#*lets out a burst of confetti*

[runawaycatwalker]

Part 31. Perfect Dichotomy (Midnight Rendezvous, Part A)

< First | < Previous | Next >

Description below the cut

Chat Noir attempts to sit on the rolling chair by Marinette’s computer, but Ladybug pulls his tail and points at the chaise lounge instead.

Ladybug: Over here.  We can sit on the chaise lounge together.

Chat Noir: Oh?  You want me to be closer?

Chat exaggeratedly sprawls out onto Ladybug’s lap, arching his back and flinging his arms above his head.  Ladybug looks down at him with a teasing grin.

Chat Noir: How about this close?

Ladybug: A cat lying on my lap, huh?  That sounds...

Ladybug scratches the top of Chat’s head as he grins with deep pleasure.

Ladybug: Purr-fect.

Chat turns over and hugs Ladybug’s shin while she gives Chat more head scritches and rubs his back.

Ladybug: So… wanna tell me what's got you so spooked about Mayura?

Chat Noir: She and Catwalker… talked.  About me.  She mentioned some things that not many people would know.

Flashback to “Glaciator”: Marinette and Chat Noir rest on the railing of the balcony and look at each other as the moon shines over the city.

Ladybug (voiceover): But Marinette knows?  I suppose you have visited her a fair bit.  It's not all that surprising that you've shared some personal things with her...

Chat looks up at Ladybug and holds his finger and thumb an inch apart.

Chat Noir: It’s a bit more complicated than that.  Though I suppose I am missing some key details...

Ladybug puts her fist on her chin in contemplation (Her other hand continues giving Chat scritches).

Ladybug: So Catwalker’s been hiding things from you too...?

Chat Noir: More like Mayura was being extra cryptic—or lying.  All I really know for sure is that she’s looking for me.

Ladybug: I still don't understand why she cares so much...

Chat holds his hands out in a self-satisfied ‘Oh well!’ gesture.  (Ladybug stops giving him scritches).

Chat Noir: I like getting on villains' nerves, what can I say? I'll just have to keep frustrating her in our little game of 'Cat and Mouse'.

Ladybug pulls out the pillow from under her leg and ‘bonks’ Chat Noir on the head with it as he tries to placate her with a large grin.

Ladybug: Why do you make it sound like you’ve been doing something really stupid?

Chat Noir: Just because my methods are ridiculous, it doesn’t mean they don’t work!

Ladybug: That is not reassuring.

Chat leans against the chaise lounge next to Ladybug, hands clasped.

Chat Noir: Don’t worry, LB.  I’ve got it handled. I think the bigger problem is what prompted you to bring me here.  Wanna tell me what's wrong?

Chat kneels a leg next to Ladybug and places one hand on her arm and the other on her back.

Ladybug: I'm not sure how to explain...

Chat Noir: Start anywhere.  I think I can keep up.

Ladybug closes her eyes and holds her head in her hands with an expression of longing.

Ladybug: It's... Catwalker.  He's too perfect.

Chat Noir: ...You lost me.

A series of flashbacks with events shown pretty much as they occurred:

Flashback to “Kuro Neko”: Catwalker peeks around the corner at Kuro Neko, while Ladybug leans forward, catching her breath.

Ladybug (voiceover): He notices things that I'm too blind to see.

Catwalker (flashback): If that was Chat Noir, don't you think he'd talk to you?

Flashback to Part 6: View of Catwalker and Ladybug from below as they travel across the sky.

Catwalker (flashback): I can’t rule that out, but… my gut says that’s not it.

Ladybug (voiceover): His instincts about akumas are much better than mine.

Flashback to “Kuro Neko”: Ladybug looks at Catwalker as they kneel on a rooftop.

Ladybug (voiceover): It's like he already knows the answer I need.

Catwalker (flashback): Cats sometimes eat grass, it helps them spit out their hairballs.

Flashback to Part 8: A close-up of Ladybug looking right next to a close-up of Catwalker looking left.

Catwalker (flashback): You still have a multitude of people who can help you.

Ladybug (voiceover): And he's just nudging me to think of it myself.

Flashback to Part 18: Ladybug, still falling, throws her yo-yo through one of the holes in the lower conical barrier.  In the cone above, Catwalker places his hand against its barrier.  Both barriers begin to disintegrate.

Ladybug (voiceover): He always finds the right moment to use his powers.

Catwalker (flashback): Cataclysm!

Flashback to Part 26: Ladybug uses her yo-yo to flee as Oni-Chan lunges towards her.  But behind Oni-Chan, Catwalker has backflipped into the room behind her, his finger touching the amok with his Cataclysm.

Ladybug (voiceover): But I just ruin the opportunities he gives me because I never expect him to live up to you.

Flashback to Part 15: Ladybug turns back to looking down at the city below.  Catwalker holds up a hand to offer a friendly suggestion.

Catwalker (flashback): If you’d like to talk about anything, I’d be happy to stay and listen.

Ladybug (voiceover): And even when I can't do anything, he still acts so unbelievably kind...

Flashback to “Kuro Neko”: Catwalker, illuminated by the moon, reaches his hand before him for Ladybug to hold.

Ladybug (voiceover): He's just so... perfect.

Catwalker (flashback): Now I want to take care of you.

Ladybug (voiceover): But then I learned the truth:

Another series of flashbacks, with events depicted slightly off from what actually happened and Catwalker showing more malice.

Flashback to Part 12: Catwalker almost pointedly looks towards Carapace, who looks away guiltily.

Ladybug (voiceover): He lies and bends the truth with ease.

Catwalker (flashback): We only assume Adrien wants to be found.

Flashback to Part 17: Catwalker looks down towards Ladybug, the hand in front of him leaning on one of the barriers between them.

Catwalker (flashback): If he was dead, no one would know.

Ladybug (voiceover): And his lies lead to people suffering.

Flashback to Part 19: Catwalker steps forward, his hands palm upward in front of him, trying to explain himself.

Ladybug (voiceover): He'll use his heroic duty as an excuse to hold back.

Catwalker (flashback): I can't be as lax as Chat Noir was.

Flashback to Part 14: Catwalker grabs the end of Rena’s flute and pulls up the phone screen. Embedded flashback bubble from Part 20: Alya looks away and rubs the back of her neck.

Alya (flashback): He stole my phone number from my flute.

Ladybug (voiceover): But he crosses boundaries he shouldn't with no excuse.

Flashback to “Kuro Neko”: Catwalker pauses as he leaves Ladybug to finish everything on her own.

Ladybug (voiceover): He pretends to do what I want.

Catwalker (flashback): I won't make another move.

Flashback to Part 28: Astrowalker, wrapped tightly in yo-yo string (even his wings have been folded in on themselves and bound), hangs upside-down as Cosmobug points angrily at his face.

Catwalker (flashback): I followed you in case I needed to stay in your way.

Ladybug (voiceover): But he goes rogue once I'm not watching.

Flashback to Part 8: Catwalker lays on his side next to Emilie, reaching away from her.  Embedded flashback bubble from Part 20: Marinette clenches her fists in front of her, looking haunted.

Ladybug (voiceover): I can only guess at what other awful things he's hidden beneath my nose.

Marinette (flashback): What if he used his powers on his mom?

Flashback to Part 4: Catwalker grins at Ladybug with perfect posture, his hands on his lap.

Ladybug (voiceover): His perfection is an illusion.

Catwalker (flashback): I considered what I needed in order to be your 'ideal' partner.

Ladybug (voiceover): And I don't know what prices were paid to uphold his illusion.

Flashbacks end. Chat Noir kneels next to Ladybug on the chaise lounge as they embrace.

Chat Noir: I'm sorry, m'Lady. It's unfair that you've had to go through all of this.  If Catwalker is so wrong... would it be better if I was your Chat Noir again?

Ladybug: I wish I could let you. But I can't let Mayura target you.  Even if you were careful, she'd probably go after your loved ones in retaliation.  I won't let that happen.

Chat Noir: Alright.  Then what's the best way for me to support you?

Ladybug: Tell me how to fix everything?  *sob* I'm sorry, I don't think there's anything you can do.

Chat Noir: You're underestimating me.  And I think that you're underestimating him.  You're right that he's not perfect.  But I do think he's trying to be good.

Ladybug: I wish I had your ability to believe in people.  But Catwalker is too good of a liar.  I can't really know if he cares about anyone.  But I have to keep him as my partner.  I just have no idea how.

Chat Noir stands and rubs his chin in thought as Ladybug looks on.

Chat Noir: What if... What if I showed you the truth about Catwalker?

Ladybug: The... 'truth'?  You don't mean his identity, do you?

Chat Noir: No, of course not.  But this could fundamentally change how you see him—you wouldn't even need his name to trust him again.

Chat smiles down and touches his chest with both hands.

Ladybug: I can't see how that's remotely possible.

Chat Noir: You trust me even though you don't know who I am, don’t you?

Ladybug: Because I know you.

Chat Noir: Because you got to know me.  And if you knew the truth, you could know him too.

Chat scratches his head sheepishly and holds up a finger.  Ladybug turns away with hands raised, exasperated.

Chat Noir: There's just one itty-bitty catch.

Ladybug: Of course there's a catch...

Chat looks away, rubbing his arm.

Chat Noir: If I share this with you...?  My identity would make it dangerously easy to figure out who he is.  And a part of me was kinda hoping that I could show you who I am tonight.

Ladybug’s eyes widen in astonishment.

Ladybug: You wanted to share identities?

Chat Noir: Just mine.  I know his identity, so I shouldn't risk learning yours too anytime soon.

Chat leans down to touch Ladybug’s shoulder and holds up his fist encouragingly.

Chat Noir: But if you want to be absolutely certain of Catwalker's loyalties?  To understand the person who is hiding behind the mask?  I'd need to keep my identity from you a little while longer.

Chat Noir raises both hands to offer two options.  Above his right hand is the image of Catwalker.  Above his left is the image of Adrien Agreste.

Chat Noir: But it’s your choice, Ladybug: Learn the underlying truth about your new partner?  Or learn the civilian identity of your old partner?

Below is the same image as above, only without text:

[vivimura]

CHAMPAGNE CONFETTI ─ bf!riki gives you soft head when you can't sleep! (nsfw, 1.660 k wc) i missed posting <3

moonlight poured into riki’s bedroom from the large windows across the bed in such a gentle, serene manner that it made you scoff bitterly.

sometimes you wondered to yourself— how was it so, that despite laying on a comfortable (and likely expensive) mattress, being in the arms of an amazing cuddler, having been tired from the day earlier, sleep eluded you.

it was an exhausting feeling. the crippling urge to rest denied by a sinister train of thoughts that never seemed to shut no matter how hard you tried. your eyes drifted to the side profile of your boyfriend, riki laying beside you. he was one of the few, and probably only people, whom the sight of laying so peacefully could bring a gentle smile to your lips.

not wanting to disturb him with your inner turmoil, you turned around in his arms to lay on your other side. however, the action caused his eyes to flicker open.

he stirred slightly as you moved, his arms tightening around you instinctively before he realized you weren't sleeping. he lifted his head to look at you, noticing your restlessness. his voice was low and gentle in the dark room. "can't sleep, baby?"

you mentally cursed at the sound of his voice. you back to face him quickly and sighed as you shook your head, the action barely visible through the darkness of the room. there was a look of guilt in your eyes, one of having disturbed your lover’s sleep. 

“no.. god, i had when this happens..” you mumbled and tucked your head under his arm.

he stroked your hair softly, trying to soothe you back into a relaxed state. his voice was a comforting murmur in the quiet darkness. "it's okay, i’m here." he kissed the top of your head gently. he patted your head in a steady rhythm to try and lull you to sleep, slight tiredness evident in his own voice.

in that moment, you felt the racing train of thoughts in your head pause. but it was only for a second. as if to convince riki that you were falling asleep for the sake of some sleep of his own, you stayed as still as you could and closed your eyes. but there was no fooling him.

“baby.” he called out, you remained silent. but, riki noticed the movement of your eyes moving from under your eyelids. he could only chuckle fondly and shake his head.

“wanna try something?”

you finally opened your eyes when you heard his question, a look of sheepishness yet desperation in your orbs as you looked up at riki. you had to take a moment to simply appreciate how comforting riki’s mere presence was, and then said, “try what?”

riki looked into your eyes with something you’ve labelled as intensity, determination, and passion. he didn’t reply straight away, and simply leaned forward to begin planting a pattern of soft kisses from the side of your cheek bone, down your face. “wanna eat you out..” he whispered against your skin and gripped onto your waist with one hand, the other moving lower, fingers brushing the top of your ass.

you let out an audible gasp at his words. you backed away and put a pause to riki’s affectionate kisses at the laughable speed of light, and looked at him with cheeks visibly colored even through the lack of lighting.

“..w-what?”

he laughed softly at your embarrassed yet curious expression, already knowing how affected you were by his words. "i know you heard me, baby." he shifted up on all fours and moved to position himself between your legs, his eyes darkening with desire but maintaining a tender tone.

your breath hitched as you watched him slowly come into a position of hovering over your legs. you remained silent for a few seconds and stared at him with wide eyes, as if waiting for him to burst into laughter and tell you that he was joking. at his obvious and expected awaiting, you gave him a meek, barely there nod.

"...okay."

he grinned and moved to pull your legs over his shoulders. he looked up at you with loving eyes before pressing a gentle kiss to your inner right leg, making his intention clear. "you gotta be quiet, though. the others are next door. can you do that for me?" his voice was soft but commanding.

your teeth sunk into your lower lip as you nodded. this was one of those nights you were grateful for your minimal choice in sleepwear, consisting of a measly t-shirt belonging to riki, and a pair of panties underneath. even through the dim light, you recognized that glint of intention in riki’s eyes.

he started placing gentle kisses up your inner thigh, his hands gently spreading your legs wider. he could feel how tense yet excited you were, how quiet you were trying to be. you always looked so adorable when he was about to pleasure you. "such a good girl..."

he smiled against your skin and slowly, teasingly, he hooked his fingers into the waistband of your panties and slid them down your legs. "lift your hips for me, baby."

when you did, he tossed your panties aside and gently spread your legs wider, his eyes locked onto your pussy. he blew a soft breath against you, making you shiver. "so fucking pretty," he murmured before pressing a gentle kiss to your inner thigh, deliberately avoiding the middle.

you whimpered and squirmed in place, trying your very best to keep quiet at his soft breaths and kisses that seemed to land everywhere but where you needed them the most. "riki.." you whined out quietly, extending one hand to gently dig your fingers into his hair.

riki chuckled at the desperation in your voice, but the sound of your sweet voice whining his name pushed him over the edge of control. he moved his mouth directly to your slit, giving you a long, slow lick. "shh... quiet baby," he whispered against your sensitive flesh before sucking gently on your clit. "no noise..."

you let out a surprised whimper, but when he began sucking your clit gently, you melted like butter on a pan. you grip on his hair tightened a little, your back arching off the bed and eyes rolling up from the sudden pleasure he brought. "shit.."

he hummed against you, the vibration sending sparks of pleasure through your core. he continued to suck and lick, his movements slow and deliberate, building up the intensity. one of his hands moved to your inner thigh, holding your leg open and steady as he feasted on you. "so sweet..."

"oh, my god.." you gasped and cried out softly, trying to keep your voice as low as you could. but at that point, the only thing you could think about was the warmth and wetness of riki’s tongue.

he chuckled softly against you, the vibration sending another wave of pleasure through you. he loved how sensitive you were, how easy it was to make you fall apart. he flattened his tongue and gave you a long, slow lick from bottom to top, collecting your wetness.

he hummed, tasting you again. he knew you were quiet because he told you to be, not because you were actually sleepy. he spread your folds with his thumbs, exposing you more to his mouth. he gave another slow lick, this time going lower to gather your wetness again.

"fuck.." you whispered out a curse and panted, unable to resist grabbing a fist of his hair and tugging it closer to you. your hips bucked erratically with no permission, your chest heaving rapidly as your breaths came in ragged gasps.

he felt your tugging on his hair and knew you were getting more into it. he loved seeing you like this, completely lost in the moment. he licked up your slit again, then focused on your clit, sucking it into his mouth gently. "quiet..." he whispered against your pussy.

you barely managed to whisper out a, "y-yeah.. sorry.." before letting out another quiet moan. his tongue gave such immense pleasure that your legs jerked, and it wasn't long before you felt a knot tighten in the pit of your stomach.

he could feel your muscles tense up, a clear sign that you were close already. he flattened his tongue again, maintaining steady pressure on your clit as he slipped two fingers inside you. "shh... almost there, baby..." he whispered against your pussy.

he felt your walls clamping down on his fingers and knew you were on the brink. maintaining the perfect rhythm with his tongue, he curled his fingers inside you, stroking that sensitive spot. his other hand reached up to cover your mouth gently, silently urging you to stay quiet as your orgasm hit.

a particularly loud moan escaped your lips, but was thankfully concealed by his hand over your mouth as your orgasm crashed. your legs trembled as a gush of liquid expelled, and you began squirting uncontrollably.

he groaned softly against your pussy as he felt your release gush out, coating his mouth and chin. he continued to lap at you gently, helping you ride out your intense orgasm. his fingers continued its steady thrusts, drawing out your intense release. once he sensed you beginning to slow down, he slowly withdrew his finger and licked his lips, savoring your taste.

the sight of riki wiping your squirt off of his lips with the back of his hand was one of the last things you remembered seeing, before you were knocked out to sleep almost immediately.

he smiled softly at how completely worn out you were from your orgasm, your breaths evening out into deep sleep. he gently wiped up any remaining wetness from between your thighs before covering your naked body with a blanket. "well, that was easier than i thought," he thought to himself and grinned, giving your forehead a goodnight kiss.

mlist comment and reblog!

[lizzysthscshipsblog]

A wild thems have appeared!

Would you mind drawing the ship of Henry Stickmin X Right Hand Man with maybe one comforting the other after a mission? - 🫥

New Right Hand Man Design! Personally I do not ship Henry and Right but I can get the appeal of them! I hope you enjoy!<3

[beloveds-embrace]

(part two of here comes the sun: poly 141 x medic reader where you might as well be the sun to them)

Soap wasn’t subtle about it.

The moment he was cleared to leave the med tent, he started pushing. Hard, even if he knew there wouldn’t be much, actual opposition.

“Price,” he said, leaning against the captain’s desk like he wasn’t still healing. “John. We need her.”

Price didn’t even look up from his paperwork. “You need to sit down before you tear that wound open again.”

“I’m serious,” Soap insisted, gesturing wildly. “You saw her. She’s sharp, steady. Quick hands. Disnae panic under pressure. And-”

“And she’s not ours,” Price cut him off, finally looking up. “She’s stationed with another unit.”

“She could be ours,” Soap shot back, undeterred. “We need a medic. She’s the best one I’ve seen.”

Price gave him a long, measured look, and Soap could tell the captain was already considering it even before Soap burst into his office.

“She’s bright.” Price said after a beat, tone flat but amused, and sat back in his chair.

Soap grinned. “Aye. Easy ta spot.” What you, yourself, had said to him when he’d woken up in that tent. He kept going through that day again and again.

Price exhaled through his nose and reached for his phone, and Soap left feeling quite satisfied.

You arrived two weeks later.

The announcement was casual- just another personnel transfer- but the 141 treated it like the sun itself had walked into their orbit.

You stepped into the briefing room with the ease of someone who had faced fire and walked out the other side. Your bright gear stood out starkly against the muted greens and browns of the others, like a flare shot across a starless sky, and it reminded them so much of the day they had met you on that battlefield.

Gaz was the first to speak, offering a low whistle as he leaned back in his chair, offering you an easy smile. “Looks like it’s true. They really did send us the sun.”

You smiled at that, shoulders straight but relaxed, clearly used to the nickname by now. “I’ll try not to blind you, Sargeant.”

Soap’s eyes never left you. His grin tugged at the corner of his mouth, and before he could think better of it, the words slipped out- low and rough like an ember still burning.

“Doubtful.”

You blinked, turning to him, but he quickly looked away and scratched at the back of his neck like it hadn’t meant anything. It did, though, and he knew everyone in the room had caught it.

“Well,” Price finally said, breaking the moment. “Welcome to the task force, medic. Let’s hope you live up to your reputation.”

You raised an eyebrow, that sharpness returning to your gaze as you stood a little straighter. “I don’t plan on letting you down, sir.”

Soap’s heart stumbled. That steady confidence- it was the same tone you’d used when you’d saved his life, the same fire he’d seen in your eyes as you’d pulled him back from the edge.

Here comes the sun, he thought again, and this time it didn’t feel like an omen.

It felt like a promise.

And now, you fit into the 141 like you’d always been there.

It didn’t happen all at once- trust like theirs was hard-earned, built in layers of sweat, blood, and battlefield grit. But it started quickly enough.

Price made it clear from day one. He didn’t just treat you as part of the team; he expected it. No fanfare, no hesitation. “You’re one of us now,” he said after your first successful op, clapping a hand on your shoulder. “Don’t forget it.”

Gaz took to you next, easy and natural. He lingered near you during drills, cracking jokes and testing your reflexes like it was a game. “Just making sure the sun doesn’t burn out,” he’d tease with a grin. But the way he always had your back in the field- never too far, always watching- spoke louder than words.

Soap made it impossible to keep your guard up, of course. He pulled you into conversations before you even realized it, throwing compliments and nicknames around like confetti with an easy grin. “The sun’s shining bright today,” he’d say whenever you joined a room, all charm and laughter. It was easy to laugh with him, easier still to trust him when things got serious.

Ghost was different. Quiet. Watchful. You never caught him outright staring, but you felt his presence. He didn’t say much at first- just short nods and simple instructions during missions. But then there were the small things. The way he passed you ammo without being asked. The way he moved closer during tense moments, his silence as steadying as any words.

And when he finally spoke up, it was never casual. “Good work,” he told you after a long, brutal mission. It wasn’t much, but it felt like everything.

You learned to move with them like clockwork. They learned to rely on you the same way. Missions came and went, and somewhere in between the chaos and quiet, you stopped feeling like the new addition and started feeling like home.

It wasn’t the colors of your gear that made you stand out anymore. It was the way you fit beside them- bright and steady, a fixed point in their orbit.

Soap caught himself watching you more often than he should’ve.

It wasn’t just the colors, though they still hit him first- those impossible reds and oranges that stood out like fire on a battlefield. They reminded him of sunrise after too many nights spent in the dark, of flames warding off the cold, and he didn’t think there’d come a day where the colors don’t surprise him. But it wasn’t just that.

It was the way you moved.

Steady. Deliberate. Like hesitation wasn’t in your vocabulary. You worked with purpose, not a single wasted motion, and it drew his eye every damn time. You stood out in ways that had nothing to do with the bright gear- like light breaking through fog, cutting through smoke and haze to reveal solid ground.

And he wasn’t the only one who saw it.

Price started calling you their beacon during briefings. At first, it had sounded like a joke, a casual nod to the nickname you’d earned, but it simply stuck.

“We follow the sun,” Price said once, tone half-serious, clapping a hand on your shoulder. “And if we lose track of her, we’re done for.”

Soap had laughed along with the others, but the words lingered.

Gaz, for his part, never made any effort to hide how much he liked having you around. He hovered close more often than not, easy-going and quick with compliments.

“It’s just the colors,” he’d insist whenever someone called him out for it. “You’re hard to miss.”

But Soap caught the way Gaz’s tone softened when he said it, like maybe it wasn’t just the colors after all.

Ghost… Ghost was different.

He didn’t flirt, didn’t tease- not like the others. But Soap had spent enough time with him to notice the shift. The slight tilt of his head whenever you spoke. The way his shoulders relaxed when you were in the room. The rare moments he let you touch him, patching up a wound or tightening a bandage, as if he trusted you without question.

Soap had nearly choked when he’d caught Ghost staring once, lingering too long while you tied off a suture on his arm. For all his jokes about Ghost being unflappable, even Soap couldn’t ignore the look he’d seen- the way Ghost had leaned just slightly into your touch, like he’d never wanted to leave it.

And Soap?

Soap was a mess.

Because no matter how much the others admired you- how much they trusted you, relied on you- he’d seen you first.

He’d been the one bleeding out in the dirt, thinking his time was up. He’d been the one who saw you cut through the smoke and fire like something out of a dream. And that fact burned in his chest like an ember that refused to go out.

Sometimes, he thought about what might’ve happened if you hadn’t been there. If you hadn’t run straight into hell to get to him. But those thoughts never lasted long- because all he had to do was look at you to remind himself that you had been there.

You’d saved him. And now, every time he saw you, with those bright colors and steady hands, it hit him all over again.

Here comes the sun, he thought.

And this time, he didn’t want to look away.

It was late one evening when it happened again.

The mission had gone south- not as badly as last time, but bad enough. They’d made it out, but Gaz had taken a hit, and comms had failed halfway through.

By the time they stumbled back to the evac point, Soap was covered in dirt and sweat, exhaustion weighing heavy in his limbs. But then-

You.

You came running, gear catching the fading light, colors flaring like fire in the dusk.

Soap’s breath hitched.

Here comes the sun.

He couldn’t stop thinking it. It looped through his head like a mantra as you fell to your knees beside Gaz, hands already moving, voice low and steady as you worked. The others lingered nearby, hovering but trying not to get in your way.

Soap stood frozen, watching.

Watching you save another life, same as you’d saved his.

It was Ghost who spoke first, breaking the silence. “Told you,” he murmured. “Sun’s hard to miss.”

Gaz let out a weak chuckle, though his voice was tight with pain. “Yeah… can’t look away, can you?”

Price didn’t say anything, but his expression was clear enough. Relief. Trust.

And Soap- Soap felt it more than ever.

The sun. Warmth in the cold. Fire in the dark.

He knew now, without a doubt, that they’d follow you anywhere.

(You’d never lead them wrong.)

[moondustbaby]

Her Day

CEO!Rafe x pregnant nanny/gf!Reader

a/n: based on this request! 💌

summary: It’s your birthday, and Rafe and Mason team up to make sure you feel loved every single second. From breakfast in bed to handmade gifts and backyard cupcakes, it’s a cozy Sunday you’ll never forget—with the two boys who love you more than anything.

⸻

You wake up to the smell of cinnamon and the sound of someone whisper-yelling in the hallway.

“No, Dad, you’re supposed to let me carry it!”

“Mase, it’s hot. I’m just helping you not burn your fingers.”

“I’m seven, not a baby.”

You smile into the pillow.

There’s a soft knock at your door, and before you can answer, it creaks open and Mason bursts in, holding a slightly crooked tray with a stack of pancakes, a paper flower, and a glass of orange juice that’s sloshing dangerously close to the edge.

“Happy birthday!” he shouts.

Rafe follows behind him, grinning. “We come bearing syrup and chaos.”

You sit up, cheeks already aching from how hard you’re smiling. “What is all this?”

Mason sets the tray in your lap proudly. “Breakfast in bed. And I made the card. It has a poem.”

“A poem?” you gasp, clutching your chest. “Let me hear it.”

He clears his throat dramatically.

“Roses are red,

You are the best,

Better than waffles

And way better dressed.”

You snort-laugh, and Rafe groans. “He wrote that part himself. I tried to offer editorial support.”

Mason beams. “Do you love it?”

“I love it,” you say, leaning down to kiss his forehead. “It’s the best birthday card I’ve ever gotten.”

He wiggles beside you on the bed while you take your first bite. The pancakes are shaped like hearts. Rafe pretends not to watch you too closely, but his gaze softens every time you glance his way.

⸻

After breakfast, Rafe takes Mason out for “secret errands,” promising to be back by noon. He kisses your cheek and tells you to relax, take your time, and not peek in the living room.

So you shower slowly, put on the soft sundress Rafe bought you last month “just because,” and let yourself sink into the stillness of a quiet house. The sunlight spills in through the windows, and everything feels a little golden.

By the time they return, Mason’s carrying a grocery bag with something clinking inside and looking very pleased with himself.

“Okay,” Rafe says, clapping his hands together. “Birthday activities commence.”

Mason takes your hand like a gentleman. “You get a full day of presents, snacks, and zero rules. Except maybe one rule. You have to wear the crown.”

He pulls a foam tiara from behind his back—glittery, pink, and clearly handmade.

You laugh and place it on your head.

“It suits you,” Rafe murmurs, kissing your temple.

⸻

The living room is decorated with a banner that reads HAPPY BIRTHDAY (we love you!!!) in Mason’s handwriting. There are paper flowers taped to the windows and little confetti hearts sprinkled on the coffee table. It’s messy and adorable and so completely them.

You sit on the floor while Mason presents you with your first gift: a framed drawing of the three of you—stick figure style—with a caption that reads “OUR FAMILY :)” in crayon.

You nearly cry.

The next gift is from Rafe. A small box. Inside: a delicate gold necklace with a tiny charm shaped like a crescent moon.

“I saw it and thought of you,” he says quietly. “Something soft. Something steady.”

You lean over and kiss him. “It’s perfect.”

He smiles. “You’re perfect.”

Mason groans. “Kissing? On your birthday? Ew.”

⸻

The rest of the day is slow and easy just the way you like it.

There’s a picnic in the backyard with finger sandwiches and juice boxes and sparkling lemonade. Mason gives you a “birthday quiz” where every answer is somehow about how awesome you are. Rafe grills for dinner, even though he absolutely hates grilling, and the three of you eat barefoot on the porch while the sun starts to dip low.

As night settles in, Mason brings out the final surprise: cupcakes he helped decorate (absolutely covered in sprinkles) and a handmade coupon book filled with things like “1 free hug” and “I will not argue about bedtime (1 time only).”

You’re laughing through tears by the time he curls up against you on the couch, your arm around him and your other hand holding Rafe’s.

“I hope you had the best birthday ever,” Mason says sleepily.

“I really did,” you whisper, pressing a kiss into his curls. “Thanks to you.”

“You’re my favorite girl,” he murmurs. “After the baby.”

You laugh. “Fair enough.”

Rafe raises a brow. “I’m not even in the top three, am I?”

Mason shrugs dramatically. “You’re the wallet.”

Rafe sighs. You and Mason giggle.

⸻

After Mason’s in bed, the house finally quiet, you find Rafe in the kitchen tidying up. He stops when he sees you.

“Hey, birthday girl.”

“Hey.” You wrap your arms around his waist, resting your head on his chest. “Thank you for today.”

He presses a kiss to your forehead. “You deserve more than one day. You’re… everything.”

You look up at him, smiling.

He leans down and kisses you slow. Sweet. The kind of kiss that says I see you, I love you, I’m yours.

“Happy birthday,” he murmurs.

You kiss him again. “It really was.”

༶⋆｡ﾟ☽✿⋆˚✧✿☾ﾟ｡⋆༶

a/n: this one made me emotional in the softest way—rafe being tender and thoughtful, mason in full chaotic party planner mode, and you in a tiara with cupcakes and kisses?? a dream. 🥹

♥️ lani

Send Me Requests! 💌

Masterlist

𝒯𝒶𝑔𝓁𝒾𝓈𝓉:

@maybankslover @lolabunnyworldss @drewstarkeyspecs @superlegend216 @bonjourjiminie @rafesbabygirlx

[invincibledc]

ִ ࣪✮🕷✮⋆˙𝐁𝐀𝐓𝐅𝐀𝐌𝚰𝐋𝐘 𝐗 𝐒𝐏𝚰𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐍!𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑ִ ࣪✮🕷✮⋆˙

During the time being of shifting to a whole new universe, you peacefully rock back and forth in your little web hammock. Listening to “Sunflower”, a song that Miles put you on.

“Oooh oooh, she wanna ride me like a cruise—” You were then cut off by dick bursting into your room with a big grin.

“Y/n, get your best clothes on. We’re going out!” the pretty boy exclaims, going through your dresser.

You got up with a raised brow, turning off your phone. “What the occurrence?” you caught a hoodie with your quick reflexes, putting the hoodie on as Dick just smiles.

“You’ll be in a shock, my dear friend.”

⚉

And here you, in the car looking like a fresh New York hobo. (it was just streetwear, but you still looked like you just woke up despite not) You gave dick a clear side eye, and he could tell as he started to get nervous. Despite you being a chill guy, your death stare is always scary.

It's that Spiderman genes you as you kept a blank stare at him, watching him like prey.

“Okay stop it.”

“Stop what?”

“Stop with that—” he then points at you, wiggling his finger as he pulls over.

“With what?”

Dick gave you the “da faq?” kinda nod as you scrunched up your face. “Dickhead” you said lowly. Dick lets you out of the car, having you blindfolded.

Now you were getting suspicious vibes, dick hummed a small tune, rocking you back and forth playfully.

You stayed quiet, now feeling stuck in one place, dick rips the blindfold off. The bright world blinded you for another time than the dark, squinting, you see a banner that says “HAPPY 1 YEAR FOR STAYING WITH US!” with Tim having a party horn in his mouth, blowing it as confetti fell from two small cannons Jason had plugged in.

“What the..” you said gradually, not believing this as Damian walked to you, giving you a small smile that usually creeps you out due to him usually smiling before attacking you. Playfully of course.

But here he is, coming to you, opening up the cake lid to show your Spider-Man hero persona on it with a heart.

“Happy year for you to be with us, L/N.” without anything, he hugs you, making you freeze. You swore you thought your spider senses were going crazy as the other boys, stared at Damian surprised.

“Woah.. Not expected..” Dick says as Tim blows into the party horn again, clearly agreeing.

“Damn, seems like the demon found its peace,” Jason says teasingly as you just stood there with Damian still giving you a side hug with the cake far away.

[prettygirl-gabi]

Title: Happy Tears in Tampa

Pairing: mom!Paige Bueckers x mom!Azzi Fudd x gf!mom!Reader, oc!daughter (Isla)

Fandom: UConn Women’s Basketball

Summary: their last 40 mins on that court in the huskies jerseys, but they’ll spend a lifetime in your heart

🏷️: @paigeshirleytemple , @unknowgirlypop , @yailtsv , @nicebellee , @sitawita , @thatonesuschix , @vamptizm , @elalfywhore , @starfulani , @authentic-girl03 , @paige05bby , @paxaz535 , @azziswrld , @jadasogay , @paigeluvvr , @melpthatsme , @lessi-lover , @courtsidewithlani , @shikaizer

I don’t think I’ve ever cried as hard over a basketball game in my life. And I’ve cried over a lot of basketball games.

But tonight… tonight was different.

“Let’s go, Paige! Come on, Azzi!” I yell, my voice cracking from the sheer force of emotion. My hands are trembling around Isla’s tiny ones, and my heart’s pounding like I’m the one who just played forty minutes.

Except I didn’t play. I stayed back in Storrs during the Elite 8. I wasn’t in Spokane when Paige dropped 71 points- both games combined and Azzi having off game shooting wise, but on defense she was a monster. I wasn’t in the stands when they beat Oklahoma and then USC to get here. But I made it to Tampa.

And I wasn’t alone.

“Isla, do you want to sit with Nana Katie and Grandpa Tim again?” I asked her at the start of the fourth, her curly puffs bouncing as she shook her head.

“Nooo, stay with Mama,” she said, cuddling into my side.

We were sitting next to Aaliyah, who flew in just to support the girls. She held Isla during the second quarter, whispering jokes that had our daughter giggling into her braids. But by the time the final few minutes rolled around, Isla wanted to stay close.

Aaliyah leaned toward me now, grinning as she nudged my elbow. “You good?”

I sniffled, nodding. “I’m so proud of them. Like, so proud.”

“You’re gonna make me cry, too,” she teased, brushing under her eyes. “This is crazy.”

And it was.

1:32 left on the clock. We were up 82 to 53.

That’s when it happened. The moment I think I’ll remember for the rest of my life.

“Foul on Azzi Fudd,” the announcer said.

I leaned forward, my hands tight around Isla’s waist. “Alright, baby, Mommy Azzi got a little handsy.”

Azzi raised a hand, shaking her head with a soft smirk as she turned to the bench.

And then, almost in perfect sequence…

“Subbing in for UConn: Qadence Samuels, Allie Ziebell, Caroline Ducharme, Aubrey Griffin…”

The crowd roared.

The tears hit.

I watched Paige, grab the towel from Allie also giving the ones who subbed in high-fives before walking over to Geno, who stood on the sidelines already tears building in his eyes.

She wrapped her arms around him so tight, and he hugged her right back.

That’s when I felt it. The heat behind my eyes, the burn in my throat. My chest caved in.

I was crying.

Not because they were losing. Not even because they were winning.

But because they did it. She did it. They did it.

Paige Bueckers. Azzi Fudd. UConn women’s basketball team. National Champions.

“Mama?” Isla asked, frowning up at me as she wiped at my cheek with her tiny fingers. “Why are you crying?”

I grabbed her little hand and kissed it. “Because I’m happy, baby. Mommy Paigey and Mommy Azzi worked really hard for this. These are happy tears.”

She looked over to the bench where Paige was wiping her own face, then at me, then at Azzi—who was grinning so hard her cheeks looked like they might burst. Azzi had her arm around Aubrey, motioning toward the stands, probably at Katie and Tim.

Then Isla smiled. “Oh… okay.”

The buzzer sounded and the arena exploded.

Final score: 82-59.

Confetti launched. The band played. The girls jumped and screamed and fell into each other’s arms.

I made my way toward the family section as the trophy ceremony started. It was chaos, but the good kind.

I spotted Amy and Bob—Paige’s parents—and their partners, along with Lauren, Ryan, and Drew, cheering their hearts out. Tim was lifting Isla’s arms, making her cheer. Katie had her hand over her mouth, completely stunned.

“MOST OUTSTANDING PLAYER OF THE TOURNAMENT… AZZI FUDD!”

I saw Azzi freeze a bit, her eyes wide before she was pulled forward. Paige clapped the loudest out of everyone, grinning from ear to ear. Sarah throwing confetti in her face as she walks to the middle of the stage they were on.

“She’s gonna sob later,” I muttered.

“Gonna?” Aaliyah teased. “Sis is already started from when she hugged Paige.”

Net-cutting time was next. Azzi before paige, next Paige climbed the ladder second to last, CD cutting her pieces, and with Geno going up last.

She looped the net around her neck, turned to the crowd with the biggest, brightest smile I’d ever seen—and scanned until she found us.

“ISLA!” she screamed, laughing.

I hoisted Isla up and waved.

When she and Azzi finally made their way to the tunnel, they paused right at the barricade. I squeezed forward as bob and everyone around us let me get to the front, holding Isla tight.

“Hi, my loves,” I breathed, voice thick with emotion.

Paige’s hair was slick with sweat under her championship hat, the net still around her neck. She was practically glowing. Azzi wasn’t much better, her eyes slightly red, but had biggest smile on the face of a winner.

Paige had reached her siblings first. Ryan got to hug her over the barricade first. Then Lauren and finally, after pulling drew into a really tight hug arms wrapped around his head, Drew reached for his handshake with Paige—an elaborate, goofy routine they’d perfected since he was little. She nailed it with the biggest grin ever.

After tapping his head back. She looked at us. Isla and I like we were her true prize. Before I could make my move fully.

Isla squirmed. “I want Mommy Paigey!”

Paige’s face lit up.

She reached over the barricade, grabbing Isla from me and hugging her to her chest. “Oh, I missed you so much, baby girl!”

Azzi leaned in, kissing my cheek, then my lips softly. “Thank you for being here,” she whispered. “She’s gonna remember this forever.”

I kissed her back. “So will I.”

“Mommy ZeeZee,” Isla said, reaching for her with one arm while clinging to Paige with the other. “I wanna go with you and Mommy Paigey!”

“Then let’s go,” Azzi said with a wink.

“Can she come too?” Paige asked, nodding toward me.

A staff member overheard and nodded. “We’ll come back for her once the press clears.”

I squeezed Paige’s hand and mouthed, I love you.

Fifteen minutes later, one of the assistants waved me down from the floor.

I was ushered through a side tunnel, weaving through wires and empty Gatorade cups. The door to the locker room opened, and I stepped in just in time to hear a chorus of singing.

“We are the champions, my frieeeends!”

Azzi was standing on the benches, Isla in her arms, Paige beside her with her arms wrapped around both of them. Sarah and Ashlynn were dancing like idiots with their hats backward, and Kk had her phone up recording the whole thing.

Geno was nowhere in sight—thank God.

“Hey! Mama’s here!” Paige called out.

“MAAAMAAA!” Isla yelled, reaching for me.

I ran to them, hugging Azzi and Paige both as they leaned down to squeeze me between them.

“I’m so proud of you,” I whispered.

Paige buried her face in my neck. “This means everything with you here.”

“Don’t start crying again,” Azzi joked, nudging me.

“No promises,” I said, sniffling.

“Hey, team pic with Isla!” Aubrey shouted.

Everyone gathered in. Paige held Isla. Azzi hugged me from behind. Sarah threw up a peace sign. Caroline was crying for the third time.

The flash went off. The room buzzed with love.

Isla yawned, rubbing her eyes. “Can we sleep now?”

Everyone laughed.

“Yeah, baby,” I said, kissing her head. “You earned it.”

Paige and Azzi looked at each other, then at me.

“I think we all did.”

And for the first time all week, I believed it too.

National Champions.

A family.

Happy tears. Always.

■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■

                 -Thank You For Reading!🩵🩶

                             -prettygirl-gabi🎀✨️

[rhyrhy]

Full Throttle

“I hope I was worth your time”

꒰ Warnings:꒱ Sexual content, Name-calling & language , oral in a bar bathroom (so classy, I know), Reader is bitchy, Mentioned height difference, Vi has a tongue piercing, Pet names. Angsty-ish.

꒰ A/n: ꒱ HAPPY 400!! (Someone grab the confetti!) Rockstar!Vi oneshot since she won the poll. Aka: a run-in with a face you don’t recognize… until the next morning. Around 5k words

“There she is,” the familiar warm tone said the moment you stepped into the building. she sat, gold eyeshadow reflecting over her eyelids as they opened a bit more to take you in. Growing up together, and still stuck like glue, Mel waved you over to her booth.

The fresh scent of espresso and warm pastries wafted through the air of the café as your shoes clicked across the floor. You couldn’t help but think how much more comfortable these were than last night’s.

“Here I am,” you confirmed, leaning down to hug her side before sitting across from her. “God, I’m starving. Can I?” You reached for the croissant on her small plate.

She pushed it toward you, laughing. “Besides the hair, you look suspiciously well-rested for somebody who said they had a ‘crazy night’ and promised details.” She mused, tapping her finger on the table.

You leaned back on the red-cushioned booth. “Oh, trust me. It was crazy.” You nodded, still chewing, covering your mouth as you spoke. Not missing the anticipation in her tone.

Outside the large windows, the city continued to spring to life. The occasional beep of a yellow taxi horn and incessant chatter seemed to fade into the background as you began to describe your night, with the occasional interruption from Mel trying to get way too many details. You jokingly told her you’d record it for her next time, and she seemed way too intrigued by the idea. But her burst of laughter after reassured you she was joking as always, insisting that you needed to loosen up.

Then, suddenly, you noticed her brown eyes flicker to something past your shoulder. It didn’t catch your attention at first; she was always nosy and hyper-aware of her surroundings. But when her eyes narrowed and her head tilted slowly back to you, your eyebrow raised, and you nodded for her to speak, stopping your previous conversation.

“Now, this might be a longshot,” she squinted slightly, lips pressing together in thought. “But what color did you say her hair was again?”

“Black with, like, highlights. Why?” You blinked. “And who are—” You tilted your head in curiosity, following her gaze to the decorative wall behind you.

A tour poster was plastered across the bulletin board near the café entrance, glossy and bold, listing cities and dates beneath an unmistakable face. Messy undercut. Sharp jawline. A cocky expression even in still laminated print.

Vi. Your hometown was listed for the 22nd to the 26th. Today was the last day. “Holy shit.” You let out a breathy laugh, half in disbelief, half in realization.

Mel’s eyes widened as she studied your reaction. No way. That’s not—”

“Yeah…” You exhaled, shaking your head as a ridiculous, almost nervous laugh bubbled out. “That is her.”

“Details. Now. Right. Now,” Mel demanded, her eyes gleaming as she set her tea down with a clink. Hands clasped.

You rolled your eyes, but the smirk on your lips gave you away. “Oh, settle down.”

“Don’t tell me to settle down, tell me what happened!” She shook her head and leaned forward.

“Okay , okay!” You sighed, as you drummed your fingers against the table. “Well, You had just called me about being late when…”

── ── ☆ That night, ☆ ── ──

The moonlight cast shadows behind you, cool air drifting over your arms as the clacking of your heels echoed down the sidewalk. As the clock ticked and the moon rose, you realized you were definitely going to be later than intended. Not that you wanted to go anyway—loud music, your friends dragging you around the reserved VIP section, and way too many pictures to pose for. You knew you were being a negative Nancy about it—at least, that’s what Mel had said over the phone.

“Where are you? Everyone is already here.”

Mel’s voice was almost drowned out by the bass on the other line, the party clearly in full swing. You held the phone up to your ear, your clutch in your other hand. You knew you should’ve gotten up earlier, but those extra minutes of sleep had been way too tempting. It was a mutual friend’s 21st, so naturally, everyone wanted to dress up and go out. In your defense, though, this was all last minute.

“I’m a few blocks away. There was absolutely no parking.” You replied.

One truth and a lie. Whoops. There wasn’t any parking, but you were definitely farther than just a few blocks. Pushing a few strands of hair out of your face, you glanced down at the blue lettering of the GPS on your dim phone screen—still a few minutes until you arrived. Downtown was always like this, even while the city slept.

Mel kept talking, trying to explain something about a potential shortcut, but you could barely make out a word she was saying. You jerked the phone away from your ear every time she yelled when you asked her to repeat herself. As much as you loved her, she was definitely the time police between the two of you—sometimes helpful, other times just plain annoying.

The neon glow of different bars, shops, even that overpriced café Mel had been begging you to go to, cast vibrant hues against the pavement behind you as you clicked your way around another corner.

The light on the crosswalk was just barely counting down before you’d have to wait for God knows how long. You quickly hung up on Mel, telling her you’d call her back later.

Glancing around, you saw only distant cars on the opposite street, the environment eerily quiet.

The point of your red heel rested flat as you stepped past the traffic light pole, walking onto the rigid, faded lines of the crosswalk. Not to be snobby, but the city could definitely use a small revamp. Potholes, cracked sidewalks, and worn street lines seemed to go unnoticed in a place like this.

You glanced down at your phone, momentarily blinded by a strand of hair falling into your face, causing you to involuntarily pause for a moment. Just a few more minutes on the GPS. But before you could continue down—A rumbling sound. Fast. Way too close for comfort. Your breath caught as the gleam of a shiny dark vehicle reflected your figure in the middle of the crosswalk.

A muffled shout bled out from underneath the helmet of the individual guiding it down the street. Panic shot through you as you jerked back onto the sidewalk, just in time.

“What the hell!?” you shouted, your bag slipping from your hands and your phone clattering flat against the pavement.

The sound of skidding tires, the slam of brakes. The figure, clad in leather, barely stopped short of colliding with you. The bike skidded to a stop just a few feet away, the scent of burnt rubber lingering as the rider kicked down the stand. as she swung a leg over and straightened up, pulling off her helmet with a huff.

“Yeah, what the hell is right,” she shot back, tucking the helmet under her arm. “You got a death wish?”

“Excuse me?” Your head snapped up, eyes narrowing.

“You heard me,” she said, rolling her shoulders back like she was shaking off the near miss. “Crosswalks exist for a reason.”

You scoffed, dusting off your bag. “Oh, I’m sorry. Did I inconvenience your little joyride?” Frowning at the scratches.

She huffed a dry laugh, finally giving you a once-over. one that started irritated but lingered just a second too long. “Yeah. And people cross the road when they see the walking man on the sign.” She pointed at the sign across from you, the little white figure glowing mockingly. “Not randomly whenever the hell they feel like it.”

“Are you serious right now?—” you deadpanned, exasperated. Then, with a saccharine smile, you added, “Thanks, officer. I’ll keep note of that.” You nodded, dripping with sarcasm.

Her eyes rolled, patience growing thinner as your fake smile made her blood boil. Her free hand gripped the leather of her jacket, resisting the urge to grab you by the collar and—

“Oh, ha-ha. You’re really a comedian, sweet cheeks.” She scoffed, stepping forward. Only a foot or two of space separated you now. God, you were prissy. Slightly taller, dressed in expensive, clean-knit clothing. Your eyes barely brushed over hers, dismissive. Plus the way you smelled—how could she even notice that at a time like this?

“Mm You liked that? Thanks, I’ll be here all night. Just gotta stay clear of idiots on death traps,” you jabbed, rolling your eyes like it was a competition—who could do it the most? Then, with a huff, you turned back to dust yourself off.

“Aww, you’re all worked up.” She remarked nonchalantly, watching your expression as you turned away from her. Prissy as hell, sure. But damn if you weren’t kinda (extremely) … cute. “And those ‘death traps’ are a hell of a lot more convenient than walking.”

“The conversation was over like five minutes ago,” you brushed her off, barely paying attention as you glanced at the WAIT sign. Sighing, already knowing you’d have to wait to cross again. “Have fun with that, though.”

“Conversation’s over?” She smirked, shifting her weight on her boots, clearly amused by your obvious desire to be done with her. “You just walkin’ around town for fun or something?” Her gaze flickered downward, taking in your jewelry, your makeup, your hair—all of it. She was obviously sizing you up, and you could tell.

“Stranger danger. Mind yours, lady.” You chuckled, waving her off with a well-polished nail.

“Oh, I’m definitely minding mine, sweetheart.” She shot back, ignoring the smirk threatening her poker face. Her gaze dropped to your nails, interest slipping through her snarky demeanor. “Got a hot date tonight or something?”

You sighed deeply, the heels on your feet turning to face her fully. “Unless you wanna cough up an apology, all this—” you gestured toward her mouth, referring to her talking “—needs to stop. Like, now. Thanks.”

Her smirk faltered, almost turning into a frown. You were bitchy, sure, and definitely stubborn. But now you weren’t backing down? She had to give you credit for that. “Apologize?” She mocked, tilting her head with an amused glint in her eyes. “Relax,, you survived. Besides, technically, you were in the way.”

“I looked before I crossed. You came out of thin air.” You huffed, eyes flickering over her jacket, her piercings, her tattoos—all in contrast to yourself. Then, catching yourself, you quickly looked back at her face. “Whatever. It’s fine.”

She noticed your gaze linger, noting how your eyes moved over her. She didn’t need a mirror to know how drastically different you two looked. But there you were, still talking to her. Leaning forward slightly, she wasn’t even sure why she was keeping this conversation going. “Then we’re done here.”

“Fantastic.” You sighed, arms crossed, waiting for the light to change. The “wait” sign glowing, taunting you.

This felt like a standoff—closed mouths but wandering minds. Raging thoughts that you pushed down, catching the way she kept glancing at your exposed legs just below the hem of your dress. Your usual defenses weren’t working on her. She’s … still here? Her attention had turned back to her phone, her lock screen flashing. Herself. Of course. It looked like she was… singing? Or maybe at some kind of concert—you couldn’t quite make it out before looking back across the street.

The crosswalk glowed: walk. Your eyes scanned the sign, feeling almost… disappointed? You shifted your weight, glancing at it, but didn’t move right away. Your feet felt molded to the pavement below your René Caovilla’s—shoes Mel had gifted you, seeming useless now. This wasn’t a game of freeze tag, but you were definitely stilled.

“Took long enough,” you muttered, trying to act like you hadn’t just hesitated to leave her side. You didn’t even know her, but the flutter in your gut made you not care in the moment.

You had to go through with it, of course you did. You promised to show your face tonight, got dressed, did your makeup. Your leg shifted, about to take that step—threatening to break the bubble that had built between you. The whole situation was bizarre. You were supposed to go to the party, look your best, do your thing. But something had kept you here. You shifted your weight, ready to take that step, only to be stopped by a familiar waft of perfume. The scent was stronger now. lingering in the air like a trail behind you. She was still there.

You glanced down at your phone, a full 30 minutes late now. Mel was going to murder you, but that concern seemed to fade when you looked back at Vi. She was on the phone, sighing as she hung up, seemingly about to leave. Something in you snapped, and you blurted out the words before you could stop them.

“I’ve changed my mind.”

She stopped, her leg coming back down from the curb. “About…?”

“I do want an apology. For you almost flattening me.” You added.

She rolled her eyes, about to shoot back with some sarcastic remark, but you interrupted her before she could.

“Not like that,” you said, cutting her off with a wave of your hand. You pointed across the street to the bar, “I want you to walk over there, and buy me a drink. That’s the apology I’m accepting.”

Vi blinked for a beat, caught off guard. Then, after a long pause, her voice returned, though this time it was softer.

“What?..I…” she opened her mouth to say more, then her gaze drifted over you and that outfit. “You always this prissy and bossy?” A slow smile curled on her lips.

“Maybe I enjoy it part-time,” you shot back, chin tilted just slightly upwards.

She huffed a quiet laugh, shaking her head as she stubbed out her cigarette with the heel of her boot. “Charming,” she muttered, pushing off her bike. Then, with a heavy sigh, like she was pretending this was some great inconvenience. she finally gave in.

“Fine. One drink.”

One drink turned into three maybe four, this part is still fuzzy even when recounting to Mel. then Maybe it was the way you kept seeing her glance at your frame, maybe it was you tracing your fingers on the ends of her jacket sleeve, but Somehow, between biting comments and lingering glances, you’d both ended up here—pressed against the cool tile of the bar’s single-stall bathroom, Vi’s leather jacket hanging off one shoulder, your own clothes disheveled from her rushed hands. The smell of her was intoxicating, something woody, yet sweet. You couldn’t place it.

Her lips finding home along your collarbones.You let out a breathy laugh, fingers grazing over her exposed tattooed back. “Oh, so you do have an apology in you.” your eyes found hers, as they searched yours. Beyond just the color.

Vi smirked, lips just barely brushing yours. “Eh, I just wanted to shut you up.” her teeth tugging at it slightly as she’d mind wondered, wanting to feel those killer legs around her waist.

Your head leaned back further. “Oh really? I’m that bad?” Eyes fluttering closed when she nuzzled closer.

“Mmhm.” She grinned against your jaw, pressing a slow, deliberate kiss there. “Just insufferable, really. Extremely bitchy” She was mocking you, clear as day.

You hummed, nails dragging lightly down her back. “Huh. Seemed like you liked it a second ago.” you challenged.

Vi let out a low chuckle, hands slipping under the hem of your top. “I have bad taste.”

“Oh yeah?” Your grin widened. “Is that why you almost ran me over?”

She laughed, fingers pressing into your waist as she pulled you. “You gonna bring that up forever?”

“Maybe,” you teased, tilting your head as she kissed along your throat. “What, you can dish it but you can’t take it?”

Vi exhaled against your skin, then pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, eyes gleaming with amusement” “Oh, sweetheart,” she murmured, voice dripping with mischief. “I can take a hell of a lot more than this.”

“Plus, That was your fault,” she muttered, her lips curving into a smirk. Her hands roamed, fingers gently tracing the dip of your hip, her thumb lightly tugging the ends of your dress. Every touch was like electricity, the tension building between you. “Should’ve paid more attention.” Her head dipped down, mouth slowly trailing along the column of your neck. She paused every now and again to bite, nibble, kiss, suck—trying to draw out that whimper she so desperately wanted to hear.

You hummed in approval, a laugh slipping out at her sudden movement. Her hands found the back of your thighs, pulling your legs around her waist. Your back pressed against the stall, hips now flush against hers as you held onto her. “Look at you, short stuff,” you teased, resting your forehead against hers. She let out a soft huff at your words, her hands gripping you tighter as she brought your body closer. Feeling you pressed against her like this, the weight of you, it was almost too much. That damn laugh, your breath against her face—she knew you were teasing her about the height difference.

“Yeah? Keep talkin’, see what happens.” Her voice was low, a quiet challenge that sent a shiver down your spine. Her hands roamed, leaving small chills in their wake.

“Ooo, you gonna get mad, huh?” you teased, pulling her face closer, needing to kiss her again. Your lips found hers, claiming them.

She let out a low moan at the way you took control, your words barely processing as her lips crashed back into yours. The kiss was rough, hungry. She wanted you. Needed you. Her hands gripped your thighs tighter, fingers digging into the flesh as she pushed you back against the stall wall, the sudden shift pressing her body even more against yours.

You gasped slightly, feeling the press of her pelvis against you, heat jolting through your core at the sound of her small moan. Tilting your head, you deepened the kiss, your tongue finding hers, the warm muscle pressing and teasing. Her tongue immediately met yours, her soft whimpers filling the small space as her body shivered. She pulled you flush against her, wanting to be as close as possible. She’d always been impatient, but right now, she was downright desperate for you. One hand stayed on your thigh, anchoring you, while the other skimmed along your hip, gripping hard as she ground herself against you.

She let out an amused hum at the sound of your moan. Hearing you like this, knowing she had this effect on you, was almost too much. It drove her wild. The feeling of your hand on her undercut, the way you teased her, it was almost enough to make her knees buckle. Her lips grazed your skin as they traveled down your neck, pausing to nip at your collarbone, leaving more marks in their wake. When a groan of disapproval came from her throat, you pulled back from her.

“Wait—” “What… what was your name?” You asked.

Ragged breathing, your vision coming back to you as you scanned over her features, your mind still foggy from the intensity of the moment. You both paused momentarily. Feet hitting the ground once more, The woman’s icy eyes widened. Then, she spoke up, not even knowing how you two had gotten this far without something as simple as a first name.

She grinned, running a hand through her dark hair. “It’s Vi.”

You arched a brow. “Vi…” you repeated. “That short for something? Veronica? Vanessa? Vivian?” You listed off name options, trying to match one to her face. It didn’t matter but you couldn’t help but tease her further.

Her smirk deepened, a single brow lifting as if to challenge you. “Violet,” she corrected, shaking her head with a quiet chuckle. “But honestly? I thought we were past names at this point.” Gesturing between you two.

You sighed dramatically, rolling your eyes. “Okay, smartass. Just figured I’d ask before we—”

She didn’t let you finish. Your words were practically swallowed as Vi’s lips crashed back into yours, her hands gripping your waist as she tugged you down slightly. The cold metal of her lip piercing pressed against your lips, the last remnants of your gloss transferring onto hers.

Your hands found the sides of her face, melting back into the moment.

“All those little noises for me?” she murmured, her voice barely audible. Her hands roamed, fingers tracing along the hem of your dress, teasing the soft skin beneath. She wanted to hear you moan again. To be the cause of it. To know that she was the one making you feel this way, the one who had you coming undone beneath her touch.

You laughed breathlessly, nodding. “Yes. For you.”

Just that simple confirmation sent a rush of possessive desire through her. Every moan, every shudder, every whimper—she wanted it all. Her lips attached to your neck again, marking and biting as they traveled across the sensitive skin. She found that spot again, nipping and sucking, drawing out more of those beautiful noises she craved. A soft moan escaped you as your body leaned into her, hands moving to tug her jacket off the rest of the way. A muffled chuckle spilled from her lips as she felt you push the leather from her shoulders. She let it drop down her arms, the fabric hitting the floor with a dull thud. She didn’t care where it landed—her focus was solely on you. Fingers curled beneath the hem of your dress, tugging it upwards. She needed more. Needed to feel more of your skin against hers.

Your arms lifted, inviting her to remove it. Her blue eyes darkened as she slowly pulled the fabric up, baring more of you. The dress joined the growing pile on the floor, leaving you more exposed, her hands tracing slow patterns along your sides.

She caught the motion of your fingers reaching for your shoes. “No, leave those,” she said, her voice laced with something thick

You paused before nodding, leaving the red heels on, and turned to tug at the hem of her black shirt instead.

“Mm, need this off, then.” Her breath hitched as your fingers gripped the fabric. She was more than happy to. Lifting her arms, she let you pull it over her head, her tank top soon joining the mess on the floor. A simple black sports bra covered her chest, the only thing she had on top now. trailing a hand down her toned torso. Tracing the lines of her skin. “Damn, you always this easy?”

her muscles tensing slightly beneath your touch. You could feel the outline of her abs, firm and defined. “Easy?” she chuckled, her hands sliding to your waist, pulling you flush against her.

“I’m anything but easy,” she murmured, lips finding yours in a kiss that was hungry. She smirked against your mouth before pulling back just enough to say, “Now, you gonna let me have you, or are you just here to run your mouth?”

You grinned, fingers toying with her spiked belt. “Mmm, got this far. Might as well.”

A low chuckle rumbled from her chest, her head tilting slightly as she watched you. The way you played with her belt sent heat pooling in her stomach.

“That’s what I thought,” she murmured before her lips were back on your skin, nipping at your throat as one hand tangled in your hair, tilting your head to expose more of your neck to her. The other hand dipped lower, fingers teasing at the fabric of your underwear. A small sound escaped your throat at the tug in your hair, your skin already littered with purples and reds from her mouth. Your fingers flexed as you lifted the belt from its clasp, undoing it. Her teeth grazed your skin as she smiled against your throat. at the way your hands fidgeted slightly, just as eager. She made no move to stop you, only pressing you further against the wall, her tattooed arms keeping you caged in place.

The pile on the floor was beginning to build, the heel of Vi’s boots pressing the fabrics into the flooring. Too focused on how your body felt against hers.

A bar bathroom. Of all places. The kind of place that would usually make your nose scrunch, your skin crawl. The lighting was too harsh, the walls too cold, the bass from the speakers outside rattling against the door. And yet… you didn’t care. Not with the way Vi was looking at you. Not with the way she touched you—like she didn’t give a damn about the setting either, like she’d have you anywhere if it meant having you at all.

It only grew especially more difficult when her mouth began to trail lower, each kiss leaving a burning imprint on your skin. Heavy-lidded eyes followed her movements, watching as her lips dragged a slow, heated path down your sternum. Your breath hitched, fingers threading into the messy strands of her black-and-red hair, nails grazing her scalp.

She made her way down your body, leaving a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses in her wake. she kissed down your sternum, her hands firm on your waist. She was all-consuming, her presence overwhelming in the best way. Your hands continued to thread into her short locs, nails grazing her scalp as she moved. as she felt the way your fingers flexed, your grip tightening when her nose grazed your hip bone. Her lips continued their path downward.

Her jeans-covered knees found themselves Kneeling in front of you, still caught between your legs, her eyes lifted to yours, Her hands recurled in the waistband of your underwear, fingers teasing the fabric.

“Let’s take these off,” black-painted fingernails, tugging the elastic slightly. Needing your approval before continuing.

You nodded, breathless. “Please.” Releasing the grip on her hair.

Widened eyes, as the thin damped fabric of your underwear dragged down the soft flesh of your thighs. her eyes roaming over your newly exposed skin. Not missing the way you were practically soaked. The shine only exposed further when her finger

Her middle and index moved to the undeniable pooling slick to act as lube as she glides over your now uncovered clit.

“Look at that…Tell me again how you’re ‘not into the whole edgy thing’?” She asked. Pierced Tounge darting out to kitten lick over your glistening folds.

“Shut up— mmng!” a small whine ripping out when her wet muscle was buried to taste bit of your growing arousal.

With a to bite your bottom to suppress a sudden moan. The space between your shoes only widens are you spread your legs for her further. the pads of her fingers creating circles sending jolts of pressure upward through your body. Eyes fluttering shut once more.

The bathroom echoed with the sounds of soft moans, whispered encouragements, and the wet, slick sounds of her finger pushing inside of your velvety walls. until her knuckle is practically coated. arching your back, off the cold graffitied wall.

“Mmfuuk Violet!” Your fingers knitted right back into her soft stands. Tugging at them. Eyes squeezed shut, at her gentle laps to your cunt. Mewing like a virgin, not remembering the last time you had time to even have a causal hookup like well—this.

Her frim hands grabbing the mound of your thigh to keep you still. Her nose brushing into your cunt. Once you are (somewhat) steady she slides index out then right back into you, bottoming out. Earning another wail from you when she curls it exactly where you can’t reach alone.

“S’good, huh? Yeah, I can tell.”

Just as Vi’s hands started to roam again, the sound of a toilet flushing from one of the stalls cut through the heated haze.

Both of you froze. Then slush of the water draining out made your eyes snap open. Oh my god, neither one of you checked if anyone else was in here. With a tilt of your head Your eyes slowly met hers, wide with realization. Vi blinked once. Then twice. The unmistakable creak of a stall door opening followed.

Vi exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down her face “so…That just ruined it, right?”

You swallowed hard, face burning of embarrassment “..Yeah.”

There was a beat of silence. A shuffling noise from the stall. You really didn’t want to turn around. The bathroom now extremely quiet, faint music from the bar, seeping under the door.

“My place?” you offered, already reaching for your dress.

Vi’s lips twitched. “Yeah. Think we kinda have to now.”

“ Hope you’re okay with a little backseat action.” She smirked, stepping back slightly as she grabbed her belt from the floor. “Because Ya know, you’ll have to get on my bike for that.”

You huffed, rolling your eyes. “Oh, so fun. Not dangerous at all.”heels clicking as you stepped closer. “I’m calling a car.”

Vi grinned, looping the belt back through her jeans. “Says the girl who was just half-naked in a bar bathroom.” She whispered.

You groaned, swatting at her shoulder as she laughed, slinging her jacket over her arm before leading you toward the exit.

You groaned, swatting at her shoulder, but she just laughed, reaching for your wrist and tugging you toward the exit. “C’mon, princess, let’s get outta here before we scar someone else for life.”

Behind you, the poor soul from the stall finally cleared their throat.

“Yeah,” a voice muttered. “Good call.” Vi snorted. You just buried your face in your hands as she dragged you toward the door.

The sun warmed your closed eyelids, pulling you from sleep. You shot up from your bed, hand instinctively drifting to the space next to you—only to be met with sheets.

Cold.

Of course she left. What were you thinking? That she’d stay? You didn’t even ask for her name until you were both half-undressed. With a disappointed sigh and slumped shoulders, you sat up, pushing your hair out of your face. Glancing over at the space next to you once more to confirm.

Yeah. Still empty.

Until you caught your reflection in something small, shiny. Silver rings, hers. When you finally got out of bed to toss them into your jewelry box, you figured at least you had a souvenir to remember her by. But as you approached your vanity, confusion twisted on your features. The cabinet was slightly open. And then you saw it. A number, written in red by one of your lipsticks on the corner of your mirror.

“Had to run, didn’t wanna wake Sleeping Beauty.

Figured I’d give you a reason to find me.

Call me, XXX-XX —Vi”

[sturnioz]

‘BIRTHDAY TREAT’ — MATTHEW STURNIOLO

pairing. matthew sturniolo x fem!reader genre. smut, established relationship au.

word count. 2.2k

❝how do you want me?❞

content warnings. explicit content, light biting, oral (male receiving), blowjob, light face fucking, praising, unprotected sex, creampie, cockwarming.

You struggle to contain your growing excitement as Matt walks through the front door of your apartment. His tired, weary face lights up in surprised awe at the sight of the birthday decorations that cover every inch of your living space — different shades of vibrant blue balloons, filled to the brim with helium, are pressed tightly against the ceiling, bobbing gently.

Without warning, you pull the thread of the party popper you have in hand, and a burst of multicoloured confetti sprays straight into Matt’s face, causing him to jump back in startled surprise.

Matt lets out a breathy laugh, dropping his heavy bag down to the floor at his feet as he opens his arms wide, and you are unable to hold yourself back any longer. You run towards him, nearly tackling him with the force of an affectionate hug as you wrap your arms around him as tightly as you possibly can.

He exhales softly, the tension visibly melting from his body as he returns the hug, nuzzling his nose into the crevice of your neck and breathing in your scent. Slowly, he begins to rock your bodies gently from side to side, laying a series of small, delicate kisses across your exposed skin. You can’t help but grin widely, eventually leaning back from the embrace to take a long look at his face. 

Matt looks exhausted, his weary eyes struggling to maintain eye contact with you for more than a few seconds at a time before fluttering closed for brief moments, dark prominent circles visible underneath.

It makes you frown to see just how tired your boyfriend appears, knowing deep down that his busy weekend travelling to visit his family and hometown friends, only to immediately fly back to LA, has taken a significant toll on his body.

You can’t help but feel a little guilty for asking him to come over as soon as his plane landed, knowing that he likely should have gone straight home with his brothers to get some much-needed rest. But you missed him a lot, and you certainly didn’t want to miss his birthday.

You move your hand to gently cup his stubbly cheek, caressing it softly with your thumb as you whisper tenderly, “Happy birthday.”

Matt gives you a sluggish, tired smile and murmurs, “Thank you, baby.”

He presses his lips to yours in a slow, unhurried kiss for a few seconds before trailing them down the sensitive skin of your throat. You smile widely at the familiar, loving touch, goosebumps trickling down your spine when you feel his hands dip underneath the hem of your shirt, the warmth of his palms pressing firmly against the small of your back.

Matt gently nips at your exposed skin, causing your head to tilt to the side and grant him better access, your lips curling into a content grin as his hands slips downwards, fingers splayed across your ass and pulling your body flush against his.

“Are you tired?” You ask, running your fingers through his dishevelled hair.

“Not really,” Matt answers, his voice quiet and a bit uncertain. He doesn’t stop his affectionate ministrations, nipping down harder on your skin in a series of bites, “A little, maybe — I don’t know.”

“Why don’t we go to bed?” You suggest, trying to keep your voice calm and collected even as you feel Matt’s mouth brushing featherlight kisses up the side of your neck. His lips graze over a sensitive spot, causing you to shiver slightly. “Let you rest for a little while, and we can celebrate your birthday tomorrow?”

“I’m not that tired.” Matt tells you, his voice now a bit raspy. He reconnects your lips in a soft, tender kiss, and you sigh, your arms tightening around his shoulders.

The kiss starts sweet and slow, but when you curl your hand at the nape of his neck, Matt’s mouth suddenly moves with more hunger and urgency against yours.

His tongue slides over your own, drawing a low, appreciative moan from deep in his chest. The grip he has on your ass tightens as he tries to pull you even closer, despite you already being as flush against him as physically possible.

You allow him to do whatever he wants, and your breath hitches at the back of your throat when he suckles on your tongue, when he bites down on your bottom lip and pulls at it, when he rubs his front against yours and you feel his hardened cock beneath his jeans.

“Matt.” You call out his name when you break the kiss. You gaze at him intently, noticing how his eyes are still closed, his lips swollen and glistening, his breathing heavy from the lack of oxygen. You gently tug at the hair at the nape of his neck, and he tiredly blinks his eyes open, finally looking back at you. “What do you want?”

Matt’s gaze is unfocused, but he answers without hesitation. “You. I just… just want you — I missed you s’much.”

You smile at his words that come out slightly rambled and desperate, and you take his hand into your own as you turn and lead him towards your bedroom. He follows closely behind, hovering near you as he drags his shoes across the floorboards, squeezing your hand every so often as if afraid to let go.

When you reach the bedroom, Matt is already heading towards the bed as you close the door behind you. He drops your hand, the metal on his belt clinging as he unbuckles it, popping the buttons on his jeans and pulling down the zipper. He steps out of the denim, ridding himself of the clothing, but in his haste he stumbles a bit over his own feet.

He palms his cock over the front of his boxers and you almost salivate at the sight, having not seen him like this for such a long time, and it makes your thighs press together, watching as he rubs himself over the fabric as he looks at you — waiting for you.

“How do you want me?” You ask him quietly, and he groans loud at the question, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth.

“On your knees.. Please.”

His plea elicits a warmth feeling in your chest and you smile, walking over to stand in front of him before you slowly drop down to your knees, and you tilt your head up to look at him.

He finds you so beautiful — so angelic with your pretty eyes staring at him and he becomes flustered for a moment, licking his lips nervously as he tugs his boxers down his legs, tensing beneath your touch when he feels your fingers ghost over his thighs. 

His cock stands tall once freed completely from the confinements, and he wraps his hand around himself, pressing his lips together tightly as he taps the head of his cock against your lips, and he moans softly when you stick out your tongue to get a taste.

“Put… put it in your mouth f’me.”

You don’t hesitate to do so, spitting on his cock for extra lubrication before taking him in your mouth, reeling at the groans that erupt from his chest as he drops his hand from his cock to rest it on top of your head.

He doesn’t grab at your hair, nor does he control your movements. He allows you to do as you please, watching as you take him further into your mouth and swallow around him, causing you to almost choke when his hips accidentally jerk forward, thrusting down the back of your throat.

“Fuuuuuck…”  Matt drawls, his neck straining as he tilts his head back.

The sounds he makes for you has your mind whirling arousal, wanting nothing more than for him to cum down your throat — wanting to swallow every last drop he gives you.

So, you change your pace, bobbing your head faster on his cock and using your hand to pump the rest of him, and the other fondles his balls which makes him whimper softly, his thighs trembling at your touch.

“You’re so good t’me, y’know that?” Matt suddenly praises you, murmuring under his breath as he strokes the top of your head, looking down at you. “My girl, yeah?”

You hum, the vibrations around his cock causing him to moan loudly, and the grip on your head becomes a little tighter — holding you still as he lazily rolls his hips forwards, and you do your best to swallow around him, trying your hardest not to gag on his size.

“I’ve missed you — missed your mouth, pretty fuckin’ mouth,” Matt whispers, lips parting with a pant as his hips begin to stutter, edging closer and closer to his orgasm, your chest swelling with pride. “Gonna make me cum if you keep lookin’ at me like that, sweetheart.”

“I want you to,” You tell him as you pull your mouth off of his cock but continue jerking him off, grinning as he thrusts in your hand. “Cum on my tongue… you deserve it.”

“N.. no, wait, wait,” Matt’s fingers curl around your wrist and you stop your movements, staring up at him confused. He breathes heavily as he continues, “Can I cum inside you? I — I want to cum inside you.”

Your lips stretch into a smile as you nod, pushing yourself up to stand from your kneeling position and quickly taking off your clothes, dropping them mindlessly to the floor as Matt lays across your bed. He rests his head on the pillows as he stares at you tiredly, outstretching his hand towards you.

You take it, allowing him to pull you on top and he leans up, pressing his lips to yours and craning his neck to kiss you deeper, giving you time to settle yourself above him, resting your knees on either side of his hips.

He lets go of your hand to grip the flesh of your thighs, squeezing the skin between his fingers before his hand slides behind your, grabbing at your ass desperately and you fight the urge to laugh, aligning the head of his cock at your entrance.

Breaking away from the kiss, your eyebrows pinch together at the stretch when you ease yourself down on him, your palm flat against Matt’s chest and he gasps, mouth falling open as he draws in a sharp breath.

“Shiiit, Matt…” You mewl once he fills you up completely, buried to the hilt. You would struggle to keep yourself upright if it wasn’t for Matt’s grip on your ass, squeezing you reassuringly, and you begin to slowly start rocking your hips.

There’s a crease between his eyebrows as he furrows them, his mouth ajar as moans and grunts spill from his lips, the tightness and warmth of your pussy making him unable to think, and he flexes his fingers across your ass, lifting his hips upwards to meet your bounces.

Your cunt pulses around him when his gaze meets yours, filled with the love and adoration that would��ve made you start crying if you weren’t so horny and desperate to cum — and for him to cum inside of you.

“Feels s’good,” Matt grunts. “You don’t understand how much I’ve missed being inside of you, sweetheart, missed feeling you like this — think about it all the fuckin’ time… m’crazy about you — seriously.”

“I hope you,” You hum softly, grinding your hips down and rubbing your clit against the smooth skin of his pelvis. “I’m crazy about you too.”

“Ha… shit — makes me feel like one lucky guy,” He dumbly grins up at you, but it slips away in almost an instant when you walls squeeze around his cock, and he curses loud, his hips fucking up into you faster. “You love me?”

“Always.”

“Tell… tell me you love me,” Matt begins to pant heavily, his hands moving from your ass to grab your hips, his thumbs pressing into your flesh. “Fuck — m’gonna cum, baby… tell me you love me.”

You repeat the three words like a mantra as you rock your hips faster, your own orgasm building up. Your voice starts to break, and the tears brim in your eyes at the pace he fucks up into you when he whispers those three words back to you.

He’s filling you up in an instant, spurts of cum painting your insides as your own orgasm hits you, your thighs quivering around his frame. Matt’s in a similar position — trembling beneath you and groaning as his cock pulses, unable to control the thrusting motions of his hips, but gasps due to the sensitivity he feels.

“Fuckin’ shit—fuck,” Matt’s body goes limp, his chest and face flushed, and his hair sweaty and sticking to his forehead, eyes on the brink of closing and consuming sleep. You even go to move yourself off of him when you see his exhaustion kicking back in, but he’s whining loudly, his grip tightening. “Wait, no — don’t, stop it — stay.”

“Stay?” You echo back to him, unable to stop the laugh from fleeting past your lips as you push his hair out of his eyes, stroking his cheek affectionately. “We can’t stay like this.”

“Yeah, we can. Please?” You feel yourself crumble a little when you see his pleading eyes look up at you. “Just for a few minutes… yeah? I’m not ready to let you go yet.”

© STURNIOZ

[badlydrawnmanic]

doodled some baby ultra beasts (edit: now it’s all of them!)

info below the cut :3

baby nihilego (UB phoresis) is a pure rock type. it doesn’t have access to its adult form’s mind-altering poisons, but it will still try to sit on other creatures’ heads, possibly hoping they will transport them somewhere new as they aren’t very good at the whole “moving efficiently” thing yet, either. it’s more or less just a smaller nihilego, given how baby jellyfish are just smaller versions of their parents

baby buzzwole (UB pest) is a pure bug type. while it has wings, it isn’t very strong yet and can barely fly, though it is incredibly determined when going after prey. it’s more of an annoyance than a threat, and typically has to go after slow moving or sleeping prey to actually get a chance to bite them. it’s based off of a mosquito larvae (albeit with wings) and the red parts on its head resemble overinflated pool floaties

baby pheromosa (UB nymph) is a pure bug type. they lack adult pheromosa’s pheromones, but will follow their parent’s scent trail very closely, learning crucial behaviors through mimicry. despite adult pheromosa’s aloof appearance, they will fiercely protect their young, keeping the curious, exploratory child out of trouble. it’s mostly just a smaller pheromosa, since baby cockroaches also just look like smaller versions of their parents, but the antennae shape is supposed to resemble a bow

baby xurkitree (UB spark) is a pure electric type. they will float on the wind to disperse from their parent, plugging their tails into the ground once they find an adequate spot. they will sometimes be seen linking together, forming long, twinkling strings. they are based off of christmas lights, specifically the spare bulbs, and when they evolve, it’s like a lightbulb bursting

baby celesteela (UB sprout) is a steel/grass type. as seen in the anime, they can be found buried underground in a dormant state awaiting proper growing conditions. once unearthed, they grow at a rapid rate, evolving quickly into celesteela. i didn’t design it, but its design is based off of a bamboo shoot and a swaddled baby

baby kartana (UB cut) is a grass/steel type. while they seem small and harmless, they have a tendency to spin rapidly towards anything that catches their attention, struggling to stop and slicing into it or even getting stuck in walls and trees. sometimes adult kartana can be seen commanding small swarms of them. i struggled with this one, but they’re based off of paper fortune tellers and ninja stars

baby guzzlord (UB hangry) is a dark/dragon type. they will gladly eat anything that is presented to them, remaining jovial and endearing so long as they have something to snack on, but will throw rather destructive tantrums once they get hungry again, letting out terrible, shrieking cries. adult guzzlord often abandon their own young out of annoyance, preferring to pursue their own gluttony alone. their design is mostly just a smaller version of guzzlord, though they vaguely resemble a jack o lantern, and the patterns on their knees resemble band-aids

baby stakataka (UB component) is a pure rock type. it is less of a baby and more like a single piece of the group making up an “adult” stakataka, these pieces very rarely being seen on their own. when crossing paths, adult stakataka won’t redirect their movements, each group sort of passing through each other and swapping pieces in the process, potentially as a way to share their knowledge. researchers disagree on whether it an individual piece would be called a “stako” or a “taka”

baby blacephalon (UB pop) is a fire/ghost type. when hit with a physical attack, the balloon making up its head will expand, stronger attacks causing larger growth. when significantly stressed, it will explode into a shower of confetti meant to stun or distract its attacker, allowing the body to run away, regrowing its head shortly after. i mostly just wanted this design to look weird, but it is loosely based off of those carnival games where you hit a target and it inflates a balloon, those confetti balloons where the confetti mostly sticks to the sides, and those toys that can’t be knocked over

[ultravi0lence14]

CONFETTI ON THE FLOOR

DEAN WINCHESTER X BIMBO!READER

WARNINGS: none cause it’s my baby’s bday. just a bunch of fluff and some suggestiveness😏

SUMMARY: it’s dean’s birthday, and the only thing he wants to do is spend time with his girl.

WC: 978

“dean, dean! wake up!” the sweet sound of an angel’s song and the jostling of his mattress woke dean up from his deep slumber. a groan rippled from his lips as he felt a weight drop onto his body, straddling his lap and lightly shaking his shoulders. “c‘mon sleepyhead, i’ve got a surprise for the birthday boy!”

he knew that the voice enthusiastically waking him up was his sweet girl, but he also couldn’t help but be surprised at what you were saying — well, more like squealing — to him.

was it january 24th already? he knew that he commonly lost track of time and dates while being on hunts, but he was positive that he should’ve remembered his birthday coming up.

slowly opening his eyes, dean was greeted by the soft features of your face. big, round eyes were the first thing he saw, followed by the natural pout of your soft pink lips. the soft strands of your hair fell around you and dean like a privacy curtain, and the now 35 year old man couldn’t help but brush it out of your face and behind your ear.

your smile was infectious, and dean found himself grinning alongside you. “a surprise?” his voice had that same lilt of cockiness it always did, but you knew that was just how dean was. and around you? he was the most caring person you’ve ever met. “does it happen to be the pretty thing on top of me by any chance?”

a shy smile graced your face, your hand lifting to hit dean on the chest as your head went down to hide in the crook of his neck. “don’t be so dirty dean,” his stubble scratched at your cheeks, yet you couldn’t find it in yourself to care. he looked way too hot when he forgot to shave. “i spent a lot of time on this. so let’s go, the food in the kitchen is not going to eat itself.”

releasing a joking huff, dean leaned up to plant a delicate kiss on your cheek, gripping your hips so he could softly place you beside him. “if i find a pie on the kitchen table, i’m gonna show you the only thing i want for my birthday, sweet thing.”

you just blushed harder, climbing off of the bed and following dean out of his room. you clutched onto his arm, resting your head on his shoulder as you both walked towards the kitchen. he loved you like this; excited, and so full of love that is was practically bursting from your pores.

when dean entered the kitchen, he never felt his heart feel more full. it was like it was beating out of his chest, exploding all his love towards his girl.

it was nothing crazy, and that’s what dean loved about it. you knew him, and you knew he wasn’t an over the top kind of guy. a simple sign that you had made from paper and string read ‘happy birthday’ in pink marker — your favourite colour, but he didn’t mind.

balloon’s were littered on the floor, alongside a plethora of confetti that dean couldn’t help but smile at. sitting on the table, was two birthday hats and an apple pie with a candle sticking out the top.

a soft smile graced dean’s features, head turning downwards. his eyes pierced yours, slowly detaching your arm from his body so he could wrap his arms around you and pull your body into his chest. “you did this all for me, baby?”

your eyes held a nervous lilt before, staring up at your lover wide eyed as you watched him take in your work. but as he praised you, one hand running down your arm to your low back and the other tangling in your hair, you couldn’t help but let a shy smile break through.

slightly nodding your head, you wrapped your arms around his waist, clutching onto his body in a tight embrace. “yeah, i did.” you cradled your cheek into his chest, listening to his heart beat faster and faster.

the softness of your voice had dean chuckling, leaning down to press a gentle kiss on the crown of your head. “you’re one of a kind, sweet girl. i don’t think i could possibly love you anymore.” his grin was blinding, and your chest tightened as you remembered the other surprise you had up your sleeve.

“actually,” you smiled softly, pulling away from dean so you could grab the gift you hid underneath the kitchen table. “i’ve got a little something special that i thought you’d like.”

dean’s eyes widened as you pulled the wrapped square present from it’s spot, handing it over to dean with a bounce in your heals. “i saw this online, and i couldn’t help myself.” with expectant hands, dean tore up the present like an excited child, eyes lighting up with excitement and mouth slightly dropping when he saw an original AC/DC vinyl, signed by all the band members.

“oh my god,” he breathed out, hands tightly gripping the album like it would grow legs and run away. “baby, how did you even find this?”

a shy blush rose to your cheeks, your chin dipping down to your shoulder as you raised them in a shrug. “found it on ebay. i happen to be a pro at those auctions.”

you couldn’t even finish your sentence before dean’s lips crashed onto yours. a gasp tore from your lips into his mouth, hands clutching at your waist as yours went around his neck. pulling him in closer, you could feel the ridges of his abs and the record pressed up against your back, still in dean’s clutches.

“i love you.” he murmured into your mouth, the feeling of his tongue exploring yours afterwards being all consuming. “this might be my best birthday yet.”

TAGS: @starzify @floralscented @deansbeer @titsout4jackles @bluemerakis @foolinthera1n @figthoughts @haunteres @gibson-g1rl @vaiieydoii @deanangel @honeyryewhiskey @misatxox @a-lil-pr1ncess

NAT BABBLES: szn 9 stubble dean nation rise up‼️also as much as i would’ve loved to write smut for this, i just thought i’d be a little silly and cut it off before anything crazy could happen🤭

[l0s3rd0wnt0wn]

"AN ARROW TO THE HEART"

Bio: You guys thought I was dead, ha! Think again! I'm alive and kicking, and since I love you guys so much, I made some archer!reader for you. I'll be dropping more stuff since I love you guys so much! Later!

You have never been bragged about before. Well, sure, your grandfather brags about your talent, and so do your teachers, but no one boasted more about you than Ollie. He couldn't help talking about you; it was like you were always at the forefront of that man's mind. And you honestly didn't mind; you loved the praise and the little head pats he would give you after a good day's work, or a fist bump if you got a target right between the eyes.

And whenever Young Justice had meetings with the Justice League, you were always top in deduction. Bruce would complain about how reckless Tim or Damian was being, then Ollie would interject with a cup of coffee, "Could never be my little arrow; such a darling! You should have seen them at the archery tournament; they blew the whole stadium away!" He laughed like a proud dad. He had almost forgotten you were Bruce's child. "There, my child," Oliver said, taking a sip of his coffee. "Really? I could hardly tell." The whole room goes silent, and you feel yourself covering your face in Dinah's leather jacket.

You were nominated team leader of Young Justice because, let's be honest, you're the most organized and responsible on the team, but you make sure to make Tim your co-captain so he isn't left out. He smacks your hand away. He refuses to be second best or get handouts. The more you work with the arrows, the more you lose the bats. It wasn't like you belonged with them anyway. Roy's feedback was more important to you than Grayson's. And you would rather run to Ollie for advice than Bruce or any of them.

Helena is the only one you get along with; she's the best. You always find yourself fangirling about her, and when you had a mission in Gotham, you showed off your marksmanship, and she acknowledged you with a little "Ha! Not bad, White Arrow." You felt yourself burst into a thousand shards of confetti. "I try my best!" You giggled, fiddling with the little braids in your hair; you practically picked at the trinkets there.

But every time you go up to Artemis, or hold Roy's arm, or ask Mia for new fighting techniques, you feel a pair of eyes following you everywhere, whether it's to practice or in the Young Justice meeting room. Those eyes never seem to leave you. It makes you nervous, and you have a bad feeling. You know who's watching, who's calling out to you. And when your younger sibling pulls you aside, yelling at you for running over to Ollie again, "What are you, a Queen or a Wayne? Do you really want to hang around that trash!"

Before you could speak, you were already dragged to the other side of the room. Even then, in the black and white suits, you never felt like a Wayne. Maybe you should change your arrow suit to green; Ollie wouldn't mind having a successor, would he? Because you'd rather die than be a bat.

[wbblvx]

──── ୨୧ ────

ꜰᴏʀ ᴍʏ ɢɪʀʟꜱ ᝰ.ᐟ

────

pairing : paige bueckers x singlemom!reader

warnings : none !!

word count : 670

summary : it’s paige bueckers’ last game, the national championship, and as she takes the final shot of her career, you stand in the stands, heart in your throat, watching her give it her all. through all the struggles, she’s been your rock, and now, you get to witness her victory, surrounded by love and the energy of the crowd.

──── ──── ──── ──── ────

you always thought watching someone you love do what they were born to do would feel like pride

but this? this was something else entirely

the lights in the arena were almost too bright, the energy in the air crackling like electricity. bodies packed into rows and rows of seats, fans screaming, cameras flashing, music blaring every time the scoreboard shifted. and through it all, your daughter was asleep against your chest, her little ear muff headphones slipping down, a soft fist curled around the collar of your hoodie

you were standing

hands wrapped around the railing, eyes locked on the court, heart somewhere between your ribs and the rafters. this was it. her last game. the national championship. paige bueckers, number five, center stage for the final time

you’d watched her fight her way here. not just on the court. not just with buckets and steals and floor burns. but off the court too. the nights she took care of your daughter so you could study. the mornings she left early just to drop her off at daycare so you could sleep in for once. the way she stepped into your life like she’d always meant to be there

and now she was here. focused. dialed in. locked

but then the clock ticked down, and just before the timeout was called, she looked up. found you. even in a sea of thousands, she always found you

and smiled

it wasn’t big. it wasn’t loud. it was just yours

your daughter stirred in your arms, half-asleep as she mumbled, “ mommy’s winning? ”

you smiled too. not just at the question, but at the way she called her that now. like it was the most natural thing in the world

“ yeah baby ” , you whispered, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “ she’s winning ”

—

the shot went up at 1.6

the buzzer sounded at 0.0

and then it happened

the place erupted. confetti. sirens. cameras flashing in bursts of gold and white and navy blue. her teammates swarmed her, a pile of limbs and laughter and disbelief. but through it all, even while they hoisted her up, paige was scanning the stands

she found you again

and pointed

and that was all it took. you were moving, heart racing, barely able to hold your daughter still as security opened the gate. and then she was running toward you, sneakers slipping, hair soaked, eyes wide and glassy

“ you’re insane ”, you laughed, voice already breaking, “ you really did it ”

“ had to ” , she breathed out, grabbing your daughter first and spinning her in a little half-circle before pulling you in too, forehead resting against yours. “ had to do it for my girls ”

you didn’t say anything right away

just let yourself exist there

in her arms

in the noise

in the moment you’d never forget

and somewhere behind you, your daughter yelled into the chaos

“ we knew you’d win!!!! ”

—

[xichilie]

Brant x (fem)reader

A Fool’s Grand Surprise

The Fools’ Elysium had never looked so alive.

Silken banners of red, gold, and deep indigo draped from the high wooden beams, their ends twinkling with tiny enchanted lanterns that cast the illusion of a starlit sky. The scent of spiced wine and roasted almonds filled the air, mingling with the laughter of masked performers and the distant hum of stringed instruments being tuned. Every table was adorned with scattered petals, every wall lined with flickering candles, their glow reflecting off of mirrors to make the entire space shimmer like a dream.

And at the heart of it all was her.

Y/N barely had time to process the sheer spectacle before a sudden burst of confetti rained down from above. A collective cheer erupted, led, of course, by the one voice she had expected.

“Ah-ha! There she is—our radiant guest of honor!”

Brant’s voice rang through the hall, filled with triumph and unmistakable glee. He leapt from an overhead beam, twisting midair with impossible grace before landing in a flawless bow before her.

Y/N placed her hands on her hips, trying—and failing—to suppress a smile. “This is insane, Brant.”

“Insane?” He clutched his chest as if wounded, staggering back dramatically. “And here I thought it was magnificent. Do you see what I endure, my friends?” He turned to the gathered Troupe, gasping in feigned horror. “I put my soul into this, and she calls it insane!”

Laughter rippled through the room. A fire-eater let out an exaggerated sob. Someone from the back called out, “Give us a real tragedy, Brant!”

He shot them a wink before spinning back to Y/N, eyes gleaming beneath the soft glow of candlelight. “Well, my dear, since we are gathered in this den of fools for you, I suppose you must be indulged.”

With a theatrical sweep of his hand, he gestured toward the raised stage, where musicians had begun to play. “Shall we, stella mia?”

Before she could respond, he was already pulling her into the first dance of the night.

The celebration was nothing short of extraordinary.

Everywhere she turned, performers spun, twirled, and tumbled in dazzling displays of agility and mischief. Jugglers tossed flaming torches in elaborate formations, fire-dancers painted the air with golden embers, and illusionists wove fleeting specters of light and shadow. The music was intoxicating, shifting from wild and frenzied melodies to soft and lilting ballads that spoke of old, wistful love.

Y/N found herself swept into the revelry, laughter bubbling from her lips as Brant twirled her through the ever-changing dance floor. Each step was effortless, as if they had rehearsed these movements a thousand times in a past life. He was impossibly light on his feet, never missing a beat, spinning her until she was breathless.

At one point, she was pulled into a group of performers who playfully adorned her with flowers and draped ribbons around her shoulders like some mythical queen. She lost track of time between stolen sips of honeyed wine, raucous storytelling, and the occasional daring acrobat whisking her away for a spin through the crowd. And through it all, Brant was never far—his laughter, his teasing quips, the way he watched her with that ever-present glimmer of something unreadable in his pink eyes.

But as the night stretched on, the wild energy slowly began to wane. The fires burned lower, the music softened, and the Troupe members settled into quiet clusters of conversation and lazy, lingering dances. The Elysium no longer roared with revelry—it hummed with the kind of warmth that only came after a night well-spent.

And that was when Brant appeared at her side once more.

“Come,” he murmured, offering his hand. “The night isn’t over yet.”

She let him lead her away from the grand hall, past the velvet curtains and into the winding corridors of the Elysium. The noise of the celebration faded, replaced by the soft, distant echoes of laughter and the occasional flickering lantern guiding their path. Finally, they emerged onto a hidden balcony that overlooked the entire festival below.

The view was breathtaking.

From here, she could see it all—the last embers of the fire-dancers’ flames, the silhouettes of jesters still spinning beneath the lanterns, and the sky above, dark and endless, scattered with stars. It was quiet. Peaceful.

Brant exhaled softly. “Do you like it?”

She turned to him, arching a brow. “Do you even have to ask?”

A grin tugged at his lips, but there was something gentler in his expression now. He reached into his coat, hesitating for the briefest moment before pulling out a small, velvet-lined box.

“I had a thousand ideas for what to give you,” he admitted. “But none of them seemed worthy of you.”

He opened the box, revealing a delicate pendant in the shape of a star, its edges lined with the soft shimmer of moonstone.

Y/N inhaled sharply. “Brant…”

He took her hand in his, lifting it to his lips before gently placing the pendant in her palm. “You are the brightest thing in my world, stella mia,” he murmured against her skin. “And I am but a fool orbiting your light.”

Then, stepping back with a flourish, he placed a hand over his heart and recited:

“A candle in darkness, a whisper in noise,

A light that no storm could ever destroy.

The jesters may jest, the world may scheme,

But you, my love, are my waking dream.”

Heat bloomed in her cheeks. It wasn’t just the poetry. It wasn’t just the way he had set up the grandest celebration she had ever seen. It was him. The way he looked at her—not as a game, not as a fleeting moment of amusement, but as if she mattered. As if she were his world.

Before she could think, before she could second-guess, he took her chin between his fingers, tilting her face up to meet his gaze.

“Happy birthday, cara mia.”

And then, with all the passion of a man who had been waiting for this exact moment, he kissed her.

It was deep and breathtaking, the kind of kiss that lingered long after the music stopped and the candles burned low. A kiss that made her forget the rest of the world existed, that filled her with something warm, something reckless, something utterly dangerous.

And in that moment, beneath the stars and the glow of the Elysium, she knew—no matter how foolish, how reckless—Brant’s love was hers.

_______________________________________ A bit late for my second birthday fic, but it's still my birthday, and I finished another

Thank you all so much for all the bday wishes i received ♡

[psformybss]

write a birthday party fic whether it's for drew or for reader, n it's thrown by one of them for the other

Birthday Surprise

drew starkey x reader

warnings: surprise party, fluff, chaos, established relationship, light teasing, birthday shenanigans

an: thank you anon for the idea! <3

By noon, she was starting to spiral.

The day had started off fine—coffee in bed, sunshine pouring through the windows of her little LA apartment—but there was a notable absence in her phone. No texts. No memes. No voice notes of Drew singing “Happy Birthday” in a terrible Scottish accent. Not even a single “good morning.”

It was weird. He wasn’t the overly romantic type, but he always remembered. Last year, he sent her a bouquet of gas station snacks and a card that played the SpongeBob theme song. The year before, he’d made a homemade scavenger hunt that ended with takeout and bad wine.

But today?

Silence.

She told herself not to be dramatic. Maybe he was just busy. Maybe he was planning something subtle, something sweet. Maybe—

Her phone buzzed.

Drew: hey baby. wanna do dinner later? 7?

That was it.

She stared at the screen, lips tightening. No “happy birthday.” No heart emoji. No flair. Just… lowercase apathy. She typed back a quick sure and tossed her phone on the couch like it had personally offended her.

By the time 6:45 rolled around, she wasn’t angry exactly—just confused. A little disappointed. She kept telling herself not to expect anything, but the ache still settled behind her ribs like something half-swallowed.

She pulled up outside Drew’s apartment in West Hollywood, makeup soft, black top tucked neatly into her jeans, trying not to look like she’d actually put effort into her birthday. Just dinner. Just casual. No big deal.

The building was quiet. Suspiciously so. No music. No party sounds. Just the usual hallway air that smelled faintly of weed and Pine-Sol.

She knocked once.

The door flew open.

And chaos hit her in the face.

Literally. A balloon smacked her square in the forehead as a chorus of voices screamed, “SURPRIIIIISE!”

She stumbled back with a shriek, eyes wide as the scene exploded in front of her.

His apartment had been transformed into a glitter bomb of ridiculous proportions. There were streamers duct-taped to the ceiling, an oversized balloon arch framing the TV, and confetti covering nearly every visible surface—including, somehow, the inside of the fridge. People were everywhere: Chase standing on the coffee table in a cowboy hat, Madison blowing bubbles into a solo cup, Rudy holding what looked like a tray of jello shots shaped like tiny animals.

And in the middle of it all stood Drew.

Grinning like a kid on Christmas morning.

Wearing a T-shirt that said “Birthday Girl’s Boyfriend” in sparkly gold letters.

Her jaw dropped. “You—what—Drew?”

“You really thought I forgot,” he said, stepping forward with outstretched arms, his eyes gleaming like he’d just pulled off the heist of the century. “Wow. You wound me.”

“You did forget! Or—you acted like you did!”

“For the element of surprise,” he said smugly, wrapping her in a tight hug. “And based on that scream, I’d say it worked.”

She laughed against his chest, the sound shaking out of her like relief. “You’re the worst.”

“I’m the best,” he corrected, planting a kiss to the top of her head as he swayed her gently in the middle of the madness. “Admit it.”

The apartment burst into music as someone connected a speaker and cranked the volume. Madelyn tossed a tiara onto her head with a wink. “You’ve entered your sparkly era, babe. Embrace it.”

Someone handed her a drink. Someone else handed her a cupcake. Before she could process any of it, Chase was dragging her into a makeshift karaoke battle and someone else yelled, “Let’s do cake shots on the roof!”

It was absurd. It was loud. It was chaos.

And it was… perfect.

At one point, she ended up standing in the kitchen, laughing so hard her stomach hurt, watching as Drew tried to light candles on a cake that looked like it had barely survived transport. The frosting was a little melted, the sprinkles sliding off the sides—but it was shaped like a paint palette.

Her favorite.

She blinked, her chest swelling. “You remembered.”

He shrugged, suddenly sheepish. “You said once you missed painting, so… figured I’d bring the art to you.”

That’s when she kissed him.

Right there, in the middle of the chaos, her hand tangled in his shirt and the other curling around his jaw as she pulled him in. He tasted like frosting and tequila and something warm and familiar. The room spun around them—Chase yelling in the background, someone knocking over a cup, the faint crackle of sparklers on the balcony—but none of it mattered.

He kissed her like he meant it. Like the party, the planning, the ridiculous shirt—it had all been worth it just to feel her mouth on his, smiling as she kissed him back.

When they finally broke apart, he was grinning so hard it looked like it hurt. “Happy birthday, by the way.”

She laughed into his neck. “Took you long enough.”

“Had to make it count.”

Hours later, after most of the crowd had thinned and the music had softened into a playlist of lo-fi beats and leftovers, she found herself curled into the corner of Drew’s couch, his hoodie draped over her shoulders and her feet tucked beneath her.

He sank beside her, handing her a slice of cold pizza on a paper plate. “You survived.”

“Barely,” she teased, biting into it. “Pretty sure I inhaled glitter.”

He leaned back, arm resting behind her head, gaze soft. “Was it okay? Not too much?”

She turned toward him, heart full. “It was messy and loud and absolutely ridiculous.”

Then, quieter: “It was perfect.”

He smiled, eyes crinkling. “Next year? Bounce house.”

She groaned. “You’re unhinged.”

“Maybe,” he said, tilting her chin with his finger until her eyes met his again. “But I love you.”

Her breath caught.

And then she leaned in, brushing a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Good thing I love you too, chaos and all.”

[tokoyan]

- A kiss you couldn't undo.

pairing: na baekjin x reader

warning: Cheating

word count: 1,624

pt1 // pt2 // pt3

gif credit: @cesowi

It’s been two weeks.

Two weeks since that moment with Baekjin.

That kiss.

And the worst part? You didn’t even hate it.

Every time you’re around Baku, it eats at you. The guilt. The shame. The way your stomach twists whenever he smiles at you like you're the only person in the world. “He’s too good for me,” is a thought that keeps showing up, uninvited, no matter how much you try to shove it away. But then—then there's that other part of you. The part that replays the kiss like a broken record. Over and over. Like your brain won’t let you forget what it felt like to be touched by someone else.

And maybe... maybe you did know why. But admitting it out loud felt like confessing to a crime you didn’t even mean to commit.

“Hello? You there?” Baku’s voice cuts through your thoughts like a knife. You blink, pulling yourself back to the present as he waves his hand in front of your face.

“Huh? Oh, sorry,” you mumble, trying to act like you weren’t completely spiraling two seconds ago.

“You’ve been zoning out a lot lately,” he says, frowning. “Is something wrong?”

You shake your head too quickly. “It’s nothing,” you say with a fake smile you hope he buys.

But he doesn’t. Of course he doesn’t.

“Y/N, c’mon,” he says gently, wrapping his arm around your shoulder and tugging you closer. “I know when something’s bothering you.”

You sigh. “Okay, fine… your birthday is coming up and I still have no idea what to get you,” you blurt, praying the lie is good enough.

He raises a brow, clearly not convinced, but lets it slide. “Honestly? Just get me anything. I don’t really care.”

Then, like he hasn’t just unknowingly walked into the middle of a storm, he leans in and places a soft kiss on your forehead. You melt a little—like always. Your head rests on his chest as you both watch some students kicking a football around the field.

“Okay then,” you whisper, eyes fluttering closed, pretending—for just a second—that things are still perfect.

But they aren’t.

A week passes. It’s finally Baku’s birthday. Since it’s Saturday, you hadn’t seen him all day, aside from the “Happy birthday!!” text and sleepy phone call you sent that morning. You, Gotak, Sieun, and Juntae had all planned a surprise party at Gotak’s house since his parents weren’t home and he got the green light to host.

As the sun dips behind the horizon and the sky turns gold then purple, you guys text Baku and tell him to come over—but you don’t say why. He doesn’t ask many questions. Just says “Okay” and starts getting ready.

But right before he leaves the house, his phone buzzes.

It’s not from you. Not from any of the group chat people.

It’s an unknown number.

He hesitates, thumb hovering over the screen. Curiosity wins. It’s a voice message.

He clicks it.

Then he freezes.

Because it’s… your voice.

And what he hears next?

Feels like getting stabbed straight through the chest.

Back at Gotak’s house, you're all confused why Baku’s taking so long. But then there’s a knock at the door and your heart jumps. You grab the cake with the lit candles, standing right in front of the entrance, practically glowing with excitement.

Gotak opens the door.

You, Juntae, and Sieun yell in unison, “HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!”

The confetti bursts into the air.

But Baku just stands there.

Stone cold.

Not smiling.

Not reacting.

Just… staring at you.

“Yo… you good?” Gotak asks, lowering the party popper, confused.

“Y/N. Can we talk?” he says, eyes locked on yours, voice low and sharp.

Your stomach flips. You already know.

The kiss.

He knows.

“Yeah… sure,” you say, barely above a whisper. You put the cake down on the coffee table and follow him outside.

The second the door shuts behind you, the temperature drops ten degrees.

“Why?” he asks.

You stare at him. “...What do you mean, ‘why?’”

“I’ve only ever been good to you. So why?”

His voice breaks.

“Baku, I really didn’t me—”

“No. You did. Don’t lie to me.”

He pulls out his phone and presses play.

Your voice plays through the speaker.

Your heart drops to the floor.

How the hell did he get that? Baekjin. It had to be him.

“You kissed some guy behind my back and act like you love me?” Baku’s voice cracks again. His eyes glassy. “B-Baku, please, I really d—”

“Just stop,” he says, looking everywhere but at you now.

“Baku…”

“We’ll talk later,” he mutters, wiping at his face before walking back inside, the door clicking shut behind him.

You just stand there.

Alone.

In the cold.

And it hits you like a freight train.

You ruined it.

You start running. Running home. Face wet with tears. Your chest tight. You don’t even know if you’re crying more from guilt, heartbreak, or… Baekjin.

When you finally make it home, you collapse on the couch and sob into the cushions. Loud, messy, ugly sobs. You want to disappear. You want to scream.

But then your phone rings.

Unknown number.

Of course.

You pick up.

“What the hell do you wan—”

“Open the door,” Baekjin says, calm. Almost too calm.

“…What?” you whisper, sitting up, wiping your face. You peek out the window.

He’s outside. His motorcycle parked in front.

You end the call and walk to the door.

You shouldn’t open it. After what he did… after what you did…

But you open it anyway.

He’s standing there like nothing happened. Hands in his pockets. That stupid chill stance that makes your blood boil.

“Why are you here?” you ask, voice still shaky.

“To do something I’ve wanted to do since I first saw you,” he says.

“Baekjin, just tell me and stop beating around the bush!”

“…Fine. I want to make you mine.”

The words barely register before he steps inside and kisses you.

You KNOW you should push him away.

You know you’re hurting Baku.

But you're tired.

You're hurting too.

And this—this feels like a bandaid on a bleeding wound.

He closes the door with one hand and grabs your face with the other, deepening the kiss. It’s rough. Urgent. Messy. Your back hits the wall and you're gasping between kisses.

“Baekjin…” you whisper, pulling away just for air.

“Shh,” he mumbles, pressing his lips back on yours.

You kiss him back.

And then somehow, you're on the dining table—he pushed everything off in one dramatic sweep—and placed you on top of it like you weigh nothing.

He starts kissing your neck. You feel the heat rush through you. He wants to leave marks. Proof. Possession.

“Fuck…” he groans against your skin, gripping you tighter.

Then he stops. Pulls away slightly.

“I want you to want this,” he whispers, eyes locked on yours.

You know the right thing is to say no.

But you say yes.

A small smirk tugs at his lips. He places one last kiss on your lips before stepping back.

“Then show me how much you want me,” he says, turning and walking out the door like he was never even there.

He left you breathless. Confused. Wanting more.

You hated how he played these games. Hated how he always left you dizzy and desperate.

But the real question?

Were you going to let him keep playing?

Or were you already too far gone?