenaline of the game, the post win euphoria and the need for my girl had made me soaked and the picture was only spurring me on.

“Tell me how wet that pussy is,” I whimper into the phone, the sounds of Valerie’s moans turning me on even more. The marble is cold against my lower back, but I’m only paying attention to the sounds filling my ear, and the way my fingertips rub against my clit, getting me to the edge quickly.

“So- so wet P, all for you,” she whines. 

“Need you to finger yourself baby,” I order, squeezing my eyes shut, lost in the memory of how her cunt felt squeezing my fingers. “Imagine it’s me.”

The girl lets out a sharp inhale, and I know she’s working herself close to the edge.

“Fuck a dub, you’re my prize,” I murmur into the phone, trying to control my moans. My words are only encouraging the brunette, making her moan louder.

“Baby, need you here so bad,” she cries out, voice turning more high pitched. I let my head lull back as I rub my clit in sloppy circles, feeling myself teetering the edge.

“I know baby, ‘m right here,” I breathe heavily, feeling my slick cover my fingers. “I’m not gon’ last long Val.”

Hearing that does it, her moans turning desperate in that familiar way - she was there too.

“P I’m gonna come!”

“Shit baby, come on,” I let out a groan, my fingers quickly working me over the edge as I listen to Valerie’s moans on the phone. Waves of pleasure wash over me as I grip the sink behind me, watching the picture of Valerie nearly naked on my screen. I lucked out.

“Oh fuck,” Valerie breathes into the phone as she comes down, my own legs still shaking from the climax.

“I know,” I exhale and pull my hand out of my pants, allowing some space for both of us to calm down. Now that I was feeling more sober it really hit me hard, the distance. All I wanted was to wrap my arms around her and inhale the scent of her hair, feel her body molding into mine. I know Valerie feels it too when I hear her speak.

“Can’t believe you’re moving to Dallas soon,” she murmurs quietly, her voice small. 

We had been tactically avoiding the conversation, both of us having the same fears of how the discussion might go. Long-distance was hard for anyone, but I barely knew how to be in a relationship. In only the last week or so we had ran into many issues mostly caused by me and my lack of communication skills. I was learning fast and I wanted to for her - but the weight of the future felt heavy on my chest and doubt was starting to creep in. Not all the time, but in moments like this. When I saw a glimpse of what might lie ahead of us. Many nights like these.

I had grown enough to know that this wasn’t the time to have that discussion though.

“Hey maybe I’ll get drafted to the Sparks, we don’t know yet,” I joke trying to lighten the mood, as if that was any better. Well for me it was, I wouldn’t have to live in fuck ass Dallas.

“Mhm,” she mumbles and I could tell from her voice reality was hitting her quick. Last thing I wanted was for her to be upset, so I try to steer the conversation once more.

“I’m so excited for this date I got planned baby, you’re gon love it,” I murmur into the phone washing my hands. Her tone shifts, now slightly lighter.

“It better be good, I’ve been waiting,” she jokes and I let out a sigh of relief knowing the difficult conversation could be pushed off to another day.

“Oh trust, it will be.”

-

I check my hair one more time, my brunette locks in a perfect blowout when there’s a faint knock on the door.

“Valerie! It’s for you I think,” my roomie Amy shouts. I quickly grab a sweater to throw over the black long bodycon dress I was wearing in case it got cold, taking my purse to go open the door. I could feel excitement swirling in my gut for our first date. Giddy like a child on Christmas morning I tiptoe to the door, my roomies all whistling at how good the dress made my ass look - which was precisely the reason I wore it.

Opening the door I’m met with a huge bouquet of deep red roses before I even see the blonde holding them. Gasping I grab the flowers, burying my nose in and inhaling. 

“Oh my Goooood,” I gleam, letting the floral scent fill my nostrils. Finally lifting my gaze I see Paige, with a stupid wide grin on her face watching me, looking fine as hell as usual. Her blonde hair is slicked back in a bun, wearing black cargos and a white long sleeve, diamond studs decorating her ears and a chain with the number 5 hanging off her neck.

“You look so good,” I gasp and throw myself at the blonde, wrapping my arms around her dramatically and kissing her. She chuckles but kisses me back, but when she sees my outfit her face falls.

“Val, the dress…”

I immediately frown, feeling self-conscious. “Oh… you don’t like it?”

“Oh God no I love it, wanna take it off you right now,” she says her voice low and quiet so my roommates don’t overhear. “But you’re gon’ get cold baby.”

“Well you didn’t tell me what to dress for,” I say slightly annoyed, still holding the bouquet. If she wanted me to dress a certain way she could’ve let me know. I was trying to give Paige the benefit of the doubt. She wasn’t used to any of this, real dates, a real girlfriend.

“You right that’s my bad,” Paige murmurs, scratching the back of her neck. “You should change into something a lil warmer tho. I’ll put the flowers in a vase for you ma.”

“Fine.”

With a defiant groan I march into my room, leaving Paige to chat with my roommates, Amy and Layla. Neither the biggest fans of the basketball star after seeing the rollercoaster she put me through since we met. I knew they were still suspicious. I was just hoping Paige’s charms could win them over.

Taking off my dress I stand in the carefully picked lingerie staring into my wardrobe. Suddenly the door opens, the tall blonde making her way in and whistling when her eyes fall on the purple set on my body.

“NO! You’re not supposed to see yet!” I yelp and try to cover up with a pillow - unsuccessfully. Laughing, Paige closes her eyes and walks over to me bumping into my desk until her stretched out hands land on my ass.

“Well hello,” she grins, wiggling her brows, eyes still squeezed shut.

“Paige!! Stop!” I complain, though I liked the way her hands were feeling me up everywhere.

“Hey! I’m not lookin at least, gimme something,” she says and stands behind me, her hands snaking around to squeeze both my breasts, making me both flustered and giggly.

“Okay I gotta get dressed P or we’ll never get out,” I chuckle and grab a pair of white cargos and a black and white striped sweater to put on.

“Fineeeee,” the girl groans and plops herself down onto my bed, still with her eyes closed. Once the clothes are on I walk over to her, standing in between her legs as I lean down and kiss her cheek. Her blue eyes open, sparkling when she sees me.

“You look perfect,” she hums, shoving her hands in my back pockets to feel my ass up. 

“Well that dress would’ve been nicer,” I murmur, still a little annoyed. Paige, rolling her eyes, stands up and walks me out the door by my shoulders.

“Well now you won’t be bitchin’ about being cold and shit,” she says.

I had no idea what Paige had planned, but she had been acting all sly about the plans the entire week. It had grown so irritating I almost wanted to tell her off for it, but I knew it was her way of showing she was excited which in turn excited me as well.

The air is surprisingly warm despite the grey overcast caused by the cloudy sky as we head out. Paige opens the door to the passenger seat of her Jeep for me, quickly walking over to the other side and climbing in.

“Sooo where are we going?” I ask, trying to peek into the backseat for any clues. Paige proudly grins as I lean back to find only water bottles, a couple of Nike shoe boxes and a basketball in there. Way to play into every stereotype.

“You’ll see Val,” she beams, her hand coming to rest on my thigh as she accelerates on the highway. “It’s like a little over an hour away.”

Knowing it would be pointless to pry, I stare at the scenery out the car window, enjoying the comfortable silence falling over me and Paige - a rare occasion considering her mouth was always going. I felt at ease, her presence wrapping me in a duvet of calm. Of course my fears were still there when it came to the girl next to me. It would take months of building trust and communication to let go of all that had happened between us. The thing was, we didn’t have months.

In fact a month was all we barely had left before Paige would be leaving for Dallas. Obviously it wasn’t official yet, not till the draft. But we both know what the future holds. 

I look at Paige, her side profile outlined beautifully against the light shining in through the window behind her. My eyes roam the tip of her nose, the curve of her lips as she raps along to some song I wasn’t paying attention to. Paige had become a master at the art of evasion, the unmentioned topic heavy between me and her. Mentally I was beginning to prepare for the worst, to face the truth. We could barely stick by each other’s side the past few months and we lived on the same campus - how could we ever make it through long-distance while I finish my masters?

And what then? I pack my shit up and move to Dallas? Would Paige even want me there? She’s gonna meet so many new people, her whole life is about to change. Even if she wanted me now, I’m not so sure she’ll want me a year later. The idea was terrifying, causing a twist in my gut, us finally sorting our shit out just to have to give all this up. So I was just trying to soak in every moment I had with her, even if they were our last ones before the inevitable.

Eventually my eyes land on blue waves stretching across the horizon before us as Paige turns left into a parking lot. I feel excitement growing in my chest for what the girl might’ve planned, pushing away the thoughts of the inevitable end that was looming right in front of us.

“Isn’t it a lil cold for swimming?” I ask confused as Paige parks, my gaze taking in the waves crashing against the sand, only a few others walking along the coastline on the cloudy day. I had always found there to be something extremely serene about a grey day on the beach, the ocean smelled different, the humidity causing the air to grow heavy.

“We’re not going for a swim ma, I’m taking you on a picnic,” she grins and I can tell from the look on her face that she’s proud of this. Paige Bueckers, the All-American basketball star, the one I’d been begging to let me sleep over just a few months ago taking me on a picnic. My heart nearly bursts with affection and I don’t fight the urge to lean over and kiss her. The blonde smiles into the kiss, her lips fitting against mine just right.

As I reach for the door Paige slaps my hand away, the sting making me jump. 

“Ow what the hell!”

“Don’t even think about it,” she says as she gets out and walks to the other side to pull the car door open for me.

“Ma’am,” she teases but I look at her, still rubbing my hand.

“That hurt y’know,” I mumble, it didn’t really but something about Paige made me play up my theatrics.

“I did what I had to, now stand the hell up,” she commands pulling me out.

“This isn’t my idea of romantic P,” I complain as she walks me to the trunk of the car by my arm and opens it. I immediately swallow my words when I see what’s inside -  a checkered picnic blanket, pillows, a large picnic basket, a cooler and a small speaker.

“This better?” Paige asks, watching my face light up. I would never admit it but part of me thought she could never plan something like this, that it wasn’t her thing. I suppose I was wrong.

“This is the sweetest thing anyone’s ever done for me,” I gasp and wrap my arms around her neck and jump, knowing Paige will catch me everytime. She holds me up in the air by my waist and lets me pepper kisses all along her face.

“You deserve it ma, you deserve a whole lot,” she murmurs into my ear before placing me down, hands rubbing up and down my back. “Would give you the whole world if I could.”

Her eyes are blue and sparkling as my gaze meets hers. I wanna pause the moment, stay there with her forever.

“C’mon, let’s go.”

Paige grabs all the heavy stuff insisting I grab the blanket and the pillow instead. Picking the perfect spot we set everything down, the blonde not letting me help the tiniest bit as she sets everything up for us. I inhale the salty air, humming as the scent fills my nostrils. The high-pitched screeches of seagulls echo across the waves and I step out of my shoes, letting the sand against my bare feet ground me.

“Aight, I think we’re set,” Paige says, setting open the picnic basket. Sitting down on the blanket I watch carefully as the blonde pulls out different foods. Chocolate covered strawberries, croissants and pastries - very elegant, very not Paige.

“How did you-?”

“I googled uh, romantic foods… and the girls thought this was a good idea,” she explains sheepishly, handing me a Coke from the cooler. “Is this lame?”

There’s genuine panic on her face and for the first time I notice a slight shake in her hands. Paige Bueckers was nervous. I could barely believe it.

“Paige I love it,” I reassure her but notice the way she’s chewing the insides of her cheeks, tapping her fingers against her Coke can. Without thinking I bring my hand to hers, our eyes meeting. “I mean it. I love this baby.”

She lets out a relieved exhale, a hesitant smile growing on her face. “I did good?”. Looking for praise, as always.

I nod. “Yes, P, you did good,” I grin and lean over to peck her cheek. Smirking, the blonde lifts her arm up to flex.

“Well yeah I knew that,” she rolls her eyes and I scoff when I feel a bead of water drip down my forehead.

Paige feels it too, her blue eyes darting to the sky. The clouds are turning dark above us at a rapid rate, an ominous sign telling us the date might end before it even starts.

“Did you check the weather before P?” I ask as more rain begins to fall down.

“Fuck…” Paige sighs and rubs the bridge of her nose in frustration telling me that she in fact didn’t.

I could tell that she was starting to feel discouraged, it was all a little hard for her - the relationship stuff. For me it was enough that she was trying, but that would never be enough for Paige. Always the winner.

“Maybe it’ll pass… it’s fine!” I assure her and grab a chocolate strawberry, trying to feed it to her. But all of a sudden the soft spring rain turns into a heavy downpour, my hair and clothes getting drenched in a matter of seconds, sticking to my skin. So much for the blowout I spent an hour on this morning.

“Forreal?!” Paige groans, blonde strands darkening from the rain. 

“We should probably pack up P…” I carefully tell her, getting up and offering a hand to her. She’s looking defeated and frustrated, staring at the ground. With a heavy sigh she stands up without grabbing my hand, head nodding towards the parking lot. 

“No, lemme. You get in the car so you don’t get wet,” she murmurs hopelessly, not meeting my gaze, clenching her hand into a fist.

“No I wanna help-”

“Valerie get in the damn car.”

I knew the blonde well enough to know there was no fighting her once she got like this, so I obey, grabbing the pillows and heading towards the car. I knew exactly what Paige was thinking - that perhaps this was a sign from God of what was to come, that we just weren’t meant to be doing any of this.

Then it hits me - an idea that might save this whole day. I empty the backseat and the trunk completely, placing everything neatly on the front seats (and wondering why she needed 3 basketballs in her car but… sure). After fiddling with the seats in the back I fold them flat, opening up plenty of space in the trunk. Grateful for the hoarding Paige had been practicing, I lay down some towels I found in her car and the slightly damp pillows, setting them up for us.

“Val I told you to get in, you’re gettin’ wet,” Paige lectures as she returns, quickly stopping in her tracks when she sees what I had done.

The back of Paige’s Jeep is laid out flat, the trunk open for a view of the beach stretched out along the horizon. It wasn’t what we had planned for, but I would be damned before I give up on this day.

“C’mon,” I tell the blonde as I climb in, sitting cross-legged as I watch her wordlessly follow. Both of us are soaked, hair dripping water and the fabric of our clothes cold and sticking to our skin. Nevertheless I was hellbent on making this work somehow.

Turning to Paige I smile proudly but she’s frowning, eyes locked on her own lap. She’s upset, not with me but herself.

“I’m so fucking bad at this Val,” she murmurs disappointedly. My heart aches for her, but also for me, terrified knowing the blonde didn’t like to do things she didn’t excel at - this being one of them. Maybe it was only a matter of time when she’d decide to give up on this. On us.

“Paige-”

“And then you fix everything, when I’m supposed to be the one taking you out. Fuck, Val, you should just be with someone who can actually do this shit,” she’s rambling on and I feel that fear growing with each defeated word she says.

“Paige! We’re supposed to be a team, sometimes you drop the ball and I pick it up, so when I drop it, it’s gonna be your turn, ok?” I tell her, my voice steady but stern. She meets my gaze, frowning and shaking her head.

“Ion got time to figure this all out before…” she sighs, a deep furrow in her brows, stopping herself before the painful words slip out. I can feel my heart pounding in my chest.

“Really? Now you wanna have that conversation?” I ask annoyed. She couldn’t just let me fix the date, she just had to start talking about this now. If there was something she really wasn’t the master of it was time and place.

“Well we gotta talk it out at some point ma,” Paige says, her rising voice making me feel defensive.

“Alright so during our first date then? Now?!” I say, closing the picnic basket.

Paige lets out a bitter chuckle, throwing her head back. “This ain’t counting as a date, trust.”

“Why do you have to be like that? I’m tryna fix this and you do that? I don’t need any of this,” I say pointing to the picnic basket and the cooler and the beach. “Just needed you with me and I woulda been happy!”

“Well I figured it wasn’t enough for you before!”

I know exactly what she means. How I wanted her to myself when she had a roster full of girls, how I wanted more. But the way she said it was like I was selfish, like it was too much to want her to myself. Like she didn’t want the same.

It hurts. I go quiet, averting my gaze from her. I feel my eyes burn but don’t let the tears fall. I hear the girl in front of me take a deep sigh, rubbing her jaw.

“Shit… Val, I didn’t mean it like that…” she murmurs but I don’t pay attention. 

“We should go back,” I sigh, defeated. 

“No no no, baby please, lemme try again plea-”

“I want to go home.” I say sternly and climb out of the trunk. I could feel my heart breaking, now that I got a preview of what was to come once Paige left for Dallas. We would never survive it.

We drive home in silence, but not the easy, comfortable kind. The air inside the car is heavy with things left unsaid. Once we get to Storrs Paige walks me to my dorm, leaning into the door frame as I take off my shoes, eager to get out of the freezing cold clothes, sticking to my skin uncomfortably. The red roses sit pretty in a vase on my nightstand, reminding me of the excitement of earlier and how quickly it had fizzled out. Paige was one of the most resilient people I knew when it came to her sport - however that certainly wasn’t the case in her relationships. It was as if all her fight was reserved for basketball.

“Can I come in for a bit?” She asks carefully.

“I need to get outta these clothes and shower,” I mumble to the blonde. I was hoping she’d fight me, plead to let her in.

She exhales but doesn’t, that quick to give up on us.

“Okay.”

She’s chasing my gaze, but I can’t look at her. Reality was hitting me faster than I’d like and it was so much more painful than all those times Paige went and slept with another girl. Somehow this was way worse. I don’t know how to react without starting to cry - so I don’t react at all.

“Okay.”

Paige sighs and touches my arm just for a second.

“I love you, I’ll text you.”

“Okay P, love you too.”

With that she leaves, no kiss, no hug and she’s gone. Just like she will be in a month or so.

-

“You’re so stupid Paige,” Jana rolls her eyes and the other girls nod in agreement. 

“Forreal you need like dating lessons or sumn,” Aubrey says, manspreading on the couch. I’m lying in the middle of the living room floor, retelling what happened just the other day with me and Valerie.

“I know how to date,” I scoff, throwing my arm over my face.

“No you know how to fuck, there’s a difference,” KK says and the girls hum, nodding their heads.

Azzi walks into the living room, holding a bottle of water, watching all of us gathered around me and my dramatics.

“What’s going on?” She questions, watching me sprawled out on the floor.

“Our BDB here started talking about the Dallas thing in the middle of their first date,” Kaitlyn shakes her head, making Azzi’s eyes widen.

“Girl… you’re an idiot.”

“That’s what I said,” Jana agrees. I groan and rub my face, I suppose they were right.

“That’s what I’m sayin’ tho, I dunno how to be in a relationship so how am I gonna do long-distance with anyone?” I ask, feeling dejected.

Aubrey throws a pillow on me but I was too tired to dodge, letting it land on me. “You’re so stupid.”

“What I’m saying,” Azzi hums, sitting on the edge of the couch. “You’re all about the fight and being resilient. You’ve been through so much shit and pushed through it but some relationship issues and you give up already?”

The words hit hard as I take them in. Because every single word was right. I was a fighter, a demon on the court at my best - so why wasn’t I fighting for me and Valerie.

“You love this girl right?” Aubrey asks, already knowing the answer.

“The most,” I admit, tilting my head to look at her.

“And she’s worth fighting for?”

Fuck yeah she was. More than anyone. I nod.

“Then what’s your problem?” KK asks.

Deep down I knew what my problem was. I was scared. Fucking terrified. I knew if I worked really hard for this and it all went down the drain, it would be the biggest pain of my life. But then again Valerie was worth that risk. I loved her with my whole existence, every cell in me burning for her. Letting her go without a fight might be the only thing that could hurt me more.

“You right,” I murmur and finally get up from the floor, checking the time. Her night shift had just started. “Anyone wanna go to Ted’s?”

-

The bar is crowded, the end of March bringing students from all over to spend the sunny spring day drinking and dancing. It’s pleasantly busy but not packed to the brim. Everytime I walk into Ted’s I’m brought back to the times I spent sitting in that one table by the corner, drinking Shirleys and watching over Valerie, begging that some sort of miracle would allow her to be mine. The way her mouth twisted into a smile each night I stepped in will forever be engraved in my mind. 

To my surprise, I’m met with that same, familiar smile when our eyes meet. I thought she might be upset with me, but the way her perfect face lights up behind the bar makes me feel relieved. 

She scurries to me from behind the bar counter, and hugs me tight. Without a care in the world I kiss her, not caring who might see, what the students watching might say behind our backs. Who cares, I’d be leaving in a bit anyway.

Valerie kisses me back, humming into my mouth clearly pleased about my affections. The smell of coconut enamors me, drawing me in. 

“I’m so sorry,” I murmur against her in between desperate kisses.

“Forget it, just happy you’re here,” the girl sighs, her kisses filled with a similar urgency. Neither of us wanted to fight, not knowing these were our last moments in Storrs.

Her fingertips press into the back of my head, pulling me in closer when we’re rudely interrupted.

“I love you guys but Riri I need your help,” Natalie laughs, making drinks hurriedly. 

We pull apart, her brown eyes twinkling in the low light. “Sorry Nat,” Valerie chuckles, giving me a smile that says everything’s okay. Hesitantly, we let go of each other, the girl returning to her job. 

“So I think y’all are good,” KK laughs and the girls join in. I shrug, still feeling the tingle of her kiss on my lips. “Should we go sit?”

“You guys go, I’ll be there in a bit,” I wave the girls off, taking a seat on a stool by the bar. My eyes watch closely as Valerie works, taking in every movement. Her concentrated expression, the slightly clumsy way she handles the bottles because of how small her hands are. It all makes me love her more.

I sit there for 15 minutes, 30 minutes, then an hour has passed but I barely realise, living for the stolen glances and giggles between us. I could watch her forever. For the rest of my life.

“Do you come with the drink?” I overhear some guy, definitely shorter than me and younger, asks Valerie as she’s serving him. Immediately I let out an annoyed scoff, rolling my eyes. 

“Unfortunately no,” Valerie chuckles in a friendly manner, fishing for tips. I feel myself growing more irritated, seeing the way this guy is eyeing my girl, the way his eyes lock on her chest in the white top. Now don’t get me wrong, I was the first person to understand why someone would ogle over Valerie - she always looked incredible. The way her work uniform of blue jeans and a white top hugged her body, the slight wave of her hair she hadn’t blow dried, the minimal makeup she wore to work, it all made her look so good I could’ve eaten her alive. But she was my Valerie, mine to look at, to flirt with.

“Damn, what if I tip well,” the guy continues, making me get up from my seat.

“Yoooo chill chill, not too much,” I say with slight irritation, finding to my pleasure that I am in fact taller than the guy as I walk up to him. His eyes flash with recognition as he takes me in, quickly backing down. 

“Paige uhh,” he murmurs, lifting his hands up. “My bad, she your girl?”

“She is,” I glance over to Valerie who’s smiling at me. 

“And she tips pretty well so…” Valerie adds, making the guy chuckle awkwardly. God I loved her. The guy is quick to back away.

“You can’t work here anymore,” I say jokingly, just meaning it the tiniest bit.

Valerie scoffs, giggling to herself. “Yeah then who’s gonna pay my rent?”

“I’ll pay for everything, I got that NIL deal ma.”

-

Paige has spent hours sitting on that one stool, shooing off one guy after another trying to hit on me. 

“You gotta stop working here,” she repeated to me after the fifth guy had tried to take me home. Thankfully the moment the men saw Paige and realised who she was, they were quick to back off. I didn’t wanna find out what might happen if they didn’t. 

“Alright Nat, you gonna be good for the night?” I ask as I take off my nametag, letting my long hair down, feeling it fall down my back.

“All good hun! Go home, have some fun with your lady,” she grins and I chuckle.

“Speaking of, where’s P?”

My eyes roam the crowd, the blonde not hard to find being one of the tallest women here. To my surprise she’s talking to a group of people - and not just any people. My best friends and roommates.

An unease takes over me, knowing that a conflict was likely to erupt unless my roomies could keep their mouths shut. I loved them dearly but once they disliked someone it was impossible to change their minds.

Taking hurried steps, preparing to diffuse the situation, to my surprise, everyone’s laughing, including Paige, telling some sort of story about when KK locked herself out of their dorm. 

“What’s going on here?” I chuckle awkwardly, the blonde immediately wrapping her arm tightly around my waist and placing a kiss on the top of my head.

“We were thinking Paige should come to our next dinner party!” Layla says excitedly, clapping her hands together. Monthly dinner parties had become a tradition for us, the first weekend of each month dedicated to spending time together around a shared meal. It had become important, almost sacred. Warmth spreads in my chest thinking about how it was even a consideration to include my girlfriend.

“Ohh P’s gonna be in Tampa,” I realise, leaning my head against her side. “She’s got the final games then.”

“Aww no way,” some of my friends pout to my surprise, genuinely disappointed.

“Then Val can’t come either,” Paige says ruffling my hair. I smooth over it quickly, shooting her a confused look.

“You’re coming to Tampa too, right ma?” She asks.

It’s like my heart skips a beat when her words land. The image flashes in my head, of me getting to watch my girl dominate the court and bring home the Championship if God willing. The thought alone is enough to make me emotional.

There’s a stupid grin on my face when I turn to Paige.

“Are you sure because last time-”

“I was stupid last time, I need you there with me. I’ll sort out the flights and hotels and tickets and everything.”

And hearing her say that means nothing short of everything.

-

Be You. Be Great.

Be You. Be Great.

I repeat the words to myself over and over in my head, a silent prayer. I look at my reflection, the navy Uconn jersey on my body for the very last time. It almost felt too small on me, I knew realistically it wasn’t. But something about it felt like I was close to outgrowing it. 

I remember my first game like it was yesterday, the way the jersey felt then, how it swallowed my lanky body. I was just a kid then, not that I felt like an adult now. But I did feel wiser. My arms and shoulders were bigger, filling out the jersey now. I was carrying my name and the number on my back for Uconn for the very last time.

“Paige…” Allie interrupts my thoughts, knocking on the wall next to me. Suddenly I’m back in the dressing rooms, in Tampa, and she’s watching me with a sly smile.

“Sup Allie,” I grin and wrap my arm around my freshie, wanting to savour every second of these last moments I got to spend with the girls as a Husky.

“Come with meeee,” Allie smiles, pushing me towards the cubbies where all the girls are in a half circle, smiling at me. A little creepy, I think to myself as she leaves me to stand in front of the team on my own.

“Uhhh is this when you kill me?” I ask with a grin, causing the girls to erupt into giggles.

“We got you something Paigey,” Ice smiles and walks up to me, handing me a small present, wrapped in purple paper. I feel my chest tightening as I hold the neatly wrapped box in my hands, slowly starting to unwrap it.

“HOLLUP HOLLUP!” KK suddenly interrupts and runs to me holding another present, this one much less neatly wrapped, more of a pile of wrapping paper all taped together.

“It’s from me,” the girl next to me grins.

Ice and Azzi scoff. “Hey we said no present of our own!”

“Well you don’t love P Boogers like I do,” KK sneers and turns to me. “Open mine first!”

“Okayy okay,” I laugh and unwrap the present in my hands, one layer of paper after another. 

“Damn did you use a whole roll of paper for this?” I ask, peeling away.

“Be nice or I’m taking it away,” KK scolds, giddy by my side. Finally I reach the last layers, ripping up the paper to reveal… furry purple handcuffs?

Before I can say anything KK has cuffed my left hand to her right one, painfully yanking my arm around as she cheers. 

“What the hell???” I yelp, yanking my hand back to my side and looking at the furry cuff tightened around my wrist.

“Now you won’t leave me,” KK hums and wraps her arms around me tight. Everyone bursts into laughter, including me but I hug the girl back - she was like a little sister, this whole team was my family and Storrs was my home. I was already feeling the dread of having to say goodbye itching in the back of my mind.

“Now how we gon explain this to coach?” I chuckle, squeezing KK’s shoulder and dangling our cuffed wrists in the air.

“Guess we just gotta play like this,” she shrugs. 

Rolling my eyes I shake my head and look across the room. “I’m gon miss so many layups today guys.”

Laughs erupt all around the room, except from beside me where KK is looking at me scoldingly. 

“Don’ say that,” she argues and starts unlocking the cuffs, unhappy with me.

“I get to keep these tho?” I ask with a grin, my mind already going to filthy images of all the opportunities to use these on Valerie. 

“Nasty,” KK mumbles, finally freeing my hand as I grab the cuffs and the key. Returning to the neatly wrapped gift I unwrap one corner at a time, finding a navy blue jewelry case inside. Opening it I gasp, seeing three silver rings lined up in a neat row - each one a letter. BDB.

“Are you forreal,” I chuckle excitedly, my mouth falling open as the girls cheer. I carefully take them out, placing each one on the fingers of my left hand, unable to stop the huge grin on my face.

“Guys…” I pout, already feeling tears forming but Jana is quick to stop me. 

“Not yet!”

Suddenly I feel hands wrap around my waist from behind me squeezing tight. I don’t need to turn around to know who it is. I can tell just by the weight of her touch.

“Hey baby,” Valerie murmurs and places a kiss on my shoulder as I turn around. Immediately I wrap my arms around her waist, holding her in the air and letting my nose bury into her hair. I had seen her this morning before getting to the arena, but all day I’d been complaining to the girls about how I wish I could see her just for a second before we start preparing for this game. 

Valerie giggles as I spin her, finally placing her on the ground.

“Don’t tell Coach or CD,” Aubrey laughs. “We snuck her in.”

It’s then when I notice Valerie’s outfit. A miniskirt and boots which would have driven me crazy if it wasn’t for what was covering her upper body - A white Uconn jersey, with my name and number on it in big bold letters. Her face is bright, like she’s proud to carry my name on her. Proud to be mine. And it’s at that moment the tears begin to burn in my eyes.

“You’re wearing it,” I say weakly, a single tear rolling down my cheek. 

“Baby why are you crying?” Valerie asks, surprised, wrapping her arms around me tight as the girls gush looking at us.

“Remember when we first met and you wouldn’t wear my hoodie?” 

“Yes, silly that’s why I’m wearing this. I’m making it up for you,” she giggles and kisses my cheek before pulling away. Her hand however remains around my waist as we both turn to the team, comfortingly rubbing her thumb against my skin. All the anticipation, the nerves and the emotion were overwhelming me, heightening all my senses. I sniffle a little, turning to the girls, my family.

“We love you Paige,” Ice says, her voice shaky with emotion. The girls nod in agreement, many meeting my level of emotion, eyes welling up and lower lips trembling. “You’re not just a part of the team but a coach to all of us.”

“Forreal thank you, for everything,” Jana adds.

“We got it from here P,” Sarah smiles at me and it makes me feel at ease, knowing I did what I could, gave everything I had to them. That I could leave knowing I did my all, gave them all I got.

“Don’t forget us in Dallas tho,” KK says as Valerie rubs my back comfortingly, knowing without words that I needed it before my emotions took over. “Now let’s get this Natty y’all!” 

I clap as we huddle up, all my girls around me as we hug and hype each other up, Valerie so short she’s almost getting crushed by Jana and Aubrey jumping up and down next to her. Laughing through the tears I wrap my arm protectively around her and kiss the top of her head, inhaling her scent one more time. I had everything I needed right here to win.

-

Buzzer.

“And the drought has ended! The National Championship goes to Connecticut for the first time since 2016! Paige Bueckers ends her college career with 27 points in this game, leading the Huskies to a long awaited victory!”

It’s immediate, the joy, the tears. I don’t think I’m completely in my body when me and the girls all crash into poor Geno, hugging him tight, jumping up and down around him. I let my emotions take over, letting the tears run down my cheeks. I look around and see my girls doing the same, letting their tears flow. We fought for this, we earned this. I’m not saying it was late, but it was right on time.

When Coach turns to hug me, there are tears in his eyes too. I knew he wanted this for me as much as I did, but seeing the look on his face makes me feel it even more. After all the adversity, the injuries, the lessons life had thrown in my face - I was finally here. On the other side of it all, victorious. In that moment I realise all the setbacks made this moment a million times sweeter. 

“You did it kid, you deserve it,” he says into my ear and it means everything.

We finally break apart from our group hug, my mind immediately going to the one person missing. But before I can even look around, I hear her deafening cheer, her golden brown hair swaying in the air as she jumps up and down, beaming at me. 

Before my mind thinks it through I’m running to her, wrapping my arms around her and picking her up, my lips crashing into hers. The audience, the media, our coaching staff might as well not have been there. I didn’t care who saw, or filmed or whatever else. I just won the National Championship and I needed to kiss my girl.

“Paige,” she giggles against my lips but kisses me back, her careful hands wrapping around my neck. I’m sweaty and sticky and my face is wet with tears and this would be all over Tiktok tomorrow but we couldn’t care less.

“I love you,” I gasp as I pull away, shocked to find her brown eyes welling up as she smiles at me.

“I love you so much,” she sniffles as I let her on the ground, her small hands coming to wipe tears off my face. “I’m so fucking proud of you P.”

“I’m so happy you came,” I hum, more happy tears rolling down my cheeks. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

And it was the truth. All this time I had been so worried about Valerie being a distraction, something that would cause me to fail. But now I realised she was the biggest motivator, my biggest fan. Seeing her looking at me with tears in her eyes, a grin on her face and beaming brightly made me realise winning with my girl by my side felt a million times better. The best prize I could ask for. 

-

“You’re supposed to swipe it,” the girl behind me mumbles, her words a little slurred from the alcohol that had been consumed at the afterparty.

“I know how to open a damn door,” I complain, just as tipsy if not more as I fumble with the card.

“Hurry, P,” she whines, her hands wrapping around me from behind me as she kisses my upper back, making me see stars already.

“That’s really not helpin’ ma,” I groan, finally getting the door open by some miracle, crashing into the hotel room I had booked for Val just a couple blocks away from our hotel. We had stayed at the afterparty as long as we physically could, but all I could think about was having this girl bent over in front of me with those purple cuffs around her wrists ever since I finished my first drink of the night. It didn’t help that she was in the tightest, shortest purple dress for me, my hand itching to make its way beneath the hem.

The second the door closes Valerie’s pushing me against it, kissing my neck heatedly. I let out a moan, my hands flying to her ass, lifting the short hem out of the way. I feel her hot whimper against my skin when I grope her behind, feeling her up hungrily. We’re both starving for each other.

She’s trying to pin me against the door with her smaller frame, and it’s almost pathetic how easily I flip us over, taking charge. Valerie gasps as her back presses against the door and I manoeuvre my thigh in between her legs, pressing against her core harshly as I begin to kiss her, dragging against her clit.

“Fuck me,” she gasps into my mouth like a plea. I pin her against the door, both my big hands on her waist as I grind my thigh into her, already feeling a slight tremble in my legs.

“Oh baby I plan to,” I tell her, kissing along her neck leaving a trail of purple marks. “Got a lotta plans for you.”

“Need more,” the brunette whimpers, the whine in her voice driving me insane. Unable to hold back anymore myself I lift her up by her thighs with ease, throwing her onto the hotel bed. 

“Get undressed,” I command, watching the way she’s trying to catch her breath as I shed clothes till I’m in black boxers and a matching sports bra. Putting on a show for me, Valerie slowly shimmies the purple dress off her body, my jaw falling slack to find no bra underneath it. But it’s the crotchless purple panties that make me groan out loud.

“You’re such a slut,” I murmur, watching her laying on her back on the bed and spreading her legs. 

“Mmmh you like it,” she giggles. I feel my mouth watering, watching the way her pussy is glistening for me already.

“I do ma,” I murmur, dragging a finger slowly upwards from her ankle, goosebumps following my touch as I reach her knee, her thigh, her inner thigh - just ghosting where she needed me most to bring my fingers splayed on her lower stomach, watching her squirm.

“You wanna be a good girl for me?” I ask, as if I wasn’t about to fuck her no matter the answer. I can feel my boxers growing wetter as her big brown eyes look up at me, needy.

“Whatever you want baby, I’m all yours,” she tells me. The words are music to my ears.

I lick my lips as my fingertip circles her nipple, gently tucking on it to find it quickly getting hard under my touch. 

“Shit, stay right there,” I hiss and walk to my bag, pulling out the purple furry handcuffs. Valerie’s eyes widen as she sees them, but the smile on her face tells me she approves.

“You down?” I ask carefully, wanting to make sure. The brunette nods, eyes locked on the cuffs.

I tut at her, my hand grabbing her chin and forcing her gaze on me, dangling the cuffs in front of her like a prize.

“Use your words ma,” I encourage, the blush on Valerie’s face turning deeper, my dominance flustering the girl

“Yes,” she murmurs and I smirk, brushing her now messy hair off her face. She might be feisty, always putting up a fight. But once I got her wet it was so easy to get her to submit, to let me take charge. I loved it.

“There we go,” I praise, swiftly grabbing her wrists and cuffing them to the metal of bed frame, making sure I could celebrate my win without Valerie’s hands getting in the way.

She’s already squirming, too impatient to wait. Shit, so was I. I had been waiting to have my way with her all night.

I walk to the end of the bed, spreading her legs open for me, the view of her cunt in the crotchless panties driving me up the wall. Taking her ankle into my hand I begin to kiss up her leg, slowly making my way upwards to her inner thigh, leaving small marks behind.

“Mmhm, Paige…” she whines.

“Relax, you’ll get it,” I coo, pulling my own boxers down. “But you’re gonna do a lil sumn for me first.”

With that I straddle Valerie’s face, feeling my need dripping down my thighs. I needed her bad, my head spinning and cunt throbbing at this point. She lets out a moan seeing me so close and soaked for her.

“Please baby,” she whimpers, goosebumps everywhere when I feel her hot breath on my core. She’s trying to chase after me, her neck stretching to reach my core.

“Shit, you want it?”

“So bad please,” Valerie whines and I can’t take it anymore.

My hands entangle in her hair as I lower myself onto her, Valerie’s perfect mouth beginning to work immediately.

“Oh shiiiiit ma,” I groan, throwing my head back, her tongue moving back and forth in my folds just the way I liked.

“Taste so good Paige,” she moans against my clit before her plump lips wrap around it and suck, tongue circling in a way that was dizzying. I could feel the way I was getting wetter, the way I was probably making a mess all over Valerie’s face but the way she was lapping me up seemed like she was loving this as much as I was.

“So fucking good, fuck,” I moan, tightening my grip in Valerie’s perfect brown locks and beginning to guide her mouth wherever I wanted. I could feel the muscles in my thighs begin to shake, my free hand grabbing the headboard of the bed as I ride her face.

She’s squirming under me, squeezing her thighs shut to seek any friction at all which only makes me groan louder. My eyes lock onto her face underneath me, scrunched up in pleasure, mouth buried in my cunt, head moving wherever I yanked it. 

Needing more, I pull her closer, not entirely sure if she can breathe but when I feel my climax start to build, I decide I don’t care.

“Just like that Valerie,” I praise, my voice and body shaking now as I’m literally grinding myself against her face, my cunt throbbing as I feel myself near the edge. I hear her muffled moans, feel the vibrations against me as my eyes squeeze shut, my orgasm taking over.

“Oh shit, Val,” I groan, pulling her impossibly close. “That’s it, fuck, that’s it.”

The pleasure ripples over me, coming in waves as I come against Valerie’s face, watching the way her pretty hands are grabbing onto the handcuffs decorating her wrists. I grip her hair tight, pulling on it as I moan.

“Damn,” I exhale, my chest heaving as I lift myself off her. Valerie’s face is glistening with my mess, and she’s hungrily licking it off her lips, arching her back, a feeble attempt to tell me one and only thing - she needs to be touched. Bad.

“Now lemme eat this pussy,” I tell her, my mouth already watering as I crawl between her legs, wrapping my arms around her thighs to lift them on my shoulders. And I dive in. I had been waiting all night for this.

A loud moan escapes Valerie’s lips as my tongue works her, slow licks from her entrance to her clit as to clean her up. The taste of her makes me moan out loud, her arousal dripping out of her already, before I had barely touched her.

“This wet already huh? You like watching me play that bad?” I hum against her, watching the way she’s squirming, the way her hands are already tucking at the cuffs - desperate to grab my head and pull me closer.

“Paige, moreeee,” she cries, trying to buck her hips closer but unable to do anything else with the way she was stuck to the bed. Her helplessness only made me wanna drag it out for longer.

“Answer the question,” I demand my tongue now circling her entrance menacingly, licking upwards and repeating. 

She huffs and whines frustratedly. “Like watching you win.”

Good answer.

That moment I bury myself into her pussy, beginning to flick my tongue over her clit at an impossible speed, quickly overwhelming her. My eyes squeeze shut as I alternate between sloppy laps on her pussy and precise circles on her clit, Valerie’s thighs quickly closing in on my head as she writhes, handcuffs clanking against the metal of the bed frame. Her moans and the sinful sounds my mouth is making as I eat her fill the hotel room.

“Paige right there oh fuck,” she nearly screams, the alcohol in her system making her more bold. I keep eating her out, tasting every inch of her. Fuck I could never get enough, I was drunk off her pussy. I wanted to be for the rest of my fucking life.

“I gotchu mama,” I moan against her, keeping up my movements until her moans turn high pitched, and I can tell she’s on the edge. Reaching up, I take her nipples in between my fingers, fondling them as I keep moving my tongue back and forth on her clit at a rapid pace.

“Shit, shit shit,” she’s gasping now, back arching high as she releases all over my tongue, making me groan in response. My head is buried in her cunt, coaxing her through the orgasm. 

-

I’m only starting to come down from my orgasm when Paige pulls back and suddenly two of her fingers slide inside me, quickly beginning to pump in and out.

“Wait, no, too much,” I gasp, doing everything I could to pull my hands free but it was no use. Her hand doesn’t slow down despite my whining. A loud moan spills from between my lips, the stretch completely overwhelming my sensitive cunt.

“Need one more from you Val,” Paige praises, watching the way I swallow her fingers up closely. “Gonna feel so good I promise.”

I cry out, my eyes welling with tears at the overwhelming sensation, Paige’s long and nimble fingers curving inwards against my walls, making me even throb around her.

“Ohh shit that’s it,” she gasps, repeating the movement and feeling me throb once more. “Can fucking feel it.”

I squirm, legs shaking and closing around her but she pries them open with ease, the bicep in her right arm flexing as she pumps in faster, the veins of her hands popping more prominently. The wet sounds coming from inside me fill the room - almost embarrassingly loud.

“Too much,” I whine. Without stopping her movements, Paige climbs up to face me from between my legs, grabbing my jaw, licking her lips.

“You said whatever I want before,” she reminds me, her voice stern, demanding. “You’re gon take it ma.”

My eyes flutter shut, the mix of her words and her fingers moving at an overwhelming speed making my mind spin. I keep yanking on the cuffs, not because I think I’ll get free, but because I don’t know what to do with my hands, immense pleasure taking over my body.

“So fucking perfect,” Paige murmurs, still holding my face as she adds a third finger, the stretch now enough to make my whole body tremble. “Could fuck this pussy forever.”

“Open your mouth,” she coos and I do as I’m told, too weak to even think for myself. To think of anything but the way Paige’s fingers are stretching me out, the squelching sound filling my ears as she pounds them into me.

Paige leans down to kiss me, her tongue meeting mine before our lips crash. She still tastes like a mix of me and herself. I keep moaning, my mouth wide open as she kisses around it, cussing to herself.

“Shit, so fucking tight for me huh?”

“Paige,” I plead, unsure of what for when my back arches and I feel my walls tighten, squeezing Paige’s fingers. She feels it too, letting out a groan. My hips are squirming uncontrollably, forcing Paige to pin me back down against the bed, hand pressing hard on my lower stomach as she sits up to finger me even faster.

The pressure on my abdomen and the rapid speed make my eyes roll back, my climax building impossibly strong. 

“I’m so close, oh shi-” I’m gasping for air, mind spinning, Paige’s cussing the only anchor to the moment as I throb around her, teetering right on the edge.

“Tell me you’re my girl baby,” Paige moans, making me nod desperately.

“I’m your girl, shit, all yours.”

“That’s right, my good girl.”

With that, the orgasm washes over me, Paige’s fingers pressing against my walls, creating such an intense stretch I swear I’m on the verge of blacking out. My moans are deafening as my back arches uncontrollably, Paige’s other hand remaining on my stomach. The waves of pleasure are incredibly intense as I mewl and release with force, the world going black for a second.

I’m brought back by the blonde’s fingers sliding out, leaving an uncomfortable emptiness within me. I let out a whine, feeling sweat dripping down my neck, the sheets sticking to my skin. I don’t open my eyes until Paige has unlocked the handcuffs, carefully caressing over my wrists and kissing them as she pulls a blanket over me.

“Valerie?” 

“Yeah?” I whisper, still attempting to catch my breath.

“You alive mama?” Paige grins as my eyes slowly flutter open, watching her bring me water and a small present wrapped with a blue paper and white ribbon.

“Just about,” I mumble, shimmying up the bed to lean against the pillows behind me. I felt completely fucked out - and surely looked it. Paige certainly did, straight hair that had been down now tangled at the back but her usual braids still perfectly in place, mascara flaking underneath her eyes.

“What’s that?” I ask, eyeing the gift in the blonde’s hand. She chuckles and offers me a bottle of water.

“Drink a lil first, don’t want you to pass out,” she laughs as she climbs over me to the other side of the bed. Deciding she was probably right, I throw my head back and chuck some of the water, feeling the cold liquid make its way down.

“I gotchu a lil something,” Paige starts, handing the present to me. I take it with both hands, eyes flickering between it and the blonde’s bright blue eyes. 

“No, I should be the one getting you a gift, you kidding?” I ask, but Paige leans over, her big hand pressing against my cheek as she kisses me.

“I already got my gift,” she murmurs against my lips. Usually I would’ve made a comment about her corny line, but today I couldn’t. I knew exactly what she meant. “Open it.”

Slowly I unwrap the gift, finding a small box inside. I furrow my brows in confusion, but grin.

“Girl you better not be proposing because I think it’s a lil early,” I joke, making Paige let out a heartfelt laugh.

“Just open the damn box,” she complains, watching me closely. I do as I’m told, finding inside a little golden charm. Eyeing it closer, I realise it’s the number 5.

“For your bracelet,” Paige says. I let out a shaky breath, bringing the box closer to my face. It was beautiful, but what it meant was even more important to me. What it might signify.

“Paige…” I sigh contentedly, watching as the blonde with great care holds my wrist and places the charm on the gold bracelet that I wore, each day of my life. Now decorated with a golden 5. My girl’s 5.

Our eyes meet and we wrap our arms around each other, soft kisses between us as we lie down on the bed, Paige pulling me on her chest.

“I love you Valerie,” she hums, fingertips playing with the ends of my brown hair.

“I love you too,” I murmur against her lips, placing soft kisses all over them. Nuzzling my nose, the blonde pulls back. I watch her blue eyes, the way they twinkle in the dim hotel room. My national champion, my winner, my Paige. All mine.

“Come to Dallas with me,” she whispers, a surprising sureness in her voice.

Batting my eyes, I pull back. “What?”

She grabs my hand in hers and kisses my fingers, one by one. 

“Don’t make me go without you,” she pleads. “At least come and stay for the summer, and then we can think about what we do.”

“But what about school? I still got a year left P…” I remind her but she shakes her head.

“Just for the summer, and then if you hate it you can come back and I won’t even complain,” the blonde puts her hand up. “Scouts honor.”

Taking it all in, my chest fills with affection. She really wanted me with her.

“You forreal?” I ask carefully, making Paige grin.

“Val, Ion wanna even think about life without you. I can’t be away from you,” she says, pulling me into another kiss. This one is slow, meaningful. Telling me she means every word - and I trust it. I trust her.

“We’re gonna make this work no matter what,” she whispers, nose nuzzling into mine. “Gonna need you there for all my wins.”

I can already see it. Me sitting courtside, watching her win game after game, fulfilling her destiny with me by her side. Having her come home to me, waking up next to her every morning. Perhaps for the rest of my life. 

So there’s nothing else I can do but agree. There were no other options I could fathom. I would go to the ends of the earth for her. And it feels incredible to trust - to know - that she would do the same for me. It’s in the twinkle of her eye when she looks at me, the way her hands always find my waist, how her voice lowers and softens when whispering sweet nothings into my ear. I didn’t need words from her. I knew all of it without.

-

ily guys

taglist: @thaatdigitaldiary @wbbismypassion69 @bueckersfive @onlyhereforpazzi @lovegalor333 @frankoceanlvr303039 @pb524830 @angryflowerwitch@mamixdanni @rosemariiaa @d3arapril @vbueckers @sageworld @makethemhoesmad @sierrale8ne @oreo2sblog @slvt4her @julieloveswbb@vsz333 @faeries-posts @vamptizm @ellapurnellmybeloved @ivorygoal @onlyhereforpazzi@thelightknight21@paigeluvvr@absolutelydreadful@imamartini@lupinqs@authenticgirl03@isurpussygreen@xxloveralways14 @numberonepartyanth3m

[rosyblooom]

all u need is a platform x | ln4 smau

PAIRING: lando norris x fem love island contestant!reader SUMMARY: y/n makes a one-off comment about lando norris being her type in a confessional, and the internet rolls with it all the way to lando norris' twitch stream. A/N: just bc i love me some love island 😌

Love Island UK

Twittter

Twitch

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yourusername

liked by yourbestfriend, landonorris, yourfriend and 105,830 others

yourusername alright guys, public voting is open! go, go, go!! make sure to vote for the person you want off your screens, so don't vote for y/n!!! tell your friends, family, everyone! we don't wanna see our girl go home anytime soon!! thanks u guys 🥰🥰

#LoveIsland

view all 2,956 comments

username she's one of my favourite islanders🫶 stunning girl

landonorris so if we vote for her she comes OUT you say?👀

yourusername don't you dare🤣 username LMAOO LANDO U BETTER NOT SABOTAGE💀💀

username ugh she's so annoying she needs to stfu🙄 hope she goes home on friday

username he's in the likes👀 ohhh the show's just getting started I see🍿

username I've voted babes! (not y/n of course)

(liked by author)

username I'm sry but I'm gonna have to vote for my girl y/n BUT HEAR ME OUT it's bc there's a better man by the name of lando out here for her I think 😃

username sooo valid (I'm doing the same lmao) landonorris 😊 yourusername uhm- you guys😭😭

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loveisland

liked by yourbestfriend, _jackfowler_, landonorris and 176,488 others

loveisland The public has voted, and that means goodbye to this firecracker! 🧨👋 By the looks of it, it seems Y/N might not need to do much searching for fish in the sea though... 👀

view all 3,582 comments

username ok lando pack it up, jack fowler is in the likes😩

username ugh jack is so fine🫦 username LMAO NOT TOO MUCH ON MY BBY LANDO NOW😭

landonorris 🐠

username lmaooo ENOUGH username help he's so real😭

username finally the bitch is gone

username uhm... chile anyways so

username ppl need to stop putting her up there with maura, amber and the lot cause she's absolutely nowhere close bffr. I rlly don't see the hype🙄

username she's literally the first to break 1 million followers lmao the hype is very much alive even if u don't wanna see it😌 username yeah and how many of those are lando fans hm? exactly username oooh u sound bitter babe xx

username lando and y/n better freaking date soon tho cause if I find out this was all in vain I'm literally gonna flip😭

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thesun

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tagged: landonorris, yourusername

thesun Popular ex-Love Island contestant, Y/N L/N, has arrived in the UK to a warm welcome at Heathrow Airport, where she was greeted by family, friends, and a horde of fans.

Speculation about a potential romance between her and the famous F1 driver, Lando Norris, has been rife on the internet for the past few weeks. Many believe this could be the reason for her sudden dumping from the island, as fans allegedly orchestrated her exit in hopes of pairing the two together.

view all 1,028 comments

username lando can do so much better than some trashy reality tv star 😑

username i got a pic with her!! she was such a sweetheart❤️

username im so excitedddd omg

username let's see what happens now then...😁

username 👀👀

username omg why are ppl still talking about her smh

username i voted for her so it better pay off🙏 i'm looking at u lando

username me and you both 🤝

yourusername posted to her story!

[ caption 1: i'm backkk ] [ caption 2: cake bc there's 1.5 million of u guys here😭 AHHH TYSM 🫶🫶 ]

[ tagged: yourbestfriend, yourfriend + more ]

yourusername

liked by yourbestfriend, landonorris, _jackfowler_ and 220,748 others

yourusername back in essex and straight to catching up with my lovelies xxx

view all 3,001 comments

username lando norris dating announcement when 😃

username lmaooo her bed in the villa ain't even cold yet😭😭 username real! he should've picked her up from the airport smh chivalry is so dead😞

username telling you all about lando i hope

username and the fact that it's all lando's fault that you were voted off 😋 username LOL DON'T PIN THIS ON HIM NOW

landonorris welcome back y/n!

username loool what happened to ur free shoulders 🤣🤣

username JACK FOWLER STAY TF BACK 🤺🤺🤺 we're team lando + y/n here!!!

username IKTR😌

yourusername posted to her story!

[ caption: don't need ur shoulders, just ur arms and car 😌 ]

[ tagged: landonorris ]

f1gossipofficial

liked by username, username, username and 14,026 others

f1gossipofficial Lando Norris has been spotted once again in the company of ex-Love Island contestant Y/N L/N, marking the fourth time in the past month the pair has been seen together in London. This time, fans observed them enjoying dinner together, appearing particularly close as they laughed and had their arms around each other.

view all 382 comments

username real ones know y/n from the first ep of love island😌🫶

username I've been summoned🫡

username love island is bottom of the barrel trash smh anyone who enters that show is a dumbass

username lol okay.... anyway they look cute together🥰

username ahh u guys remember when y/n was in the villa and we'd all wait for lando's tweets during love island🥹 those were the times

username i wanted them together but now it's like when you watch a film in the cinema and then reach its end like what now?🧍‍♀️ username fanpage babe. u make a fan page trust me x

username ew keep her away from lando🤢

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yourusername thank u love island 🤭

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username AHHH FINALLY IVE BEEN PRAYING FOR THIS🤩

username what do u wanna bet she only has 2 gcses🙄

username well that's a whole lot better than lando's 0 🤣

username @/yourusername i need ur game card RIGHT NOW cause i want mason mount 😩

yourusername all u need is a platform x username brb gonna apply for love island now🏃‍♀️💨

landonorris I think you missed a few spots baby

yourusername lol xxx username oh he's whipped lmaooo

username WHO VOTED Y/N OUT?? WE FUCKING DID ITTTT

username present🫡 username the way we had a vision and look at us now😌 we love to see it username cheers to us masterminds 🍻

whitbrownxs love you guys ❤️

yourusername ly bby xxx

1:06 ──ㅇ────────── 4:11

[sitepathos]

From Gold to Mold

Chapter 8: The Reunion

“Oh god, look at all these people,” you mutter, looking around the hall the award ceremony from your seat in the developer section, which is full beyond capacity. “Don’t think I’ve seen this many people before.”

The last time you saw so many people was your graduation night at Gotham Academy, but this makes that look like a small office party in comparison.

(There is no need to fret. You have polished your speech to perfection and have rehearsed it so many times you can recite it perfectly in your sleep. And when you are done, all will cheer for you.)

You smile at its words. No matter how uncertain you feel, the Megamycete always has your back. You’d hate to think where you’d be without it.

Well, without the Megamycete, you’d probably be dead.

“Wonder where Alfred is,” you wonder, looking around at the back of the hall. “He said he was coming.”

(We are sure he is here. The butler would swim through shards of broken glass to be here at the biggest triumph of your life.)

You’re so anxious to see the man; it’s been four years since you last saw him in person and you just know he’s going to bring up your lack of visits and probably try to guilt you into visiting since Gotham’s only three hours away, but you intend to stand your ground and go back to Goodsprings tomorrow.

“I hope he likes the suit I got,” you mutter, messing with your collar for the millionth time, not use to wearing such fancy clothes.

(He will. You chose from among millions of choices and made the best choice. Everyone in the room is no doubt in awe of your superior fashion choice.)

The day you were told you were in the running for this award, you drove to Vegas and spent well over an hour at the Men’s Warehouse, looking over and trying on countless suits. The salesman helped a bit, but many people in the Megamycete’s records included many upper class men, men’s fashion designers, and models, so you were more than capable of picking out a tasteful black blazer with a breast pocket perfect for holding your Momma’s pen, a white button up shirt, and matching black pants and dress shoes.

The clothes looked fine on the rack, but wearing them in public for all to see is something you had to psych yourself up for. You feel like a kid playing pretend with his father’s clothes and everyone knows it. Still, you can’t help but feel like a professional and take a little pride in it.

Just then, the lights dim and the audience cheers as the MC steps on stage.

“Hello, everyone,” he says. “Are you ready to kick off the Golden Games?”

The room fills with thunderous applause and cheers, yours among them. You’ve known about this event for years and have never missed watching it. When you first started your game, you fantasized about being at the Gamer’s Gala competing with your fellow developers for the Golden Joystick, but knew there was no chance your first game would ever make it to the first round of voting. Perhaps your second game. Or maybe your third.

But here you are, at this prestigious event with your first ever game in top contention for a prize so many covet.

You pinch yourself to make sure you’re awake and are pleased that you’re wide awake.

The ceremony opens up with the Golden Joystick for the Triple-A Game of the Year and awards for their various categories, like story, gameplay, music, graphics, etc.

“Alright, with all the big dogs out of the way, we finally get to the indie games. And boy, was this year a massive success for so many indie developers with over fifty percent of this year’s most anticipated games being indie games! Let’s go over your picks for this year’s Indie Game of the Year.”

You get a look at the trophy you and your peers are competing for: the Golden Joystick. As the name suggests, it’s a trophy in the shape of an old fashioned joystick made up of a gold material. For a moment, you allow yourself to visualize winning it and displaying it in your office. Hell, you had a spot on a shelf made for it when you got the email from the event committee that Salvage Rights was a candidate for Indie Game of the Year, even though voting was still ongoing.

The MC begins going through the list of games with said games and their developers being displayed on one massive screen behind him with the game’s team showing up on the other one. With each game mentioned, you think about your Momma; you can remember being at some awards ceremony years ago when one of her books was up for some fancy prize. Even back then, you could tell she was so nervous about getting up and making a speech in front of so many people and having it broadcast for all to see.

At the time, you didn’t understand because she would’ve been given an award and everyone could see. Unfortunately, she didn’t win and while she said she hope to win it, it was good enough to be considered for it, you were pissed on her behalf over it.

Being here, you understand why she felt that way. While it would be a dream come true to win the Golden Joystick on your first ever game, just being here, among your peers, is more than enough; knowing you’re skilled enough to make a game worthy of being judged among the best is a tremendous honor. Plus, the thought of having to make a speech in front of so many people makes you so nervous, you fear you’ll lose your lunch.

God, you wish your Momma was here. This is the biggest moment in your professional life and having her in the audience would make you feel better.

(We are sure she would give anything to be here for you. Wherever she is, she is no doubt watching this moment with unparalleled anticipation.)

“And last but not least, the game that exploded onto the scene a month ago and made a surprise cameo on the voting polls, Salvage Rights by Gould Games,” the MC announces as your game appears on one screen while you appear on the other, lit up by a spotlight.

You feel your face break out into a blush as the room fills with applause and cheers. To know that so many people hold you and your work in such high regard… it’s humbling to say the least.

You wave back and give them a big smile.

Finally, the room quiets down, allowing the ceremony to continue.

“Ok, everyone, with all the candidates on the board.” The screen on the right of the stage lists all the games and their developers, yours the last on the list. “We opened the polls for all gamers and had a record breaking ten-point-nine million ones this year for the Indie Game of the Year, guys!”

The room once again fills with applause and a girl runs from backstage, delivers him an envelope, and runs off.

“It took the Gala Committee a while to tally the votes, but when all was said and done, it was clear who the winner was.” He opens the envelope and a drumroll plays from the speakers to buildup the moment. As he pulls out the piece of paper inside it, you realize you’re holding your breath and your heart’s stopped due to the anticipation. “The Golden Joystick for Indie Game of the Year goes to…” He looks down at the paper and looks back up. “Salvage Rights by Gould Games!”

Your eyes become wide as saucers as you process the words, your heart resumes beating and your release the breath you’d been holding since the candidates were announced. You then realize you’re bathed in the spotlights as the big screen shows you at your seat; the room fills with applause and cheers, many people near you congratulating you.

You get up and walk to the stage, nodding and clapping hands with many you pass by on your way to claim your award. Finally, you make it on stage and shake hands with the MC, who gives you the Golden Joystick.

(This is the only way this could have ended. You worked tirelessly on your game and did not stop until it was the definition of perfection. You were more worthy than any other for this trophy.)

“Thank you,” you say into the mic, silencing the room. “I just want to thank my fellow game developers, the Committee, and especially the gamers, who gave me the opportunity to be here.” This garners more applause. “I have to say, when I first started working on Salvage Rights, I never in a million years thought I’d be here, in the most prestigious gaming event, receiving the greatest award an indie game can receive, but I guess I was proven wrong.”

The room fills with laughter and you sigh in relief. Good, they seem to be liking your speech.

(As they should. You revised it over a dozen times and practiced it in front of your stuffed toys at least fifty times.)

“When I first got into video games, it was just because I was a kid who was fascinated by being able to play on a DS anytime, anyplace. Now, I’m into video games because they are the new medium of art. Think about it, there are games out there that have stories that would made Shakespeare weep, music worthy of being performed in symphonies, and art styles that should be studied by artists hundred years from now. It’s a medium that transcends all others that have come before it.”

More applause. Good, they like it.

“I first started work on Salvage Rights not long after my fifteenth birthday, nine years to the day that I unfortunately lost my Momma to a drunk driver.” You see many people in the audience take notice at this, clearly not expecting to hear something so tragic. “At the time, I was living in a place that neglected me; from the day I first arrived, I was treated like I didn’t exist and any attempts I made to get their attention was ignored.” Clearly your words resonate with people, because you can see a few people tearing up.

“I had someone there I could rely on, and he made those times more bearable, but he couldn’t get rid of that feeling of loneliness that I had felt for years and all I wanted was for my Momma to walk through that door and take me back home. But no matter how much I hoped and prayed, she never came and my loneliness only got worse with each day.

“My only escape from those days were video games. While in real life, I was a nobody in that house, but I was able to dive into one game where I was a noble hero who was destined to defeat the embodiment of evil, or dive into another game where I tamed the mightiest of beasts and triumph over the strongest of champions, or dive into one game where i could master every life skill possible and bring light to a world facing eternal darkness. It was during those days that I learned that games provided an escape from the confines of reality, if only for a little bit. And that’s when I realized I wanted to create a game that could allow someone to escape reality and become the best version of themselves.”

There’s definitely a couple people on the audience crying at this point.

(You have them eating out of the palm of your hand. Time to reel them in.)

“So, I want to thank each and every one of you, both those in this room and watching across the globe, for giving my game a chance and allowing me to fulfill my dream. From the bottom of my heart, I thank you.”

The room explodes into applause and cheers, even a few whistles. I shake hands with the MC once more walk off stage and cross the room back to your seat, shaking hands and receiving pats on the back the entire time.

(A resounding success,) the Megamycete says as you sit down. (They hung on your every word. After tonight, everyone will know of your talent and many will beg for the opportunity to work on their newest project, offering you the world in exchange for your expertise. As they should.)

“Easy, buddy, you’re gonna give me one hell of an ego at this rate.”

(It is only naturally to think so highly of yourself. Compared to everyone in this room, you are a god.)

The rest of the ceremony features trailers for games releasing in the near future and announcements for new titles, making a note to keep an eye on many of them for you to buy on release or pre-order when they become available.

After the ceremony, you follow the rest of the developers to the Developer’s Lounge, a room that’s lavishly decorated and fully stocked with a wide array of food and drinks being served by a dozen waiters, all of it courtesy of Lex Luthor, who is currently talking to a group of triple-A executives, his bodyguard close behind him; many of your peers and various VIPs are already eating, drinking, and talking with other developers, game journalists (ugh), or their personal guests. You gratefully accept a champagne flute from a passing waiter and make your way around the room, looking around for any sign of Alfred.

“Where is he,” you mutter to yourself, scanning the room.

“Mr. Y/N Gould,” a masculine voice calls out to you, making you turn to the source: a tall, blue eyed man wearing a pair of black framed glasses, a grey jacket over a dark blue tie and light blue button up shirt, navy blue pants, and black loafers.

(We sense a spike in your heart rate. Are you alright?)

Oh, you’re better than alright. Some attractive man knows your name and wants to speak to you.

(You are attracted to this man. This is the first time we have ever experienced infatuation firsthand. We look forward to seeing this interaction unfold.)

“Yes,” you say, managing to find your voice. “I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure.”

“Clark Kent, Daily Planet,” the man responds, raising his hand and you accept.

It’s then you notice the feel of something metallic and when you glance at his hand, you see a gold wedding band.

Damn it.

(We grieve the loss of your potential mate.)

Oh well, always lots of fish in the sea.

“Is there something I can help you with, Mr. Kent?”

“Yes, the Daily Planet was hoping to write an article on the winner of the winner of the Indie Game of the Year. Is there anyway I can talk you into doing an interview?”

(He can still be of use to you. By doing this interview, he can help you find you a worthy mate.)

Great, now you have sentient mold trying to play matchmaker. Well, at least you’ll be able to get more people interested in your game. The Daily Planet’s the biggest paper in Metropolis and has decent following around the country.

“I hope you can wait a little while for that interview, Kent.”

You freeze at the new voice, a voice you haven’t heard in over four years. You hope that, somehow, you’ve made some huge mistake and it’s not who you think it is. You then realize that the entire room’s gone silent, sans a few whispers, and now all eyes are on you and the newcomer behind you, Clark chief among them.

You realize that your breathing and your heartbeat have ceased, and the pit of anxiety and fear from earlier has returned, but there’s now rage included in that mix; rage you haven’t felt in over four years. Rage that finally went away when you finally escaped Gotham and put it and Wayne Manor in your rearview mirror.

You feel a hand grasp your left shoulder and out of the corner of your eye, see a tall figure come to a stop to your right. You slowly turn your head to fae the figure and look up to see your worst nightmare: Bruce Fucking Wayne looking down at you, his signature fake ass smile adorning his stupid mug and a champagne flute similar to yours in hand.

He’s dressed far too formal for an event about video games, wearing a designer black suit with matching pants that probably cost more than your car. You can dig through all your memories of the man and never find one instance of the man wearing anything casual. And that smile of his, the one he always flashes to his insufferable blue-blooded friends; you want to punch him so hard in the face that every last tooth shatters, but you manage to put a lid on that urge.

If only just barely.

(What is this shameless heathen doing here,) the Megamycete hisses. (The audacity of this creature to show up on the best night of your life and ruin it. You should kill him. Immediately.)

Right now, you’re really tempted to give him the Joker Treatment.

“I’m afraid Y/N and I have much to talk about.”

“Mr. Wayne,” Clark stampers out. “Do you know Mr. Gould?”

“I would say so,” he responds in that fake cheery tone he only reserves for galas and paparazzi, those “honeyed words” so disgustingly sweet and fake it makes you want to vomit. Preferably on him. He tries to pull you closer to him, but you’re able to resist it no problem thanks to the Megamycete. “He’s my son.”

And like that, the crowd around you descends into chaos, many of them loudly talking among themselves while others take out their phones and cameras and begin snapping pictures of the two of you, and so many media types are shouting questions towards you and him.

But all that doesn’t really phase you. Right now, you feel as if the world has crumbled around you and now you’re left free falling in an endless void, doomed to spend the rest of eternity in this sort of purgatory.

You’re frozen where you stand, unable to look anywhere else but at the face of the man you hate with your entire being and as you look into those eyes of his, every single memory of your stay at Wayne Manor flashes before your eyes; you’re overwhelmed by the feelings of sadness, loneliness, pain, and humiliation you were forced to deal with during those twelve long, horrible years. Right now, it takes every bit of restraint and willpower you have to not let all the thoughts you have of ripping this bastard’s head off and kicking it so far that every NFL team in the country would offer you fifty million in advance if you signed on with them become reality.

(You should do it. Kill this man. Teach him the meaning of pain. Let him feel all the pain he and his flock have caused you for years and despair. Make him regret ever taking you for granted.)

Ok, your usual voice of reason is now howling for blood. This does not bold well for you.

“Mr. Wayne,” you finally respond, finding the strength to keep your voice steady and not cause a scene (or at least a bigger one than he has already); you brush his hand off your shoulder, making a mental note to burn these clothes (damn it, you paid good money for these). “I’m afraid you’re mistaken, I’m definitely not your son. Perhaps you’ve had too much to drink? Wish I could say I’m surprised, but I’m not. You should sit down before you make an even bigger fool of yourself in front of all these people.”

His smile falls and you can see the hurt shine in his eyes for a fraction of a second. He’s an expert at concealing his emotions, so for you to do something like that makes you giddy.

“Y/N,” he pathetically responds as he reaches out to you, but you take a step back. “I am—“

“You’re a sperm donor, nothing more, Mr. Wayne,” you hiss, revealing in the hurt expression that breaks out on his face. It’s probably fake, a stunt to pull for the crowd, but you don’t care. You’ve held all these feelings in for years and now that you have the chance to give this son of a bitch a piece of your mind, you’re taking it. “You’re not my dad and I’m sure as hell not your son!”

“Y/N, I know I wasn’t the best father to you, but—“

You lose it at that. All the abuse and misery and neglect you had to deal with from him and his kids for over ten years, and he has the nerve to say he “knows” anything about how you feel? In a swift motion, you throw your champagne at him, dousing his face in the clear-yellowish drink that quickly pours down his neck and soaks his expensive black jacket.

The crowd gasps at this, but you absolutely couldn’t give a shit. This was to be the best night of your life and he had to go and ruin it by daring to show his hideous face and dare to have a conversation with you. Fuck, he probably took Alfred’s place, so you had no one here to share in your big moment, something that makes you even more pissed off.

Throwing your champagne at him only made your rage burn hotter, demanding to inflict as much pain and suffering on this man that you’ve suffered for years. You quickly close the gap between you two, deliver a harsh right hook to the right side of the man’s jaw and follow up by shoving the man as hard as you can (though still holding back a lot of strength so you don’t reveal what you really are), causing him to topple to the floor, landing on his ass.

At this rate, you don’t really care what people say about you after this, all you care about is hurting him. You look down at the pathetic wretch at your feet and love the look of horror and pain etched on his face, reveling in the terror in his eye and the blood dripping from his closed mouth.

(Yes,) the Megamycete screams. (More. More. Make him hurt. Make him bleed. Make him realize who the superior one is.)

“Someone call an ambulance, this asshole’s gonna need one,” you growl, pouncing towards the man who made you lose the best years of your life, ready to pound his face so hard that they’ll have to rely on fingerprints to identify him.

Just then, you’re caught in mid-air and when you look behind you, it’s Clark, his arms wrapped around your waist in a surprisingly strong grip.

“Mr. Gould,” he says in a tone like he’s trying to soothe a startled animal (which isn’t too far off the mark). “Please, control yourself.”

You don’t want to. In front of you is the man who treated you like shit from the day you two met, making you wish you were in the car when your Momma died so that you never met him. This was suppose to be your night — your moment of triumph — and he had to go and ruin it. And you want nothing more than to put this man in a full body cast, and that’s you being generous.

But when you see the look of total shock on his face, and everyone in the crowd who has the same expression, your rage finally cools down. Not because you feel guilty over what you did to Bruce, you were ready to reduce him to a bloody red paste, but because everyone just saw your absolute worst.

You go slack in Clark’s hold and that’s when he finally lets you go, having to command the mold to reinforce your leg bones to keep you standing because without it, you’re ready to collapse form the burst of energy you just burned through.

“Is there a problem here,” Lex says as he emerges from the crowd, Mercy following close behind. He glances down at Bruce and a ghost of a smirk appears on his face.

“I have an axe to grind with him,” you say, doing your best to even out your voice. “I’m sorry for making a scene.”

“What about pushing Mr. Wayne,” Lex asks, motioning to the man.

“No, that’s something I’m very proud of.”

You can see Bruce flinch at that and it makes you feel good.

“Well, it’s always a pleasure to see Bruce Wayne be taken down a peg,” the man chuckles. He then turns to the rest of the crowd. “Alright, show’s over, everyone. Go back to your own business.”

Slowly but surely, the crowd breaks up and the party resumes, but you can definitely tell many of the media types are still looking at you and Bruce and are no doubt chomping at the bit to talk to either of you, many of them furiously typing on their phones, probably texting their bosses and sending whatever pictures and videos they took.

“Mr. Gould, I’d be honored if you would give me a few minutes of your time.” He extends his arm as if you were a woman. “I have much I’d like to talk with you about.”

You discreetly glance down at Bruce, who looks like he’s ready to do to Lex what you did to him a minute ago. You know that Lex is only doing this to piss off Bruce, his biggest business rival, and is probably using you in hopes of getting some speck of dirt on Bruce and maybe even some Wayne Enterprises secrets.

And god damn it if the thought of that doesn’t make you giddy.

“Of course,” you say in a sweet tone of voice, looping your arm in Lex’s. “The honor would be mine.”

He leads you towards a private area of the lounge and as you pass by Bruce, who’s still on the floor, you glance over at him and give him a dirty look, making it clear that you hate his guts and the next time he tries something like this, you won’t hold back.

You don’t know what Bruce wants and why he’s suddenly showed up after four years of your leaving, but chances are he’s only here to serve his own agenda and you want nothing to do with him or his crazy ass family. You have your own life and are finally happy for the first time in years, and you’ll be damned if you’ll allow all your hard work to be destroyed.

If it comes down to it, you’ll wage war against him and the rest of the Bats.

(Yes, clip their wings. Tear them to shreds. Grind them into powder. Tear down everything that they are and leave nothing behind so they are forgotten by the world.)

Bruce watches as you and Lex wonder off to some desolate corner of the lounge, simultaneously plotting an attack on Lex Corp that will hot Luthor hard and replaying his interaction with you, going through millions of different ways that could’ve gone better. Or at least, not ended with you almost tearing him limb from limb, the only thing saving him was Kent’s intervention.

Ok, maybe approaching you like Brucie Wayne, millionaire playboy philanthropist, was a bad idea, but it was the only way he could think of that wouldn’t scare you off. He really thought that talking to you with his usual charm and bravado would’ve at least given him a chance to talk to you.

All it got him was a look into your temper.

Fuck, the look of pure rage and disgust in your eye the entire time you talked to him. Right now, he just wants to curl up and die, but he also wants to scoop you up into his arms, hug you tightly, and beg for your forgiveness, no matter how much of a fool he made of himself or how much you bite, scratch, and hit him.

It’s then he thinks back on you shoving him and it’s then he realizes it doesn’t make any sense. He’s a solid six-foot-two, way taller than you and while he would never call you weak, you definitely aren’t a bodybuilder, so he should’ve been able to withstand your shove no problem. But he’s been fighting against beings with super strength all his adult life, so he knows the difference between a strong human and a Meta.

But you’re not a Meta, right? He’s spent the last twenty-four hours digging up every piece of information he can on you, your medical records from Southern Hills Hospital being one of the first things he delved into. When you were born, you were a healthy baby boy, no signs of illness and certainly no trace of the Meta Gene. He even has your medical records during your time in Gotham (Alfred being the one to take you to all your appointments because he certainly didn’t do it), and everything points to you being in perfect health.

So, how were you able to shove him like that, a man who goes toe-to-toe with the likes of Bane on a regular basis?

“Are you ok, Bruce,” Clark asks, extending his hand to help him up.

“I’m fine,” he responds, brushing the hand aside and getting up on his own.

“Pardon me if I don’t believe that, I could tell you were shaken up by that.”

If there’s one skill Bruce prides himself on, it’s his ability to conceal his emotions, able to hide his true feelings from anyone and everyone, even from telepaths such as Martian Manhunter.

But seeing how his son, his baby boy, feels about him made him forget his control. Him not being able to hide the pain he felt when you lashed out at him, clearly holding a lot of anger and resentment towards him, was one of the few experiences that has shaken him to his core.

“Mr. Wayne,” Vicky Vale says as she emerge from the crowd and approaches them. “Care to make a statement on what just happened?”

It takes everything he has to not let out a groan. Of course, Vicky Vale is always there whenever some drama happens to either him or his children in public. She had a field day with him when he she asked about his bruises and limp he got last time he fought Killer Croc and he had to play it off as some really kinky sex he and some supermodel had.

“Not now, Vicky,” he responds, leading Clark closer to where you and Lex walked off to. “I have a prior engagement with Mr. Kent here.”

“I didn’t know you had a son before Damian,” Clark whispers as they walk.

“Let’s just say I did everything wrong when it came to him,” he responds back, keeping his voice low. “I found out I screwed up and came here to try to make amends. You know how that ended.”

“I know, we all had front row seats to that. Also, I’ve been listening to his and Lex’s conversation the entire time.”

“What’s that bastard saying to him,” he hisses, pissed off beyond words that snake is talking to you, his baby boy.

“So far, Y/N’s just trash talking you, calling you every name in the book and angry that you ruined his big night.”

Bruce winces at that. He knew it’s Alfred you want here to share in your achievement, but he couldn’t miss this night, not when he’s missed so much of your life. To see you, smiling on stage and acting so humble after wining an award as important as that was absolutely mesmerizing.

Of course, your speech hit him like a freight train. He knew he wasn’t the father you deserved, but to hear you talk about your time with him so poorly was more than he was prepared to handle. Of course you miss your mother and he’s glad you think so highly of her, but is there really nothing he can do to make you reconsider giving him another chance? To give his family another chance?

“Lex is now offering to be a benefactor to Gould Games; Y/N have total creative license on all projects and would be given a massive office in one of Metropolis’ premiere high-rises.”

“In exchange for WE secrets, no doubt.”

The thought of you and Lex working together makes him sick. The man is a snake and wouldn’t hesitate to betray you if it benefitted him in any way. If you need money for your new games, he’d be more than happy to do it! You could be a subsidiary of Wayne Enterprises with as large a budget as you want, with your choice of office in Wayne Tower or around Gotham. You’d have all the best computers and software that money could buy and if you need to hire more people, you can choose all the people you want and he’d personally arrange for them to be flown to Gotham, ready to work as soon as possible.

“That’s right,” Clark responds. “Don’t worry, he turned him down. Looks like you won’t be losing nay more money to Lex this year.”

“Y/N doesn’t know anything.”

As sad as it is, that’s the truth; you’d been shut out by all of them that you couldn’t give any of his secrets away. Hell, you don’t even know that you’ve been living with Gotham’s vigilantes.

“He’s been kept in the dark about everything,” he mutters as he looks at you, chatting away with Metropolis’ biggest wannabe.

Maybe he should tell you that he and your siblings are Gotham’s vigilantes? Not that it’s any excuse with how they treated you for yeas, but with any hope, it would make you more understanding on why they were always so busy and at least consider talking with them.

Just then, Clark winces at something Lex just said.

“What,” he snaps.

“Lex just invited him for dinner. And based off his tone, he has more in mind than just business.”

And with that, all he can see is red and he’s filled with rage at the bald bastard.

“Bruce, wait,” Clark calls out as he stops over to where you are.

“Bruce,” Lex says with a smirk as he approaches the both of you. “I hope you’re not looking for another beating from Y/N.”

He looks over to you, your expression clearly indicating you’re visualizing beating the hell out of him right now.

“Of course not, I just wanted to extend an invitation to him for dinner. It’s been forever since we had a father-son dinner.”

“We’ve never had dinner together before,” you snarl.

“His loss, I assure you,” Lex responds, giving you a look that makes Bruce want to punch his lights out.

“Y/N has nothing you want, Lex,” Bruce growls, trying to keep his anger from getting the best of him. “Leave him alone.”

“I disagree, Bruce. Y/N is charming, witty, and a delightful to be around.” He has a twinkle in his eye that makes Bruce even angrier. “He definitely takes after his mother.”

Bruce opens his mouth to spit some insult at the fucker, but you intervene.

“Yes, Momma raised me well,” you say, looking right at him before looking back at Lex. “I appreciate the offer, Mr. Luthor, but I’m afraid I’m heading back home first thing tomorrow morning. Maybe the next time I’m in the area?”

“I’m certainly hoping that will be soon.” He pulls out a card and hands it to you. “My personal phone number and email. The next time you come to Metropolis, please don’t hesitate to reach out to me and I’ll see to it you’re afforded every luxury this city has to offer.”

“Thank you,” you responded, taking the card and pocketing it. “I certainly hope to visit again soon. Metropolis is way better than Gotham. Hard to believe that cesspit is its sister city.”

He winces hearing your clear disdain for his city, the home of his family. Your rightful home.

“Indeed,” Lex chuckles. “Gotham is so painfully outdated in every respect it’s almost funny. If I had my way, all of its archaic structures would be torn down and replaced for more modern and aesthetically pleasing replacements.”

“That style is Gotham,” Bruce growls, unable to put up with the disrespect of his city. “Gotham has resembled its current form for over a hundred years now. It’s a reflection of its storied past.”

“A storied past of misery and insanity,” you respond. “Gotham isn’t a place where good people end up. It’s a spiderweb that slowly drains everyone within it of all they have, leaving nothing but empty husks behind. Maybe all of it should be torn down.”

You say the words, but all he hears is his voice. When his parents were killed, he felt the same way about Gotham as you do. It took him years to finally shed his hatred and resentment for the city and see its beauty. As much as you’d probably hate to admit it, you really are his son.

“I’d love to stay and continue this riveting conversation, but I’m afraid I have an appointment across town. He turns to his bodyguard. “Mercy, ready the car.” She nods and leaves. “And Y/N, I hope you enjoy the rest of your stay here in my city. Perhaps you’d allow me the honor of taking you to the airport myself?”

“I’d like that very much, Mr. Luthor,” you say, giving that bastard a smile that makes his blood boil.

“Please, call me Lex.”

“Ok, Lex,” you say with a chuckle.

Oh, he’s going to make Luthor suffer for this. When he gets back to the Batcave, he’s going to plant so many viruses into Luthor’s systems, he’ll spend months recovering a single piece of data.

Finally, the man walks away, leaving you and him alone at last.

“I’ll say this only once, Mr. Wayne,” you say in a tone that shows you mean business. “So listen close: I don’t know what you’re doing here or what you hoped to achieve here, but stay away from me. I’m finally happy for the first time in years and I won’t allow you to fuck it up for me.”

He winces at your words. And the fact that you’re calling him “Mr. Wayne,” like he’s a stranger (though with how he treated you for over ten years, that’s not too far from the truth). He knows that he has no right to be called “dad” or “father,” but you can’t even call him by his name like your siblings do? Do you really hate him that much?

“Y/N, please—“

“Shut the fuck up,” you growl, cutting him off. “This is your only warning: stay away from me. I’m not weak like I was when I was first dragged to Gotham. Keep butting in where you don’t belong and I’ll personally reunite you with your parents.”

You go to walk away, but he grabs you by your shoulder. You quickly snap your head to look at him, your expression so full of hate and disgust. He knows this isn’t helping his case, but he can’t let you leave like this; he needs to keep you here so he can talk to you, to beg you for just a few minutes of your time.

You grab his hand with yours and begin squeezing so hard his hand begins to throb and he has to fight to hide his expression of pain from the crowd.

Not only do you not look you visit the gym, but this type of strength is something beyond what a normal human is capable of. Just what secrets do you have?

He meets your gaze and he has to suppress the fear he feels when looking in your eyes. There’s hate in them, no doubt about that, but there’s something else in them. Something dark. It also doesn’t help that you have his mother’s eyes and seeing them look at him that way cuts him to his core.

You shove his hand away from you and you storm off, ignoring as a dozen journalists come up to you and leaving him to stand there, watching you walk away from him and ignoring the throbbing of his hand.

“You ok,” Clark asks after walking up to him.

“No,” he mutters. He looks down at the camera in the Kryptonian’s hand. “Did you take any pictures of him during the ceremony?”

“Yeah,” the reporter responds, holding it up. “I was in the press section of the audience. I got a couple good shots.”

“Send them to me,” he orders while walking off.

Many reporters try to talk to him, but he doesn’t spare them a second glance. Right now, all that matters is planning his next move. You’ve made it very clear that you resent them for how they treated you while you lived with them and while he understands that perfectly, you need to understand that he’s your father and his children are your siblings.

He’s happy that you’ve made a life for yourself in Nevada and are successful in your career as a video game developer, but you’re a Wayne and all Waynes belong in Gotham, under his roof.

He gets his phone out and tells his children to be ready for a family meeting as soon as he returns in the morning. As much as he wants to find a way to bring you back to the fold on his own, he can’t do it alone. With any luck, your siblings will be able to reach you. Hell, he might have to call on Alfred to help bring you home.

He will uncover everything about you (including whatever what you just did) and when he does, he’ll use that knowledge to make you realize you’re son and your rightful place is by his side, where he can keep an eye on you and shield you from the dangers of this world.

One way or another, you’ll come back to Gotham and when you do, he and you’ll siblings will shower you in the love you deserve. And after that, they’ll throw the biggest gala ever, with you as the centerpiece, and show you off as the most important member of the Wayne Family; all of Gotham elite will climb over one another in hopes of courting you, but he and you siblings will never allow them to come anywhere close to you as you won’t need anyone but them to keep you company.

It doesn’t matter how long it takes or what he has to do, he’ll learn your secrets (as is his birthright) and lead you back to where you belong.

Even if he has to drag you back home by your ankles.

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[vaspider]

Measure 110, or the Self-Fulfilling Prophecy

So if y'all aren't local to Oregon, you may not have heard that the Oregon state legislature just voted to -- essentially -- gut Measure 110, the ballot measure which decriminalized all drug possession and use in the state. It turned all drug use into a citation instead, and the citation and fine could be waived by completing a health screening. The entire point of Measure 110 was replacing jail with health care and services to help people instead, and while I could probably write a very long side post on the imperfections of that approach, it was at the very least a move in the right direction after decades of the pathetic failure and absolutely racist mess that is the "War on Drugs."

You may hear this pointed to in coming years as a reason why we have to just throw people into jail for using drugs, because Measure 110 failed. And like... it did fail, kinda. Sorta. It failed in that it did not manage to fix everything immediately, and it created some new issues while also exposing older issues more sharply.

It also saved the state $40 million in court costs prosecuting low-level drug offenses, kept thousands of people whose literal only crime was putting a substance into the body of a consenting adult (themselves) out of jail, put at least one addiction services center in every county in the state, invested $300 million in addiction services, and an awful lot more. See the end of this post for more reading.

But where it failed, it failed because it wasn't supported. Police and advocacy groups both asked for specific tickets for this new class of offenses which had the phone number to call to go through the health screening and the information about how going through that health screening would make the ticket go away printed on it prominently - lawmakers declined to fund this. Governor Kotek budgeted $50K to train officers on how to handle these new citations and how to direct people to the treatment and housing supports, but lawmakers thought that training officers on this new law at all was a waste of money. Money moved extremely slowly out to the supports that were supposed to come into play to help people obtain treatment or get access to harm-reduction strategies. People freaked the fuck out about clean-needle outreach, fentanyl testing strip distribution, Narcan training, and other harm-reduction strategies.

And at the end of the day, Measure 110 gets called a failure because it wasn't a silver bullet. Never mind that thousands of people are not sitting in jail right now for basically no fucking reason. Never mind that people have gotten treatment, harm has been reduced, overdoses have been prevented...

So, yeah. You'll probably start hearing this trotted out as proof that, well, we triiiied decriminalizing drugs, but look what happened in Portland! Well, what happened in Oregon is that we got set up to fail, and still didn't fail, just didn't totally succeed.

Measure 110 highlights, quoted directly from Prison Policy Initiative:

The Oregon Health Authority reported a 298% increase in people seeking screening for substance use disorders.

More than 370,000 naloxone doses have been distributed since 2022, and community organizations report more than 7,500 opioid overdose reversals since 2020.

Although overdose rates have increased around the country as more fentanyl has entered the drug supply, Oregon’s increase in overdoses has been similar to other states’ and actually less than neighboring Washington’s. A peer-reviewed study comparing overdose rates in Oregon with the rest of the country after the law went into effect found no link between Measure 110 and increased overdose rates.

There is no evidence that drug use rates in Oregon have increased. A cross-sectional survey of people who use drugs across eight counties in Oregon found that most had been using drugs for years; only 1.5% reported having started after Measure 110 went into effect.

There has been no increase in 911 calls in Oregon cities after Measure 110.

Measure 110 saves Oregonians millions. Oregon is expected to save $37 million between 2023-2025 if Measure 110 continues. This is because it costs up to $35,217 to arrest, adjudicate, incarcerate, and supervise a person taken into custody for a drug misdemeanor — and upwards of $60,000 for a felony. In contrast, treatment costs an average of $9,000 per person. The money saved by Measure 110 goes directly to state funding for addiction and recovery services.

There is no evidence that Measure 110 was associated with a rise in crime. In fact, crime in Oregon was 14% lower in 2023 than it was in 2020.

Further reading/sources:

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Blue states should play “constitutional hardball”

NEXT WEDNESDAY (October 23) at 7PM, I'll be in DECATUR, GEORGIA, presenting my novel THE BEZZLE at EAGLE EYE BOOKS.

Nothing's more frustrating that watching the GOP smash norms and decency to advance policies that harm millions of Americas, unless it's that, plus Democratic officials stamping their feet and saying, "C'mon guys, play fair."

The GOP's game is called "constitutional hardball." Think: Mitch McConnell refusing to hold confirmation hearings on Obama's federal judiciary appointments, not never for Merrick Garland's Supreme Court seat – then filling the Federal judiciary with the least-qualified, most FedSoc-addled lunatics in US history, all for lifetime appointments.

As bad as this is at the federal level, it's even worse at in the states, especially the Republican "trifecta" states where the GOP holds the governorship and the state house and senate, where shameless gerrymandering and legislative attacks on hard-won ballot measures are the order of the day. GOP-held state governments engage in rampant interstate aggression, targeting out-of-state abortion providers, publishers, and journalists.

This is a one-sided Cold Civil War, because state Dems, for the most part, are unwilling to play hardball in return (the closest they come is when, say, California sets strict emissions controls and manufacturers adopt them nationwide, rather than making special cars for the giant California market). Republicans engage in constitutional hardball and Dems refuse to fight back, a phenomenon called "asymmetrical constitutional hardball":

https://columbialawreview.org/content/asymmetric-constitutional-hardball/

Writing for The American Prospect, Arkadi Gerney and Sarah Knight make the case for symmetrical constitutional hardball:

https://prospect.org/politics/2024-10-18-playing-hardball/

The pair argue first, that the best way to get Republican state houses to play fair is to credibly threaten them with retaliatory action. They cite the recent attempt at a last-minute change the way that Nebraska's Electoral College votes are apportioned, which would have given all of five the state's EC votes to Trump. Maine threatened to effect the same change to its Electoral College system, which would have given all four of its EC votes to Harris. Nebraska surrendered.

But there's also a second advantage to playing Constitutional Hardball: it makes blue states better. For example, Minnesota gives free college tuition to exceptional low/middle-income students. Neighboring North Dakota got tired of losing all its smartest kids Minnesota schools and created its own subsidy. As Gerney and Knight point out, Minnesota (and other blue states) still has a huge advantage when it comes to attracting top talent, because attending university in a state with legal abortion is vastly preferable (and safer) than doing a degree in a forced-birth state.

Red states are bent on making life horrible for some really great people. The hardworking, talented Haitian migrants caught in the Springfield pogroms that Trump incited would be a fine addition to any blue state town – anyone who's got the gumption to haul ass out of a failed state and make their all the way to Springfield is gonna be a fantastic neighbor, citizen and worker, just like my refugee grandparents and father, who endured a million times more hardship than their neighbors ever did, getting to Toronto, finding jobs, and starting their family.

Influxes of young, hardworking immigrants are especially good for rural towns with dwindling populations. No wonder rural towns with above-average net migration swung for Biden in 2020.

All over America, families are despairing of their lives in red states. Whether you're worried that you or someone you love might need to terminate a pregnancy, or you're worried about gender-affirming care for you or a loved one, you can put your worries to rest in a blue state. Same goes for nurses and doctors who are worried they can't do medicine unless it accords with the imaginary dictates of Bronze Age prophets as claimed by pencil-neck Hitler wannabe Bible-thumper with a private jet and a face from Walmart. Fill the blue states with great schools, libraries and hospitals, and invite everyone who wants to do their job in a free country to come and work at 'em. Line every state border with abortion and mifepristone clinics, and set up billboards advertising the quality of life, the jobs, and the freedom in blue state America.

Every blue state public pension fund should ban investments in fossil fuels, and invest like crazy in renewables, especially in Texas, to hasten the bankrupting of the petro-kleptocracy that controls the state. Blue states should tack surcharges on goods imported from "right to work" states where unions are effectively banned, to compensate for the additional product testing needed to ensure that scab products are safe to use (ahem, Boeing).

Create joint occupational licensure rules across blue states: if you're certified as a teacher, nurse, hairdresser or auto-mechanic in New York, you should be able to carry that certification with you to Minnesota, California, or Maine. Create multi-state funding pools to build public housing. Offer med-school scholarships to the smartest red state kids, at universities where they'll learn evidence-based obstetrics rather than the Lysenokist nonsense taught at the Roy Moore College of Pediatrics and Obstetrics.

Dems have to get over their fear of "states' rights" and start playing state-level hardball. This doesn't mean escalating cruelty. Quite the contrary: every cruel measure enacted as red state red meat is a chance for blue states to extend a kindness, and capture even more of the best, brightest and kindest of the nation, creating a race to the top that Republicans can only win by abandoning their performative cruelty and corruption.

Tor Books as just published two new, free LITTLE BROTHER stories: VIGILANT, about creepy surveillance in distance education; and SPILL, about oil pipelines and indigenous landback.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/10/18/states-rights/#cold-civil-war