#and I just spotted the pointer on screen...

[errera-after-dark]

Not me logging onto Dawn to update her look seeing as I might end up being a bit more active on here now.

And yes, this is something she'd wear out and about, no, she hasn't realized that's why she get's so many people staring

[tokeposts]

⁀➷ TALK TOO MUCH | I. MIDORIYA

warnings. none. it's just pure fluff!

pairings. izuku midoriya x flirty!gn!reader

767 | Izuku Midoriya talks way too much but you shut him up in the best way you know how.

next | masterlist | back

The common room buzzed with the sound of your classmates unwinding after another grueling day of training. Izuku was in his own world, pacing animatedly in front of the couch, hands flying in every direction as he analyzed the latest hero battle footage on the TV. A clip of endeavor's most recent battle replies on the screen, the reporter adding their own analysis, and Izuku visibly brightens.

"Here! Right there! Endeavor uses his Jet Burn to counter that villain's quirk, but you can see here. He's already calculated its trajectory based on—"

You sat slouched on the couch, one hand propping up your chin while the other clutched a glass of water. Ice cubes already melted, condensation cool against your hand. For the first few minutes, you'd been nodding, offering a few hums and quick "wows" to keep Izuku going, but at this point, your brain was mush.

You love Izuku, there's no doubt in your mind about it, but sometimes after none stop lectures and rigorous training, you just want a bit of peace. You'd think he'd be the same. You sneak a glance at the boy again and he smiles impossibly brighter at you (much to your dismay).

Despite your short-lived responses, Izuku wasn't slowing down. No, infact, he was ramping up, spiraling into a second analysis of yet another fight as the news anchor praises the number two hero, Hawks, this time.

Izuku waves the TV remote animatedly in the air using it as a makeshift pointer as he rambles on.

"Midoriya," you said, your tone calm but firm. He didn't hear you or maybe he did but assumed it wasn't important enough to stop just yet. "And if you think about how his quirk output works in tune with Hawks', it just makes—"

"Izuku." This time, louder with a bit more demand.

He glances your way for a split second, green eyes wide with remorse and a faint red tinting his freckled cheeks, but his train of thought was unstoppable, barreling ahead without a second to spare.

"—you can see how they predicted each other's moves! It's just incredible how—"

That was it. You didn't think; you acted. With one smooth motion, you stood up and grabbed the front of his shirt yanking him down to you. His big green eyes went impossibly wider, his words freezing mid-sentence as your lips pressed firmly against his.

The world seemed to stop. The remote to the TV slipped from his hands, clattering to the floor with a loud thud, but neither of you noticed. To absorbed in the way his lips molded perfectly to yours. How his hands trembled before cautiously resting them on your waist. His breath hitched against your mouth, and for once, Izuku Midoriya was left utterly and completely speechless.

You pulled back slightly, lips brushing his as you smile,

"There. Much better."

Izuku's face was on fire, his freckles practically glowing against the deep red flush spreading across his cheeks and the tips of his ears. He looks around first, wondering if there were any other witnesses. When none of your classmates meets his eyes, he loudly coughs hiding his face behind his hands.

You smirked, leaning back into the couch as if nothing had happened. "Finally some peace," you sigh.

He stood there, stunned, mouth gapping open and close like a fish out of water. After a beat of silence, finally, he manages to stammer, "was I talking that much?"

"You were," you teased, taking a sip of your water. "But don't worry. Now I gotta foolproof plan for whenever you start up again."

He blinked, still rooted to the spot you left him, his fingers brushing over his lips as if trying to process what had just happened. Then suddenly, the dots start connecting.

"You can't just kiss someone to make them stop talking!"

"I didn't just kiss someone. I kissed you." You raised a brow, smiling at the way Izuku stammers. "And I felt you kiss me back, so are you really gonna act like you didn't like it?"

Izuku sputtered as he tried to form a coherent response. His face still glowing a deep red as he waved his hands animatedly in the air. He needed to say something, anything. You had just kissed him for god's sake, the one person he's had feelings for since his first year. Oh god, he might just throw up. Meanwhile, you leaned back with a satisfied grin, a small laugh leaving you as you watched him you short circuit, already looking forward to the next time he talked too much.

notes. based off the song talk to much by coin + dedicated to @sunnymain bc we both listen to coin hehehe

[prettygirl-gabi]

Title: Dawg Mentality

Pairing: Paige Bueckers x Reader

Word Count: ~2.5k

POV: First-Person

Tags: Fluff, Angst, Basketball, Protective Paige, Established Relationship, UConn Women’s Basketball, Tournament Game, Trash Talk, Revenge Arc, Soft Moments, Humor

Fandom: UConn Women’s Basketball

Summary: don’t mess with what’s Paige’s… or you’ll get hurt…

🏷️: @yailtsv , @elalfywhore , @azziswrld , @paige05bby

Flashback – March 2024

I stared at my phone screen, rereading the email for the tenth time.

“Dear [Y/N],

We are pleased to inform you that your transfer application has been accepted. You are officially enrolled as a sophomore student-athlete at the University of Connecticut for the upcoming academic year.”_

My breath hitched.

This was real. I was officially out.

The toxic cycle, the whispered apologies that meant nothing, the empty promises that “it would get better”—I was leaving all of it behind.

I was leaving her behind.

A weight lifted from my shoulders, and for the first time in months, I felt like I could breathe.

I went to her dorm the following week to break things off.

“I can’t do this anymore.”

My voice wavered slightly, but I kept my chin high as I stood in the dimly lit dorm room, arms crossed over my chest. My (now ex) girlfriend sat on the edge of her bed, jaw clenched, eyes burning with something between disbelief and irritation.

“The fuck are you talking about, bro?” she scoffed, shaking her head as if I had just told her the sky wasn’t blue.

I exhaled, already feeling the familiar exhaustion that came with every argument. The manipulation, the guilt-tripping, the way she always found a way to make me feel like I was the problem—it was a cycle I was finally breaking.

“You,” I said, my voice firmer now. “I’m talking about you. The way you treat me. The way you act like I owe you my patience when you don’t even try to meet me halfway. I’m done.”

She laughed, the kind that wasn’t really amused. “You’re really about to throw this away over some dumb shit?”

I shook my head. “This wasn’t love. This was you using me as a crutch and tearing me down when I didn’t bend to your will.”

“You deadass just gonna leave?” she asked, voice laced with irritation.

I exhaled sharply. “Yeah.”

“You think UConn’s gonna make you happy?” She scoffed, stepping closer. “What, you think Paige Bueckers gon’ save you or something?”

I rolled my eyes. “This has nothing to do with Paige.”

She leaned in, tone dropping to something more condescending. “You’ll be back.”

I laughed, shaking my head. “No, I won’t.”

I turned on my heel and walked out.

And for the first time in what felt like forever, I felt free.

Big East Tournament, Semifinals – March 2025

The energy in the arena was electric, the crowd buzzing as we battled for a spot in the Big East Championship game. I had worked my ass off since transferring to UConn, determined to prove myself, and this moment felt surreal.

My ex scoffed. “You still soft as hell, huh? Thought running to UConn would make you somebody.”

I had already ran back to defense so I heard nothing even though it was directed to me.

Paige, however she heard it clear as day. Now with just over five minutes left in the quarter, my ex sagged off Paige, daring her to shoot.

Bad idea.

Paige took one dribble, stepped back, and let it fly. The ball swished through the net so cleanly it barely touched the rim. The crowd exploded.

And then it happened.

That’s when she turned, eyes locked on my ex, and let it rip:

“Fuck is you talkin ’bout?”

The TV broadcast caught it too, her expression sharp, unimpressed—borderline disrespectful.

Paige didn’t care though. She was already back on defense, jaw tight, locked in. The clip however was already trending before the quarter even ended.

And the crowd’s reaction to her 3 pointer was instant. The bench was on their feet. Even the commentators took a second to process what they had just witnessed.

Even thought they couldn’t hear it they knew, that it was to someone on the opposing team.

Paige wasn’t the type to get into it with opponents. Unless we’re talking about Hopkins Paige; or Paige who constantly at the refs for a “genuine conversation”, but this March Madness Paige. She was calm, calculated, a silent assassin.

But when my ex had the nerve to call me out my name, Paige flipped a switch.

And now? Now she was playing even more like she had something to prove, the she already was.

By halftime, we were up by 10. Paige had 21 points. She was playing angry. Not sloppy, not reckless—but with a different kind of edge. One that sent a message.

And the message was clear: Don’t fuck with mine.

I had been on the bench the third quarter enjoying Paige be a menace, but came the fourth quarter i was my time to shine again, at least what was left of it.

The fourth quarter had been nothing short of chaotic, but in the best way possible. The team was buzzing, and the energy in the gym had only amplified as the game came to a close. With the game already in our hands, Coach let me take the court for the final 2 minutes, alongside Caroline, KK, Jana, and Allie. I couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride as I jogged out onto the floor, ready to contribute in any way I could.

Caroline had just drained a three-pointer with 1:22 left, and the crowd erupted into cheers as our lead grew even more solid. There was a certain magic in the air. I could feel it, the weight of the moment. But as the final seconds ticked down, I was more focused on something deeper. Something personal.

My ex, every time I glanced at her, I felt a sense of resolve settle in my chest. She’d never thought I’d be here, playing on this stage, with a leading and trusting team. She thought I was weak, but now? Now I was stronger than I ever was with her.

The clock wound down. The energy in the gym was buzzing, everyone anticipating the final moments of the game. KK had the ball, and it was clear we were running down the clock. But instead of taking the last possession herself, she did something unexpected—she handed me the ball.

“All you, girl,” KK said, her eyes flicking over to me with a smirk. “Finish it out.”

I nodded, my fingers curling around the ball as I took control. The play was simple: run out the clock. But as I started to dribble, something else took over. My gaze locked with my ex’s across the court. The moment felt like it was frozen in time. She was looking at me, trying to project that same sense of power she once had over me, but I wasn’t the same girl who had left her a year ago. Not anymore.

I dribbled slowly, letting the seconds tick away. But I wasn’t just running out the clock; I was making a statement. My ex could keep trying to undermine me, but I wasn’t going to let her affect me anymore. I wasn’t some girl she could push around. I was here, at UConn, playing in a championship-caliber game. I was thriving, and she had nothing to do with that.

The crowd started to chant, the cheers growing louder with each second that passed. My eyes stayed locked on hers, unwavering. I could see the frustration building in her expression as she realized that she couldn’t touch me anymore, couldn’t control me.

With 22.6 seconds left, I kept dribbling. I stared her down. And just as the buzzer sounded, signaling the end of the game, I let the ball bounce a little more before gently passing it to the referee.

And just like that, the game was over.

We’d won, but more than that, I’d won. The girl who once doubted me, who tried to tear me down—she was nothing now. Because the only person who mattered was me.

And Paige. The girl who had been beside me every step of the way. The girl who made sure I knew that I was worth so much more than what my ex had ever made me believe.

As I turned to the bench, I saw Paige waiting for me with that look—soft and knowing. She’d seen it all. And without saying a word, she pulled me into a quick hug, her smile saying everything. We did this.

The energy on the bus was high. Azzi and KK were clowning Paige for her outburst, Ice was scrolling through Twitter looking at all the reactions, and CD… well, CD was trying really hard to pretend she hadn’t heard it.

“Why you lookin’ at me like that?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

I smirked. “Because you’re insane.”

She shrugged, a small grin tugging at her lips. “She started it.”

I rolled my eyes, but I couldn’t fight the warmth blooming in my chest. “Still. That was so unnecessary.”

Paige turned in her seat, eyes locking onto mine. “Nah,” she said seriously. “Nobody talks to you like that. Not on my watch.”

My stomach flipped, and before I could overthink it, I leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to her cheek. Paige grinned, her hand immediately finding mine and lacing our fingers together.

“You love me,” she teased.

I scoffed. “I tolerate you.”

She gasped dramatically, clutching her chest. “Wow. After I just risked getting fined for unsportsmanlike conduct? This is crazy.”

I bit back a laugh, shaking my head. “You were wild for that.”

“Worth it.”

Before I could respond, CD’s voice cut through the chatter on the bus.

“Paige.”

I winced as Paige turned in her seat, facing CD, who was now standing right in front of us.

“You know I should be chewing you out for that little… exchange back there.” CD’s expression was stern, but there was something almost amused in her eyes.

Paige, to her credit, looked somewhat remorseful. “Yeah… my bad.”

CD let out a long-suffering sigh pinching the bridge of her nose, before shaking her head. “Just don’t make it a habit.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“No promises, though.” Paige muttered under her breath as CD had made it back to her seat. She nudged me. “She let me slide.”

I laughed, squeezing her hand. “She knew why you did it.”

Paige smirked. “Dawg mentality.”

I snorted, nudging her. “You wild for that, you know.”

Paige turned to me, expression softer now. “She shouldn’t have said that shit to you.”

I shook my head. “You didn’t have to—”

“Yes, I did,” Paige interrupted. Her voice was firm but gentle. “You don’t deserve that. And if she thought she was gonna talk crazy and get away with it? Nah. Not happenin. Especially not bout my girl.”

I smiled, leaning into her. “My hero.”

Paige smirked. “Always.”

I rested my head on her shoulder, exhaling as the adrenaline from the game finally started to wear off.

She kissed the top of my head, her voice barely above a whisper.

“I got you, ma.”

“I know, baby.” I say left my eyes flutter shut as we go back to the hotel.

The hotel room felt like a calm oasis after the chaos of the game, and I was grateful for it. The only sounds filling the space were the quiet hum of the air conditioning and the soft clicks of our shoes against the floor as we moved through the room.

Paige and I had just finished our game day recovery routine. She was lying back on the bed with a towel draped around her neck, still a little sweaty but relaxed now that the intensity of the game had worn off. I, on the other hand, was sitting on the edge of the bed, carefully pouring myself a glass of Cheribundi Tart cherry juice. It was part of my usual recovery routine — carefully concentrated with melatonin and magnesium, the perfect way to help my body unwind after such a grueling game.

Paige, curious as always, watched me pour the juice with an eyebrow raised.

“What’s that stuff?” she asked, scrunching her nose in curiosity.

I took a sip of my drink before looking at her. “It’s Cheribundi. Tart cherry juice. Helps with recovery and sleep. It’s part of my routine.”

“Let me try some,” she said, sitting up and leaning toward the glass.

I handed it over, and she took a hesitant sip, her face morphing into one of exaggerated disgust. “Whoa. That’s… strong.”

I laughed, shaking my head. “I told you, it’s tart.”

She took another sip, this time cringing a little less. “Okay, I mean, I can get behind it, but only if there’s like… a bunch of sugar in it.”

“I wouldn’t recommend that,” I teased, taking another sip of my own drink.

She shook her head. “I’ll stick to my smoothies.”

I smiled and leaned back, feeling the warmth of the moment wash over me. For the first time in a long while, I realized just how healthy the love I had with Paige was. No drama. No chaos. Just simple, genuine affection and understanding. She supported me through everything, and I felt the same for her. I never knew it could feel this safe, this right.

After finishing our recovery routine, we both collapsed onto the bed, too tired to do much else. The lights were off, but we kept the TV on in the background.

Paige was flipping through the channels when she landed on SpongeBob SquarePants, a childhood favorite of both of ours. We exchanged a look, and I could tell Paige was about to make some smart remark about it, but instead, she just let out a little laugh.

“I can’t believe we’re watching SpongeBob,” she muttered, settling into the bed beside me.

“It’s a classic,” I said, chuckling. “Plus, we deserve a chill night.”

“Fair point,” she said, shifting so she was closer to me. “You’re right. This is what we need.”

As the TV played softly in the background, I grabbed my phone and opened Instagram. I took a quick photo of the screen—Paige and I both slumped in bed, half-watching, half-listening. I posted it to my spam story with a caption: Post-game recovery with my girl 💕 #tiredbuthappy and tagged Paige in it.

Paige grinned at me when she saw the post. “I can’t believe you just put that on your story.”

I smirked. “Hey, I’m documenting this beautiful moment of us bonding over SpongeBob. You should be honored.”

Paige rolled her eyes but didn’t seem bothered. She scooted even closer to me, wrapping an arm around my waist. “I’m honored, I guess.”

I smiled and rested my head on her shoulder, letting out a contented sigh. There was no place I’d rather be than right here, with her.

We spent the rest of the night laughing at the absurdity of SpongeBob’s antics, until my eyelids started to feel heavy. It was the kind of peace I hadn’t known before.

“Goodnight, ma,” Paige murmured, pressing a soft kiss to my forehead.

“Night, babe,” I whispered back, feeling my body relax completely.

The screen flickered, the quiet hum of the show still in the background, but I was already starting to drift off to sleep, my body and mind finally at rest.

And as I fell asleep with Paige beside me, I knew I was exactly where I was meant to be.

---

■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■

                 -Thank You For Reading!🩵🩶

                             -prettygirl-gabi🎀✨️

[hcsiqs]

SHE'S MY BIGGEST FAN— paige bueckers x cheerleader!oc

༊*·˚summary: paige with a girlfriend that cheers for uconn

༊*·˚warnings: none?

༊*·˚authors note: tell me if yall would want a part two of them getting coffee and stuff lolllllll

"Let's go Huskies!" Lucy cheered from the sideline, placing her arms into a high v before swiping her poms together a few times before restarting the cheer, as she watched the girl's team in a huddle before the five jogged back onto the court. The cheer finished and the team sat back down as the ball was inbounded back onto the court.

Lucy watched intently as the girls moved up and down the court, but before she could even realize it, Paige was running down the court trying to match the girl she was defending. As her opponent went up, so did the blonde, knocking it out of the girl's hand. Lucy didn't even notice Paige jumping towards her until she felt the weight of the other girl's body on top of hers.

"Shit, you good?" Paige asked, breathless, as Lucy and some other cheerleaders helped stand the girl back up.

"Yeah, you?" Lucy asked back quickly, holding the back of her neck that had landed on the knee from one of her teammates behind her. Paige just nodded, a flash of worry across her face as the cheerleader rubbed the back of her neck, but she had no time to stay and check on the girl as she heard her team calling her back to the court. She gave Lucy one last look before jogging back to the court.

"Is she ok?" Ashlynn asked, her eyes darting over to Lucy, who was engrossed in a conversation with the girl beside her.

Paige looked back behind her quickly then back at Ash, "Yeah," the blonde nodded before giving the group a few pointers on how they could improve, "Hey, we gotta get better on defense," she started telling them all before they all went into their spots around where the other team was about to shoot their free throws.

With UConn securing the win, the cheer team excitedly went back to their locker their laughs and yells flowing through the hallway. Once all the girls filed into the locker room, Lucy went to her locker and started taking off her shell and body liner before throwing on a gray UConn sweatshirt. "Luc, your neck ok?" Daniela asked walking over to the girl as she pulled the white bow out of her hair.

"Uh, yeah, just sore," Lucy nodded pulling the bow from her hair and then putting her curly hair into a claw clip. She dragged her perfectly manicured nails down her back feeling the back of it starting to swell slightly. "I'm sure it'll be fine tomorrow," she gave a tight-lipped smile before dragging a makeup wipe across her red-painted lips. She then pulled out another, wiping off the heavy eyeshadow from her eyes before throwing them both into the trash.

Lucy then pulled out her phone and swiped chapstick over her lips before grabbing her cheer bag and throwing it over one of her shoulders. "Ok, guys! Remember practice tomorrow in Guyer Gymnasium at 8:30!" she yelled to her team before giving a quick wave and walking out of the room and into the hallway.

Lucy kept her eyes on her phone screen as she scrolled aimlessly through TikTok while spinning her car keys in her other hand before hearing another voice call out behind her, "Hey!" She just ignored the voice, not recognizing it as one of the girls on her team. The voice called out again and Lucy could hear the patter of the girl's feet pick up pace behind her. She finally took in the moment to realize she was trying to get her attention, so she turned around and was met face-to-face with Paige Bueckers for the second time in the night.

"Gonna fall on me twice in one night, Bueckers?" Lucy laughed as she watched the blonde stable herself on her feet before she took a step back.

The blonde let out an airy laugh as she shook her head, "Nah, but I wanted to know if you were good? I saw you rubbing your neck throughout the game," she explained, her head tilted as she looked at the girl in front of her. Paige hadn't noticed it before, too locked in on the game, but the girl she had fallen into was quite beautiful. From her tan skin to her curly hair, plump lips, and brown doe eyes.

"It's nothing some sleep won't fix, but thanks for checking in," Lucy smiled pushing a loose curl behind her ear.

Paige pursed her lips as she shook her head, "I just feel bad," she laughed softly, "Can I like buy you a drink or something to make up for it?" she asked, taking her bottom lip between her teeth, "I think we're going to Ted's tonight if you wanted to join?"

"I don't really drink," Lucy laughed softly as she rubbed her lips together, "But if you really feel bad, you can get me coffee before my practice tomorrow."

"Got it," Paige nodded, she stayed quiet for a moment, "Can I get your number?" she asked before following up quickly, "For coffee in the morning."

Lucy giggled as she nodded her head and switched out of TikTok and into her contact app before handing her phone over to Paige, "This been your plan all along?" the brunette asked, a smile tugging at her lips.

"Maybe," the taller girl shrugged her shoulders as she typed her number and put her name into the girl's phone. She then pulled her phone out to the contacts app and handed it over to the girl, whose name she still had let to learn.

She watched as the curly-haired girl typed in her number as well as her name into her phone, before she handed it back, their hands brushing over each other, sending a warmth through both their bodies. Paige smiled as she clicked save contact, finally getting the girl's name, Lucy Bardot, and threw her phone back into her pocket.

"See you tomorrow," Lucy smiled softly, a laugh falling from her lips as she waved and turned back around to walk away.

"Lucy?" Paige called from behind the girl, "How'd you feel if I said this was the plan all along?"

"So funny, Bueckers," the girl laughed as she looked back at the blonde before continuing to her walk out of the gym.

[rosierin]

in your court | atsumu miya

synopsis; he serves like a show-off, scores like it’s nothing, and winks like he knows exactly what he’s doing to her. (y/n) claps. rolls her eyes. maybe blushes a little. it’s all fun and games until she catches herself heading toward the locker hallway after the final whistle.

this fic is part of the off-season quartet™ series! for more, click here :)

It was rare—ridiculously rare—for all four of them to have a day off at the same time. Between, Atsumu and Suna’s volleyball career, Osamu’s long shifts, and (y/n)’s inconsistent rotas, syncing up schedules was like trying to catch lightning in a bottle. But somehow, today lined up.

Atsumu’s match just so happened to land on it.

(Y/n) walked into the arena sandwiched between Osamu and Suna, the buzz of pre-game energy already humming in the air. The place smelled like polished floors and concession stand popcorn, like cold air and adrenaline. Music thumped faintly overhead. Fans were filing into the stands, voices rising like a tide.

“Does he know we're here yet?” Suna asked, adjusting his hoodie as they climbed the stairs.

Osamu lazily checked his phone, thumb flicking over the screen. “Mm, don't think so.” He shrugged, then glanced down at (y/n), a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “’M sure he’ll come runnin’ once he sees (y/n), though.”

She huffed a quiet laugh, brushing off the comment like it was second nature. Her eyes drifted around the arena, taking in the colourful banners and glittery signs lining the stands.

“We should’ve made one of those,” she said, tugging Osamu’s sleeve and nodding toward a group of fans waving a hand-painted poster with the players’ names in bold letters.

“Should’ve brought earplugs,” Suna muttered, eyeing the already-hyped Bokuto warming up near the net.

They settled in. The seats were decent—close enough to see expressions, far enough that they wouldn’t get hit by stray balls.

(Y/n)'s eyes scanned the court, skimming over the blur of black-and-gold jerseys until—

There.

Atsumu was standing near the baseline, bickering with Sakusa, if his flailing arms and exaggerated expressions were anything to go by. Sakusa, in turn, looked like his patience was hanging on by a mere thread, pinching the bridge of his nose with his thumb and pointer finger.

(Y/n)’s lips twitched.

Atsumu turned his head mid-rant—and spotted her.

The change was instant. His whole face lit up, smile blooming like a sunrise. He raised a hand in a lazy wave, then, without hesitation, jogged toward the stands.

“See, what’d I say?” Osamu said, chuckling as (y/n) shot him a look.

“He’s like a puppy,” Suna drawled, glancing up as he jerked his head in greeting.

Atsumu reached the railing, still slightly breathless, but grinning like he’d just won the lottery. “Look who actually showed up,” he teased, gaze locking onto (y/n) like she was the only one there. “Didn’t think ya cared.”

“Mm, I don’t,” she said smoothly, smirking. “Osamu bribed me.”

“Damn. Was it food or money?”

“Both.”

He laughed. “Figures.” Then, tipping his head just slightly, voice dipping low: “Glad yer here, though.”

(Y/n) opened her mouth—whether to respond or deflect, she wasn’t sure—but a sharp whistle cut through the air, followed by the coach’s voice barking for players to regroup.

Atsumu clicked his tongue. “Duty calls.”

He took a few steps back, eyes still on her, a smug grin tugging at his mouth.

“Don’t blink,” he said, jogging backward a few paces. “I’m ’boutta put on a show.”

Then he spun on his heel and jogged toward the baseline, straight to the service line—shoulders loose, steps confident. He bounced the ball once, then caught it with one hand, rolling it lazily along his fingertips like he had all the time in the world.

The buzzer sounded.

The crowd swelled with cheers as the match officially kicked off, voices bouncing off the high ceilings, energy crackling in the air like static.

Atsumu stepped up to the baseline, spinning the ball in one hand as he sized up the court. The noise in the arena surged—clapping, chanting, shouting.

Then he raised his fist.

The crowd fell silent.

It was almost eerie, how quickly the volume dropped. The tension stretched, taut and electric, like the entire arena had drawn in a collective breath and was holding it in.

Osamu snorted beside her, leaning in just enough for (y/n) to hear. “Can’t believe he still does that.”

“Such a diva,” Suna added, arms crossed as he watched from beneath his hood.

(Y/n) stifled a laugh, biting the inside of her cheek. They weren’t wrong—he was dramatic, theatrical, always had been. But still… there was something kind of cool about it. The way he held the moment, owned the silence like it answered to him.

Not that she’d ever say that out loud.

Atsumu’s hand rose. His toss was clean, high.

And then he jumped.

His form was sharp, powerful. The moment his palm met the ball, it echoed—crack—cutting through the quiet like lightning.

The serve ripped over the net, too fast to track, slamming untouched into the far corner.

Ace.

The crowd erupted. Bokuto yelled something unintelligible and slapped Atsumu’s back with enough force to make him stumble. Atsumu turned, grinning, and pumped his fist with satisfaction.

Then, like clockwork, he looked toward the stands.

Found her instantly.

And with a face full of smug, he waggled his eyebrows.

(Y/n) huffed a laugh despite herself, clapping just for him. Idiot.

He went back to the line.

The next serve was just as clean—fierce and fast, skimming inches above the net. The game settled into rhythm, and with each rally, the heat in the room seemed to rise. (Y/n) watched, breath caught somewhere in her chest, as the match unfolded like choreography—fluid, fast, ferocious.

Bokuto was impossible to ignore, all wild limbs and explosive energy, hitting like the world might end if the ball touched the floor. Every spike was a declaration. Every yell a battle cry.

Hinata moved like lightning—impossibly fast, defying logic with his jumps, reacting before the ball even touched down. His sheer unpredictability made him a weapon and a blur all at once.

Sakusa played with cold precision. Every move was clean, efficient. He was deliberate in a way that felt lethal—like he saw the game two steps ahead of everyone else.

And then there was Atsumu.

He was everywhere and nowhere all at once—darting across the court with surgical control, setting from impossible positions, eyes always scanning. His sets were pure instinct, tailored to each hitter like he could read their minds. Not just quick, but clever. Every toss seemed to hang in the air for half a second longer than it should have, pulling blockers out of position before snapping into place—clean, perfect, untouchable.

He called plays with a sharp eye and an even sharper tongue, pushing his teammates but trusting them, too. He grinned through the chaos, jaw tight with focus, soaked in sweat and still somehow cocky as ever. Not just good—magnetic.

(Y/n) watched him in silence, heart thudding in her chest.

It was easy to forget, sometimes, how serious he could be. How brilliant. How sharp his game sense really was beneath all that bravado. She always knew he was talented—but watching him own the court like this? Watching him burn with that kind of passion?

It made something stir in her chest. Something proud. Something that felt a lot like adrenaline.

Atsumu glanced toward the stands again, tongue peeking out between his teeth as he adjusted his knee pads. He didn’t smile this time, didn’t wink.

But his eyes found her.

And for a split second, even from across the court, she could feel the charge between them like a current.

“God,” she breathed, the word slipping out before she could catch it. “He’s good, isn’t he?”

Suna hummed low in his throat, nodding once—slow and sure. Recognition from a fellow pro. No teasing. Just fact.

Osamu, on the other hand, puffed out his chest like he was the one being praised.

“Darn right,” he said, pride practically radiating off him as he leaned back in his seat. “All that hard work’s payin’ off.”

The spell broke when the ball was served again, but the charge lingered.

Even as the game carried on—sweat flying, feet thudding against the court—she kept catching herself watching him.

Watching the way he moved.

The way he played.

The way he made her feel.

Rallies stretched longer. The score climbed higher. Every point brought more noise, more pressure, more heart. There were impossible saves, stunning spikes, and moments so fast the crowd couldn’t even gasp before the ball hit the floor.

The Jackals fought hard. So did the opposing team. But in the end, it was the fire in their eyes that made the difference—the burn behind every leap, every block, every set.

And Atsumu—Atsumu was at the centre of it all.

And when the final whistle blew and the crowd rose to their feet, (y/n) stayed still for a moment, heart still racing.

Around her, the arena surged with cheers, players exchanging high fives and half-hugs at the net. Bokuto was already bouncing on his toes, dragging Hinata into a sweaty headlock. Sakusa gave a stiff nod of approval. Atsumu was all grins and flushed cheeks, soaking in the aftermath like it was his own private spotlight.

(Y/n) stood with the boys, clapping along, the adrenaline still buzzing in her fingertips. Around them, the crowd was spilling toward the aisles, voices raised in celebration, bodies pressing forward in every direction.

But her eyes were still on the court.

Or… where the court had been.

Players were dispersing, coaches shaking hands, the arena losing its shape in the blur of people moving. She caught sight of Bokuto waving to someone in the crowd, Hinata bouncing on his heels. Sakusa had already disappeared.

And then—just for a second—she saw Atsumu’s back, his jersey clinging to sweat, a towel slung over one shoulder as he disappeared into the tunnel.

Her breath caught.

Osamu caught it instantly.

“He’ll be headin’ toward the changin’ room,” he said casually, jerking his chin toward the back corridor. A knowing glint sparked in his eye. “That way.”

“I’m just going to—” she started, waving vaguely, but the heat in her cheeks betrayed her.

Suna smirked, tugging at the drawstring of his hoodie. “Gonna go congratulate him properly?”

Osamu snorted. “Tell ’im to keep it down if ya end up makin’ out in the lockers.”

(Y/n) huffed, flustered. “You two are gross.”

But she didn’t argue more than that.

And before either of them could say another word, she was already weaving through the crowd—shoulders squared, face warm, heart hammering.

Toward the hallway.

Toward him.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

The hallway outside the Jackals’ changing room still pulsed with post-game energy. Cheers echoed faintly through the concrete walls, teammates’ laughter spilled out of open doors, and the lingering scent of gym floor polish and sweat hung in the air. The kind of buzz that felt electric and heavy all at once—like the match was still happening, somewhere just beyond reach.

(Y/n) stood near the corner, rocking on the balls of her feet, trying to look casual. Like she hadn’t been waiting there for the past ten minutes. Like her pulse wasn’t ticking just a little too fast.

She hadn’t seen him yet.

But when Atsumu rounded the corner, it was impossible to miss him.

Water bottle in hand, hair damp and tousled, skin flushed from exertion, he looked like the personification of adrenaline. Loose-limbed and glowing with victory. His grin broke wide the second his eyes landed on her, something fond and wicked lighting up his whole face.

“Well, well,” he drawled, smug and sun-warm, “If it ain’t my favourite supporter.”

She arched a brow, arms folding across her chest as the corner of her mouth twitched. “If it ain’t Japan’s number one setter.”

“You got that right, baby.” His voice was cocky, but his eyes gleamed when he said it.

As he slowed beside her, still radiating energy like static off his skin, (y/n) reached out and gave a firm slap to his chest—just over his heart, where the jersey clung.

“Good job out there,” she said, grinning. “You killed it.”

He actually curled in on himself a little, shoulders hiking up at the impact, a laugh bubbling out of him—light and almost boyish, like she’d caught him off guard.

“Thanks, angel. Ya flatter me.”

For half a second, his expression softened, something warm flickering behind the grin. Then it shifted, teasing again.

“What’re ya doin’ all the way out here anyway?” he asked, a smirk tugging at his mouth. His voice dipped a little lower, his eyes half-lidded, glinting with mischief. “You come to give me a victory kiss?”

(Y/n) snorted, rolling her eyes. “Yeah, right.”

Tilting her chin, she gestured behind him.

He turned, and sure enough—a cluster of fangirls stood at the far end of the hallway. One held a glittery homemade sign with “MIYA ♡” scrawled across it in big, bubble letters. Another clutched a volleyball and a phone like her life depended on both. All of them were watching, eyes wide and hopeful.

The moment Atsumu lifted his hand in greeting, a wave of squeals rippled down the corridor.

(Y/n) gave him an amused look. “You not gonna go entertain your fans?”

Atsumu turned back to her with a smirk that could melt gold. “Why, when my number one fan is standin’ right here?”

That one landed a little lower in her stomach than she cared to admit.

She cleared her throat, eyes flicking down, then back up to his face. “Anyway, you played really well. That last set was…” Her fingers fluttered in the air, vague but meaningful. “…kind of electric.”

His smile widened into something bright and boyish. “Kind of? Just kind of?”

A snort. “Don’t get cocky.”

He tilted his head, something playful dancing in his gaze. “Can’t help it when I’ve got you watchin’ from the stands. Makes a guy wanna show off.”

“Oh, so am I the reason you didn’t botch your serves today?”

He stepped a little closer, enough that she could feel the heat still rolling off his skin, the warmth of him brushing the space between them.

“Mm. Somethin’ like that.” His voice dropped low, almost coaxing. “Admit it. You liked watchin’ me out there." He cocked an eyebrow, almost like a challenge. "I think yer just too proud to admit it."

(Y/n)’s arms folded tighter, not as a shield—but as something to do with her hands. She shifted her weight onto one leg, her stance relaxed but purposeful. Then she tilted her chin up, looking at him through her lashes, a grin curling slow and smug across her lips.

“I think that you’re a shameless flirt, Miya.”

It sounded like a reprimand.

It felt like a dare.

He laughed, soft and low, like he was savouring her words. His gaze flicked over her face, and something about the way she was smiling now—bold, open, playful—made his chest feel tight in a way he’d never admit out loud.

“And I think you like it.”

The space between them shrank by inches. His hand lifted, slow and careful, and he brushed his fingers beneath her chin, tilting her face toward his. Her skin tingled where he touched. She didn’t step away.

Their eyes locked.

The world fell quiet.

She wasn’t smiling now—just watching him, gaze steady, challenging. But her breathing had changed. Her shoulders had stilled. Her lips parted just enough.

“Say it,” he murmured.

(Y/n) didn’t move. She didn’t speak. But she didn’t look away, either.

She could just almost feel his breath against her lips…

Her eyes fluttered shut.

Atsumu’s followed suit.

A throat cleared.

Sharp. Disapproving.

They both flinched like teenagers caught in the act.

Sakusa stood a few feet away, arms crossed, unimpressed.

Atsumu stepped back, hands raised like he was surrendering, that same shit-eating grin still playing at his mouth.

“Easy now. We were just talkin’.”

(Y/n) turned away slightly, fixing her hair like it mattered, cheeks burning.

“You’ve got no shame.”

“Never claimed I did,” Atsumu called over his shoulder as he casually re-joined Sakusa, still wearing that infuriatingly satisfied look.

Before she could collect herself, a familiar voice boomed behind her.

“HEYYYYY!!!”

An arm slung itself across her shoulders with all the weight of unfiltered excitement. Bokuto beamed down at her, hair still damp, jersey clinging to his broad frame. He smelled like men’s deodorant and sweat—like a boys’ locker room in a strangely comforting way.

“I’m so glad you came! It’s been forever, right?” he said, already squeezing her into a one-armed hug. “Did you see that spike?! It was insane, right??” He leaned back, eyes wide with anticipation. “Tell me it was insane—Hinata, you know the one!”

“Set two!” Hinata chimed in, popping up at Bokuto’s other side with a wide grin. “No—wait—set three! Whatever, it was INSANE!”

And just like that, she was swallowed by chaos. Caught between Bokuto’s enthusiastic replays and Hinata’s sound effects, swept away in a whirlwind of animated retellings, wild gestures, and overlapping voices that buzzed in her ears.

She smiled. Laughed, even. But even as she nodded along, her eyes drifted—

Atsumu was walking down the hallway with Sakusa, a towel slung over one shoulder, head ducked in casual conversation. But just before he turned the corner, he looked back.

Their eyes met across the noise.

His gaze dipped—slow, deliberate—giving her a once over before flicking back to her eyes. His lips curled into a smirk… then he winked.

(Y/n) exhaled sharply through her nose—more scoff than sigh—and shook her head, fighting a smile.

“Unbelievable,” she muttered.

But her heart didn’t quite agree.

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

”why are you so good at that?”

his caress is gentle. tender, steady, secure; and practiced, you can tell, just from the instant relief you feel — the vivid care in how his fingertips smooth along your skin. 

suguru presses his thumbs into the bridge of your nose, right beneath your forehead, big palms cupping your face. they’re warm, calloused, but still somehow so soft — massaging you gently. the pads of his fingers trail upwards, rubbing soothing little circles against your temples. as if he’s memorized every patch of skin, seen the very inside of your skull. as if he knows exactly where to apply pressure to make the sharp jolts of pain go away. 

and it’s working. the room you’re in is dimly lit, illuminated only by the vermilion rays of the setting sun, bleeding in through the gap between the opened shoji screens. a faint, summery scent accompanies them; like burnt roses, or a salty ocean breeze, not enough to rouse the nausea in your throat. it’s quiet. all you can hear is the soft humming of your lover, and your own relieved breaths, pulled out by his skillful hands. his pointer fingers pinch between your brows, and another one follows. the sweetest little sigh. 

”am i?” his voice is soft, even more so than usual, as if the slightest noise could disrupt your peace. a smile is knit between the vowels. ”i’m glad.”

he sounds a little tired. it’s been a long day for both of you, so it’s no surprise. when you finally got back home, the inside of your skull was tormented by a persistent ache, and suguru was blinking with fatigue — though he still insisted on doing this. lying you down on his lap, like a fragile doll, crossing his legs to give you enough space to rest comfortably; the back of your head finding respite on his thigh, senses enveloped by the silk of his robes, smelling lightly of cherry blossoms and sandalwood. comfy.

and, after only a couple minutes of his loving treatment, the ache began to dull. sweet relief seeping into your nerves.

he reminds you to take deep breaths, watching intently as the contours of your face fall back into a state of tranquility. whenever he shifts, the tatami mats beneath him rustle, and your muddled mind sways like the rocking of a boat; slight, but still enough to coax a wince from out your throat, a tiny spark of pain blooming between your sinuses, followed by a murmured apology from the man above you. 

a hum buzzes in his throat. you hear it, eyes still shut, waiting for him to answer your question. and he does, of course — so weak to you, always, your voice the key to his locked-up heart.

”back in high school…” he starts, diligently continuing the facial massage, comforting circles rubbed into your skin. ”... my best friend got migraines often.” 

a soft groan slips from out your parted lips, when he pushes against a certain spot — locating the pressure points like brushing specks of dust from off his clothing. effortless. 

”ah,” you click your tongue, melting into his touch. turning into a boneless puddle, cradled in his lap, comfy as can be. ”your mysterious bestie, huh?”

it’s not the first you’ve heard of this best friend. suguru’s mentioned him before, though only in passing, in whispers, comments he hopes will sound absentminded. they never do — because suguru says the word friend like it’s a prayer. 

(that explains it, though. no wonder it feels so good; it is practiced. should you feel jealous?

well, maybe. but you mostly think it’s kind of sweet.)

before you can think of what you’re saying, the words have left your lips. they tumble out like little pizzicato drops, spoken casually, matter-of-factly. a tiny chirp of a thing.

”you must have loved him a lot.”

…

silence.

for just a moment, the thumbs pressing against your skin halt — just for a second, but enough to notice, and suddenly you feel a little like the air has been sucked out of the room.

even with your eyes closed, you know suguru’s smile is nowhere to be seen. 

it’s funny, how well you’ve come to know him. how you’ve learned to memorize every expression you’ve ever seen him make, any signs of distress or discomfort. he does this thing with his eyes, sometimes — a thin kind of concealment, when you shuffle a little too close for his comfort. figuratively speaking, because you’re almost certain he’d let you crawl under his skin if you asked. but sometimes you twist the key to his heart a little too abruptly, and his eyes of gold and ochre shift in the light, honey clogging the interior of his cornea. something sickly-sweet. something he’s kept locked up for a long time.

a nostalgia so palpable it breaks your heart just to look at it.

you don’t want to open your eyes. you don’t want to see the kind of face he’s making right now. you don’t want to know if he’s pursing his lips, or furrowing his brows, just because of your carelessly chosen words — you know his old best friend is a sensitive subject. gosh, you’re stupid. 

stupid, stupid, stupid.

(why can’t you ever just read the room?)

blindly, you stumble for something to say, parting your lips. desperate to change the topic, to save him from this suffocating silence.

— but then suguru breaks it.

”yeah.”

when your eyes flutter open, he’s looking out into the garden. watching the sun, as it sinks beneath the mountains, lips curved up into a small smile.

”i suppose i did.”

…

you take a moment to look at him. the bridge of his nose, the firm lines of his jaw — the slightest tremble of the muscle. and those eyes, set afire by the final rays of the setting sun, burned to ash. filled with… something. not regret.

just longing.

suddenly, the pads of his fingers are dancing along your skin again; gliding down to pinch your nose. it makes you yelp, a tiny squeak.

and then he’s looking at you. 

”but i love you more,” he croons, a little tilt of his head that make his bangs move like a black curtain. eyes swirling with humour, something syrupy and teasing, awfully fond. ”my little dove.”

before you know it, your cheeks are blossoming with warmth; the branches of your lips curling up into a shy smile. his attention is a little too much to bear, so you wriggle out of his grasp — turning around to press your face into his stomach. his sleeves cast a curtain around you, a protective veil, but it’s not long until you’re being coaxed back into your original position.

”ah ah,” he tuts, chiding you lovingly; a coo in the back of his throat. ”none of that. let me take care of you.”

all you can do is groan, meekly, squeezing your eyes shut. suguru only chuckles, cupping your cheeks and continuing to apply pressure on your forehead and nose, large warm palms against your chilled skin — unwilling to let you escape his pampering.

the sun sets eventually. but he keeps you on his lap until the headache has faded entirely, until your eyelids have dragged you into a deep slumber, until tiny snores are seeping from your parted lips. until the moon has pulled itself into the night sky above you.

somehow, even on the brink of exhaustion, you manage to feel his warm lips against your forehead; hear the muffled murmur against your skin.

”sweet dreams, my darling,” comes a whisper, deep and silky, coaxing you further into the cradle of sleep. his thumb smooths along your cheekbone, down to the curve of your jaw — a trail of warmth. ”come back to me soon, won’t you?”

he smiles. you feel it, that soft upward curve, a blissed out sensation drowning you in white noise. the space inside your mind is free of pain, filled only with thoughts of him, the lines of his fingers burning patterns into your skin. one final kiss pressed between your brows, and then he’s pulling away; curling his arms under your knees and hoisting you up. into his steady arms, his robes shielding you from the soft glow of the stars.

”… don’t dawdle in dreamland for too long.”

the whisper goes unheard. fast asleep, suguru can only gaze at you, drinking in the serenity on your features. trying not to remember a boy with blue eyes — the similar expression he wore once his migraines had begun to fade.

he shakes his head, and carries you towards the bedroom. safe and sound in his embrace.

[princessbrunette]

dick so good i'd let rafe mansplain solitaire and all his little games to me like im stupid - 🍓

🤍໒꒰ྀི´ ˘ ` ꒱ྀིა ⋆˚✿˖°

everything rafe explains is ‘mansplain’ material, but honestly — you don’t mind. infact, he can mansplain whatever he wants as long as he keeps that good dick coming.

you’re all dazed and giggly, you had been all day since rafe gave it to you good at noon. it was a lazy day, your boyfriend not marching around on 20 errands and 8 side quests for once as he lays about tannyhill with you, his usual shirt and slacks switched out for a tshirt and sweatpant shorts. he looks noticeably younger like this, his floppy bangs hanging messily on his forehead and he focuses on his phone, long pointer finger swiping and pressing when need be.

clingy and needy, you end up on his lap, his phone screen placed infront of you with the gentle hum of the television in the background creating a relaxing and domestic atmosphere. “so what hand should i play here? were you listenin’?” he drawls, adjusting you on his lap as he quizzes you. tucking your mouth into one corner, you hum theatrically— knowing you barely listened to a word he said, too focused on how blissed out you were with the warm buzzing of his nasally voice in your ear.

“mm, this one”. you tap your manicured nail on the screen at a random pile and he pulls the screen away, as if worried you’d press something.

“dont wanna empty a spot without a king, remember?” he speaks slowly like you’re a little stupid and you giggle, already throwing in the towel.

“i dont knooow rafe! just wanna watch you play, i dont need to know the rules.” you concede and he shakes his head, pressing the pile he wanted to play and you watch the cards shuffle about on his screen.

“its a good skill to have. you don’t play cards with your friends?” he asks, eyes still fixated on the screen over your shoulder and you snicker, twisting your body to nuzzle into him.

“no, what the hell.” you chortle at the idea. “we just talk, gossip n’stuff.”

“girly shit. guess you won’t be joinin’ me for poker night at kelce’s then?”

“i’ll come but i wont play. i’ll just sit there like a good luck charm.”

it’s rafes turn to snicker, in high spirits as he seemed to be winning the game on his phone. “s’all you ever wanna do huh? sit there n’look pretty.”

“is that not allowed?” you pull your cheek away from where you’d shoved it against him to gaze up at him with a cheeky smile, batting your lashes as he glances at you away from his phone.

“‘course it is.” he purrs, briefly tipping his head to deliver a big wet kiss to your cheek, making you giggle and wipe it on his t-shirt. “don’t fuckin’ wipe that off.” he chuckles in offence, jogging you on his lap. you liked when rafe just let go, he could be really fun behind closed doors.

🤍໒꒰ྀི´ ˘ ` ꒱ྀིა ⋆˚✿˖°

[attapullman]

Silver Screen, Make Me Scream | Robert "Bob" Floyd

Summary: The world is used to seeing Robert Floyd as a Navy admiral on a screen thirty feet tall. You're used to seeing him as the man who spoils you rotten, in and out of the bedroom.

Word Count: 4.2k

Warnings: f!reader, 18+ ONLY, older boyfriend AU, movie star AU, daddy k!nk, unprotected pinv, older bf Bob eats it from behind, cowgirl position, age gap, no y/n

A Note from Mo: Uh...this is porn without plot disguised as a filthy, flirty AU and I am waving from the bars of horny jail. Fellow old man fuckers, this one is for you.

It’s his cold pillow that wakes you. 

No deep breaths or soft snores echoing around the vaulted ceiling. The absurdly expensive bedding all yours to take. Your late night should keep you asleep until noon, but it feels wrong to be in bed when you don’t have your lover’s solid warmth against your skin.

You pad down the terracotta-tiled hall and take in the views of the Pacific, the only artwork needed on this side of the house. Stormy blue and glass-riddled sandy white, the picturesque view sells itself. The waves crash on the beach below, their mellow sound seeping into the Mediterranean revival from the open patio doors. 

He’s sitting outside in just his sweatpants, coffee in hand, as he watches the water while flicking through a thick stack of pages. The grey at his temples is bright under the early San Diego sun. You know he’s reading something important because he has those horn-rimmed glasses on, the ones he repeatedly complains are too tight around his ears. Won’t even waste a minute to go grab his preferred wire frames. 

Robert Floyd may be retired from show business, but he’s hotter than the first day he graced screens.

Eyes lifting from the pages, he catches you staring from your spot by the French doors, negligee skimming your body in the soft ocean breeze. The lids of your eyes are still a little heavy with sleep.

“You need something, baby?” He pats his broad thigh and you assume your perch, snuggling against his sun-warmed skin as you shake your head. How is he always the perfect temperature? The chill from the ocean wafts over you as he wraps his arm around your waist.

Your lips part in a contented smile. “Just checking in on you, Daddy. Missed you in bed.”

“Sorry, baby,” he coos, brushing his lips against your temple. His thick pointer taps against the stack of pages that arrived by messenger at sunrise. “Agent asked me to give this a look over, see if I’d be interested.”

You tilt your head to see the title. “Is that-”

“Yes, baby girl. They’re asking me to come back. Just a few scenes with the new regime, but get to wear that admirals uniform one more time.” Despite him saying it so matter of factly, you can detect his giddiness at wearing those pins once again. “Not sure if it’s the right move though.”

You trail your finger along his pectoral, imagining the ironed uniform underneath your touch. 

Robert Floyd had made a career of Naval action films, starting out as a fresh faced Weapons Systems Officer in his debut, to gracing the screen one last time as an Admiral in the franchise’s original conclusion. He’d won over hearts with his steely blue gaze and soft smile, never one for breaking the rules. Yet always the one who celebrated the hardest when his squadron completed a mission.

For military propaganda, he made a compelling poster boy.

Your entire childhood he had been on posters in the mall, trailers on the television during commercial breaks. Those bright sapphire eyes and gleaming pins burnt into your vision, uncontrollably charmed by the strong, silent type. 

And now here he was, putty under your palms as you asked if he wanted more coffee.

Without a doubt he’d take the appearance, spend a day or two on set with the next generation of Naval action stars. The next year he’d appear on every talk show and repeat his modesty over his fifteen minutes on camera. Your Bobby would balk at the attention, but glow with pride as the host played his cameo for the audience. 

Watching him flip through a few pages, you could already see the shy smile he would win the crowd over as he insisted the revival’s cast members were the real stars.

“What’cha thinking about, sweet girl?” You were so lost in your daydream that you missed his attention turning to you, warm palm running over your hip under your thin robe. 

You stroke his jaw, fingers curling into the regulation-cut greying hair. The cut he’s kept since he was first cast in his early twenties. “You should take the role. You look handsome as an admiral.” You peck a light kiss to his lips. “Dashing, really.”

His blush is striking against the ocean sky. As you get up to go make you both breakfast, you can feel his eyes on you; an extra sway in your hips for his enjoyment. Bob lounges back on the outdoor set and looks between the breaking waves and the now slightly rumpled script. 

He’s coming back.

The view of the ocean as you zip up I-5 is breathtaking, a gorgeous Southern California day. The early call time was less than ideal, but the energy in the car is electric. Bob’s hand wanders into the passenger seat to wrap around your bare knee, thumb tapping out an unknown rhythm as he navigates traffic. 

He looks the vision of wealth and importance sitting in the front seat of his pewter grey Porsche 911 - a sleek upgrade for his 40th from the battered truck he’d been driving since he arrived in Hollywood. The car is understated in its elegance, like its owner. You admire his graceful lines of a life well lived, the pokes of silver woven through his hair. And yet his eyes carry that intelligent, sassy energy that keeps you on your toes, ready for the next challenge he brings you. 

“You’re looking at me.” His eyes don’t leave the road, but the smile on the corner of his thin lips is playful.

You fiddle with his fingers, admiring the large dexterous digits. “Just so handsome, how can I not?”

Bob lifts your hand with his, allowing the platinum and diamonds of your bracelet to catch the morning sun - nearly blinding with their sparkle. He brings your interlocked fingers to his lips, pressing a loving kiss to the skin as he finally looks at you. His eyes are the same striking blue as the ocean behind him. 

“Perfect girl, what did I do to deserve you?”

You’re wondering the same when he enters the studio lot, passing through security and finding your way to the set. There’s a bustle of commotion as the two of you join the crowd, everyone immediately hushing their voices as the talent arrives. Bob’s chest swells with power as everyone immediately caters to him before noticing you.

“That must be his assistant?” Rumors spread through the crew like wildfire, watching you prance behind film legend Robert Floyd like an excitable puppy. Eyebrows shooting up when he turns back and rests a hand on the back of your bare thigh, leaning close to ask if you want anything from craft. 

You slide your diamond-covered wrist around his neck and peck his cheek. Definitely not an assistant.

Since the day he’d made his name on marquees, Bob had been surrounded by women. A tall man in Navy blues with the golden touch of Hollywood? His fellow cast joked more than once that tag chasers didn’t care whether you served the country or just did it on screen. Eventually he’d done the responsible thing and tried marriage, settling down with a woman who cared more about his flashy lifestyle than the quiet man behind the lights. Divorce was swift and the introvert reverted inside his shell, his film career quiet as the next generation of aviators took the screen. 

And then you entered his life, with your open face and bright smile. A coffee shop in Coronado he frequented that you happened to pass. A bump of elbows over the creamer, his amused grin when you accidentally grabbed his drink in your fluster. You were so excited to meet a real movie star, a dream come true. And he looked so much bigger than his character - those shoulders brawnier, that jaw sharper. Yet the smile he gave you was heart-melting as you handed him your own coffee cup to sign, nothing else available.

It wasn’t until that afternoon you noticed he’d written his number in neat penmanship. You had to wait until that next night to know you were falling inexplicably in love with a man who the rest of the world already adored. He was bigger than life, your everything.

And for all of your affection, he spoiled you. Dates to restaurants you couldn’t pronounce in Liberty Station, private events with tickets you couldn’t afford. Every week a new trinket left at your bedside, sparkling in the low light while he hummed in the bathroom excited for you to notice. Few things brought him joy at this stage in life, but you traipsing in with nothing on but the latest diamant�� left him positively enraptured.

People could stare and point and judge all they wanted. It was love, and it was all yours.

You’ve raided the mini bar and read through the call sheet when Bob finally comes back to his trailer. He strikes a bold figure in his Navy blacks - pins gleaming, white cap under his arm. 

“Hello, gorgeous,” he greets you, swooping to kiss your cheek. But your breath is already stolen. You’d seen pictures, caught his movies at the old matinee in Balboa Park. But standing in front of you is the sexiest man you’ve ever seen. He looks so…official.

Bob was already feeling good in the wardrobe trailer, the crew he’d worked with for years stroking his ego as they put the final touches to his starched uniform. He’d be on screen for a total of eight minutes and he was going to look important every single second. 

But with your eyes trained on him, pupils wide and mesmerized, it’s the only compliment he needs. 

“They look good on you again,” you coo, tracing your fingertips over the sterling silver insignia pins. It’s hard to quell the rising heat as you look at him, standing tall in this uniform - his uniform - just like the posters and movie trailers of your youth. 

He rubs his temples and grabs his wire frames from the counter, pressing a kiss to your cheek as he straightens up. “Feels good to wear them, baby. Not sure who I am if not in the ‘Navy’.” He chuckles around air quotes, morphing into a moan as you run your nails down his torso. 

Even though he’s not in character, the suit transforms him. 

He’s not your Bob, the man who walks around his big ol’ house in band shirts he got in the 80s and his worn shearling slippers. Squinting through his glasses while trying to read fine print for instruction manuals for more Lego sets than he needs, peppering your head with kisses as you sit between his knees. Your Bobby is always goofy and smiling when you come through the door, eager to wrap his arms around you as he patiently listens to all the friend updates from brunch. He’s warmth and safety, that side of middle age where you have to explain internet fads with a playful eye roll.

But this man…this man in front of you is stern and mighty, seizing the room with his intensity. He’s commanding in his own silent way, back straight and shoulders taught. No nonsense, just like the admiral he plays for screens around the world. His presence is intoxicating. You can’t decide if you want to dominate him or be putty in his hands. 

You twist in his arms, pressing your chest to his as you smooth the lapels of his suit. It’s only natural that those big, practiced hands of his immediately slip to your legs. Two magnets drawn by the promise of touch. But once he’s inches from your pretty face, ready to ask you to help him read over lines, that gleam in your eyes has other plans.

His girl wants him.

“Babygirl, I’m in wardrobe.” His words say no, but the fervent way he’s stroking the skin under your hem says differently. He’s not immune to a tiny dress and puppy eyes. You watch his hand reach up to drag through greying roots before he remembers it’s styled, redirecting his frustration by slipping rough fingers around the nape of your neck. Holding your head still while he fights his sense of responsibility.

It doesn’t matter that you’re in a tin can trailer with no sound proofing. You lick your glossy lips and give him the most innocent smile. “Please? We can be super careful.”

He eyes you warily. The two of you together is messy.

“Please, Daddy?” You rub yourself against him, feeling the way he shivers underneath his stiff uniform. “I wanna know what it’s like to fuck an admiral. Please?”

He’s powerless against you when you’re like this. Needy and heavy-lidded, unsatisfied until you’ve had your fair share of him and then some. It’s only when you’re a panting mess full of his spend that he can regain any control against you.  The age gap is exhilarating and exhausting.

His face dips to rest against your temple, the floral scent of your perfume clouding his senses. So sweet, so soft. You feel his groan against your cheek before he straightens up to his full height, towering over you with a stern expression on his face. Those elegant, practiced fingers tuck under your chin.

“Attention.” Your spine straightens, your breath deepens. “Let’s see if you’re up to regulation, lieutenant.”

A warm gush of excitement floods your body, soaking in your flimsy excuse for underwear. You watch your big, broad, authoritative boyfriend sink down into the plush trailer sofa, knees spread. Patting his thigh with an unamused brow quirk. 

Exhilaration races through your veins as you eagerly straddle his lap, sundress sliding up your thighs as you perch prettily on his thighs. The vision of youthful glow, hoping to impress.

Bob traces your heated skin with callused fingers, lips pursed, before sliding a hand firmly up your back. The world spins as he flips you over his lap, your rounded ass exposed to his eyes, modesty barely covered by a scrap of lace.

“Uniform panty inspection,” Bob huffs out, fingers ghosting over the fabric. His voice is restrained, clipped. You stay as still as possible as you hold your breath. You want to pass this inspection so bad.

The firm touch of his ring finger to your clothed sex forces a moan to slip through your clamped lips. So close to giving you what you want. But he remains diligent, stroking your pussy through the fabric until he’s satisfied with the wet patch he created. “Perfectly up to code.”

His finger wraps around the strap of the thong and yanks it down, forcing you to further immodestly part your knees as he discards the sexy - yet unnecessary - piece of fabric.

Your mind is heavy with lust as you turn your head, trying to understand. Normally he’s between your thighs teasing the fabric for longer than you can handle. Your lips are still dry. But before your eyes and brain connect with the visual, film legend Robert Floyd has a rounded cheek in each hand and his tongue plunged deep in your pretty pink pussy.

Blunt nails dig into the soft skin of your ass as he re-acquaints himself with your taste. Sliding his thick muscle along the velveteen walls of your cunt, lapping up the addicting taste of your lust. Your head is empty as he forces you to take it, to enjoy the way he worships the very core of your being. 

Saliva and arousal mix on his clean shaven face as he presses deeper, moaning as he feels you clench around him. His own pride growing as you wail with only his tongue fucking you. It’s wet and dirty, the heat along your skin eating you alive as you succumb to your pleasure. 

These are the benefits of dating a man with experience.

His tongue retreats, laving over your folds with practiced precision. You bury your head in the rough sofa fabric, muffling the depraved sounds crossing your lips. Your fingers reach up and wrap around his thick wrist, needing a tether to reality. His free hand travels to his belt, loosening the leather and freeing his erection to the humid trailer.

He knows you and your tells. Dragging that wicked tongue back, he corners your little neglected clit. Sucks it into his mouth like an after dinner mint, savoring the tangy sweetness of you. Your hips thrust back at him, desperate for more as you begin your hedonistic descent. 

Time and space lose all meaning as Bob goes in for the kill, switching between the heavy pulls on your clit and the slippery licks along your core. Blowing cool air where you’re most sensitive before sweeping in with his burning tongue. The combination of his stiff muscle fucked into your depths and his thumb bumping your swollen clit finally send you over the edge, a white light overtaking your body as you scream into the plush cushion below.

Film legend Robert Floyd cleans your juices from your shaking thighs thoroughly.

Begrudgingly, your limbs are jelly as you bring yourself to his level. Bob’s hands continue their ministrations to the globes of your ass, squeezing and groping the soft skin. When you finally find yourself sitting upright, his thick cock nestled between the soft lips of your cunt, he gives into his desires and draws his hand up, only to bring it down with a slap! The sound rings through the room and his cheeks tinge pink with arousal and embarrassment.

“Admiral!” you giggle as he repeats the harsh slap on the other cheek. 

While you have the devastatingly sexy view of a sweaty admiral beneath you, his eyes are glued to the mirror across the trailer that captures the dark red handprint he wishes he could tattoo on your perfect ass. 

Lips descend upon his and the trailer is filled with the slick sounds of tongues and moans, four hands grasping with the need to touch. But where to touch? His burning skin? The cool pins of his jacket? It’s almost too easy a choice to wrap your fingers around the bulbous head of his cock while he swallows your desperate little tongue.

“That’s it, feel how hard Daddy is for you.”

He finally pulls himself from your kiss-bitten lips as his hands tug down the neckline of your filmy dress, exposing your heaving breasts to the room. Lips dipping down to wrap around your hardened nipple, leaving teeth marks and wet kisses on tender flesh. Your moans egging him on to bite deeper, suck harder.

The world knows the reserved man who waits to speak, level-headed in the most dire situations. And yet here he is, the remnants of your orgasm staining his chin as he closes his eyes to better enjoy the peaked bud he’s devouring. 

He’s delicious and all yours.

Your fingers tangle at the nape of his neck, grasping the short strands with all your might as you pull him off your chest with an audible pop. Those impossibly blue eyes look at you reverently, letting you call the shots so he can continue to enjoy your body as it deserves. You drag your shared gaze to where your bodies meet and a grunt involuntarily leaves him. Finally.

The first touch is a puzzle piece falling into place. The thick head of him asking for entrance, slick with your desire. 

Those unbelievably large hands hold themselves delicately at your waist, assisting your descent. His eyes flicker between yours and the welcoming entrance of your cunt. Your commanding admiral - your sweet Bobby - grasps you securely as you try to sink further on his swollen cock.

“Daddy, it’s too big.” Your voice is pained, teary eyes struggling to hold his gaze just as he likes. His size splitting you open like his own personal cock sleeve.

“You can take it, baby, just breathe.” His heart threatens to beat out of his chest as your impossibly tight cunt squeezes around him. “There’s my good girl, gonna fit all of Daddy, aren’t you?”

Hesitantly lifting your hips, muscle memory takes over as you adjust. The ease of taking his thick cock coming back to you as your breasts bounce with your fervent movement. The lapel of his jacket wrinkles as you hold it, lip between your teeth as he grazes that spongy spot only he can reach.

He guides you in your pursuit of pleasure, admiring the way you thrust you chest out as you clench around him. One hand on his lapel, the other grasping his knee. Truly using his body to get yourself off. So unbelievably sexy.

Your admiral’s thumb finds your clit, rubbing persistent slow circles over the sensitive, swollen bud. Times a hard press with when you are completely full of him, your senses overwhelmed. Bob. Bob. Bob. His balls ache with the need to claim you as his.

Impatient, knowing call time is mere moments away, Bob lifts his hips to yours. Pumping his erection deep, all the way to the hilt as his balls brush your ass. He’s so deep, so perfectly deep. A guttural moan leaves your spit-slicked lips, begging for your orgasm. 

“Are you going to cum for your admiral?” His deep voice rings through your ears as you chase your high, the world clouding as only his cock becomes your reality. Your fingers card through his hair, silver and golden brown weaving together to keep you grounded in your pleasure. “I said, are you going to cum for your admiral?”

“Yes!” The next lot over could probably hear you shout to the heavens, plunging yourself down on Bob’s thick cock as your orgasm plunges you over the cliff. Sweet relief flooding your senses as your pussy pulses around him as a thank you.

Your lips find his neck as you nuzzle in, hips still sunk low on his throbbing erection. You need to be filled with Daddy’s cum.

The stiff fabric of his uniform jacket rubs your bare skin as he holds you close, pressing your nipples to his insignia pins as he strongly thrusts those last few times. Grunting into your cooing mouth as he finally lets go, cock pulsing as thick white jets of his cum coat your walls. 

“Thank you, Daddy,” you whisper in his ear when you carefully pull off, barely enough energy to keep your thighs closed for the sake of his uniform. He gently guides you onto your back, ever the gentleman. 

You stretch your sore limbs and relax into the plushness of his trailer sofa, hands wrapping behind your head as you smile, satiated, while Bob’s creamy cum runs past your thighs to pool on the fabric. Your graying lover gives you a wry smile as he regains his breath against the back the couch, uniform crumpled and bearing a stain a little too close to his zipper. 

Always so messy. But so worth it.

There’s a rap at the door, three quick knocks that shake you both from your orgasmic haze. Bob rushes to cover your modesty, fiddling with the hems of your dress with clumsy fingers. Wishing you were home so he could wrap you in his robe and run a bath before watching the ocean from the terrace instead of praying there’s wipes in this shoddy trailer. 

“Mr. Floyd? We’re ready for you,” comes through the door. The PA who whispered you were an assistant, now only steps away from your bare breasts and dirty thighs.

You wiggle your eyebrows at Bob as you fix your own appearance, amused as the bigger than life Robert Floyd shuffles around the room, tucking in his button up and wiping sweat from his collar. Blush in full force as he hands you the thong resting on the kitchenette. He shakes his head at you, mirth softening the edges of his hard gaze. There’s another knock at the door.

Uniform fully back in place, Bob takes a moment to admire you before an afternoon in front of cameras. Enjoying this last moment before he gets into character. Hands on your soft hips, sated cerulean eyes appreciating the curves of your mischievous lips. “Be a good girl for me today and Daddy will give you a reward later. Deal?”

You bite your lip and nod with a smirk, opening the door of the trailer so he’s not later than he already is. Today you get to watch him do the thing he loves, that in itself is already a reward. The crowd outside the trailer watches you turn back and leave one last kiss to his lips.

“Yes…Admiral.”

Bob can’t wait to surprise you with the South Sea pearl and diamond earrings he’s saved for this day. It’s his baby girl’s first day on set, only the best to commemorate the occasion.

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[coffeeghoulie]

aeon sends swiss a photo of their hand (with the finger tape on) wrapped around their dick and swiss nearly passes out send tweet

had too many thoughts about this and made it a 2k fic. I’m not sorry.

contains blowjobs, a facial, aeon being a Menace, Swiss being Down Bad, and Mountain ever "suffering" for his horny packmates.

tagging @belle--ofthebrawl for a completed wip wednesday fic.

divider by @wrathofrats <3

He’s expecting a text from Rain, something about uniform fittings and practices and the sort, so when Swiss’s phone buzzes in his back pocket, he wipes the dirt from his fingers on the apron he’s loaned from Mountain and picks it up without question.

It’s not Rain.

Instead, Swiss feels his throat catch just at the tiny thumbnail of the attached image.

Insect: got something for you for when you’re done with mount <3

Swiss swallows hard, heat blooming at the base of his spine from just the suggestion. Eyes locked onto the high contrast of black against skin. He’s rooted to the spot just like the young tomato plants he’s been helping Mountain repot.

“I- Mount, something came up,” Swiss says, not taking his eyes away from his phone screen. He hasn’t even opened the message yet, just staring at the notification on his lockscreen. “’M sorry to bail-”

The earth ghoul chuckles. Swiss jolts, turns to face him. There’s a knowing smirk written across his face, tail swishing good-naturedly behind him. “I can handle the rest of them,” he laughs. “Go on, then.”

“Thanks,” he says, all of the blood in his body rushing southward as he starts to leave, yelping as Mountain’s tail playfully smacks his ass as he goes. Grumbling lightheartedly, Swiss turns and rushes out of the greenhouse and back towards the Abbey.

Along the way, he realizes he should probably at least open Aeon’s message and not just leave them on delivered. Figure out what exactly he’s rushing into. Because while the thumbnail of the image gave him a pretty fucking good idea, he knows it pales to the full glory of the whole image.

He tucks himself into an alcove in the hall leading to the ghoul wing, turns the brightness on his phone down enough he’s not going to give himself away. Unlocks his phone and opens their message.

“Fuck,” he groans, bringing his hand up to his mouth to muffle the sound. His cock throbs hard against his zipper, pressure growing and fast, and he sinks his fangs into the meat of his palm.

Aeon’s got their hand curled around their cock, hard and ruddy against the pale lavender skin of their fingers. The black tape they wear during Rituals is wrapped around the first knuckle of their ring and pointer finger, the contrast sharp and severe. The tape catches the light from the flash of their phone the exact same way that the pearl of precum bubbling from their tip does. He notices his own bedspread under the creamy skin of their thighs, mouth watering at the thought of sinking his teeth into the delicate skin there.

Swiss swallows hard. He locks his phone after pressing the little star at the bottom of the screen. “Fucking- Lucifer, buggy,” he mumbles to himself, running a hand over his locs and pushing them from his face. “Trying to give me a fucking heart attack, I swear to Satan-”

He tries desperately to compose himself; while this may be a church of sin, there’s still something that feels a little crass about walking around with a boner visible from space. Smooths his hands down the front of his shirt, shuts his eyes and takes a breath. Though, above all else, Swiss does not want to keep his buggy waiting.

He doesn’t run the rest of the way to the ghoul wing but it is a very close thing. Dew greets him groggily from where he’s sprawled out on top of Aether, the pair napping on the common room couch, but Swiss can barely hear him over the sound of the blood rushing in his ears. He says hello, doesn’t even look over as he rushes down the hallway. Of course the door he wants is at the very end of the hall, and he growls a little under his breath at the slightest frustration.

The door is unlocked. The scent and sight of what’s waiting for him inside his own room both hit him at once like running straight into a brick wall.

Aeon’s laid out on his bed, wearing nothing but that black tape and the little silver earrings they always have in. One hand wrapped around their cock, painfully hard by the looks of it, the other tucked under their head. The rich scent of ozone and sweet blackberry hits him too, projecting smug arousal with pure force. The others must be able to smell it-

Aeon is his. They sent that picture to him. Swiss growls at the thought of the others seeing this.

Aeon turns languidly to take him in. “You sure got here fast,” they tease, giving themself a lazy stroke that they both know gives them no real pleasure. Too loose, all for show. “Thought you were helping Mounty in the greenhouse today?”

Swiss opens his mouth to throw their teasing tone right back at them, but finds himself unable to do much more than stammer. “He- He was just finishin’ up, bug.”

They raise an eyebrow in a near perfect arch, a laugh that sounds like a scoff ringing through Swiss’s skull. “Okay then, whatever you say, big guy,” they laugh. “I see you liked your gift.”

Swiss takes two steps towards the bed, their scent just getting stronger with every inch closer he gets to Aeon. “Liked it?” he says, swallowing hard as his mouth waters. Aeon squeezes around the base of their cock, another drip of precum spilling over the flare of their tip. Their eyes flutter for just a moment, teeth digging into their bottom lip and Swiss feels his cock kick, still trapped behind two layers of ever tightening fabric. “Buggy, baby, I don’t know if you know just how crazy you make me.”

“I know,” Aeon says, mismatched eyes bright even dilated dark with lust like this. Swiss wonders how long they’d been going before they decided to take a picture. ‘Believe me, I know. Could smell you the moment you walked into the den.”

Swiss groans, knees buckling. He makes it the rest of the way to the edge of the bed. His fingers twitch with the urge to reach out and caress the miles of smooth, lavender splotched skin on display. But he waits, meeting Aeon’s eyes.

“I’m yours, bug,” he says, flashing a boyish smile that Aeon eagerly returns. “Anything you want of me. Name it and it’s yours.”

Aeon runs the hand not loosely holding their dick through their hair, pushing their white forelock back. A little furrow forms in their brow, lips pursed in a pantomime of deep thought. Swiss and Aeon both know better though. Aeon wants, and Aeon hasn’t been shy about what they want for a very long time.

“I want your mouth on me,” they say, letting skinny thighs fall open, and they laugh as Swiss swallows, saliva flooding his mouth.

Swiss just smiles after he manages to compose himself some. “As my darling mate requests,” he says, finally allowing himself to reach forward and touch. The skin of Aeon’s thighs is soft and pale, and the flesh dimples as Swiss tightens his grip and pulls.

Aeon yelps, breaking into startled laughter as Swiss manhandles them how he’d like. Their ass just barely rests on the edge of the bed, and Swiss holds their legs open as he sinks fluidly to his knees. He doesn’t break eye contact the entire time.

Swiss sets one thigh and then the other over his shoulders, leans in to rub his cheek against their inner thigh. Aeon’s breath hitches, cock twitching as his stubble catches. “Smell so good, buggy,” he purrs, turning to nip at that spot until a dark bruise starts to bloom. Were he feeling a little more possessive, that bruise would have been a ring of toothmarks, a perfect print. But he’s content with this, scentdrunk after only a few moments.

Aeon, however, is not content. They huff, sitting up a little. Spindly fingers run through his braids. The edges of the tape, still a little tacky, catch a little on his hair. His attention flies back up to their face. “’M sure I taste better,” they say, guiding him to where they need him.

Swiss is happy to oblige. “Feed it to me, baby,” he says, letting his mouth fall open.

Aeon groans like they’ve been punched in the gut. Swiss’s cock throbs hard in time with his hammering pulse. He ignores it as Aeon wraps a hand around their shaft, so close that Swiss can almost taste them already.

They meet eyes as Aeon rests their tip on the flat of Swiss’s tongue. Pushes in until his nose presses against the sparse patch of hair between their thighs. He gags a little as the tip nestles into his throat, but he swallows around it just to draw another sweet noise from his mate’s lips.

“Fuck yes,” they groan, head lolling back as their fingers tighten in his hair. He swallows again, watching Aeon’s expression morph from mild impatience to sheer pleasure. “Love your fucking mouth.”

Swiss smiles the best he can with a mouthful of cock. He’s had a lot of practice doing so. His hands come up, worming their way under Aeon’s ass until he can get two good handfuls of fat and flesh.

He wants Aeon deeper. Needs them closer, needs them inside him so far that they tangle into one ghoul. He pushes their hips closer even though his lips are already sealed around the root of their cock, their balls pressed taut and tight against his chin. Precum drips straight down his throat as their dick twitches, and Swiss moans at the sensation, vibrating along sensitive skin.

Aeon’s fingers flex and tense in his hair, blunted claws scratching lightly at his scalp. Their hips buck, fucking their cock just the tiniest bit deeper down his throat until they physically can’t go any farther. “Lucifer, Swiss, baby,” they groan, a babbling mess. “Needed you so bad,” they admit. “Was gonna just get off but I wanted you.”

Swiss wants to respond with words, with “You have me” or “I’m here” or just “I love you,” but he’s admittedly too selfish to pull off of their cock to actually say them. He breathes deep through his nose, just getting drunker on their scent, and swallows again, keeping his eyes on theirs. Tears run down his cheeks as he fights what little gag reflex he has left.

It doesn’t take much longer, Aeon already so worked up from teasing themself for Lucifer knows how long. Their fingers tighten in Swiss’s hair almost to the point of real pain. He lets them pull him off of their dick, coughing a couple times. His chin is sopping wet with drool, their cock just as shiny with spit and pre.

“Baby?” he rasps, looking for anything in their expression. Worry seeps into his scent.

Aeon sits up, one hand still tight in Swiss’s braids, holding him in place. Their other flies to their spit-slick dick, jerking it furiously. “You- fuck- you mark me all the time, makin’ me yours and shit,” they huff, narrow chest heaving as they pant. “My turn.”

Aeon growls, and a bolt of pure heat shoots straight to Swiss’s neglected dick. It twitches hard, and he’s suddenly worried he’s about to cum just from having his throat fucked. But he can’t look away from their hand flying on their cock, eyes crossing as he tries to follow a single piece of tape. It’s a blur of motion against ruddy skin.

“Gonna fucking paint you,” Aeon groans. Swiss can see the way their balls draw up against their body. Without being told, he opens his mouth, lolls out his tongue. Doesn’t even look at their perfect cock or their perfect hands. Locks his eyes to theirs.

“Give it to me,” he whispers, soft and gentle like he hadn’t just been deepthroating them. “Cum f’r me, buggy.”

Aeon’s mouth falls open in a silent cry, eyes squeezing shut. Their body tenses, and relaxes, and tenses again. Swiss doesn’t flinch as the first rope of cum hits him, splatters thick and fire ghoul-hot between his eyes and over the bridge of his nose. The next one hits his cheek, the third catching in his eyebrow and starting to drip down.

Aeon’s hand never stops working their cock, and they find their voice with a low, panting moan. Their chest heaves as they aim their dick lower yet, and the next pulse stripes right over Swiss’s lips and tongue.

He moans as they paint him with their taste, rich and salty and bitter and perfect. He relaxes even as it pulls at the deathgrip Aeon has on his hair. He doesn’t swallow, not yet, holds himself there with the evidence of Aeon’s pleasure painted all over his face. Just stares up at his mate and watches them work through their long overdue orgasm.

When Aeon finally comes down, they ease their grip on Swiss’s hair. “Fuck, baby,” they laugh, still a little breathless. “Look so good covered in me.”

Swiss chuffs happily. Every sense is reduced to just Aeon, their taste, touch, scent, the sight and sound of them burnt into his brain. “Feelin’ good, baby?” he asks, fingers smoothing down the backs of their thighs. His voice sounds completely shot to his own ears. At least he doesn’t have to sing anytime soon. “This what you wanted when you sent me that picture?”

Aeon throws their head back and laughs, and Swiss wouldn’t trade this for anything. “This was better than anything I could have wanted.”

“You know I aim to please,” he says, some of his normal confidence seeping back into his tone.

“You always do,” Aeon shrugs. They reach down for Swiss’s hands, helping him up off of his knees. If Swiss struggles to get up for a moment, neither of them mention it. Aeon arranges him laying next to them, eyes still locked onto the mess they’d made of him. “Now, baby. Let me return the favor.”

[bueckersleftbraid]

Secret Smiles (Part 1)

paige bueckers x femme!oc

synopsis : In which, Mari and Paige find each other exactly when they need to most. With the odd coincidence of their schedules working together perfectly, Paige fits right into Mari's life. She loves Mari's daughter and can't help but gain feelings for Mari. But is Paige ready to hold such a huge responsibility?

word count : 2.5k (starting off shorter)

authors note : Hi!!! I know it's been over a week since I said I would post this but... here it is! This is my first time writing like this and also my first time posting on here, so I hope you like it. Pls pls pls leave live reacts I will love you forever and ever!!

Chapter 1 : Draft Night

April 2025 - Mari’s POV

The atmosphere of the Brooklyn Academy of Music was magical. It was only the second year in which fans were allowed to come to the draft, and wow, did that make a difference in the energy in the building. There was chatter left and right, everyone eagerly waiting for this year's stacked draft class. And I was right there beside them. I was ecstatic for this year's draft, after Dallas had such a successful off-season with free agency, we were just picking up more power at the draft. Paige Bueckers. Arguably the most beloved college basketball player in the country, who was coming to Dallas as the number 1 pick. The whole team was psyched. 

Paige was a powerhouse player at Uconn, transforming the game every time she stepped on the court. From jumpers, to insane assists, to blocks, to three-pointers, Paige had it all. During her freshman season at UConn, she won all the national player of the year awards she was eligible for—AP Player of the Year, Naismith College Player of the Year, USBWA Women's National Player of the Year and the John R. Wooden Award—becoming the first freshman to receive any of the awards. She was already a basketball legend and hadn’t even stepped foot on a professional court.

I sat three rows back, on the left side of the theater, alongside some stars. Dawn Stayler, head coach of the South Carolina Gamecocks, was two seats to my right, and a few of the UConn players sat to my left, including Morgan Cheli, Sarah Strong, and KK Arnold. I think I saw Ice Brady and Caroline Ducharme sitting behind me, but I resisted being nosy and turning around to see if it was them. I had always been a huge college basketball fan, so my career working in the WNBA was a dream come true. Being one of the social media managers for the Dallas Wings had brought so many opportunities my way, but going to the draft was probably one of my favorites. I got to meet all of the top college players, and talk to them on a friendly level. 

My phone buzzed with a text from one of my closest friends, Rori Harmon. She had been with me through it all at Texas, my beloved alma-mater. Through all of the drama and through the worst break up of my life. Her, Madi, aka Madison Booker, and Mads, aka Madison Skinner, had been my closest friends at Texas, and we still kept in touch.

Ror just saw you on tv, you look gorg !!

Mar mar awww thx ror ily 

Ror good luck tonight, sending you my good juju (watkins lol)

Mar mar tysm i need it lol, call later

Ror liked a message

I slid my phone back into my purse and let my focus set back to the event. From my seat, I could clearly see the floor where they had tables set up for each player and their families. At one of the tables near the front, Paige sat with who I assumed were her parents and her brother, Drew. Her mom and dad looked proud, their eyes scanning the room with eager excitement, while Drew bounced his knee anxiously under the table. I had spotted her other siblings in the crowd, but the table only had room for 4. Unlike her family, who radiated excitement, Paige sat stiffly, her fingers moving rapidly across the screen of her phone. Her shoulders were tense, her brows drawn together in deep concentration as she texted someone—who, I could only guess. A friend? A teammate? Maybe even a coach? Whoever it was, they had her full attention, keeping her locked in a private moment while the rest of the room buzzed with electric energy. For some reason, I wanted to know. I was intrigued by her, and soon enough I would get to know her. I mean, she was coming to Dallas after all.

________

Later that night, at the afterparty…

I had been searching for Paige everywhere. I had made it my priority to introduce myself, as a social media manager for the Wings, but also as a friend. As someone who could be a familiar face once she lands in Dallas, so she didn't feel alone. Finally, I spotted her, in the corner, sipping on a red drink and scrolling mindlessly through her phone. She looked good, Really good. She wore a Louis Vuitton suit, it was a beautiful color, one I wasn't exactly able to pinpoint. It was between a navy and a dark ocean blue. It fit her perfectly, physically, but also her energy. The outfit screamed Paige. With the accessories of silver earrings stacked along both ears, silver rings, and a small silver cross chain hanging from her neck, to her hair, which was down in long waves and had a few small braids scattered throughout, down to the Nike dunks which perfectly matched the color of the suit. I approached her, my yellow silk dress flowing as I walked, but it was no match for her ensemble. I was giving a basic How to Lose A Guy in 10 Days look, while she was… well majestic.

“Paige?” I questioned, in a soft voice, not meaning to startle her. She looked up, meeting my eyes with a small, but definitely fake smile. “Hi, Im Mari, Mari Sanchez. I just wanted to introduce myself. I'm the social media manager at Dallas. Oh- and congrats.” I said with a friendly smile.

“Nice to meet you.” She said, her smile turning more genuine, before her eyes dropped to my purse. My phone was ringing so I pulled it out.

“Sorry, but I have to take this,” I said to Paige before answering, “Hi Nai is everything- oh baby what's wrong? Baby I can’t come home, Mommy’s in New York,” Paige looked at me with curiosity in her eyes as my face was laced with worry. “No baby, Mommy will be home tomorrow okay? Let Auntie NaiNai and Auntie Lyssie tuck you in sweetie. Mommy loves you, kisses, okay- okay- goodnight baby.” I exhaled, slipping my phone back into my purse.

“Everything okay?” Paige asked. She seemed interested in the situation that was happening over the phone. 

“Yeah, sorry about that. My daughter is.. Well she's a handful and Dijonai and Nalyssa are babysitting her tonight while I’m here. She apparently persuaded Dijonai into letting her call me.” I said, shaking my head with a soft laugh. 

“You… you have a daughter? You seem young?” Paige asked. I know she didn’t mean anything by it, but people had always underestimated how good of a mom I could be just because of my age. My daughter, Laila, was the light of my life, and even though having a daughter so young was a struggle at first, I’d grown into an amazing mother, at least in my opinion.

“Yeah, I had her when I was 19, she’s almost 4.” I said with a smile. I loved talking about Laila, it always brought a smile to my face. “You’ll be seeing a lot of her in Dallas, she loves watching practice.” I spoke with a soft laugh.

“Well that’s sweet, I can’t wait to meet her. What’s her name?” 

“Laila. And I’m sure she’ll love you.” I said with a smile, now beaming on my face.

“What about you?” Paige asked. What did she mean? What about me? I looked at her with a bit of confusion before she spoke again. “Will I see a lot of you too?” Oh. Did she want to see a lot of me? Why was she asking that? Real question is, why is Paige Bueckers making me nervous about a simple question?

“Well um.. Yeah. I usually hang around during practice and I’m always at games, team events and stuff like that. Why?” I wasn’t exactly sure the direction this conversation was going so I played the friendly, more professional route.

“No reason,” she paused for a second, her expression unreadable, “I just like your vibe. I think we'll be friends.” Her soft, genuine smile turned into something resembling more of a smirk. Was she really smirking at me? I almost laughed at myself for believing that because as soon as the smirk appeared, it was gone, and back to a soft smile as she took a sip of her drink. 

“What are you drinking?” I asked, looking at the red drink. I was assuming some extravagant cocktail but no, I was completely wrong. 

“A Shirley Temple.” She said nonchalantly.

“A Shirley Temple?” I questioned

“A Shirley Temple.” She confirmed with a soft chuckle before taking another sip of the red drink.

“Well your full of surprises aren't you Ms. Bueckers?” I said with a smile.

“And so are you, Ms. Sanchez.” She said, that smirk flashing across her face again.

Paige and I kept up the friendly chatter for the next hour or so, her asking lots of questions about me, and a few about Laila of course. We talked about Dallas, about how she’s excited for this new chapter. We even talked about so depper stuff, how she’s going to miss Uconn, her friends, her coaches, just her life in Storrs. I sympathized with her, telling her about how leaving Austin was difficult for Laila and I, but we love Dallas. I ended up ordering a few drinks, and the bartender gave me the bill. As I reached for it, I felt Paige’s hand on top of mine.

“I got it.” She said.

“What- no. It's your special night. I’m not letting you pay for my drinks.” I protested. I always felt bad to let people pay for me. Plus- Paige had just been drafted the number one pick in the WNBA, she didn't need to be paying for other peoples drinks.

“Please,” she insisted, “I owe you at least this. Without you, I probably would have been sitting in the corner scrolling through my phone all night.” I sighed, slipping my hand out from under hers.

“Thank you. I’ll buy you drinks sometime in Dallas. Promise.” I said, with a genuine smile. I did actually want to hang out with Paige. She was nice, and for some reason felt like someone I could open up to. Nothing like I expected.

“So you're saying there’s going to be a next time?” She said. And there it was. That smirk. She knew exactly what she was doing.

“It’s a possibility.” I shrugged. As I stood up, I wobbled a little on my feet, the few drinks plus heels were definitely not an ideal situation. But, suddenly I felt a warm hand on my side, balancing me.

“You good?” Paige spoke, her hand grounding me.

“Yeha, yeah I’ll be fine,” I said, waving her off, “I’ll just order an Uber or something.” She immediately shook her head, standing up beside me, her hand still holding onto my waist. 

“Nah, let me just take you back. It’s late, your in a city you don’t know, and Uber’s are sketchy anyway.” her hand slid to the small of my back.

“You really don't have to-”

“I know I don’t have to. I want to.” She interrupted, pressing her hand a little more into my back as she started to lead me towards the exit, “Where are you staying?”

“The Hilton, on 5th.” I spoke as we neared the exit. It had gotten pretty late and any stragglers were just randoms, no one giving a second thought to the way Paige was leading me out of the door.

“Perfect, same as me. See? It's not even out of my way.” She spoke as she led me out the back entrance and towards a large black SUV. She opened the back door and began speaking to the driver, “Hey Martin, we'll be taking this lovely lady back with us. She’s staying at the same hotel.”

“Of course, Ms. Bueckers.” The older man in the front seat spoke, not even turning his head.

“Please Martin, it's Paige.” She spoke with a soft chuckle as she shut the door behind us. It was freezing in the car, Martin must have been sitting in the car without any heat on. Even though it was April, it was somehow still cold in New York, well at least compared to Texas. Paige looked at me and noticed my arms wrapped around myself. “Here.” She slid off her suit jacket and handed it to me. I gave her a soft smile, draping her jacket over my shoulder and sliding my arms into it. It smelt really good. I had seen her video with GQ earlier this year where she said she wore this one Valentino cologne, but somehow she made it smell better. The cologne was spicy and woody, but layered with Paige’s neutral smell, it was warm and safe. Why was this affecting me so much? God Mari. 

My phone buzzed as Martin pulled out of the parking spot. 

“Hey Nai, how was she?” I answered the phone, a small smile tugging at my lips, “That's good. Okay… yeah, okay. Talk later Nai, love you.” I hung up the phone and gave Paige a small smile.

“So.. um.. I have a couple of questions.” Paige spoke up. She seemed almost nervous behind her confident persona. 

“Sure, what’s up?” I asked, turning my body a little to face her.

“First, you said you had Laila when you were 19 and she's 4… so that would make you 23?” Paige questioned.

“Yeah, good math Bueckers.” I said, giving her a small playful smirk.

“Ok. And are you single?” She asked the question like it was normal. Like it didn’t make me wonder why the hell she was asking it in the first place.

“Um.. yeah. Yeah I am.” I said, trying to hide the effect the question had on me.

“Okay.” She stated nonchalantly, turning back to face forward. I stared at her in shock.

“Okay? You can’t just ask that and then just act like… like that.” I stated, my voice laced with confusion and a bit of frustration. Paige let out a small chuckle before turning back to face me.

“Well I guess I just wondered if you taking me out for drinks was going to be as friends. But I’ve gotten my answer.” She spoke, the smirk that had now become almost a given when she spoke, spread across her face.

“And what is that?” I asked, crossing my arms over my chest.

“Well. You’ve been sort of eyeing me all night. You talked to me for over an hour. And you invited me to go out for drinks with you. So, I have concluded that you want it to be a date. And that’s fine by me.” She spoke with the utmost confidence, like there was absolutely no way she could be wrong. 

“No- I- I have a daughter, And I don’t date.” I protested, turning to face the window. Paige just chuckled.

“Whatever you say Mar.” Mar? Did she seriously just call me Mar? No one called me that. But why did I sort of like it? Why did it make me feel something in the pit of my stomach? Why was a small smile creeping onto my face as I stared out the window of the car?

God. What are you doing to me Paige Bueckers?

[leaawrites]

The Bottom

Damon Albarn x fem!reader

Summary: when the Italian countryside brings more nice views than the beautiful scenery.

Warnings: age gap, fluff, some angst

Wordcount: 0.9k

Masterlist

It started as simple as a day can be.

The soft humid air of the Italian countryside was fanning over her face as she was sat with a book in a little cafe near the house she rented. Two or three other people were occupying the space alongside her. A waiter scattered all over the place. Soft Italian jazz playing from one of the speakers. It was as quiet as peace could be.

Her mind was quiet for the first time in months, finally untangled from the bodies buried in the basement of her mind. No regret was now tripping from her lips. Only the coffee got to run down her throat and burn her tongue.

Averting her eyes from the tree to not make memories replay and feelings resurface. The others seemed unfazed by the scenery in front of their eyes. One’s gaze was covered by a newspaper while the other’s was looking at their phone screen. It’s a shame how much people miss while trying to stay updated with life’s course.

Looking over to the third body that sat at one of the tables, he was already looking at her. Smiling slightly and lifting his hand towards her in greeting. In return, she lifted her book up, silently asking him about the one sprawled out in front of him. Understanding her question, he closed it gently, making sure that no paper slipped out and held it up for her to see. His pen dangling in between his pointer and middle finger. A Notebook. Nudging his head up, she turned the cover towards him.

Putting it back down, they just looked at each other for a while. Unexpected smiles creeping up on both their faces. Raising her eyebrows in question, he picked up his own drink as well as his notebook and made his way over to her. None of the other people paying them any mind.

“What are you writing?” she asked quietly over the silence as he sat down. Notebook still closed in front of him.

“I’m a musician,” he answered back in the same whispered tone. Leaning closer to her to understand her more clearly.

“So you’re writing songs at the moment?” As he nodded his head, she continued. “Did I disturb you?”

“Nah, don’t worry ‘bout it. It’s rather that I’m trying to write. I can’t really come up with something lately,”

“That’s why I came here. In search of inspiration.”

“Italy is a magical place,” she agreed with him. “Did you find any yet?”

“I feel like I’m really close to it.”

At his words a light blush made it’s way to her face. A low chuckle escaped her lips as she shook her head in mocked surrender. Biting the inside of her cheek to keep the corners of her lips down.

“Care to find out if there is any?”

“Let’s get outta here,” he suggested, already standing up and letting her lead the way.

Settling into the driver seat of the car she rented for the trip, he climbed in next to her, throwing the notebook on the backseat. Fingers drumming against his thigh as he waited for her to pull out of the parking spot.

“What even is your name, stranger?” she asked, looking over to him before focusing back on the road ahead.

“Damon.”

On their drive the air was filled with laughter and music, fun facts about places they drove by and read about prior to this adventure. It was never meant to be more than a little fun, but when the moon came up from behind the ocean and the sun stopped blending their vision, the closeness between them seemed to become real all of a sudden. His arm slung around the head rest of her seat, fingers tangled up in her hair. Her eyes were flitting over to his gaze turned towards her every few seconds. The smiles that passed between them in a constant interval. It was all more than it was ever meant to be.

In search of inspiration he found himself falling further to his knees in desperation of a confirmation that the heat wasn’t what made his heart beat faster.

“What are you thinking?” she asked as they sat near the beach later that night. Knees touching. Fingers brushing. Hearts slowly intertwining.

“I’ve never felt more inspired,” he answered.

“As if,” she scoffed, not giving in to what her heart wanted her to do. “I don’t know how old you are but I doubt you’ve spent your time bored out of your mind.”

“Boredom can be inspiration,” he corrected her. “But you’re something different.”

Looking at her for a while longer, he decided his next words.

“You’re much more.”

“You barely know me.”

“I can’t wait to get to know you.”

They were moving closer. Some force between them pulling their faces nearer. It was the same force as when he first leaned over the table in the cafe to hear her, now he only wanted to hear her heartbeat under his fingertips.

“But I’m too old for you,” Damon comes back to his senses.

This would be all over the media. All over his face. It would be painted as shame, because who was he to fall in love with someone like her?

“Says who?”

“Society.”

“Well,” she dragged her words, moving her hands towards the collar of his shirt and dragging his face closer to her. “We’re all alone here. Nobody has to know, do they? It’s just us.”

“I’m gonna drag you right down to the bottom,” he whispered against her skin, letting his breath fall down on her lips without any regret other than having them still so far away from his own.

His thoughts betraying his actions. Desire twisting his morals.

“You can only bring me back up again from where I’m already stranded.”

[factual-fantasy]

Heya Factual! Hope things are going as good as they can on your end! Sorry it's been a bit since my last Ask, I got sick AGAIN and have been out of commission for a while now. But at last I have returned! Sorry to see your still having some technical troubles- really hoping you can figure it all out!

Also, I wanted to thank you! While I was sick, inspired by your art, I decided to give Sky a try on mobile (just got a new phone), and while I'm still super early in the game, it seems really cool! I'm not sure how linear the game is, but I figured I'd ask, as a veteran, do you have any advice or pointers for a beginner? Anything of interest I should check out or invest in? (Oh, and also, sorry about the color swap disappointments, sounds like a real bummer!)

And lastly, unrelated, I really liked the Pomni and Gummigoo art you did a few days back! I really like both of them together, and would love to see more of their story later down the road! Though I was wondering, you mentioned Max and Chad both stuck around in your AU too! Any cool redesign or story ideas for those two? Do they stick with Gummigoo, or have they branched out over time into the other friend groups?

(Color swap disappointment post) (Pomni and Gummigoo post)

Hello! Oof, sorry to hear that you got sick again <:(( But I'm glad you seem to be feeling better! As for my tech issues I have gotten a new chord for my tablet and have downloaded a fresh FireAlpaca. So far none of the screen glitches have come back and FireAlpaca is working perfectly! :))

Also thank you! :DD I'm glad you liked it!! :}} And while Chad's ref sheet is done, Max's is still in the sketch stage. I just haven't gotten around to finishing him <:/

Now their friend groups.. I was thinking that not many circus goers really vibe with NPCs all that much. So the number of people who they can make genuine friendships with is limited.. that being said I think Chad and Max would find a solid friendships with Gangle and maybe Zibble and uhhh... Ms. Wiggles..? Maybe? :0

Gangle has a soft spot for NPCs thanks to Bella and respects them more than others. So out of the 3 I think their friendships would be strongest with her.

Now sky.. ohhh boy prepare for a wall of text <XDD (Note there is a little spoiler for something in Golden Wasteland!)

Alrighty, so when I got this ask I sat down and made a list of every little nugget of sky advice I could possibly think of. Until eventually I took a step back and realized that a lot of it wasn't really solid advice or pointers <XDD so I cut the list down into somethings that I either wish a veteran would have taught me when I was a moth. Or things I found out too late and missed out on something or anything like that. Plus some advice I've tired really hard to beat into other moths heads for their own good but they never understand me in game <XDD

First off. Seasons, reoccurring events and non reoccurring events. Its important to know the difference between the three for this advice.

Seasons are limited-time themed events that come with the option of purchasing an Season Pass, which allows players to access extra Cosmetics and Expressions during the Season in exchange for an in-game purchase.👇👇👇

~~~~~

Special Events (also called Holiday Events). These are limited-time events introducing new cosmetics themed around real-life celebrations. Most Special Events recur annually. Some of these events take place in the Secret Area, accessible from the Vault of Knowledge. They are separate from, but may overlap with, Seasonal Events and Double Currency Events.👇👇👇

~~~~~

Non-recurring Events (or Short Events). These events are special or unannounced events that do not repeat or return due to their special characteristics. This list also includes events that have not been confirmed to return nor have a history of recurrence.👇👇👇

~~~~~

Alrighty, got that all processed? I hope so <XD Now onto my advice.

1: Collaborative in app purchase items (items you need to buy with real money) will never return. Let me explain.

In sky there is a reoccurring event made by sky called days of fortune. (Its basically a Chinese new year event) Its going on right now actually! :0 This event has come back once a year every year. And the cosmetics that you need to purchase with real money have come back every time too.

However, the Cinnamoroll collaborative event? That event and all of the items it brought with it will not reoccur.

You have to be careful and check every event and make sure its one that will return. If its a collab season like Cinnamoroll and you don't buy the items? They will vanish and you wont have the chance to buy them ever again :( I learned my lesson the hard way when I didn't buy the fox plush and the yellow scarf from season of the little prince years and years ago. 😔 Up to this point the little prince's in app purchase items have not returned since.

This goes for collaborative seasons as well. Season of the little prince, season of aurora and season of moomin, etc, will not have their in app purchase items return. Be careful to know which is which during the event/season so you don't regret anything!

Another note about non returning items: While individual spirits that you can relive the memories of, can return as traveling spirits once every 2 weeks.. any items that the guide of that season offers will be unavailable after the season ends. 👇👇👇

Also speaking of traveling spirits, here's some advice I had to figure out myself. As someone who has every single traveling spirit in the game? As long as you have 200 candles, 40 hearts and 20 ascended candles? You will be able to afford all the cosmetics from ANY traveling spirit that shows up. If you keep a nice candle run schedule this wont be too hard to keep up with!

Also note about traveling spirits. They can take a looong time to return. When I first started playing I bought out half the items a traveling spirit offered before he left. I knew he would come back so I wasn't upset. But it took 2 REAL LIFE YEARS. 2 WHOLE YEARS for him to FINALLY come back. So this is why I advise you be really careful with the 200🕯️,40💝 and 20🧨. It would suck a lot if a spirit showed up that you really liked!.. Only for you to not afford it and have to wait a year or two to see it again <XDD

Now currency. Sky tries to make out that ascended candles are the most valuable currency. This is a load of bologna. By far the most valuable and sought after currency is hearts. You can go and get ascended candles by yourself all you want. But hearts have to be given to you by other players in one way or another. Which makes them EXTREMELY hard to get for some people. My advice is to hoard those things like your life depends on it. Try to have a stock pile of at least 30 to prepare for any temporary and expensive items that may come your way. Don't go and blow them all on the home spirits like I did <XDD

Now candle runs.. a lot of players will tell you you have to do a candle run through the ENTIRE GAME to keep up with sky's bonkers prices. Which is sometimes true... However, I have recently discovered this candle run route on YouTube that has helped me loads! I modified it a little and don't do the turtle thing, but if you're worried about runs that take hours this could be very useful to you! About a week or soo of keeping up with it and I'm almost at 400 candles! :)))

Another thing I want to advise is the whole ultimate reward thing in the home constellations. (Random google images)

The game will tell you that if you ascend all the spirits in a realm constatation, that it'll unlock the "ultimate reward". Which is that question mark in the middle. Typically this means you just gotta buy every single item from every single spirit in that constellation and the reward will be unlocked.

THAT IS NOT THE CASE HERE!! You do NOT have to buy the VERY EXPENSIVE tier 2 capes that some spirits offer. Just everything else. So repeat you buy everything the spirits offer, but you DO NOT have to buy the super expensive tier 2 capes in order to unlock the ultimate reward. Save your hearts, you're welcome! XDD

Now the Golden Wasteland advice. As a veteran I NEED to teach you HOW to burn down this plant in wasteland.

This plant is in the last area before the temple in wasteland. Not to be confused with the GIANT PLANT that's in the area infested with Krill. This is the smaller one after it. And there has been DOZENS UPON DOZENS of times a moth has come by to help me burn it down and not known how to do it. I've sat there for 20 minutes each time trying DESPERATLY to communicate what order to burn the plant down but they never get it. So I shall teach you!

Hopefully that little comic got my point across! XD

Another word of advice is to check out nastymold on YouTube! She is a very sweet and soft spoken YouTuber that plays the beta version of sky. She gets all the updates early and makes short videos explaining everything you need to know about any events or seasons. If you're ever confused about anything or are afraid you may miss out on something in an event, just check out her channel! No doubt she's already covered it and explained it for you so you don't miss nothing!

Now my last word of advice for you is this. Take the game slow. Really soak up your moth days and take your time playing it.

Many veteran players are heartbroken that they let another veteran drag them through their moth days and didn't really get to explore or experience anything naturally for themselves. And other veterans just miss their moth days in general. When the game felt huge and there was so much to explore and so many things to save and grind for.

I don't think I'm like that personally, I'm way more relaxed as a veteran knowing I understand how the game works and I'm not missing out on anything. But I can understand missing those moth days feeling like a kid running around and seeing all the beautiful things for the first time.

So just take things nice and slow. Soak up the game at a nice pace. if there's an event that you'd like to partake in but don't understand it just watch nastymold. She always has a sweet little video that tells you all you need to know without really dampening your moth experience. You can only be a moth once.

Well that's all the actually practical advice I had on my list. I hope you find some use in this wall of text XDD thanks for reading and see you in the skies! 💞🕊️

[arget-star]

The first time you meet Kiryu, you have no clue who he is.

A half-healed cut bisects his bottom lip. The fading bruise beneath his right eye tints the skin yellow, and he carries himself with the relaxed confidence of someone utterly content with his place in life.

In hindsight, the piercings and pink hair should have given it away, but you’re far too distracted by the injuries and the fact that he’s wearing a suit jacket that’s a size too big. Not a terrible look, all things considered, but you still eye him a bit warily as you claim a seat in the lobby. Growing up in a town like Makochi instills a certain innate caution.

You adjust the papers in your hands, crossing your legs primly as you settle in your chair before stealing another glance at the beat-up man. He catches you looking, offering a lazy smile in return. You flush, quickly looking away, hoping he won’t take your shameless staring as an invitation to start something. He doesn’t give you the impression of a sleazy creep. Maybe he’s here to interview as well and merely got caught in the crosshairs of some gang fight. Not an uncommon occurrence—at your last job, your well-meaning but nonfighter of a coworker earned a black eye for his efforts trying to distract a group of delinquents from chasing after another highschooler.

Honestly, you should know better. You shake your head and fold your hands in your lap, focusing on the paintings decorating the far wall. The overlapping geometric shapes are painted in a riot of colors that add to the cheery feeling of the room. Floor to ceiling windows dominate the opposite wall; morning sunlight spills in and stripes the tiled floor.

The receptionist you’d first spoken with types away on her keyboard. A melodic chime breaks the rhythmic clacking. Against your better judgement, you glance up at your lobby-mate, who now has his phone in hand, thumbs tapping furiously against the screen. The corners of his lips turn down in disappointment at whatever he sees.

Again, he catches you watching him. His eyebrow piercing crinkles as he smiles. “Too loud? I forgot my earbuds,” he sighs, absently swiping a pointer finger across the phone screen.

His voice is lighter than you’d expect. Everything about this boy catches you off guard. The game chimes again and it brings you out of your thoughts. “No, I don’t mind.”

He tilts his head, a row of ear piercings glinting in the light. “Are you here for the interview?”

If he’s a fellow candidate, there’s really no harm in mentioning you’re competing for the same spot, right? “I am,” you reply, unconsciously flicking your gaze to his injuries. The man notices, then laughs, turning his phone off and letting it plop into his lap.

You don’t know why his laugh makes heat creep up the back of your neck.

“This isn’t so bad. Looks worse than it feels. Though now I have to wait to get my lip pierced.” A lithe, long fingered hand comes up and gingerly taps his bottom lip, presumably in the place he wants the jewelry. The sleeve of his jacket covers half his palm.

Your brows furrow. Are so many facial piercings allowed at a place like this?

He’s about to say something when distant voices draw your attention. The man stands in one fluid motion, phone slipping into his pants pocket. “I’m just waiting for my sister,” he says, unprompted. “Good luck in there! I think they’ll like you.”

What—? Your lips part in confusion. Or surprise. He talks like he knows the interviewers intimately. “Who…thank you,” you manage, recovering the last of your professionalism.

“Oh! I never did introduce myself. Kiryu Mitsuki.”

And now you feel stupid for not making the connection earlier. Everyone’s heard of the wayward son from Mitsuki Enterprises. A delinquent, a kid who eschewed everything his parents stood for. But he doesn’t act like someone who is estranged from his family; in fact, he seems rather loved, if the way he mentioned his sister is anything to go by.

The corner of his lips tilt as he watches whatever flits across your expression. Automatic, you give your own name in return. “A pleasure to meet you, Kiryu-san.”

The voices grow closer. “See you around,” he says, turning around and lifting his hand in a wave.

You wave at his retreating back and hope his words ring true.

[coldfanbou]

A Love Hotel Date

New Mommy Series part with the returning Jihyo. She learns some pieces about what's happened between Jeongyeon and you. What will her move be?

Length 3.8K

Jihyo X Mreader

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Looking down the aisle, you spot the woman who started everything. Jihyo hasn’t noticed you yet; she’s squatting down, looking at different strawberry options. Her jeans hugged her curves, showing off her thick thighs. You want to call out for her when a man stands by her, and Jihyo smiles at them. They start to walk away together when Jihyo notices you. Her eyes go wide, and her mouth hangs open. She quickly recomposes herself before continuing on shopping. You shake your head and get back to shopping, too. You’re disappointed she’s with someone else for a moment until you remember she was married. 

Continuing with your shopping, you grab what you need, and as you pick up your basket, someone bumps into you. “You have to be more careful.” When you turn to face the person, it’s Jihyo. “It’s nice to see you again.” 

“It’s nice to see you too, Jihyo.” You both stare at each other awkwardly, unsure of what you can do in such a public place. 

Jihyo makes the first move. “I can’t talk much right now, but take my number.” She says, pulling out her phone. “I didn’t think I’d see you again, so I didn’t bother giving you my number, but knowing that you’re close enough to be shopping here…” She stops herself and clears her throat. “Anyway, here. Call me; I might be free later tonight.” Jihyo walks away after giving you her number. She has a small smile on her face as she returns to her cart. 

“Where did you go?” Her husband asks.

“Nowhere, just had to take a look at something we might’ve missed.” She says plainly. Moving along before any more questions are asked.

You watch her walk away for a moment before looking at the number on your screen. You buy your things and leave. You return to your home and wait until it gets dark before calling Jihyo. 

“Hello?”

“Jihyo?”

“Hey, I’m free. Do you want to meet up somewhere?” She asks with no hesitation. “I have a hotel in mind.” From her tone, you can tell she has a smile on her face. 

“Yeah, I’m free to meet up. Tell me where to go.”

You head to the address Jihyo gives you. You look up at the sign and see it’s a love hotel. You wait outside, looking at your phone as a message pops up. “Look up.” Jihyo is standing across the road in a short coat that ends just a fingertip away from her ass; a skirt manages to cover her, but if she were to bend over, you’d be able to see her panties. She looks both to her sides, making sure no car is coming before crossing the road. As she reaches you, she walks her pointer and middle finger up your shirt until she reaches your lips. Jihyo closes in on you and presses her lips against yours. You can feel her smile as she leans onto your body. She breaks the kiss slowly, letting her lips linger on yours for just a moment more. “Let’s head inside; it’s getting chilly out here. I hope you can warm me up.” She says in a low voice, a smirk on her face. Jihyo hooks her arm around you and leads the way inside. A bit of excitement stirs in her as she walks in. You both take a quick look and see not many rooms are available; you end up choosing the most expensive option after seeing the other ones weren’t to your interest. You’re given the key to the room and take the elevator up. Jihyo stays attached to your arm. You glance at her as she tries to get by your ear. “It’s nice to see you again.”

“It’s nice to see you too, Jihyo.” 

“Have you been sleeping with any other women?” She asks, pressing her chest against your arm. Her soft breasts trap your arm, and you start to become aroused. 

“Getting jealous?” You reply with all the smugness you can muster.

“Who?”

“Jeongyeon, I transferred to her company.” Jihyo looks surprised at your answer. 

“Jeongyeon? Really? I didn’t think she would be the type to keep it going.” Jihyo looks to be deep in thought before snapping back to reality.

“What about you? Have you slept around?” Jihyo purses her lips and avoids your gaze; she gives you mixed signals. While she was doing that, she pressed her body against yours.  

“I…tried, but it wasn’t the same. It never felt as good. The others just wanted to fuck; there was nothing else there.” Jihyo replies after a moment. “So I stopped, but now that I know you live somewhere nearby, I’m hoping that we can be something.”

“But you’re still going to stay with your husband?” 

“...I am,” Jihyo says quietly. 

The door to the elevator opens, and you both step out, continuing your conversation. “Oh, speaking of partners, I met a friend of yours when I was out with Jeongyeon. Does the name Sana ring any bells?” 

“Oh no, she didn’t tell you anything weird, did she?” Jihyo responds.

“No, Jeongyeon would stop her before she could start a story, but she did say that you and her would experiment in college.” Jihyo covers the left half of her face, embarrassed. 

“For the record, it was her idea.” You reach your room and open the door. Jihyo steps in front of you and looks around. The room was rather large; the theme was that of a log cabin, and it gave off a more romantic atmosphere as a fireplace lit up the room. Jihyo threw herself on the bed; her skirt flew up and covered her stomach. The married woman had spread her legs, revealing her lack of panties. Jihyo leans on her elbows as she raises her upper body. “Do you like what you see?” Jihyo answers her question quickly as she casts her eyes downwards and sees your bulge. Jihyo grabs the edges of her skirt and pulls it down between her legs, blocking your view. You step toward Jihyo, and she sits up at the edge of the bed. 

You push her back down, wrapping your arms around her head as you kiss her. You feel the passion coming from her as she bites your bottom lip. Her hands work quickly to unbuckle your belt. “That excited, huh?” You joke, watching her hands rapidly strip you of your lower garments. Jihyo doesn’t say a word; she grabs your pants and underwear and pulls them both down. She grabs your semi-hard cock, and you groan. Her soft hand is wrapped around your shaft as she gives it a small pump. Jihyo stares into your eyes, watching your body jerk from her strokes. You reach for her breasts, moving them side to side and watching them jiggle. Jihyo laughs, seeing you play with them like that. She laughs until you slide one hand under her shirt and pinch her nipple. Your fingers get wet, and Jihyo’s milk leaks from her nipple and wets her shirt. Jihyo shuts her eyes and revels in the tiny bit of pleasure. Your other hand moves her skirt up while you fall over her. Moans start to fill the room; your fingers circle Jihyo’s lips. 

Jihyo kisses you until you’re both out of breath, “Enough of this. I want you inside me already.” She whines. Jihyo lifts her shirt, slowly dragging it along her stomach until she reaches her breasts. With one swift motion, she lifts her shirt above her breasts, making them bounce as she finishes getting it off. Jihyo’s breasts are just as beautiful as the last time you saw them; they’re slightly swollen, and a small bit of milk is running down the nipple you pinched earlier. You start to get your shirt off while inching closer to her breast. You squeeze her other breast as you latch onto her nipple. Your suckling causes milk to flow forth. You remember the rich taste well. Jihyo struggles to get her skirt off, your tongue lapping at her bud, making her moan uncontrollably. “H-hold on, I still need to get out of my skirt.” Eventually, Jihyo is able to get her skirt off. Your eyes shoot downward and see her wet cunt. Jihyo’s nectar has spread to her thighs, coating them. You switch breasts, making sure to drink from both fountains. At the same time, you start to tease Jihyo, rubbing around her clit in a circular motion. Jihyo pushes her chest out, “Please, just fuck me already. I need you.” She whines. 

“Let me enjoy you, Jihyo. I missed your body.” You reply as you push your fingers into her cunt. You hear her gasp as you move past her folds and curl your fingers to hit her sensitive points. You abandon Jihyo’s breast and kiss her, silencing her moans for the moment. Your tongue explores her mouth; Jihyo is powerless to do the same. Pleasure racks her body; she’s unconsciously rocking her hips against your hand. 

“Jesus, fuck! I’m cumming!” Jihyo shouts as her pelvis shoots up. You continue to finger her as she cums, driving Jihyo crazy. Her body shakes until you start to slow down; Jihyo weakly holds onto your arm, trying to stop you. Seeing her in such a state, you slow down and position yourself between her legs. You slap her cunt with your cock a couple of times, drawing weak moans from Jihyo. 

“Are you ready, Jihyo?�� You ask jokingly. You take in Jihyo’s tanned body while waiting for her response. It’s beautiful; her big, heavy breasts rise and fall with every breath. Despite being a mother, Jihyo maintained a good figure; her slim waist and wide hips were almost too much to handle for you. Then there was her pretty cunt, a small bush was rested just above it, currently soaked in her nectar. Her legs were lovely, nice thick and soft thighs; you think about how good it must feel to get a thighjob from her. 

“I’m-I’m ready anytime, baby.”

“Oh? I’m your baby now?” You slide between Jihyo’s lips and into her cunt. You bury yourself inside, listening to Jihyo’s rapturous moans. Jihyo wraps her legs around your waist, holding your still so you couldn’t move before she was ready. You get by her ear, nibbling on her ear lobe before whispering in a low tone, “Does that make you my Mommy?” 

Jihyo’s walls grow tighter as she hears you call her mommy. “Yes, Yes. I’ll be your mommy.” You chuckle, thinking about how the pleasure must have gotten to Jihyo. She would probably go along with whatever you said right now. You pull out slowly, reveling in the feeling of Jihyo’s pussy cradling your cock. Jihyo groans; she feels your cock slowly leaving her body for a moment before you ram it back into her. “Agh! Fuck Mommy, please fuck Mommy.” Jihyo begs, her words being slurred slightly. You start to thrust in earnest now; Jihyo’s legs relax around your waist, giving you the space to move. You take Jihyo’s hands in yours, knowing how much she enjoyed that the first time. You raise her hands above her head and nip at her neck. You plant your lips all over her upper body, moving from her neck down to her breasts before going back up.  Jihyo’s bouncing breasts mesmerize you for a time, but you ignore them and kiss Jihyo. Unlike the last one, you move slower, letting Jihyo’s tongue reach out for yours. Her muffled moans turn you on, and you start to thrust faster.

“Uh, uh, Fuck, I missed this. I missed having you inside me.” Jihyo says softly between kisses. You let go of Jihyo’s hands, letting them wander your body as you do the same to her. Her hands mainly stay around your chest, occasionally moving to your shoulders as she holds onto you. Your hands move up and down her side, and you play with her breasts briefly. The soft flesh is irresistible to you, but you don’t want to focus on them too much. You catch Jihyo staring at you and look back at her. A strong silence hangs over the two of you as you continue thrusting. Only the sounds of your bodies colliding and your moans fill the room. 

You break the silence, “I missed this too, Jihyo.” You kiss her, feeling her pour her heart into it. You try to get the mood back to its previous place. “Mommy’s milk tastes good; I want to give Mommy my milk.” You groan. Every time you call Jihyo Mommy, her walls tighten around you, and the soft cradling feeling you had before is replaced with a tightness you hadn’t felt from her before. “Fuck, I’m cumming Jihyo. Where do you want it?” You groan, breaking character.

Jihyo’s legs push you deeper in, and she wraps her arms around you, “I want you to fill your Mommy.” Jihyo’s words trigger your orgasm; you hold onto her ass and drive your cock deep inside Jihyo. Your cum spews forth, covering Jihyo’s walls as it travels toward her womb. You both roar in pleasure, riding out your orgasms together. You feel Jihyo’s walls relax and flex around your shaft, trying to get as much as possible from you. 

Laying together on the bed, you don’t want to pull out of Jihyo just yet. You roll onto your side and cuddle with the woman before you. “That was a little different from last time, but it’s still what I was looking for,” Jihyo says before kissing your cheek. She laughs, feeling slightly embarrassed that she got turned on by being called mommy. You join in and laugh with Jihyo. You caress her cheek while staring into her eyes. The lighting in the room is just enough for you to see the depth in them. You slowly inch toward each other, kissing for what seems like forever. Your fingers interlock without you noticing, and Jihyo rolls onto you. She pushes her hips back; the movement makes you both moan. Your cock begins to harden again. 

The phone in the room rings, interrupting the moment. Jihyo lets it ring a couple of times, not wanting to let the moment go, but eventually, she has to get off to answer it. “Oh, yes. Um, right. Thank you. We’ll be down in ten minutes.”  Jihyo hangs up the phone before looking at you. “Our time is up. I wish we could have spent the entire night together.” Jihyo returns to bed and climbs on top of you, “we at least get ten minutes to shower. Come, let’s not waste it.”

“It’s kind of hard to go to the shower with you on top of me.”

“Carry me,” Jihyo says as she slides your cock inside her. “I’ll get off you once we’re in the shower. You struggle to stand up; Jihyo’s weight and gravity cause her to sink onto your cock with every step.  You don’t complain; the pleasure is more than enough compensation. 

Once inside the shower and with hot water running over your body, Jihyo lifts herself off your cock and kneels before you. “I’ll clean this little guy up, and you can clean me after.” She says in a suggestive tone. Jihyo points your cock to the ceiling and drags her tongue along the underside, moving from base to tip. You moan her name as she uses her tongue along the sides of your shaft. Your knees grow weak as Jihyo sucks on the tip; you want her to take more in. Jihyo stares up at you and knows this. The corners of her mouth poke up for a second; Jihyo shoves more of your cock in her mouth. Her warm wet tongue slowly swirls around your cock; you put one hand on her head and gently push her to take the entire length in.

“Fuck, Jihyo. You’re so good at this.” You groan. Your head has been tilted back as you revel in the pleasure of Jihyo’s skilled tongue working your cock. When you look down at the married woman, you see a lustful look in her eyes. Your cock twitches at the sight, “Jihyo, I’m cumming.” Jihyo uses her throat to pump your cock a few times before backing away and opening her mouth for you. 

“Cum on me.” Jihyo grasps your cock with both hands and strokes you until cum spurts from you. It paints her face, hitting the bridge of her nose and cheeks. As she continues to stroke your cock the final spurt hits over her eye. Jihyo rubs your cum into her skin for the few seconds she has before the water clears it away. Jihyo rises slowly and turns her back to you. She backs up until your bodies are pressed against each other. Your cock sits firmly between her ass cheeks, and you can feel her grind against you. “It’s your turn to clean me.” You begin to clean Jihyo’s body; with soapy hands, you squeeze and knead her breasts. Her coos are music to your ears. You move one hand down her body until you cunt, slipping two fingers inside you, please Jihyo. Her walls squeeze your fingers as you push in deeper.

“Mmm, I’m so close. Just a little bit more.” Jihyo moans in your arms. You adjust your position and slide your cock between her thighs; it runs along her slit. Feeling the heat from it, Jihyo moans. You focus on her breasts and start to kiss her neck. You tease Jihyo’s nipples, repeatedly flicking them while thrusting between her legs. She moans louder than before and moves her head around quickly as if the pleasure was torturing her. You feel her lean on you more as she nears her orgasm. You tilt her head to the side and kiss her as she cums. Her muffled moans slowly grow quiet. 

Her eyes flutter open, and she stares at you, “I wish we could stay like this a little longer.”

“So do I.” Unfortunately, you can’t. Soon, your shower with Jihyo ends, and you both step out while you put your clothes back on. 

Jihyo comes out in an oversized T-shirt. “Our little rendezvous isn’t done yet. I have a surprise for you.” Jihyo takes a few steps away from you and slowly strips off the shirt to show a revealing black dress. Jihyo’s smooth back is revealed to the world in the dress. 

“Wow, you look amazing.” Jihyo thanks you for the compliment and turns to face you. 

“Come on, let’s get going. I’m hungry.” Jihyo checks herself out before she goes out. You follow close behind. You return the key and step back out into the night. “I planned a nice dinner for us.” Jihyo looks to the side, a bit embarrassed. “I just realized I never asked if you were available to do something after.” 

“Of course I am.” You reply quickly. “Lead the way…Mommy.” You whisper, teasing Jihyo. You lead Jihyo to your car, and you’re off to a busy upscale restaurant. “You’re a bit shocked at first that she chose such a place, but you’re also worried about whether you’d be able to afford it. 

Jihyo quickly calms your nerves when it comes to payment. “Nice place, right? A friend of mine owns it; she owes me a favor, and we’re getting to eat free tonight. Isn’t that great? You breathe a sigh of relief and nod your head. Once inside, you’re quickly seated in a back corner, where you would have all the privacy you wanted. You’re attended to quickly, order, and wait for your food. “So Jeongyeon has been coming back to you since you transferred?” 

“Yeah, she has. Er, well, once. She said she didn't want to but then changed her mind pretty quickly. We’ve only slept together once.”

“She didn’t tell me any of that. She must want to keep you for herself.” Jihyo says with a smile on her face. On the inside, she was slightly annoyed that Jeongyeon hadn’t said anything. Jihyo was the one that got her into you in the first place. “What’s stopping her from being with you more often?”

“Well, she has her husband and baby. It’s hard work. Aren’t you in the same position?” You ask. The way Jihyo worded her question made her sound like she had more free time. 

“Almost, I don’t have to work. Or at least I don’t have to often. You know if Jeongyeon doesn’t have time for you, I can be there. My husband still doesn’t pay me any attention, and he’s been working longer hours. If you’re interested, we could do this pretty often. I would have to bring my baby along sometimes, so those days, it would be more like we’re a married couple.” Jihyo says with a laugh.” Though she tries to hide it, you can sense some pain in her words. Jihyo’s confidence is higher than Jeongyeon’s, but you can still tell they face similar problems. 

“I think that would be nice. I wouldn’t mind just being with you when you do have to bring your baby.” Jihyo gives you an earnest smile in response. A change in her tone signals to you that she feels a sense of relief. Jihyo herself felt good about clearing that hurdle in her mind. She knew she had an advantage in spending more free time with you, so she would use it. The interest she held in you was lesser than Jeongyeon’s, but at the same time, she felt something in her heart. The moments she spent with you earlier gave her something. 

Dinner goes by in a flash, and you and Jihyo talk throughout the meal. When it came time to part, Jihyo hooked her arm around you and leaned into you. “I had a great night. I think this is the first date I’ve been on in…” Jihyo grows quiet as she reflects on when her last date had been; nothing comes to mind, though.

You interrupt her, not wanting her to dwell on the conversation. “I had a great night too. I think we did things in the opposite order, though. We’re supposed to fuck after we eat.” Jihyo playfully slaps your arm and laughs. 

“I got excited and didn’t plan things well, okay?” The two of you walk until you reach your car. Jihyo gives you her address, and you begin the drive. It doesn’t take long for Jihyo to fall asleep in the passenger seat. When you arrive, you give Jihyo a peck on the cheek; she stirs slowly. “Hm? Where am I?”

“We’re at your home, Jihyo.” You give Jiyho a proper kiss, “Good night.”

“Good Night. I’ll call you. Get home safe.”

[thealternateuniverse]

Paranoia

Part 1Part 2

A/N: I took a break scrolling from tiktok for my sanity 😭. I appreciate the lovely comments guys. Keep it coming. Thoughts and feedbacks are open.

Edit: There was a part that was missing. I forgot to proofread. PS. This is purely fiction, some events in this story did not happen in real life.

🧎‍♀️(down bad on this photo)

Warnings: Read at your own risk

As the last quarter unfolded, USC relentlessly closing the 13 points gap, the score now standing at 76-70. Despite their efforts, Y/N's team struggled to maintain their momentum and extend their lead. Geno's frustration boiled over, his impassioned instructions during the timeout emphasizing the crucial defensive adjustments they needed to make.

As the clock winds down, the score still stands at 76-70 in favor of UConn. With USC in possession, the pressure is on to close the gap. But Azzi, has other plans. With lightning reflexes, she snatches the ball from USC's grasp and sets the stage for a thrilling sequence of events.

Spotting her teammate Nika open on the court, Azzi swiftly passes the ball. USC's Kaitlyn Davis is quick to react, shadowing Nika's every move. Sensing an opportunity, Y/N, fueled by determination, waves at Nika, signaling for the pass.

With a precision pass, Nika sends the ball sailing towards Y/N. Sensing an opening, Y/N positions herself strategically, evading USC's defense. As she receives the ball, she executes a flawless screen, creating space and thwarting Davis's attempt to intercept.

Dribbling with purpose, Y/N makes her move towards the basket, eyes locked on the hoop. But USC's Rayah Marshall has other plans. Desperate to regain possession, Marshall lunges forward, attempting to strip the ball from Y/N's grasp.

With nerves of steel, Y/N fights to maintain control, deftly maneuvering past Marshall's reach. But the intensity of the moment boils over as Marshall resorts to desperate measures, grabbing Y/N's shirt in a last-ditch effort to halt her progress.

Refusing to relinquish the ball, Y/N stands her ground, her determination unwavering despite the onslaught from USC's defense. With frustration mounting, USC's Malia Samuels joins the fray, attempting to pry the ball loose from Y/N's grip.

In a gripping display of strength and resilience, Y/N holds firm, refusing to yield to the pressure. With the whistle blowing, signaling a foul, Y/N's teammates rush to her aid, pulling her away from the heated confrontation.

"Babe, let it go," Nika urged, her grip firm as she restrained the pissed Y/N from returning to the commotion. Frustration etched on Y/N's face, she reluctantly released her hold on the ball, raising her hands in surrender.

With a defiant smirk, Y/N turned her attention to Samuels and Davis, who were being held back by their teammates. Locking eyes with them, she taunted them, a silent reminder of her unwavering resolve.

The foul earned them a free throw, a guaranteed point, bringing the score to 77-70. Paige wasted no time retrieving the ball and dashed across the court, her sights set on a crucial three-pointer. With just a minute left in the quarter, she aimed to ignite their momentum once more. However, USC had different plans. They intercepted the ball and sunk a three-pointer of their own.

With 45 seconds remaining, Y/N found herself in possession of the ball. She scanned her teammates for any openings, but USC's defense made scoring seem impossible.

"Miller, what the hell? Just do it!" she heard Paige yell, urging her to take action.

As she stood near the half-court line, Y/N hesitated. Shooting a three-pointer from this distance seemed like a near-impossible feat for her. In all her years of playing and practicing, she had never been known for her long-range shooting abilities— that was Bueckers' domain.

The pressure weighed heavy on her shoulders as she considered her options. Could she defy the odds and sink this shot when it mattered most? The doubt gnawed at her, but with time ticking away, she knew she had to make a decision—and fast. --

Y/N dashed toward her teammates after that long range 3 point shot, their jubilant cheers echoing across the court as the buzzer signaled the end of the match. With a final score of 80-73 against USC, victory was theirs. It had been a grueling game, but the satisfaction of triumph overshadowed any challenges they had during the game.

She scanned the crowd, searching for her dad. When their eyes met, she waved at him, a surge of emotion welling up inside her. Despite the divorce, his presence fueled her determination throughout the entire match. She wouldn't expect her mom to be here, though. Separating from her teammates, Y/N made her way to her dad and enveloped him in a bear hug.

"Congratulations, peanut. Looks like you guys are headed to the Final 4. I'm so proud of you. You were incredible out there today," her father exclaimed as they embraced. Y/N beamed with joy; they were moving on to the Final 4.

"Thanks, Dad. Having you here means the world to me," Y/N said, disentangling herself from her father's embrace and offering him an encouraging smile.

"Why don't you invite your teammates to dinner tonight?" her father suggested.

"Dinner? Where?" Y/N asked, confusion knitting her brows. Her dad typically leaves after the game to catch his flight back to California.

"Well... I just bought some property around Storrs. Maybe you could invite them over for a little house-warming party?" Her father scratched his head awkwardly.

Y/N blinked, trying to process what her dad had just said. He had bought property in Connecticut! Was this a permanent move? She didn't know, but the thought of not having to fly to California, or her dad not having to fly to Connecticut, made her genuinely happy.

"Right, of course. We can talk about this property later. I'll let my teammates know. See you later, Dad," Y/N said with a grin.

Skipping back to her teammates, who were still celebrating their advancement to the Final 4, Y/N felt a renewed sense of excitement.

--------------

Y/N basked in the euphoria of their victory during the post-game interview, the realization of her clutch shot sinking in only now. She credited it to luck, feeling grateful for the fortuitous moment.

As the reporters turned their attention to Paige, Y/N struggled to keep her composure, finding it hard to tear her gaze away from Paige's sinfully stylish sunglasses.

"So, Paige, any plans for the WNBA draft?" one of the reporters inquired. Paige paused for a moment, her playful gesture of licking her lips causing Y/N to roll her eyes.

"For now, I think our plan is to win the championship," Paige responded mischievously, leaving the reporter slightly disappointed.

Turning her attention to Y/N, another reporter chimed in, "Y/N, congratulations! That last three-point shot was incredible. How do you feel?"

Y/N felt her cheeks warm as the spotlight shifted to her, a sensation she wasn't accustomed to. In post-game interviews, it was typically Paige, Nika, Azzi, and KK who took the lead. Now, with all eyes on her, she struggled to find her footing.

"Uhh, well... we've been practicing, but I really didn't expect to make that shot from half-court," she replied timidly, her voice betraying her nerves. "You've recently gain the hearts of fans nationwide after you guys went live last week. They are interested to know you more since you seem to be inactive in social media"

The next question caught her off guard. Increasing fanbase? She hadn't realized her popularity was growing. The mention of the recent live session with Ice and her minimal social media presence made her realize she had inadvertently garnered attention.

"Firstly, I appreciate the love. But I tend to spend less time on my phone to focus on my daily activities," she responded genuinely. Becoming a social media star was the last thing on her mind; her life was already hectic, and the thought of dealing with the pressures of online fame felt overwhelming. "Do you have any plans for WNBA draft also? Are you going to sign under your mother's agency and let her represent you?"

The mention of the WNBA draft and her mother's agency caused a flicker of unease to pass over her features. Her teammates exchanged worried glances, and Paige shot dagger looks at the reporter who asked the question.

"W-well, just like Paige said, our focus right now is on the championship. We'll address any future plans when the time comes," Y/N replied with finality not addressing the mother question, offering the reporter a faint smile. The reporter didn't ask further questions and shifted their questions back to the game highlights. ----- After the post-game interview, the team celebrated inside the dugout, cheering once again for their victory. Geno delivered his speech, and everyone showered him with water afterward.

"Okay, okay, enough, everyone. We're not done yet. We have an upcoming match against Iowa. They're a tough team to beat, but I believe in your capabilities. For now, let's celebrate. You all can enjoy the night out. Slow down on the alcohol, and no fights—yes, I'm talking about you, Y/N," Geno warned. Y/N felt a weight on her shoulders, only to see Paige already had her arm over her shoulders.

"We'll be on our best behavior, coach," Paige said confidently, raising a thumbs-up, though doubt still lingered on Geno's face.

"Well, um, if you could, my father invites everyone for dinner. He just moved in,"

The team whistled at the invitation, they all agreed to come.

"Nice!" KK exclaimed. It would be their first time formally meeting Y/N's parent. They do see her father and exchange hellos whenever he is at the game, but they never got the chance to be formally introduced.

"Seems like a housewarming party. We haven't prepared anything, Y/N," Azzi said, a slight worry on her face.

"Don't bother, Az. It's just dinner, and it'll be us and my dad only."

All of them decided to come together to Y/N's father's newly bought house. Nika and KK kept teasing her as "richy rich" while they packed their stuff. No one just decides to buy a property on a whim during a divorce around Connecticut, knowing the estates are damn expensive.

In Y/N's defense, she is not rich; it is her father who could afford it, not her. While it is good to know her father moved here, Y/N will still remain in her apartment. She will give her father his own space, and she is old enough to be staying under her parents' roof.

-------

The house was beautiful when they arrived, a surprise to Y/N how her father managed to pull it off. It wasn't extravagant, fitting right in with the other houses in the Storrs neighborhood. Y/N suddenly felt embarrassed as they were greeted by their family chef in the kitchen. Her father didn't have to go this far by bringing their chef all the way from California. Her teammates exchanged glances, their anticipation evident as they looked forward to a rewarding full-course meal experience after a tough match. "Welcome girls and apologies for the short notice, thank you though for coming. Congratulations in your game earlier and I think you deserve this full course meal." Craig Miller greeted and the girls introduce theirselves, shaking hands with Y/N's father.

"Please, call me Craig. Well, I let you have your meal in peace. If you need anything don't hesitate to ask chef here, indulge yourselves."

The girls thanked Craig before they choose their respective seats. ----

Paige listened quietly while her teammates conversed. She responded from time to time, but the steak made it hard for her to stay fully engaged. It was the best meal she had ever tasted, and every bite felt like a reward after their victory against USC. She silently thanked Y/N's Father for arranging this feast and for their wealth, may they be continued to be blessed. Of course, she was only kidding about the latter, but she couldn't deny the unexpected level of luxury her family had.

What struck Paige the most was Y/N's humility. Despite their wealth, Y/N never flaunted it or mentioned the things she could afford. Paige's heart swelled with pride as she thought about how low-key Y/N had always been. She was privileged, but she never took advantage of it.

"Well, you can ask Paige, Craig. Her and Y/N are close even they banter all day." KK urged Craig, while looking towards Paige, a grin plastered on her face.

Paige literally choked on her mashed potatoes. If looks could kill, KK would be buried six feet under by now.

"Is that so?" Craig glanced at Paige and towards his daughter knowingly. Y/N just gave him a shrug.

"Well, can't help it, your daughter is neck and neck with Paige Bueckers," Y/N responded, her tone laced with airy amusement.

"How about you, Paige? I hope my daughter doesn't give you all a hard time; she can be a bit temperamental," Mr. Miller inquired with a chuckle.

"A little competition is good, Craig, and she's really good. I don't want to get on her bad side, though," Paige remarked, turning towards Y/N's direction and giving her a wink—a subtle reminder of the almost-brawl they had witnessed last week.

"I'm really glad you all got along. Y/N rarely invites her friends back to Stanford, so I haven't really gotten to know them," Mr. Miller remarked.

The mention of Y/N's Stanford friends piqued Paige's interest. Y/N had never mentioned anything aside from team practices, game highlights, and her MCL injury. Paige wondered what her friend's life was like during her time at Stanford. "Speaking of, why don't you invite Cameron here? If she is not busy. Have you two been calling each other?" Paige couldn't help but notice that Y/N's smile faltered at the mention of Cameron's name. She's suddenly itching of curiosity what's with Y/N and Cameron.

"She's busy, dad. Taking a break." Y/N answered shortly. "Oh okay." Craig didn't press further about Cameron. They continued until they finished the five-course dinner, thoroughly enjoying every bite. The girls praised the chef for the spectacular feast they had indulged in and of course Craig who then resigns to his study. He left them to take advantage of the house to rest or do what they want for the night.

-----

All of them decided to have Margaritas only on the patio. The firepit was already lit, warming the chilly air of spring . The girls decided to take some photos for the gram, capturing the essence of their post-game celebration night while the music blaring.

"Those USC players are tough; we should really watch out for Juju next season," Aubrey remarked, shaking her head in acknowledgment.

"Agree, it was nerve-racking earlier. I could feel the tension from the bench," Qadence added, nodding in agreement.

"We've got to prepare for Iowa next week. We'll be facing Clark. They're as hungry as we are," Azzi chimed in, emphasizing the importance of their upcoming game.

"Loosen up, suckers; we'll think about it tomorrow. Why don't we play some games until we wear each other out?" KK suggested, earning groans from her teammates.

"It's always chaos when you suggest games, K," Nikka remarked, leaning her head back and throwing a pillow towards KK.

"What? No. We won't move an inch. Plus, it's margarita night."

"Okay, bring it on, K. What are we playing?" Paige chimed in.

"Hm, something low-key. It's called Paranoia," KK replied with a mischievous grin. A whisper of doubt brushed against Paige, suggesting that this might not be a good idea. It seemed that KK was up to something mischievous. They all exchanged glances, silently contemplating whether they should play along with KK's suggestion.

"Okay, fine. How do we play?" Y/N clapped her hands.

"Easy, I'll be the starter. I'll just whisper a question about the group into the ear of the person on my left. The person who was asked the question replies out loud with their answer. If the person whose name was spoken or anyone curious wants to know what the question was, they take a drink. The person who said the name can either choose to respond or take a drink instead," KK explained, and the team listened eagerly, intrigued by the game's rule. "Man, that's boring. How did you even come up with the idea?" Paige objected, expressing her disinterest. "Come on now, Bueckers, don't be a killjoy," Y/N said, shooting Paige a glare. Paige felt herself gulp. She sat across Y/N.

They all settled into a circle, with KK sitting beside Azzi on her left and Ice on her right. Anticipation filled the air as KK started whispering to Ice, a mischievous grin forming on her lips.

"Ah, easy. It's Nika," Ice responded confidently.

Nika's head shot up. "What? What did I do?"

"Drink, girly, if you wanna know," KK replied with a wink, causing Nika to frown.

"I'm starting not to like this game," Nika muttered, declining to take a shot to find out.

"Don't be a buzzkill, Ice, next to your left," KK instructed, keeping the game going.

Anticipation filled the air again as Ice whispered to Y/N this time. Y/N burst out laughing.

"Easy, peasy. Paige," Y/N replied with a grin, causing all eyes to turn towards Paige, who raised an eyebrow in curiosity.

"What?" Paige asked curiously, but Ice and Y/N only exchanged grins.

"Drink up, P. It's just a Margarita," Ice nudged Paige, urging her to take a shot.

"Hell no," Paige rejected the Margarita firmly, refusing to play along.

"Come on, guys, I'd rather have a hangover than a crippling anxiety," KK mused, acknowledging Paige's reluctance to participate further in the game.

"Final answer, P?" Ice asked Paige one last time, hoping she'd give in and take the shot.

"No thanks." Paige answered while making a face.

"Alrighty, mighty. Come here, Aubrey," Y/N leaned towards Aubrey on her left and whispered.

Aubrey pondered for a moment, not giving an answer right away.

"I think... Paige," Aubrey finally replied, her choice causing a stir among the group, more like to Paige only.

"What the fuck is even the question?" Paige reacted violently, but her teammates didn't seem to care as Y/N and Aubrey high-fived each other.

"Told ya, that's why it's called Paranoia for a reason, P," KK remarked with a smirk, enjoying the chaos she had stirred up.

"But I'm curious, so I'll take a shot. So what was the question, Y/N?" KK sipped from her margarita, intrigued by the mystery.

"If we're going to play a team mode in Fortnite, among KK, Azzi, Nika, Me, and Paige, who are you not going to choose?" Y/N revealed, causing a collective gasp from the group.

"Wait, that's not fair! Give me a break. I'm a much better player than Azzi!" Paige protested, sensing the injustice in the situation.

They all grinned at Paige. "You suck, P," Qadence chirped.

Paige surrendered. It was one against all.

"Aubrey, your turn," Aubrey, who then whispered to Aaliyah. Aaliyah immediately responded "Paige."

"What the fuck," Paige muttered, feeling increasingly targeted.

"Still not drinking, P?" Ice teased.

"I don't know, you guys. It seems like you all want me to have a hangover," Paige remarked, still refusing to touch her margarita. If it were a Shirley Temple, she'd gladly chug it down.

"Alright, Ines. Your turn," Aaliyah whispered next to Ines, who answered without hesitation, "Y/N."

It was Y/N's turn to be curious. "Hold up," Y/N said, taking a sip of her margarita. "Okay, what is it?" she asked, curious about the question that had been whispered to Ines. "Who do you think is the most attractive player you will date if given a chance to?" The group fell silent, waiting for Y/N's response to the revealing question.

"Oh wow. really? Thank you, I guess?" Y/N response elicited a mixture of laughter and awkwardness from the group as they processed her answer.

"Ines got a little crush on our girly here," KK teased, while also giving Paige a knowing look, which only added to the playful banter among the group. Ines on the hand, blushed as Y/N joined teasing her too. For some reason it annoyed Paige. KK's game will seriously ruin some friendship.

"Alright, you next Paigey."

Paige shook off her annoyance and allowed Ines to lean towards her to whisper her question.

"From which school did the person you liked go to?" Ines asked quietly, sparking curiosity among the group about Paige's response.

Paige's eyes briefly landed on Y/N, who was obliviously chatting with Aaliyah. She quickly looked away before she could linger and get caught.

"Stanford," Paige responded quietly, her gaze fixed on the firepit, hoping her answer wouldn't draw too much attention. The group went silent. "Wait, wait, wait, I'm curious. What's the question?" Azzi asked, breaking the tension with a drink. One by one, KK, Nika, Aubrey, Ice, and finally Y/N followed suit, each taking a sip, eager to discover the secret question that had been whispered to Paige.

"What? Fuck no! This game is over," Paige declared, her frustration evident as she refused to continue playing. "Paigey, you're a buzzkill. Come on Ines, let's have a team huddle."

They all had a team huddle, excluding Paige, to discuss Ines's question.

The whispering turned into collective murmurs of surprise after Ines spilled the question. Y/N met Paige's eyes and gave her a teasing look.

"Ah, I know who! I remember how you look at Hannah Jump!" Y/N exclaimed, prompting a mix of laughter and gasps from the group, most likely from KK.

Fuck this shit! Paige mentally cursed, feeling embarrassed by the revelation. Paige felt a surge of frustration at Y/N's teasing remark, for someone who has high IQ in basketball, she is dense.

What the hell just happened? She'll kill KK and never ever let her suggest stupid games next time. "Nice one, P! Hannah Jump, huh?" KK patted her on the shoulders, still laughing, but Paige only offered a tight-lipped smile in response, feeling a mixture of embarrassment and annoyance. "I'll kill you later K."

---------- Will have a bit more of Y/N and Paige's interaction in the next chapters.

[malfoy-mrsdracomalfoy]

Possessive

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Girlfriend!Reader

Warnings: Slight invasion of privacy, possessiveness, brief hint to sex, territorial and controlling Draco. Some violence. Alcohol and inebriation mentioned.

Word Count: 3437

Summary: Draco doesn't like when other's come near what's his.

Reader's Point Of View:

The coo of a mourning dove wakes me up. I open my eyes slowly, taking in my surroundings. My face meets a bare muscular back bathed in the early morning light. I glance down and see my body perfectly curled around my boyfriend's, legs curving in matching bends, my knee cap pushing the back of his knee. My arms are gently draped around his waist and I tuck my head into his back, cheek pushing against his pale skin. I inhale his smell, basically pressing my nose in between his shoulder blades. He always smells so good, even when he's not wearing his Bleu de Chanel cologne. I hear a buzz from the bedside table.

Releasing his body, I roll over to pick up my phone to look at the notification- It’s a snap from Blaise Zabini. Upon opening it I find he sent me a picture of his breakfast- a sausage with two mini pancakes at the bottom on either side- resembling a male’s genitalia.

After saving his photo to the chat feed, I hold up my phone and do a duck face with the response, ‘You are what you eat.’ He saves my response in his chat feed and replies immediately- a selfie with a sarcastic smile, middle finger up. I open my front facing camera to send him a response, but as I push out my arm to get the best shot- I spot a platinum head looking over my shoulder on the screen.

"Who are you talking to?" I stiffen at the sudden sound of my boyfriend’s deep morning voice. I lock my phone and set it screen down, and roll over with a sweet "Good morning babe!" while reaching out to hug him.

His face is carefully blank but as I look into his eyes I see that something is brewing. He ignores my comment and doesn't return my hug. I slide my fingertips gently up his back then run my pointer finger down his spine, pressing a smooch on his chest, right in between his pecks. He shivers slightly at my touch, and a small smile crosses his lips as his hand comes up to rest on my waist.

"Do you wanna have a quick round?" I smile mischievously and caress the side of his neck. With a smirk he says, "If you keep this up, I might have to start ignoring you just to conserve my energy."

"Have you met me? I would never let you ignore me. I know what places you like touched." I say suggestively with a smirk.

He laughs softly, "You're dangerous." he murmurs as I slide my fingers along his shoulders. "Stop that.” He protests half-heartedly. I tease and say "Why? Am I tickling you?”

"I am not ticklish." He lies.

"Oh?" I start, sliding my fingers towards his ribcage.

"I'm not." He says stubbornly so I press my fingers to his ribs, wiggling them. He yelps and his body convulses with laughter so I add a little more pressure to his ribs, effectively tickling him. "Ah!" He exclaims out, trying to squirm away from me. "You cheat." He says, voice full of laughter and his eyes watering.

"Told you I know you." He playfully pushes me over on the mattress- making me roll on my back as he heads to the bathroom. I pinch one of his butt cheeks as he walks off and he pretends to be annoyed at me but I keep my eyes on him, smirk fully in place until he disappears into the ensuite bathroom, closing the door behind him.

While waiting for him to return, I grab my phone to send a response to Blaise. Still on my back, I stretch my right arm all the way up, camera facing my form. I tilt my head and give an unbothered smile- showing him that his middle finger didn't affect me like he wanted it to.

Upon sending it, I hear the slam of something in the bathroom. I slightly jump and look up, surprised, and take notice of the bathroom door- it's open again and I'm met with Draco's back, stiff as a board. Happy to see him again, I walk up and wrap my arms around his waist, resting my cheek against his shoulder blades.

He remains stiff and silent, flossing his teeth while looking into the mirror. Sensing a shift, I release him and give him space- I don't know what's going on with him right now, but I don't think it's a good idea to push the matter. So I step back, gathering my clothes for the day at a leisurely pace. While dressing, I watch as he brushes his teeth a little too hard- remaining silent. That’s very unlike him. Something’s up.

Checking my phone once more, I find Blaise has responded to me- this time it’s a snap of a mirror selfie, biceps flexing with the caption, ‘Felt cute, might delete later.’ I laugh and save it to the chat feed. ‘Delete now.’ I respond giving a fake grossed out expression to the camera. He saves it in the chat.

"It's late. You're not ready yet?" I hear a husky voice behind me now. Merlin, his steps are silent.

"Almost- one second!" I scurry to the bathroom where I promptly brush my teeth and style my hair in a quick and easy half-up style with a silk black ribbon around the pony tail's base. I look over in the mirror to find Draco holding my phone and looking down at it. I roll my eyes and say nothing, adjusting my uniform and spraying perfume on my pulse points.

When I walk out of the bathroom I find Draco has now stiffened up completely and his fingers are slightly trembling- my phone still in hand. "You speak to Zabini often." He says to me with a controlled ice-cold voice. I shake my head and sigh- He's gone through my phone again.

The chats with Blaise are innocent enough and I don't understand why this needs to be addressed. "Since when are you the prying type?" I tease him, trying to lighten his mood. He doesn't respond. I walk past him and to the door. 'Geminis' I think to myself.

We begin to leave his Prefect dorm and as I step out, he quickly wraps his arm around my waist with a vice grip. I stiffen and he pulls me into his side- I can barely step without my hips hitting his own. He has a sneer on his face and directs it to anyone who so much as glances at me.

Potions 11am

I'm sitting in my assigned seat trying to focus on the potion in front of me but I keep getting paper balls thrown at me. I try to ignore them until they become larger and one wacks me straight in the face. I look up, exasperated to meet the culprit- Blaise. He starts making stupid faces at me. I giggle despite myself and mouth 'Focus on your potion.' to which he pretends to fall asleep, mimicking snoring. I throw one of his paper balls back at him and it lands with a gratifying smack right in the middle of his face. He jolts suddenly and flips me off. We both laugh quietly and begin to work again. I hear a chair screech against the floor, and I look toward the noise- It’s been made by my boyfriend. He’s sneering at Blaise, his posture stiff except for his chest that is starting to slightly heave.

"y/n." I hear a voice from my desk mate- Ron Weasley. I look over to see his blue eyes intently staring at me.

"What's up Ron?" I ask, giving him a once over to see if he set himself on fire again. He didn't.

"Can you help me with this?" He points down at a bit of mandrake root he's trying to chop. I nod, and say "Of course." Moving toward him, I stretch my arms and begin to try to cut the root. I'm too far away and can't add enough pressure. He notices this and takes a step back with a quick, "Here." I smile in thanks and take his original spot, he leans over me to watch my technique, his chest slightly pressed against my shoulder. He smells of spearmint toothpaste, fresh parchment and freshly mown grass.

I get yanked away as soon as I finish the last cut and feel myself being turned with a kiss pressed forcefully on my lips. An arm snakes around me, pulling me flush to a body.

Taken by surprise I look wide-eyed into the ice-blue eyes of my boyfriend. His eyes are trained on Ron as he kisses me. He pulls back with a smirk, and tugs me away from my desk. I look back at Ron's baffled expression and slightly jog to keep up with Draco's pace. 'I'm sorry' I mouth to Ron over my shoulder.

Draco pulls me out of class, closing the door behind us, and attempts to walk me down the hall, but I stop him by planting my feet firmly on the ground.

"Draco! What is the meaning of this? I haven't finished my potion yet." I say, pulling my arm from him- irritated now.

"Don't talk to Weaselbee." He says plainly, arms crossed and glaring.

"I was helping him cut the mandrake root!" I respond in frustration.

"That bloke was all over you like a disease. Why did you let him get so close to you?" He asks, voice cold as ice.

"Draco Malfoy! I told you I was just helping him cut his root. That was it! My potion could be bubbling over right now and if I get a bad mark I will be very cross with you."

"Go on then. Don't speak to him again. He can find someone else to help him." Draco commands me. I scoff and turn back into class, him in tow. I'm surprised he's not tripping on me by how close he's walking. I return to my desk and Draco levitates his things to where I'm at. He plants himself firmly in between Ron and I. Ron recoils and moves several feet away from him. Draco smirks, satisfied.

The Slytherin Common Room

Draco and I approach the warm hearth that is the fireplace, holding hands. He seems to be in a better mood now. He sits firmly into an emerald green, gold-accented plush chair, resting one ankle on a black-slack clad knee and leans backward, his arms casually resting on the arm rest. He's in a position that radiates power. I admire how comfortable he is owning every room he steps in. It's second nature to him. Absolute authority.

He's shed his uniform and robes after classes, and is now wearing a crisp white button-up with the top two buttons undone. His sleeves are pushed up to his elbow, straining against his bicep when he moves. His toned forearm on full display. I feel my stomach squeeze.

He conjures a small glass of fire-whisky. It's Friday and he wants to unwind. I watch as he takes a sip and he catches me staring at him. "Yes, darling?" His voice is sultry, tempting even. "Thirsty?" He's teasing me. Of course I'm thirsty and it's a thirst only he can quench. He conjures a crystal glass next to me on the small side table that separates his arm chair and where I'm sitting on the matching love-seat. It's a smooth, dark pink liquid with a lime wedge on the rim. "It's a Cosmopolitan, darling. Your favorite." He says to me. I lift the glass to my lips, keeping eye contact as I take a slow, deliberate sip- teasing him. His eyes darken in attraction and he smirks. "You're being naughty tonight." He says, amused.

A ruckus at the door brings me out of my hypnotic state. I glance over and meet the faces of Blaise, Pansy, Crabbe, and Goyle. They're laughing hard and slightly swaying. I guess they started their Friday night early.

"You guuuuyssss!" Pansy stumbles over and plops on the couch across from me, sitting next to the green flames flickering around the room. Crabbe and Goyle take the remaining two seats by her. I feel the seat next to me collapse as a body plops down. I look over to see Blaise, a slight glaze over his eyes smiling at me widely. "Hey you." He says flirtily while throwing an arm around my shoulders- giving me a half hug.

"y/n." I hear his commanding voice and I look over. Draco is staring at me with a 'don't fuck with me' expression. "Come here." He continues without missing a beat.

"Oi Malfoy, leave her! We're just hanging out, aren't we doll face?" Blaise retorts, looking at me with a boldness only buzzed him could pull off.

"y/n." My name again. I get up and take the few steps to Draco. "Sit." He says plainly, dropping his ankle and patting his knee. I comply immediately, wrapping an arm around his shoulders as I settle in, stretching my legs across his lap and dangling them down the side of his own. His arms wrap around my waist firmly to keep me still.

"Malfoy can you ever just leave her? Insufferable prat you are." Blaise drunkenly says. Crabbe and Goyle chuckle but are silenced by a look from Draco. Pansy senses the tension and shifts a little,

"Come on you guysss! Let's be happy! It's Friday- woo hoo!" She unhelpfully adds in her drunken state. I smile at her, at least she’s trying.

"Feeling alright there Pans?" I tease, trying to change the subject.

"Oh so fuuuun! Fun night y/n! We went..." She starts but Blaise interrupts her with another snarky comment.

"We can't talk to her Pans. Not with Draco around. You know how he is."

"Blaise." I whisper, pleadingly. He smiles, feigning innocence. Draco leans down to start kissing my neck while Blaise looks on. I giggle and give him a little push back. I am not a fan of PDA. He ignores me, continuing his pursuit.

"Oi- Malfoy we are all still here!" Blaise says, annoyed. He has shuffled to take my previous place on the couch, so I nudge him with the toe of my shoe. Draco raises an eyebrow and pulls my leg back, pressing it flush against his calf. He follows up by giving Blaise a very threatening look and Blaise is drunk enough to bait him. "Something to say?" Blaise says, smirking.

"Let's just go." I tug Draco’s shirt gently, getting him to look into my pleading y/e/c orbs. He searches them for a moment and gives my thigh two taps so I stand up. Blaise laughs bitterly, "You're so fucking whipped man". That did it.

Draco steps towards Blaise- his temper flaring. In return, Blaise stands up, now wanting a full on fight. I pull Draco back by his waist, and Pansy quickly stands to pull Blaise back by his shoulders. "Simmer down, yeah Blaise?" She tells him and Draco pulls free from my grip as soon as I loosen my hands.

Blaise yanks away from Pansy and gets into Draco's face- they're now in a full blown-stare down, fighting for dominance. Blaise breaks first and shoves Draco by his chest saying, "Better leave with her now, before someone else does." Draco shoves him back with so much force his back hits the stone fireplace.

"Draco! Let's go." I say firmly, pulling on him again. Draco doesn't yank from me this time, but keeps his eyes still trained on Blaise. "Don't say that ever again." His voice is so ice cold I swear it extinguishes the fire. Blaise stands there, scoffing, and adjusts his shirt while Draco keeps his position- raising an eyebrow- daring Blaise to retort. Blaise doesn’t- because he doesn’t have a death wish. He just looks away and dusts off his shirt. Satisfied with Blaise’s submission- Draco grabs my waist and exits promptly.

He pulls me to his dorm, yanking me in and locking the door behind us. He shoves me against the wall, hands on either side of my shoulders, caging me in while he murmurs, "Another man will never take you." I shake my head and say, "No, they won't." His eyes flash with relief before turning dark once more. He slips his hand down my throat and squeezes, keeping eye contact as he says "Who owns you?" I look at him, eyes darkening in return. He squeezes my throat again. "Answer me." He stares on, squeezing tighter. "Who owns you?"

"You." I whisper, staring straight into his eyes. He smirks in satisfaction. This is going to be a long night.

And what a long night it was. He shows me just how much he cares about me, and got to relieve some anger in the process.

Next Day

Draco wakes me up the following morning with renewed vigor. There is a light in his eyes that show me he's up to something. I get ready quickly, putting on his favorite outfit of mine. He beams when he sees me, "You look divine, darling." He picks up my hand and kisses it. I blush and thank him.

"Love, where are we going?" I ask as he intertwines our fingers and begins to walk us off campus.

"Hogsmeade." He responds simply but has a smile on his face and a glint in his eye. I don't ask any further questions. I know he won’t answer them anyway.

We make our way down the cobblestone pathway and he pulls me straight into a jewelers parlor. He confidently walks up to the front counter with his usual power stride. I can't help but stare at him. He's easily the most gorgeous man on the planet.

"Malfoy." He says to the man, not bothering to greet him or state his business. The old jeweler nods and looks down at the order log before I greet him kindly. One of us needs to be the nice one.

"Hello sir, how are you this morning?" The jeweler looks at me with a smile crossing his wrinkled and sagging cheeks.

"Hello, sweetheart. I'm fine. How are you?" He says, almost surprised. I get a feeling people aren't nice to him very often.

"I'm very well, thank you." The jeweler smiles and makes his way to the back where he keeps the stock. He returns with an emerald green box. I gasp and look at Draco. He has a quiet smile on his face while I look at the box. The jeweler hands it over, gently, and then gives us our privacy- heading to the back.

I run my fingers across the felt. I open the box and my jaw drops, hand quickly covering my mouth. It’s a 24k solid gold necklace with dainty, elegant "D. L. M." letters as the charms hanging from the gold chain. My eyes begin to water. I look at him with a bright smile, still teary-eyed. He smiles genuinely at my response and kisses my forehead.

"You got this for me? This beautiful necklace with your initials? Thank you so much my love. It's beautiful." I look down at it again, gently tracing the letters and chain. It’s classy and timeless with an extender so I could wear it with any outfit. His initials. On me. The tears fall and I wipe them quickly as I admire the gold catching the light. It is so sparkly and beautiful.

"Do you want to put it on?" Draco asks gently with a proud smile.

"Yes, of course!" He takes it out of the box, setting down the container on the counter as I turn and pulled my hair to one shoulder. I feel his fingers trace both sides of my neck, brushing away a few stray hairs. The necklace comes around the front of me, and presses the top of my chest. I hold the necklace in place, feeling his soft fingertips latch it. He lifts my hair and sets it back down, stroking it once to smooth it down.

I turn to him and his eyes get wide the moment he sees his initials on me. He seems to fill with pride like a balloon inflating air. He smiles brightly and says, "I knew it would suit you." I snake my arms around his neck to hug him and he slightly picks me up off the ground, squeezing me to him. Once my feet are back on the ground I run my fingers on my necklace again.

I turn to the nearby antique mirror to see my reflection and I beam. The chain reflects the light every time I move. He's right. It does suit me.

Draco watches me admire myself for a few moments, smirking when I turn to look at him.

"Now everyone will know who you belong to."

Masterlist