#scrolling through my drafts and what the fuck hell is this

[solomiracle]

levi wanting to live his dream of getting hit by a truck and being reborn as an isekai protag so in the human world he runs in front of a truck but because he's a demon the truck gets fucking demolished and he walks away with the tiniest of scratches. he's suffering

[missdynamighttt]

so.. giving bf! katsuki his girlfriend bill and he pays.. WAY too much tax.

it started as a joke.

you sat on the couch, scribbling away at a piece of paper while katsuki was busy scrolling through his phone. when you were done, you slid it across the table to him with a smug grin.

KATSUKI BAKUGO - GIRLFRIEND BILL

• snacks (your girl gotta eat, and no, your portion does not count as mine even if i eat it): 500

• unlimited cuddles package (its like a warm cozy prison): 1,000

• tummy tax (you hog my tummy all the damn time, rent is due.): 3,000

• sex damages (broken furniture, excessive laundry, my LEGS, my BACK, my SANITY): 5,000

• miscellaneous (for anything i want because you love me): 8,000

TOTAL: 17,500

DUE DATE: NOW. PAY UP 💜

you leaned back, arms crossed. “you owe me, boyfie.”

katsuki stared at the paper, then at you. his eyebrow twitched. “the fuck is this?”

“since you love spending money on me, i figured i’d make it official,” you teased. “just the essentials. cuddles, snacks, emotional labor fees, suffering damages—”

he snorted, shaking his head. “suffering damages?”

“i am dating you.”

he clicked his tongue but didn’t argue. instead, he grabbed the paper, pulled out a pen, and started writing.

you blinked. “uh… what are you doing?”

“fixing your shitty math.”

you leaned over to look—only for your jaw to drop when you saw him doubling the charges and adding even more things to the bill.

• snacks (you always say you don’t want any, then eat mine)

• spa days (so you don’t stress out)

• hair and nails (because i know you like getting them done)

• shopping sprees (you never ask, but i see you eyein’ shit)

• being the best damn thing in my life (consider as future investment. i’m keepin’ you forever, dumbass)

your eyes trailed down the list, heart pounding. meanwhile, katsuki was casually typing on his phone.

a notification buzzed on yours. you glanced down—and nearly choked.

Deposit: 50,000 from katsuki bakugo

you gawked at the absurd number. “katsuki—what the hell?”

he grinned, crossing his arms. “what? you think i don’t know what you deserve?”

your face burned, your heart doing somersaults as you stared at him in disbelief, acting like he didn’t just casually triple your joke bill. "katsuki, this was supposed to be a joke.”

he leaned back, looking entirely too pleased with himself. “not to me. i’d pay more if it meant spoilin’ my girl the way she deserves.”

you swallowed hard, heart pounding. “you—you can’t just—”

“too late,” he interrupted, tugging you onto his lap. “the hell kinda cheapskate boyfriend you think i am?”

you stared at the new total, eyes wide. “katsuki—this is, like, a small fortune.”

he just smirked. “yeah? guess you’re worth it.”

your face burned.

"just shut up and take my money, sweets," his lips brushed against your ear. "tell you what—how ‘bout i add another big... tip?"

but before you could react, he was already throwing you over his shoulder, carrying you straight to the bedroom.

you had a feeling he wasn’t talking about money anymore.

‎‧₊˚✧[ it's me, kia ! ]✧˚₊‧ ｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ ‎‧₊˚✧[ more of katsuki ! ]✧˚₊‧

⋆˚࿔ kia's note ˚⋆ been feeling burnt out lately lmao😵‍💫 didnt include any money symbols so yall dont have to go through the trouble of converting it😭 thank god my husband is rich >< trying to clear my bazillion drafts, hope you guys enjoy this💜

[bucketbueckers]

BIGGER IN TEXAS

pairing: paige bueckers x fem!reader

content: filth (and some plot, as a treat)!! language, light alcohol/body shots, oral, fingering, strap, fuck ass cowboy hats, freak shit im talm bout inittttt, slight overstim, mirror, light choking (author is unoriginal we know this), reader is honestly thirsty as hell but so is paige, idk how to tag smut properly just know im losing my spot in heaven for this fic

wc: 10.5k

synopsis: A Dallas Wings rookie and a Dallas Cowboys Cheerleader walk into a club together. What could possibly go wrong?

notes: i wasn't ovulating when i drafted this but i am now! maybe tmi. sinners changed my life and my main takeaway from that movie is everyone is a munch and thats a life philosophy i think everyone should have. make sure you all say "thank you kali uchis" because i actually got insane writers block after waking up this morning but her album saved me. not much to say but im actually going to hell for this so please make it worth it and hit up my inbox pls and ty 🫶 as always i hope yall enjoy!

Let the record show that you weren’t serious.

Okay. You were like, 50% serious. As in if you were presented with the opportunity, you would take it, but if any of your friends were to ask about it, you would probably deflect.

You realize now that you tend to get a little overzealous on Twitter – it’s far more unhinged than your Instagram is, where you share pictures of your everyday life and action shots as a Dallas Cowboys Cheerleader. You have less followers on the bird app (it is not X), you’re a little more…real, and as a bonus, your mom doesn’t follow you, so you feel like you can be a little more insane on there.

Although you’d probably apologize to her later – because one of your recent tweets is going a little crazy.

It didn’t start as anything crazy. Being a Dallas athlete, you kept up with nearly every sports team – the Mavericks, the Stars, the Cowboys, obviously, but you loved the Wings, too. You watched the WNBA draft as did countless others in the country.

When the Wings admin posted the Welcome to Dallas, Paige Bueckers! tweet, you’d giggled to yourself, mostly because you were nursing a Chili’s margarita and because she looked insanely good in the graphic.

You retweeted it, typing, welcoming you into dallas w open arms @.paigebueckers1 🤠

Then, almost like an afterthought, you commented on your own retweet, typing, and with open legs 🙏

You didn’t think much of it. Obviously. You didn’t have a huge following and if anyone asked, you’d just be kidding. The next ten minutes are peaceful as you finish off your margarita and scroll aimlessly through TikTok, keeping one ear out for the next draft pick. And then your phone starts blowing up.

A bunch of likes. A few people retweeting your second comment with various laughing or crying emojis. But what makes you pause is the notification reading Paige Bueckers has liked your tweet!

Oh. You click just to make sure, and – yeah. Definitely the one about having open legs.

Any other day, this would probably be mortifying, but today you’re a little emboldened by the margarita in your veins and you can’t help but think this is a little funny. You’ll probably regret it later when everyone remembers that you’re kind of a public figure and decides to flame you for being a little unhinged on main. For now, though, it’s not that big of a deal.

When you wake up in the morning to an unread DM from Paige – who’d followed you back, mind you – on your Instagram, you suddenly realize that it actually is a big deal.

Paige 💕: I’m flying into Dallas on the 23rd for media Paige 💕: If the offer still stands maybe you could show me around the city?

You stare blankly at your phone. Then you blink once. Twice. You power off your phone, press your pillow to your face, and you scream.

You weren’t serious, but you think you’re being presented with the opportunity – and, well, who are you to look a gift horse in the mouth?

After you finally come back to your senses, you reach for your phone again, navigating back to your DMs with Paige. You only have to contemplate for a few seconds before your fingers are flying across the keyboard.

You: i’ve been known to be a thorough tour guide You: let me know what your schedule looks like and i’ll show you the pretty parts of dallas

Her response comes quicker than you were expecting.

Paige 💕: Looking forward to it 🫶 Paige 💕: Not sure how Dallas compares to you but I can be open minded

Admittedly, you have to reread her message twice to fully grasp the cheesy pick-up line, but you hate the way it makes your cheeks flush. You’re not sure how to respond to that.

You settle for screaming into your pillow again.

The week passes by quickly. You and Paige talk — a lot — truly enjoying getting to know each other during your rare moments of free time. Paige is busy with flights and appearances while your schedule is packed with practice and learning the audition choreography for the next season of DCC. 

Despite yourself, you can’t help but think how nice it is. There’s no expectations. You’re both athletes with a combined two hours of free time. For now, you’re just content to see where this goes. You enjoy her company, and honestly, you’re really into her. Paige flirts relentlessly, but you can tell there’s an undercurrent of respect and admiration that makes you feel like that feeling is mutual, too. 

She texts you a picture of the Dallas tarmac when she lands on the 23rd, a coy reminder that you did promise to show her around. Paige has media for a good portion of the day, though, so you know you won’t be seeing her for a while. You tune in for a little bit of her rookie press conference, and no, you weren’t cheesing while listening to her speak. But if you were, that wouldn’t be anyone’s business but your own.

You don’t hear from her for the next few hours, which doesn’t bother you. You do get a call from one of your squadmates, Lielle, asking if you’d be down to hit the club before the DCC season starts – and who were you to say no to that?

You settle for a light, natural makeup look, throwing on a blue, mesh, halter corset top that sparkles in the light and a pair of cropped, white denim shorts. They’re long enough to cover what they need to, but it’s the perfect club outfit – something with the right amount of tease and will make you feel confident enough to truly let loose.

Lielle picks you up along with a few other of your friends who tease you relentlessly for your actions on Twitters – it’s no use defending yourself, although they’re nearly howling in excitement when you point out that Paige is in your DMs, so you’re probably doing something right.

You and your girls enter the club with high spirits, the atmosphere already electric, and two of your squadmates break away to find a table while you and Lielle make your way to the bar to order shots and drinks for everyone. Lielle leans over the bar, already laying it on thick for the bartender, who grins politely like he’s seen just about every variation of whatever game Lielle is playing.

On the bright side, he does end up discounting your drinks on account of being a DCC fan, which makes you think Lielle never truly had a chance, anyways – but a cheaper drink is a cheaper drink, especially in Dallas. Lielle walks away with a wink and the drinks in her hands as you remain to order something for yourself. The bartender has just slid the drink your way when you feel the heat of someone’s body next to yours. At first, you’re alarmed, but you soften when you hear their voice, followed by finally looking at their face.

“Didn’t expect to see you here.” In person, Paige Bueckers is so much taller than you’d anticipated, which is probably a really stupid thing to say for a professional basketball player. She’s tall, her cologne a heady scent of warm vanilla and something distinctly floral, and she rests her arm against the bar in a way that’s devastatingly casual and dangerously alluring. Paige is wearing a black and white striped Nike sweater, the very same she’d done media in, a look not befitting of the club but you can’t help but think about how perfectly her it is.

You crack a coy smile, taking a quick sip of your drink for some liquid courage, because Paige is staring at you like she knows exactly what she wants from you and your heart thrums because if she said the word, you’d be willing to give it to her. “What, is this place too scandalous for a cheerleader like me?” you joke, and the heat of her gaze travels down your body in one quick motion.

“Nah, nothing like that,” she assures you. “Just didn’t think that out of every club in this city, I’d be lucky enough to run into you my first night out.”

“Seems we’re both feeling a little lucky tonight, huh?” you say, and she laughs gently under her breath. Paige holds out a hand to you. In lieu of a shake, you settle for hugging her instead, which she relaxes into immediately, her hands resting respectfully at the small of your back. “It’s great to finally meet you in person,” you say genuinely, pulling away at the right moment. “You enjoying Dallas so far?”

Paige shrugs a little, a smile on her face and gratitude on her tongue when the bartender slides a drink her way, too. “Haven’t got the chance to see much,” she says honestly. “Was in media all day, then I stopped by Costco so my apartment looked a little less pathetic. Now I’m here. Something about rookie initiation, according to Rike, but I think she just wanted someone to buy her drinks.”

You laugh. “Look at you already taking care of people,” you comment, your grin widening at her playful expression. “You’re here with your team, then? Where are y’all sitting?”

Paige purses her lips, her eyes squinting as she peers through the dim lighting of the club. “I think over there?” she says, pointing at the VIP section towards the back. She’s closer to you now, her chin resting just above your head, and you follow her gaze. You can’t help your smile, something she picks up on immediately. “What’s funny?”

“I think your team’s already hitting it off with mine,” you say, easily spotting Lielle handing a shot to Arike and clapping when she downs it in one go. You don’t think Lielle is drunk yet, but she has a natural excitement and zest for life that makes her the easiest person in the world to befriend.

Paige huffs a little under her breath, amusement lacing the sound, and her hand finds your waist. “Must be meant to be,” she says to you. Despite yourself, you preen, your smile widening when her hand finds your skin. “After you.”

Paige walks almost protectively behind you, the crowd of club-goers parting instinctively for the both of you. When you make it back to the VIP section, both of your teams cheer – like they know something you don’t – which causes a blush to rise on your cheeks and a nearly smug expression to take over Paige’s.

Introductions are swift, if a little unnecessary. You’d run into many of the Wings players before, having made a genuine effort your first year as a professional cheerleader to show up to many of the Dallas sports games.

Before you know it, Arike has ordered more shots for the table, and Paige slides into the booth next to you with a dangerous glint in her eye and two shots of tequila in her hands. The table is lively, raucous, with Kelsey – one of your squadmates – going shot for shot with Aziaha James and Lielle and Arike instigating.

But here, now, in this little corner you and Paige have tucked yourselves into, you’re enjoying the intimacy of the moment far too much, feeling as though you’ve been afforded far more privacy than you actually have.

Paige presses one of the shots into your hands, a loose smile on her face. “To Dallas?” she asks you, raising her glass.

You tap yours against hers, a matching smile of your own as you agree, “To Dallas.” You down your shots in one go, the liquid warming your belly pleasantly. “And to Twitter,” you add a little jokingly, but your blush deepens when Paige smirks, raising a thumb to your lip to wipe away the excess tequila beading on your mouth.

She sucks her finger into her mouth, humming a little insufferably, and you’re burning for an entirely different reason now. Your gaze hones in on her hand, flicking between her lips and her eyes. And, sure, she was constantly flirting with you over text. You knew she was feeling you as much as you were feeling her – but to watch her behave so confidently in front of you, to unravel you like it was nothing… The confirmation makes you ache. It reminds you that you’re not the only one feeling the warm buzz between the two of you.

“You always that forward?” Paige asks you, referring to your tweet. “Or am I just lucky?” Her words are punctuated with a heated grin, one that makes you shift in your seat. You hope that she didn’t notice, but you see the way her eyes darken and how she leans in a little closer to you.

“Only when I’m tipsy, apparently,” you mutter. You glance up, taking in her expression, the curiosity and desire in her eyes. Your lips quirk into an amused smile. “But I don’t think I have to tell you about the effect you have on people.”

“Good thing I don’t really care about other people,” she says, her gaze dropping down again. You can’t tell if she’s looking at your lips or your chest, but it makes warmth bloom under your skin, anyways. Paige makes eye contact as easily as she drinks you in. It’s disorienting, unwavering. It’s almost like you can see exactly what she’s thinking by the way her pupils dilate. Her fingers brush against the inside of your wrist, setting each and every one of your nerve endings on fire. “But you? Didn’t know I was affecting you like that.”

“Oh, you’re not,” you laugh, which just makes her laugh, too, something dangerous flashing in her eyes. Dangerous because you know you’ve already given in. Any other attempt at saving face or trying to look a little less down bad is just meant to make you feel a little bit better – like she hadn’t already won you hook, line, and sinker the moment you promised to show her around Dallas. 

“Lying is a sin,” Paige murmurs.

“Lust, too,” you retort.

Paige’s subsequent grin is a little too wicked. “Touche,” she agrees, and you can’t help but lean into her touch when her hand splays over the expanse of your toned waist, her thumb brushing your skin like she’s trying to memorize every shift in your muscles. Her voice drops a few decibels, only loud enough for you to hear as she presses in closer to you. Your hair raises when her lips ghost across your temple, the shell of your ear. “You’re already burning for me, though. Probably soaked through these fucking shorts, aren’t you? So why pretend you ain’t?”

“Paige,” you whisper, your heart beating a little faster, pounding against your ribcage. Your hand finds hers, linking your fingers together, and you don’t stop her when she maps out every inch of skin not hidden by your top. If anything, you arch into it slightly, enjoying the heat of her palm against your belly. She grins like she knows, like she’s already called the Uber and is thinking about how she can ruin you in the car without alerting the driver.

“Jus’ say it, mama,” she murmurs, her breath hitting your ear. You should feel some type of way for how easily your body betrays your brain, pressing further into her without your permission. “Tell me what you want and we don’t gotta play these games in front of your girls.”

Your mouth opens, the words getting caught in your throat when Paige finally grips the meat of your thigh with her hand, not hard enough to bruise, but enough to claim.

But before you can give into the feeling of it all, the bubble of peace between the two of you is broken by Lielle exclaiming, “Who wants to do body shots?!”

Breathless, you glance up at Paige, who stares back at you with mischief. She squeezes your thigh gently, whispering, “Be good,” before tugging you to your feet and towards Lielle, who holds the salt, lime, and the bottle of tequila. You sigh a little, already feeling like you could combust.

Your combined teams cheer when Paige volunteers you. Her smile, which is borderline smug and nearly possessive, makes your skin burn, but her eyes betray the ease in her features. She scans her teammates like she’s waiting for one of them to think that they could take her place.

Kelsey clears space on the table while Lielle uncaps the bottle of alcohol. One of the other Dallas rookies – JJ, you think her name is, extends a hand to help you onto the table, but all it takes is one glaring look from Paige to make her raise her hands in surrender. Paige steps up, her gaze dark, and she grips your hips, raising you onto the table with a weightless ease. Her eyes never leave yours, watching you with rapt attention as you lean back, getting comfortable.

“You good?” she asks, her hand resting over your stomach, which rises and falls steadily under the heat of the moment. You nod quickly, needing her hands on her body more than you think you need air, and she allows herself a quiet smile as she reaches for a lime wedge. Gingerly, she holds it out to you. Your teeth part at her wordless command, clamping down on the lime, trying not to wince at the taste. Her fingers linger on your lips, pupils blown wide, and it makes warmth coil low in your belly when you realize just how reciprocated this feeling is.

She reaches for the salt next, uncapping it, too, and meets your eyes with one last unspoken question. You don’t hesitate before you nod, uncaring of where she lines up the salt. You are surprised when she leans down, licking a stripe between the valley of your breasts, wetting the skin there so the salt can stick. You hardly register the wolf whistles around you, far too focused on the satisfied, focused grin on Paige’s face as she sprinkles the salt on your skin.

Finally, Lielle hands over the bottle of tequila, and you try to steady your breathing as Paige pours a generous amount in your navel. A drop slips, trailing down and soaking into the fabric of your shorts. You swear you can hear Paige’s breath hitch, but the club is too loud for you to be certain.

Lielle is probably recording. There’s no way she isn’t – she’s the life of the party, and whenever you wake up tomorrow, you’re sure you’ll find the video of Paige doing a body shot off of you on her close friends. But right now, when Paige is staring at you like you’re the only person in the room, like she can’t wait to get you alone and ruin you? You can’t think about anything but the blonde athlete and how willing you are to let her unravel you.

With one last glance to check in on you, Paige leans over you, caging you in with her arms. Her head dips down, licking the salt off of your chest with a devastating slowness. You catch the edge of her grin as she trails her lips down your torso, settling at your belly and drinking the tequila directly off your stomach.

Her tongue probes for the last drop and she presses a farewell kiss to your skin that makes your breathing stutter. Then, finally, she makes her way back up to your lips, her skin a little flushed, and she parts her lips to take the lime wedge in between her teeth.

But Paige isn’t through with you. You watch with wide eyes as she punctures the flesh with her teeth. She takes the lime wedge in between her fingers and with her free hand, she cups your jaw, her thumb brushing against your lip. You adhere to the silent demand, your lips parting again, and she presses down on the bottom row of your teeth with her thumb, keeping you open as she squeezes the juice of the lime into your mouth.

You shudder, eyes slipping shut in a non-physical pleasure – Paige hasn’t even touched you yet, but you feel like you’re ready to fall apart. The lime juice makes your face contort from the sourness, but you hardly think about it when your eyes blink open once more to take in Paige’s lazy expression. She’s already gone – her smile wide, reverent, satisfied, proud, and she discards the lime peel.

Paige removes her finger from your mouth, closing your jaw for you, her features softening with pride as you swallow the juice dutifully. You barely hear her whisper, “Good,” before she helps you off of the table, steadying you when you sway a little unsteadily, and the both of you make every effort to ignore your friends.

They don’t focus on the two of you for too long – JJ is helping Kelsey onto the table to keep going, so you take advantage of their distraction and pull Paige down to your level by her collar. She grins insufferably, like she knows she’s teased you to the point of no return. Her smile widens when you demand, “Take me home. Or we’ll cause a scandal in the middle of this club.”

Her lips brush against yours. “Uber’s already here,” she informs you, her expression far too satisfied. If you were any less pussy drunk, you’d probably hate yourself for being too easy, but all you can think about is how her skin would feel against yours.

You let her pull you through the club. You let her hands linger on your hips when she helps you into the Uber. And without so much as a noise, you part your legs for her in the car, letting her fingers trace the inside of your thighs discreetly. Paige doesn’t give you what you need – you knew she wouldn’t.

You keep your reactions tempered, even when she leans in closer to you, her nose brushing against your ear as she whispers filth that the driver is none the wiser to. And when you make it to her apartment complex, you hardly hear the driver’s farewell before she guides you out of the car, through the apartment lobby, and into the elevator.

Paige’s grip on your hips is tight, like you’re not sure if she’s trying to keep you close or trying to restrain herself from defiling you in the elevator. Either way, you don’t mind. You press your hips to her front, grinning in satisfaction when her fingers tighten and her breath hitches, a groan building in her throat. The ding of the elevator breaks you both from your stupor and you follow her to her door, watching in amusement as she fumbles with the key in her haste.

“Do you remember my tweet?” you ask a little offhandedly, sliding your fingers under the hem of her sweatshirt. She curses under her breath when your fingers find her waist, splaying across her abdomen – it’s more for your pleasure than it is hers, feeling her muscles jump under your hold. Her eyes are a little wide and blown out when they meet yours.

“S’all I’ve thought about for weeks,” she confesses, finally getting the lock to turn. Her words give you pause as she throws open the door. Catching you by surprise, she picks you up, one arm looping under your ass, and your arms slide around her neck for stability as she shuts the door behind her, making sure to turn the lock back.

It’s all speed from there. Paige kicks her shoes off in the entryway, her hands gripping the back of your thighs as she blindly walks the both of you through the hallway towards the bedroom. You silently thank her coordination as an athlete, more so when she starts mouthing at your chest like it’s been the only thing keeping her going. Her tongue darts out, wet against your skin, and she hums against your breast as she tastes the residual salt from the shot and the sweat. Paige nips at your skin and holding onto her tighter with a wordless sigh is all you can do to keep it together.

Finally, she finds the bedroom door, throwing it open without a care in the world. Paige deposits you safely on bed and then almost falls over herself following – the dichotomy makes you ache, the way she’s so desperate to get her hands and mouth on you, but the evident care she makes sure to treat you with despite her need. You want her to turn you out in every single way she’s thought about since draft night, but the respect is touching.

She clicks on the dim lamp at her bedside, her eyes returning to your figure when her vision adjusts. She shakes her head like you’re not real, her hands touching your hips, your waist, your breasts covered by the thin material of your top. You’re sure she’s burning this image into her mind forever – you’re doing the same. You may never be able to forget the image of Paige Bueckers hovering above you, eyes wild and gone, messy like you’re already five rounds deep and not just pent up from fucking around in the club.

The first press of her lips against yours makes you keen, arching into her exploring hands while yours cups her cheeks. You’ve thought about this for weeks, too, how it would feel to have her on top of you like this. She tastes like a tequila shot and something distinctly fruity from the cocktail she was sipping on. Combined with the lime juice on your breath, your kiss is intoxicating for several different reasons, and the heat coiling in your belly reminds you of how badly you want this.

She tugs your bottom lip between her teeth, pulling it back and letting it snap back before her lips find every inch of your skin. The hinge of your jaw, the tender spot on your neck that makes you thread your fingers through her hair to pull the tie loose, the dip in your throat where your moan vibrates against her lips. Paige is ravenous. Like there’s a million different things she wants to do to you before the sun comes up. You’d let her.

“Thought about this forever,” she murmurs, her voice hoarse and wrecked. Your breath stutters, back arching to help her untie your halter top and letting her pull it off you. She goes almost painfully silent when she takes in your breasts fully, your pebbled nipples. “Fuck.” Her curse sounds like a filthy prayer, one that you’d give up almost everything to respond to. One of her large hands splay over your breast while her mouth finds the other one, alternating between kneading and sucking and here – you’re sure you could fall apart completely, your hips jumping up for contact.

“You don’t know what that stupid comment did to me,” she continues, almost to herself, but she knows you’re listening. She feeds off of the way your breath hitches as she pulls back long enough to rip her sweatshirt and sports bra off in two quick motions, the chains around her neck tangling briefly before they trail cold caresses across your stomach when she leans back down to take your skin in her mouth. Your jaw falls open in pleasure, gripping onto her, the sheets, anything to stay rooted.

“Looked at your page, and those–” Her fingers find the waistband of your shorts, popping the button and pulling the denim off while she rambles. She falters when she takes in the white lace covering your body, a low, wrecked groan spilling from her lips at the sight of the wet patch at the apex of your thighs. Paige brushes her fingers against you, relishing in the way your hips jump and your whispered plea.

“Those stunts you do,” she continues finally. “That fucking uniform is sinful, you know that? Got myself off thinking about you, how good you’d be. You offered yourself up and all I could think about at the presser was how many different ways I could get you to come for me. I wonder if I could do it without my hands.”

You’re not coherent enough to tell her she could probably do it with words alone, but you reach for her and pull her back to your lips, kissing her hungrily, like you’re on death row and she’s your only chance of salvation.

Your hands explore while her kiss disorients you. Finding the waistband of her pants, you reach for the belt, undoing it. Paige helps you pull her pants off, leaving her in a dark pair of boxers. Her skin is impossibly warm against your palms as you press your fingers into the small of her back, undoubtedly leaving marks.

She pulls back to trail her lips down your body, sucking marks everywhere, her hands holding you like she’s afraid you’d float away if she didn’t keep you rooted.

Paige doesn’t make any effort to strip you out of your damp underwear – if anything, she stares at it like she’s more proud of it than getting drafted first overall, and she presses her lips to the skin just above your waistband until it blooms red and purple. She soothes it with a kiss, her expression far too smug and satisfied.

“You’re soaked,” Paige murmurs, pressing her thumb to your cunt again, her grin widening when you moan, your hands shooting down to grip her hair. She makes eye contact with you and sucks her thumb into her mouth, eyes slipping shut as she tastes you. You can’t help the curse that tumbles from your lips. “That ‘open legs’ offer must have been a cry for help, huh?” she teases, but her voice is rough, like the very taste of you is a drug and she’s addicted. “Nobody else doin’ it for you?”

“No,” you admit, cheeks burning under the weight of your confession. The truth is you’d stopped looking after a while, but now, with Paige tucked between your legs and staring at you like you’re the most beautiful girl she’s ever seen, you briefly consider the fact that she’s going to ruin you for anyone else. For yourself.

She grins again. “Shame,” she murmurs, her lips trailing down to the inside of your thighs, where she presses gentle kisses. “Someone got to you before me and they couldn’t even make it worthwhile.”

She nips at your skin, the pain blooming into pleasure instantly. Your breathing comes to you a little faster the closer she moves to your aching cunt, but she soothes you with a hand to your belly. “I got you, mama. Gonna be the best you’ve ever had. Swear.”

You don’t doubt it, your head already swimming, and she presses one last kiss to your clit through the damp material of your underwear. It makes you jolt, but she steadies your hip with her hand as she pulls the lace to the side slowly. You can’t help but gaze down at Paige, locked in on the way her eyes glaze over with desire when your cunt is finally revealed to her.

You don’t think you’ve ever been this wet in your life. Maybe it’s been a fire that has been slowly burning ever since she initially hinted at flying out and taking you up on your offer. Now, all you can focus on is the way her hands grip your strong thighs, holding you open as she dives in to lick a long, slow stripe up the length of your slit.

You both moan in tandem – yours of pleasure and hers in awe. You’re dripping onto her comforter, hardly able to feel much remorse about it, but something tells you that Paige is really fucking into the fact that she has you so pliant beneath her.

Her tongue is exploratory, drinking in every drop of your arousal, her brows pinched together as she focuses on building you up. Her nose brushes against your clit while her tongue finds the source, licking you clean like she’s stranded in a desert and you’re the only thing that could satiate her thirst.

She’s wild, her tongue everywhere all at once, muttering messily into your cunt about how you “taste so fucking good,” but you’re sure you fall apart completely when her lips close around your clit and she sucks.

Your brain is mush. You’re not sure if you want to keep your eyes on her or let your head fall back into her pillows, unable to process the pleasure fully.

Paige makes the decision for you when your eyes slip shut and she nips at your clit gently – not enough to hurt (even though it sends a surge of pleasure up your spine, anyhow), but enough to get your attention.

The message is clear – she wants your attention. Thinking about how she’s probably getting off from you watching her makes the heat coil in your stomach, ready to snap at any given moment.

You tangle your fingers in her messy hair, pressing her deeper into you, head tipping back in pleasure when she doubles down on her motions. Paige is ravenous, tongue circling your clit, never once stopping or slowing.

Not until your thighs are shaking from pleasure. Not until the tears bead at your waterline. Not until she encloses her lips around your clit again, her cheeks hollowing from the pressure, and releasing you to drag the arousal from your entrance to your clit, coating it completely.

You’re wholly unprepared for the first press of her fingers against your entrance. Paige doesn’t push in – not yet. She drags her fingers through your folds, soaking them, listening and looking for your reaction as she probes deeper.

The first finger sinks in until it reaches her knuckle, punching a breathless moan out of you, and she curls her finger as she pulls out. She’s a quick study – learning what you like and how much pressure she needs to unravel you completely. But she’s slow, not adding in another finger. You get the message instantly when her eyes find you, her gaze dark and imploring.

Not above begging, your voice is hoarse, rough from your moans, your lips split-slick and bitten. “Please, Paige, keep going,” you request, clenching around the single finger in you. “More, please, fuck–” The words get caught in your throat when she smiles against you, taking your clit in her mouth again just as she slides in a second finger. Too far gone, you can’t help the repeated, delirious ramble of “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” or the choked out, “So fucking good.”

The more vocal you get, the more she gives you. Her lips and her tongue speed up, flicking against your clit with a devastating intensity. Paige’s finger’s scissor inside you more firmly, sliding in deeper with every thrust, particularly timed with her mouth. It’s a Pavlonian response. The pleasure is overwhelming, and you can’t find it in yourself to be too embarrassed by how loud you are.

You chant her name, breathless little sounds that sound more like pleas than sentences. The grip on her hair must be painful but she never slows. She’s fucking you closer and closer to the peak, and when it finally arrives, warning her is all you can do.

She’s heedless, her pace somehow intensifying even more, and you come with a sob that’s a mix of her name and a string of curses as the pleasure washes over you.

Paige doesn’t stop, drinking in every drop of you like she’s parched, her fingers slowing as they work you gently through the shockwaves. You’re breathless, stuttering through the euphoria, gratitude lacing your words.

When she pulls away, the bottom half of her face is slick with your arousal, her tongue darting out to catch the edges of her lips, but it’s like drops of water in a bucket. For all intents and purposes, she’d been drowned, but her grin tells you she would have been more than happy to go out that way.

Boneless and limp in bed, she trails her lips up your body until she finds your lips, kissing you deeply and allowing you to taste yourself on your tongue. The taste is heady, something you’d probably attribute to the taste of her, too, and you can’t help but moan against her lips, your body burning under the touch again.

“Don’t think I’m letting you tap out so soon,” she murmurs, squeezing your waist and peering down at you. “We haven’t even started.”

“Greedy,” you say teasingly.

Her subsequent grin is sharp, nipping your lip gently. “And proud,” she states, already leaning over and digging through the drawer of her nightstand. When her hand comes back into view, she’s holding a strap and the harness.

The sight of it makes your brows raise – it’s modest in size, but it’s still bigger than anything you’ve ever taken, both in length and girth. “What?” she asks, a smirk appearing on her lips as she fastens the harness around her hips.

“It’s big,” you point out obviously, but the heat is already licking at your skin again as you stare at it longingly.

“Everything’s bigger in Texas,” she retorts. The strap hanging from her hips makes your mouth water, and you suppose this is what you wanted anyway – for Paige to ruin you. She glances at you curiously, able to read how your hesitation washes away. You’re safe with her. She wouldn’t hurt you. That thought alone makes you a little more hungry for it. “Trust me, you ain’t gotta worry.” She drags her fingers through your folds again, raising it to the lamplight and showing you how they shine. It makes you blush, but her smirk is a little insufferable. “But, I mean…if you wanna try something smaller–”

“No,” you disagree a little too quickly. She raises a challenging brow, one that infuriates you. She’d been mean all night – teasing you and working you up. And, sure, she delivered, but you think that she deserves to be knocked down a peg or two.

You wrap your legs around her waist, and in a quick motion, you flip the both of you over, straddling her waist with your hands on her chest. She’s a little breathless, eyes wide and pupils dilated, yet you can spot the impressed look in her gaze. “You don’t think I can handle it?”

“Didn’t say that,” she says, her eyes drinking you in, the fucked out look on your face and she bruises covering your skin. Her hands find your waist, pulling you onto her fully – onto the strap – and she guides you into a slow grind, taking back the control seamlessly as you gasp. Paige grunts, too, the strap pressing back into her clit, and the fact that she’s feeling as good as you are makes you tremble with want.

“You insinuated it,” you argue, a little miffed.

She grins like your indignance is cute. “Just tryna be in you, mama,” she says, tugging you down a little harder, and it punches a moan out of you. “You gonna let me do that or are we gonna sit here and argue all night?”

You narrow your eyes at her, but you don’t say much else, and she draws her bottom lip between her teeth as she gazes down at where your centers connect. “That’s what I thought.” Her words are mostly said to herself.

She grips the waistband of your underwear and pulls them down your legs – you adjust to help her pull them off, and she throws them to the side.

Now that you’re completely bare, she pulls you down onto the strap again, your arousal coating the silicone. The unrestricted contact makes you shiver and you loop your arms around her neck for stability while one of hers finds your waist again.

With her free hand, she reaches for the base of the strap, guiding it to your entrance and holding you steady – the tip of the strap brushes against you, but she doesn’t allow you to move.

Her eyes are zeroed in on where you’re clenching around nothing, your arousal leaking out of you. Then, finally, she pulls you down slowly, controlling each and every small movement. Your breath hitches when the head breaches inside, pressing into you, and Paige kisses all over your chest to soothe you.

“Good, that’s it,” she murmurs, lips encircling a nipple as she pulls you a little further down. The stretch is delicious, splitting you open, her hands mapping out your skin. She grips the flesh of your ass in one large hand, the other reaching around to rub featherlight circles on your clit to distract you.

The sensations are overwhelming in the best way possible. Her mouth drags wet kisses across your body while she listens for your reaction. Paige lowers you further down, drawing a drawn out moan from you, and you feel her grin against your breast as you tighten your grip around her neck, pulling her tighter against you.

“Perfect girl. Taking me so well,” she coos. Her body is impossibly warm against you and you can feel yourself relaxing into it, wanting to sink down completely, but she doesn’t let you. “Want you to feel good, baby. Don’t rush it.”

Still holding onto your annoyance from earlier, you can’t help your slight eye roll as you nip at her neck, sucking a matching hickey into her skin. She hisses, letting you fall another inch before gripping your hips tightly. “Would feel good if you just fucked me,” you state, staring at her with an expression that’s borderline pathetic. “What’d you say earlier? Just tryna be in you?”

“Think you have a patience problem,” she muses. “I’d heard so much about this southern hospitality bullshit growing up in the north, but it seems like you got a manners problem, too. I gotta teach you how to say please and thank you?”

You barely resist a sigh. Instead, you let your lips pucker out in a pout, the motion drawing Paige’s attention immediately. You press closer to her, your breasts dragging against her chest, and she sighs from the feeling. “Please, Paigey?” you beg in a near whimper, taking the hitch in her breathing as a sign that you’re doing something right. “Just want you to fuck me. Been good for you all night, haven’t I? And I promised to welcome you to Dallas. Let me make you feel good.”

Her eyes narrow slightly, but the way her throat bobs tells you she’s minutes away from flipping you over and making you forget your name. “You’re dangerous,” she whispers.

“I’m yours,” you respond, and that’s enough for her. Paige drags you down the last few inches, bottoming out. You moan into her neck, the hand at the small of your back pressing you into her. You’re sure that you’re soaking her lap, but judging by the way her hips rut up into yours, she likes knowing how fucked she has you.

Her hands settle at the bottom of your ass, pulling you up as she mouths at your chest, her tongue darting out to taste your skin. You sink down on the strap again. The sound is obscene, drawing a gasp from you, and you repeat the motion.

Up, then down. Up, then down, beginning to set the pace for yourself, but making sure you grind at the bottom of your strokes to make sure that Paige is getting off too. Her eyes are hooded, darting from your face, to your chest, to the apex of your thighs where you’re soaking the strap.

“Fuck,” she groans, her voice rough, and it sends white hot desire up your spine. She speeds up your motions, the veins on her hand protruding from the effort of keeping you upright, her jaw unhinging in awe as she stares at you. 

You allow yourself a small smirk, your right hand tilting her head back, revealing the expanse of her throat as you grind down onto her. With your ears so close to her mouth, you can hear every stutter in her breath, every jilted moan she tries to hold back, the hiss of pleasure when you bite down, sucking dark marks into her skin. 

When her motions start becoming desperate, her hips bucking up into yours in time with every drag down like she’s trying to chase her high, you reach down for her hands, tangling your fingers together and pressing them into the pillows over her head. 

“Really?” you murmur, your lips ghosting the dip in her throat. “You’re this close just from helping me get off?”

She laughs a little, something that sounds like a sob mixed with a whine, and her jaw falls slack in a low groan when your lips attach to the sensitive spot below her ear. “Can’t help it,” Paige manages. Her lips are slick, bitten raw, so you kiss her deeply, swallowing the sound she makes when you grind down especially hard. “Think you like it, though.”

“Mmm,” you hum. You speed up your motions, feeling your thighs and your stomach burn with the effort, but also feeling yourself teeter on the edge of crashing down completely. Your thrusts draw out another moan from Paige, one that makes you grin – because she’d tried so hard to keep herself together, to pretend she was here to fuck you and not the other way around. “Think I just like you.”

That makes a lazy smile appear on her face. Paige pulls one of her hands out of your grip, inching towards your throat and tangling in the necklace there. “Yeah?” she goads, her tone a little insufferable. “Didn’t – fuck – didn’t think I affected you.”

You’re still rutting against her, sweat beading on your temples as you argue, “You don’t.”

But that just makes her grin turn a little more smug. She releases your necklace, her fingers pressing lightly into the sides of your throat, squeezing once in warning. It makes your hips stutter, your breath catching. “Keep lyin’, mama,” she mutters, something dark in her eyes as her fingers trail down your body. One tweaks a nipple, kneading a breast as you gasp. Then, she goes lower still, bracing her large hand over you while her thumb finds your clit, rubbing messy circles through the slick there.

You lose your rhythm again, whimpering, but you keep going despite the exhaustion. It’s less about your pleasure now. You need to get Paige off, to tear down that ego of hers, to silence her for once. Even as you stare down at her, your eyes a little hooded, you realize she enjoys receiving as much as she enjoys giving, and there’s truly no winning with her – she’s getting off either way. 

“Actin’ like I don’t know you already,” she continues, her thumb as ruinous as her hips – as ruinous as her words. “What you like. What you need.” You could fall apart like this – her words picking you apart piece by piece, her thumb reminding you that she has you right where you want her. Paige gazes up at you, her pupils blown wide, but you can make out the challenge in the blue of her eyes – she’s daring you to get smart again.

But you’re just as competitive as she is. Without faltering in your movements, you lean slightly, reaching for the cowboy hat perched on her nightstand. It has Paige stitched on the bill. Her jaw falls slack again as she watches you slide it over your head.

“You talk too much,” you retort, and then you’re doubling down again. You can tell the image of you wearing Paige’s hat is doing something to her – the way it bounces in time with your thrusts, combined with the wrecked sounds leaving your lips, the slick sound of the strap deep inside you, the fact that Paige wants you so bad it makes her stupid. 

It doesn’t take much longer after that. You and Paige were already pent up. Her thumb quickens on your clit, her free hand gripping your hips tight enough to leave a bruise as she drags you up and down relentlessly, her own hips meeting yours. You can tell she’s getting close when her breathing turns ragged and her face burns red. You’re right there with her, digging your nails into her shoulders for stability as you push yourself to your high.

Part of you expects Paige to open her mouth again, to say something slick that would leave you trembling, but you don’t give her the chance to. You pull her face to yours, silencing your cries with her lips. You shiver when she bites down on your bottom lip harshly, soothing the sting with her tongue. “‘M close,” you manage breathlessly, holding onto her tightly – feeling as though your orgasm would wreck you completely. 

“I know,” she murmurs, her voice choked. “Let go, mama, I’m right here.”

So you do, the pleasure washing over you completely as you cry out, sagging onto her body bonelessly, the cowboy hat falling off to the side of the bed. Paige drags you against the strap, riding out the high, her jaw slack in wordless pleasure while her body burns. She doesn’t still until you push her hands off of you, the overstimulation buzzing under your skin.

Your thighs are still trembling, your breathing uneven. You hardly have the energy to slide off of the strap, so you settle for holding onto Paige, tucking your head into the crook of her neck where sweat glistens and the lingering scent of her cologne remains. You shift, feeling the soaked comforter beneath both of you. It’s enough to make you groan.

But then Paige is shifting, too, the strap brushing against a spot inside you that punches a moan out of you. You don’t have to look up to know she’s smirking. “Chill,” you admonish, your body still sizzling. You don’t know how she still has the energy and the stamina to go after she just turned you inside out, but she moves her hips again, on purpose this time, and the heat coiling in your belly returns tenfold. “You’re insatiable.”

“Look who’s in my bed,” she says as if it explains everything. You just shake your head, amused by her. Paige’s fingers trail down your sides, brushing against your skin while she presses featherlight kisses to your temple, your cheeks, the hinge of your jaw. “Know you’ve got one more for me, don’t you?”

You can’t find the words, but you don’t need to. You grab onto her chain – mostly to hold her in place, and you kiss her – deep, lingering, soft despite the moment prior. She grins against you, sliding the strap out as she maneuvers you. The emptiness makes you sigh, but the shift doesn’t take long. She angles you until you can see your bodies in the mirror across her room, your breath catching at the insinuation.

You watch through the mirror as she reaches for the cowboy hat again, settling it over her messy curls. Her smile is determined – like she’s not quite satisfied, not content with the two orgasms she’d pulled from you; ravenous like she can’t wait to have you again. It shouldn’t turn you on like it does, but the flame is licking at you once more and you can’t help but succumb to the fire.

She wraps her right arm around your waist, pulling you up to a kneeling position while she settles in behind you. The strap brushes against you. The sensitivity makes you jolt, but Paige soothes you with a hushed murmur, her hand pressing against your stomach and keeping you tethered. “Want you to watch,” she whispers in your ear. Her right hand abandons your waist to hold you by the jaw, gently tilting your head up until you make eye contact through the mirror.

You’re rendered breathless by the sight – Paige’s body eclipsing yours, the hickeys adorning your skin, the slick between your thighs that shines from the lamplight. Paige isn’t much better, either. Her hair is a mess, the hat on her head skewed to the side, her neck littered with your teeth marks, skin shining from exertion. For stability, you hold onto the arm that’s wrapped tightly around you, pushing back against the strap.

“Can you do that for me?” she asks, pushing her hips forward, dragging through your folds. You nod quickly, letting out a soft whine when the tip of the strap catches your sensitive clit. “Keep your eyes on me or I’ll stop.”

“I will, Paige, promise – just…please–”

She hushes you again, kissing your neck. “I got you, baby. Relax for me, okay? Gonna give it to you. Just need you to be good for me.” You nod again, melting into her body, and with the hand not holding you upright, she guides the strap to your entrance. You moan softly as she slides inside with little resistance, bottoming out as she murmurs, “That’s it, perfect girl. You take me so well.”

You can’t muster the words to respond to that, so you lean your head on hers when she drags the strap out, then pushes back in with a devastating slowness that you feel throughout your entire body. Your body is still buzzing with oversensitivity, but the slowness of her thrusts helps to ground you.

She glances up to the mirror to ensure you’re still looking at her – which you are, enraptured and unable to look away – before she trails her lips down your neck, pressing gentle, wet kisses to your overheated skin.

She’s softer now. Soft in a way that makes you clench around the strap breathlessly, tilting your head to give her more access to your neck. She recognizes that it won’t take much to build you up again, more focused on making sure you enjoy every second – every motion, every push and pull of the strap. Paige plants a kiss on every hickey she’d left on your body, her actions borderline reverent in a way that makes you want to come for her again and again and again.

With one arm still wrapped around your chest, holding onto your jaw, the other wraps around your hips, holding you by the stomach.

Unable to look away, you tighten your grip on her arms, trying not to fall apart too soon. Your stomach coils, already close, but Paige moves slowly, her thrusts hitting deep, and you’re all too content to float along the current of pleasure. Her lips still ghost across your body, licking the salt off of your skin, pressing gentle apologies to the dark spots on your neck.

“You want more, mama?” she murmurs in your ear, a gentle check in despite the question. You hardly have to think about it before you nod. With the hand braced over hers, you drag her left hand down, her fingers finding your clit with ease.

She doesn’t apply much pressure, just enough for you to feel it without overpowering the sensations. You don’t let go either, guiding her motions, moving it further down to gather more of your slick before bringing it back up to circle your clit.

The slide makes it impossibly sweeter – she tightens her circles, pushing deeper inside you with the strap, the tip brushing against the spongy spot inside of you that makes you keen.

Paige doesn’t slow. She doesn’t speed up. She keeps her pace deliciously consistent, the strap dragging in and out of you deliberately, her fingers working you up in tandem.

Her free hand keeps your gaze locked on the mirror, watching her as she kisses your neck, the shell of your ear, listening to her breath heavily as if she’s feeling everything you are, too. That thought alone makes your hips stutter, pressing back into her.

She soothes you with gentle whispers. “So good for me, baby,” she’d say, or she’d time the circling of your clit with a deeper thrust, murmuring, “You feel me? Want you to feel good.” And the stupid hat makes you unravel a little bit more – it hangs off of her head loosely, threatening to fall at any moment, but all you can think about is how you rode her wearing her hat, how she claimed you in the club and how she made you fall apart wearing something with her name on it. You’re hers now, and honestly, you don’t hate that idea.

It doesn’t take much longer before your eyes are slipping shut, confessing, “Close, P,” in a hoarse voice. The sensations are overwhelming – her hot skin pressed against yours, the strap sliding through you and hitting spots you’d never knew existed, the maddening feeling of her thumb against your clit, her breathing against your ear, the pounding of her heartbeat against your back revealing just how close she is to falling apart, too.

“Okay, baby,” she whispers, her motions never slowing, kissing your neck again. But she presses her fingers a little more firmly to your clit, her free hand tapping against your cheek to gather your attention.

Your eyes blink open, finding the mirror again, the ruined look on her face. She looks desperate – not to get off, but desperate to watch you get off. “Want you to watch yourself.” Her voice is a little broken, almost begging, and it makes your breath catch in your throat. “You look so pretty when you come for me, you know that? Wanna watch you do it over and over and over again.”

“Paige,” you gasp, the sound coming out like a half-sob, half-whine, the pleasure building and the heat coiling.

But she hardly hears you, her eyes glazed over and pussy drunk. Her jaw hangs slack like she’s the one being fucked, her breathing uneven and heavy. “You feel so good,” she rambles. “Like you were made just for me. Can’t get enough of you. Please, mama, wanna see you fall apart for me. You’re so good, so fucking perfect–”

The coil snaps, white hot pleasure coursing through your veins, electricity down your spine, and all you can do is sag back into her one final time, moans tumbling from your lips while she works you through the aftershocks.

Her hips and her fingers slow, murmuring incoherent sentences into your ear, her words dripping in both gratitude and a satiated desire like watching you get off finally quenched a thirst she’s been harboring for years.

You don’t have to say anything, either – it’s like she knows your body by heart now. Gingerly, she slips the strap out of your soaked cunt and detaches her fingers from your sensitive clit. As much as you’d love to feel her skin against yours, her hips dragging against yours, you can barely keep your eyes open. The final aftershocks dissipate, your thighs calming, the pleasurable fog in your brain clearing.

“You still with me?” she asks softly, smoothing the hair at the crown of your head with her clean hand.

At that, all you can do is muster a laugh, your eyes opening blearily. “Yeah,” you say, “no thanks to you, though.”

“Hmm,” she scoffs, amusement in her eyes. “Coulda sworn this was exactly what you wanted. You know, open legs and all.”

“Alright,” you deadpan, attempting to roll on your side, but you can’t summon the strength. You settle for some weird half angle that’s hardly worth the drama of the moment. “Goodnight!”

“No way,” Paige laughs. “C’mon. I need you awake. Lemme run you a bath and change these sheets so you can rest, okay? You good with that?”

You meet her eyes again, your smile softening at the gentle earnestness on her face. If she hadn’t already ruined you before, you’re sure you are now. But there’s something in her eyes that promises this might not be a one night thing after all. “Yeah,” you whisper, drawing her closer to plant a chaste, affectionate kiss to her lips. You feel her grin. “You’re gonna have to carry me, though.”

“Whatever you want, baby,” she assures you, crawling off the bed and unbuckling the harness on her hips. She throws it haphazardly into the adjacent bathroom and you try not to laugh when something clatters to the floor. Paige picks you up with ease, one arm looping under your knees and the other wrapping around your back. She sets you on the edge of the tub as she heats up the water, helping you into it gingerly and tossing in a eucalyptus bath bomb for your aches. Before she leaves to swap the sheets, she plants a soft kiss onto your forehead.

You soak for a few moments until she returns, offering you a small smile before she slips in behind you. Her body is almost as warm as the water and twice as soft. She massages the shampoo and conditioner into your hair and jokingly points out her assault on your neck with a mixture of pride and concern. You tell her she’ll have to buy your concealer in bulk but when she murmurs, “As long as I get to see you again,” you find that you don’t really care about the marks on your neck as long as you get to keep this annoyingly charming, devastatingly beautiful athlete in your life.

Paige helps you out of the tub, your eyes drooping once more, dressing you in a pair of her boxers and an oversized t-shirt from her college days. She guides you back to bed gingerly, the sheets fresh and clean, and you have your head on her chest before she’s even got her head on the pillow. She grins because it doesn’t bother her at all. You smile because her heart’s pounding and you think you know why it is.

Just before you fall into a blissful, exhausted sleep, Paige’s voice cuts through the fog once more. “About that offer,” she whispers, tapping on the leg you have slung across hers. “Does it expire?”

She jokes, but you can hear the truth of her question beyond it. She’s not referring to your legs. Not literally.

Your smile is tired, but it’s no less affectionate. “For you?” you echo, drowsiness lacing your tone. “No. It’s renewable.”

“How long?”

You’re quiet for a beat, just enough to consider your words.

Is this something you want? Relationships can be hard. Tricky. But something about Paige tells you she’s in for the ride. That you can trust her – with you and your heart.

So you press a kiss to the hinge of her jaw, feeling her cheeks stretch with a smile, and you make her a promise:

“As long as you want.”

[throatgoat4u]

i heard @bernardsbendystraws requested more fluff 🙈...

blanket hogger

in which... matt keeps hogging the blanket

a/n: i had this in my drafts and never finished this so it gave me an excuse to actually finish. i also have ALOT of unfinished fluff so if ya'll are interested, let me know. kinda definitely not proofread so please don't come at me for grammar mistakes cause proofreading is so boring. enjoy!

toodles sluts :)

you were lying in bed next to matt, both of you mindlessly watching your phones, the silence comfortable between you. it was your little “unwinding” time—a moment where words weren’t necessary. just the simple, shared presence of each other was enough. that was the beauty of it, really. there was no pressure to fill the silence, just the quiet hum of being together without needing to say a word.

it started off small—hell, you didn’t even notice it at first. matt shifted onto his side, causing the blanket to inch toward him. no biggie, though—it wasn’t the end of the world. then, matt pulled the blanket just a little more. this time, you looked away from your phone and glanced at him for a moment. but since you still had plenty of blanket left, you didn’t think much of it and went back to watching your show.

matt kept shifting, trying to find a comfortable position, and with each movement, the blanket inched closer to him. this time, it started creeping up the bed. you still had some blanket left, but the sheets were starting to peek through now. you chose to ignore it—it wasn’t a big deal yet.  but then, matt pulled the blanket just a little more, barely enough for you to notice. you glanced over, raising an eyebrow, but he was already half-turned, unaware.

you tugged the blanket back to your side, but matt didn’t even flinch. he’d clearly made himself comfortable. the blanket now was practically wrapped around him, leaving you with just a sliver of fabric. the air on your side felt cooler, and you sighed dramatically, pretending you weren’t bothered.

"seriously?" you muttered under your breath, eyes flicking over to him. he didn’t respond, just continued to scroll on his phone like nothing had happened. 

you hesitated for a moment, considering your options. maybe it wasn’t a big deal. but then, the cold hit you again, and with a dramatic roll of your eyes, you gave the blanket another sharp tug, trying to reclaim some territory.

matt immediately shot up, his eyes locking with yours as he yanked the blanket completely off your side. you sat there, mouth agape, staring at him in disbelief. you’d only taken back a decent portion, but it wasn’t like you’d claimed all of his side. you were still his side, technically.

“matt, what the fuck?!” you exclaimed, scrambling to pull the blanket back toward you.

he shot you a glare so sharp it could’ve cut glass, the kind that said he meant business. without a second thought, he tugged the blanket back towards himself, clearly determined to win this ridiculous battle.

“matt, come on,” you whined, grabbing the blanket again, “i don’t have any blanket. stop being difficult.” you pulled harder, now tugging it back to your side with more force.

“you’re not even cold,” he shot back, his voice muffled by the blanket as he kept it tightly to his chest, clearly refusing to let go.

"i’m not cold, i’m just being reasonable!" you argued, pulling the blanket a little harder this time, but he was already half-wrapped up in it, practically cocooned.

“that’s not how blankets work,” he said, shooting you a mischievous grin as he tugged it even further towards him.

you rolled your eyes, a smile tugging at the corner of your lips despite the tension. it was hard to stay mad when he was being this ridiculous. still, you weren’t giving up.

“you’re impossible, you know that?” you huffed, but you didn’t let go of the blanket.

“i know,” he said, his grin never wavering. he was enjoying this way too much. at this point, it felt like you were both caught in an absurd game of tug-of-war. you pulled the blanket toward you, and matt yanked it back, both of you firmly holding your ground. the blanket was caught in the middle, stretched between you, taut with the effort you were both putting into it.

“seriously?” you muttered, pulling harder, your muscles straining slightly. “i'm not giving up that easily.”

matt didn’t even budge, his grip unshakable. “you know,” he said, voice dripping with amusement, “it would be best to just give up at this point. we both know i’m stronger.”

you shot him a look, a mix of disbelief and defiance. “oh, really? is that so?” you tugged again, this time a bit more forcefully, but matt didn’t even flinch.

“mmhm,” he hummed, clearly enjoying the power struggle. “you’re just wasting your energy.”

“you’re insufferable,” you grumbled, not giving up. the blanket was just within your reach, but with every pull, matt countered with an even stronger grip.

you could see the smugness in his eyes as he leaned back, his body practically falling into the bed, using his weight to his advantage. “you can try all you want, but i’m not letting go. it's mine now."

you thought for a moment, the gears in your head turning. then, it hit you—he was pulling the blanket so hard that if you just let go... well, that’s exactly what you did.

“you know what, you’re right,” you said, feigning surrender.

without warning, you released your grip, and matt, completely unprepared for your sudden move, was pulled off the bed by the force of his own tug. the blanket, now free, landed on top of him in a heap, completely covering him from head to toe.

you couldn’t hold it in. you burst into uncontrollable giggles at the sight of your boyfriend, now a bundle of blanket with just his flailing limbs visible underneath.

"oh my god," you said between laughs, "look at you!"

matt’s voice muffled from beneath the blanket, a mix of confusion and frustration. "this isn’t funny! help me out!" he grumbled, but you only laughed harder, the image of him struggling to get free too good to ignore.

he wiggled around, clearly trying to find his way out, but the blanket was tangled around him so tightly, it was like he’d become a human burrito.

“i can’t breathe in here!” he finally shouted, though his words were more muffled than anything.

you, still giggling, leaned over and helped him out of the blanket, but not before teasing, “see? i told you i’d win."

“yeah, yeah, whatever,” matt grumbled, his voice playful yet tinged with mock annoyance. he shot you a look, and for a moment, neither of you moved. then, without warning, he unraveled himself from the blanket and lunged toward you.

before you could even register what was happening, he tackled you, pulling the blanket around both of you in a tight, fluffy cocoon. you yelped in surprise as he rolled you both onto the bed, his arms wrapping the blanket around you like a burrito.

“matt, what are you doing?!” you exclaimed, laughing uncontrollably, your voice muffled by the sudden warmth of the blanket.

“i thought you were cold, sweetheart,” he said mischievously, his voice teasing as he tightened the blanket around you both. “just tryna warm you up.”

you wiggled around in the blanket, now trapped between matt’s arms and the soft fabric, still giggling at how ridiculous the situation had become. “you’re insane,” you managed between laughs, your face flushed from both the struggle and the laughter.

“i know,” he said with a grin, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead before holding you snugly in the blanket. “but you love me anyway.”

“unfortunately,” you replied with a dramatic sigh, though you snuggled into him, the warmth of the blanket and the even warmer feeling of his embrace making you feel safe and happy. you couldn’t help but smile.

he held you for a moment longer, your laughter fading into content sighs, the two of you wrapped up in the blanket, completely at ease in each other’s arms.

© throatgoat4u

dividers: @bernardsbendystraws

[anonity]

SOMEONE BETTER -- oneshot

been gone for a min for a last min road trip w/ friends for new years :) happy 2025! had this in my drafts after watching the paige ep on flau’jaes podcast

WC: ~1200 summary: paige catches you and your saved basketball edits

the amount of paige edits that popped up on your for-you-page was diabolical. especially considering she was your roommate.

you were waiting for her to return from practice, feet kicked up on the coffee table of your apartment, when the first of the day came up.

originally, you’d justified your ever-growing collection of edits as hype-videos: something you could scroll through before paige’s games to get you in the right mood. for a while, that checked out – you only saved her highlights, quick moving graphics with smooth transitions.

but then it had quickly devolved into what can only be described as an obsessive fan folder, filled with edits so thirsty you think you would actually combust if anyone saw them, let alone paige.

it was bound to happen.

you continued watching edits when the door opened, kept scrolling when it closed, and carried on even as paige leaned curiously on the kitchen counter. its not like she would know who you were watching – hell, you had juju watkins videos coming up on your page every couple days, too. 

this arrangement had worked perfectly for you for months. you got to indulge in your quietest delusions, and your best-friend-turned-roommate could continue on none the wiser. 

until her voice rang out clearly from your phone. you would’ve played it off, really, said it was an interview clip or something, had her voice not immediately been followed by the “or nah” audio. 

mortified did not even begin to describe the feeling clawing into your throat.

you scrolled impossibly fast and began praying. maybe she hadn’t been paying attention. maybe she wasn’t even in the kitchen anymore. maybe you’d imagined the entire thing and paige wasn’t even real and this was all some kind of awful dream you’d wake up from in 3, 2, 1…

“whatcha watchin’?”

you think your soul has left your body. 

paige is sauntering over and looking very smug. you’re wondering how fast you can make it from the couch to the balcony. 

“an interview,” you try anyway, despite the fact that not a single interview in the history of basketball has ever included fucking ty dolla sign.

paige smirks, leaning over the back of the couch. her breath tickles the top of your head and you shiver despite yourself, eyes trained on the tiktok now repeating on your phone – one of those orange muppet videos (pepe? is he supposed to be a shrimp?) stuck on the first slide. really, if it weren’t for the horrors of your current situation, you would find the irony funny. if you survived this event, maybe you would make one. you can see it now. “i’m watching edits of my roommate – my roommate walks in – i have to defend myself to my roommate –” i have to defend myself to my roommate.

“which interview?”

“umm,” you say, eloquently. you can’t think past your orange muppet spiral. “overwatch?”

paige laughs, a noise that distracts you long enough for her to yank your phone away. “overtime?”

shit.

you can barely get out a disdained “paige!” before you hear the audio repeating again. would a fall from the third floor kill you? is it still considered a fall if you jump?

you stop lunging for your phone – maybe you can just play it cool. who cares if theres a paige edit on your FYP? it's only weird if you make it weird. “you act like those don’t pop up on your for you page too.” 

paige shushes you, biting her cheeks in mock-seriousness. she shushes you! the nerve! if you weren’t so mortified you would argue with her! 

but you are mortified, and so you stay quiet.  the silence stretches on and on until your phone also goes silent. the apartment's heating unit is suddenly very loud, and for once you aren’t irritated at the noise – instead, you just think of how much you will actually miss your loud heating unit once paige processes the situation and kicks you out of your apartment in the dead of winter. 

you think it can’t get any worse, until another audio starts playing and a self-satisfied grin stretches across paiges face. “you have like 70 videos in here.”

somebody kill me.

the original silence is filled with mr. lover lover, and there is absolutely no way you can “it’s for the hype” your way out of this. she continues scrolling. you stare helplessly at the floor. after what you can only guess is six or seven incriminating edits, she pauses, her jaw clenching inexplicably. here it comes. 'get out of my apartment' – 'i can’t look at you the same anymore'. you’re so cooked. fried, even.

“whatchu got caitlin saved in here for?”

what?

you must’ve voiced that thought out loud, because she responds. “you got a thing for iowa players too?”

your brows furrow. this was not the direction you thought this would be going in. instead, theres an edge cutting through paige’s words that you can’t quite place. is she still pissed? you let out a nervous laugh. “relax, paige, it’s not like i’m making wedding plans with her.”

paige stiffens. “it’s enough for a save-the-date.”

“paige, it’s like a 30 to 1 ratio.”

“yeah, our points ratio is 30:1 too.”

what the hell? first of all, you watch enough basketball to know that's not true. second of all, again, what the hell? 

“i mean, it’s fine, i get it.” paige shrugs, suddenly uninterested in your phone. she tosses it on the couch and you (slowly) slip it into your pocket before she can change her mind. “i just think it’s funny you watch her when you literally live with someone better.”

“better at what?” paige splutters. “basketball.” 

suddenly, it clicks. you sit, quiet, stunned for a second. “paige, if i didn’t know any better i’d say you sound jealous.”

“it’s not jealousy! it’s.. like, respect.” paige gestures wildly, and you’d almost believe her if there wasn’t a flush creeping up her neck.  you raise a brow. “respect?” “we share a netflix account! and you’re saving edits of my competition!” “you’re totally jealous.” 

paige looks cornered, backing towards the kitchen. her gaze falls to the floor. “i just think, like, i dunno – i just think i care about you and i’m right here and you’re saving edits of caitlin freakin’ clark.”

you can’t help the laugh that escapes, the absurdity of this situation catching up to you. somewhere in the back of your mind, you see the orange muppet again. 

“what’s so funny?”

“you’re just –” you take a deep breath. “i can’t believe your jealous over a caitlin clark edit. you act like we’re together or something.”

“maybe i wanna be.”

paige freezes. you freeze. the heater kicks off. you're moving before you can think about it, standing in front of her. her eyes stay trained to the floor.

“i’m sorry. i just – you drive me crazy.”

“you say that like it’s a bad thing.”

she finally glances up, a smile cracking. “it’s not.”

“then what are you gonna do about it?”

her hand is on your jawline in an instant, and the nervousness bubbling in your chest is finally cut off with her lips on yours. when you pull away, she’s grinning.

“30:1 edit ratio, huh?”

your face heats, and you push your head against her chest. “not funny, paige.”

“i’ll make a new folder for you – poor decisions, filled with caitlin clark edits.”

"alright that's enough."

[lilliezzzzz-fics]

Voicemails [Unsent]

pairing: lando norris x reader author's note: uh. okay. hi! for starters, this is intended lowercase. unusual for me, all prim and proper with my writing or whatever, but yeah! idk! i was scrolling through a prompt list and saw voicemail and thought, huh! this! seems fun to write! so i did, and here we are. enjoy! (no use of y/n as always) tags: full smau. established relationship. text through voicemail and lando only. a little angsty!! warnings: none(?) word count: 1.1k

liked by f1, and 1.5M others lando some start ay

user444 let’s go!!! this is ur year!!! ↳ user414 this is his year fr!!!

mclarenauto what a start to the season 🧡 user33 killed it man! amazing quadrant honestly what a drive

You have 2 new voicemail(s)! 1 - [deleted] 2 - from: lando ❤

Transcript of voicemail from: lando ❤ | 1:31

> is- is this thing going? yeah— yeah, okay. hi baby! i know it’s late for you. i’m sorry— really, i just… yeah. no, i miss you. shit, this is really hard—isn’t it? awkward laugh, rustling. anyway. sorry. i won today in australia! it’s probably the first thing you’ll see when you wake up, anyway, with how much you try to keep up with my work. thank you for that, by the way. it means a lot, what—with how busy you are? work and studying and shit. thank you, really. i- i think i even looked for you in the crowd. rustling, heavy breathing. i’m- uh, i’m in bed, at the hotel? i don’t know.. uh, it’s really weird not sleeping next to you. feeling this happy—celebrating without you. i miss the soft smile you give me when you’re at the verge of sleep and you just listen to me ramble. i’m rambling now, aren’t i? laughs. god, i’m sorry, baby. anyway—i really, really fucking miss you. it’s- uh- it’s late for me now, too. not as late as it is for you, but like. i think my trainer’ll get mad if i don’t go to sleep soon. uh- but, call me back? or, send me a message, when you can. i love you to the moon and the stars and forevermore, baby. good night.

<voicemail ended.>

liked by oscarpiastri and 587K others lando nice double podium for us, proud of everyone. we’ll keep moving forward.

quadrant 🤜🤛 user444 so proud of u lando! mclarenauto amazing race team

You’ve got 1 new voicemail(s)! 1 - from: lando ❤

Transcript of voicemail from: lando ❤ | 1:39

> short pause. heavy, shuddering breathing. i miss you so much. fuck. fuck! i miss you, baby. like, so much. so, so much. i said that already, but… today was—oh, today wasn’t easy. wavering laugh. sniffling. shit—i’m, i’m fine. i just… it’s so hard. i didn’t— i didn’t think i’d miss you this much. it’s like… it’s like there’s this ghost of you just lingering, but you’re never really there. i’m gonna be honest— pause. shifting, rustling. —today was hard. like, really fucking hard. it was a double podium, at least, but… i, i don’t know. it was just so hard. big inhale. exhale. you know, i thought i could get a hold of you. i really wish i could get a hold of you. i really need you, baby. need to hear your voice. shit! i’m—i’m sorry. i just— you said we’d talk more. you- you said… that, that you’d try to get a hold of me. i know you’re busy—god, i’m being really selfish right now.. fuck, sorry, baby. just— call me back? please. i… i love you, to the moon and the stars, and forevermore. call me back.

<voicemail ended.>

Voicemails <Unsent Draft>

Transcript of <Unsent Draft> | 1:09

> short pause. light breathing. i… i don’t know what the hell i’m doing, man. it's like you're haunting me. i saw a fucking—i saw a seashell, and i thought of you. the stupid kind you'd always pick up, even when it was cracked, and you'd say it looked like a heart... it’s like— it’s like i keep seeing you everywhere, just running and running—and i just let you. is that— is that fair? is that what love is supposed to feel like? because baby, i’m tired. so fucking tired of running after you. pause. harsh breathing. i’m sorry. i didn’t mean that.  i- i don’t want to fight. i just want you. here, with me. long pause. rain starts to pour. light. …i’m not sending this.

You’ve got 1 missed call.

Call with lando ❤ ended after 27m

2 new notifications!

snapchat • lando <3 • 13:06 sent you a snap!

snapchat • lando <3 • 13:14 sent you a snap!

You’ve got 1 new voicemail! 1 - from: lando ❤

Transcript of voicemail from: lando ❤ | 1:50

> hi baby, it’s me again. i’ve been calling a lot. i’m sorry. soft rustling. light crackles. static. i’ve… i’ve been thinking about you. like, a lot. i’m sure you saw—with the snaps i sent. soft laugh. low yawn. i hope you didn’t mind. i— i know we talked a little. i’m glad. but— it’s still not the same. i don’t get to hear you rant about your day and your work and studies. i don’t hear your rambling about that one thing you keep thinking about— quick pause. —some series? i don’t quite remember. fuck. sorry. pause. gentle breathing. you know, i told oscar a joke. one that i’d tell you, right? and— and he laughed… but like he was being polite. like he didn’t get it. like you would. he laughed, but not in the way you do. soft breathing. a barely audible gulp. not in the way you do. you know, with your smile, and your eye crinkling. like i’m the funniest man in the world! low laugh. i sleep, uh… i sleep on the right side of the bed. your side is always cold. i hate the cold. low pause. uh, sorry. uhm… i miss you, baby. as always, i love you… to the moon, and the stars, and forevermore. pause. crackling. clicking, tapping on his phone. bye.

<voicemail ended.>

lando <3 posted on their private story!

You’ve got 1 new voicemail(s)!  1 - from: lando ❤

Transcript of voicemail from: lando ❤ | 0:53

> long pause. quiet hum in the background. okay, baby. i miiight’ve done something. after— after our talk yesterday, i decided that i will book a flight. home. pause. soft breathing. i— i know, that uhm… that i should’ve told you beforehand, but… i hope you don’t mind. but i’ll finally— finally, get to see you again. get to hear your voice again— and no, your voice through phone isn’t the same. too staticy. not warm enough. laugh. i’m landing in like an hour, but… i’ve got the keys to our house. in case you hear this before i get there, keep the light on for me? soft giggle. i love you baby, to the moon and the stars, and forevermore. see you soon.

<voicemail ended.>

©lilliezzzzz-fics: please don't copy or distribute my work on any platform

credits: @/cafekitsune for the dividers <3

author's note: this one was a little different! abrupt end too lol,,, hope u liked it though!! lando is so fun to write tbh

taglist: @toodeepintofandoms @milessunflowers

[hearts4chriss]

𝑻𝒉𝒂𝒕𝒔 𝒎𝒚 𝒈𝒊𝒓𝒍.

𝐉𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐬!𝐁𝐒𝐅! 𝐂𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐬 𝐱 𝐂𝐥𝐮𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬!𝐏𝐎𝐂 𝐛𝐬𝐟

prompt by this request: "chris getting jealous bc his bsf seems flirty with matt so he confesses his feelings and it ends with smuttttt”

contains: HELLA SMUTTT, Chris confessing his feelings, mad jealous Chris, dom!chris, suggestive, “flirting” w Matt??, Chris and yours first kiss, choking, spanking, degrading names (slut, whore yktv), MUCH dumification, use of pet names (mama, baby, sweetheart, good girl, pretty girl, sweet girl ), stomach bulge!, flashbacks of Chris fantasizing about you, overstimulation, cream pie, squirting, Chris having a massive cock obviously, missionary, slight m!oral, aftercare as always!! Heavy ( bath tg, praising, concerned!chris reassurance

a/n- this has been sitting in my drafts for a while so here it is

For years, since we were kids. I’ve always had a huge crush on my bestfriend.

I couldn’t get over her no matter how hard I tried and it grew more and more especially since she lives in LA now and we see her almost everyday.

It got worse. So bad. I needed her

I remember seeing her in an orange bikini complimenting her gorgeous features. The way the bottoms hugged her curves making her ass pop out was enough to make me finish in my pants.

She was gorgeous, I wanted to have her badly but it was Nearly impossible fo get her alone.

Especially with Matt around. It pissed me off when I’d see them laughing together or making tiktoks.

That’s my girl

I remember sitting in my room scrolling on instagram when I got the notification she posted on her story

Fuck she looked so good.

the way the grey shorts hugged her ass just how I liked, she looked so gorgeous too.

I, unintentionally started palming myself through my sweats.

I couldn’t help it she had such an affect on me.

I pulled my sweats down revealing my boxers with a wet spot where my tip was.

“Shit”. I groan pulling them down fully as my dick slapped against my stomach begging to be touched, wishing it was her hand and not mine.

I began to stroke myself with shaky hands imagining it was her lips wrapped around me and I throw my head back against the pillows as my mind wandered

She was irresistible, I had to have her.

We always had a flirty thing going on and I didn’t think it would get this far.

Until…

Today was on of those days where I was in the kitchen leaning on the counter drinking a Pepsi pretending to watch TV as I listen to her faint giggles as her and my fucking brother watched TV.

I felt my hand tighten around the can as I saw how close they were, knowing he didn’t like her but I didn’t care. I wanted her all too myself.

I sighed throwing my can out coming up with an idea to figure out a way to get her for me.

Matt and nick going to get food.

“hey Matt, wanna go get some food? Y/n likes this Chinese place it’s about an hour away, nick prob wants to go”. I say smiling with a cocky grin and he rolls his eyes.

“Okay fine I’ll be back in like 4 fucking hours nick let’s go!”. Matt tells and Nick comes downstairs.

“Y/n, you’re so lucky we love you”. Nick says sarcastically and they walk out the house but fuck something about the way Matt looked at her before he left just made me more pissed off.

“Chris?”. I stand up adjusting my shorts as the grey material rolled up my ass and my tank top hugged around my tits the watching Chris’s eyes wander.

“What the fuck are you trying to do to me”. Chris mutters into my ear, his hand wrapping around my neck and my breath hitches.

“W-what are you talking about?”. I shudder as his blue eyes pour into mine with an unhappy expression giving me a pity laugh.

“Flirting with my brother in front of me? Seriously?! Is it not obvious how much I want you?”. Chris confessed his nose touching mine making me gulp, my thighs closing together accidentally.

There was no doubt Chris was attractive but hell if I knew he liked me shit I’d probably let him fuck me or something.

“You? Want me?” I said slightly confused and utterly shocked and he takes a deep breath.

“you have no fucking idea how much I want you, and I have no problem showing him that your my girl”. Chris gave me a sly smile picking me up by my ass carrying me downstairs to his room.

“C-Chris wait-“. I was cut off by him kissing me and I melt into his touch. His hands grip my ass tighter making me gasp, his tongue massaging mine as I moan into the kiss.

“Strip”. He demands standing me up and I tilt my head. And he gives me those eyes and immediately comply beginning to peal of my clothes leaving me in a matching set of orange. Chris’s favourite colour.

“Fuck ma you look so pretty..all for me right?” He asks his hands playing with my bra strap making my panties dampen.

“Yes Chris- all for you”. I match his gaze and he smirked pushing me on the bed as I scooted back leaving him room to climb above me.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been wanting to fuck you”. Chris leaves a soft kiss to my cheek practically ripping my panties off me and I squirm.

“Chris! I liked those!”. I whine and he rolls his eyes pulling down his sweatpants and boxers in one movement and his thick, and painfully hard cock springs out hitting his stomach and my heart beat picks up

how the fuck was that supposed to fit inside me?

Chris took in my nervous expression and let out a soft laugh placing his hands on my thighs

“Spread ur legs for me”. He taps my legs and I spread them apart revealing my wet pussy, the arousal glistening on my inner thighs.

he runs a finger along my slit and I jolt slightly at the sudden sensation.

“shit- ur so wet, did i make you like this? Or was it my brother”. Chris asked tilting his head, his jawn clenched ans my breath hitched as he continued moving his finger.

“No answer? Guess I’ll fuck the answer out of you”. Chris pressed my legs against my chest before slamming his cock deep inside me, stretching me out painfully I almost couldn’t take it.

“f-fuck Chris! T-too much!”. I stutter trying to push his hand away but he quickly slaps it away, using my legs as leverage to begin pounding my inside me.

Chris didn’t give me time to adjust to his large size, tears already forming on my eyes from the pleasure.

“shit- your pussy feels so good, better than I’ve imagined”. He let out a deep groan watching how my pussy sucked him in, Chris’s hips driving into mine as I squint my eyes shut.

“Already becoming a mess on my cock? Should’ve kept matt here so he could see how much of slut you are for me”. Chris grips my neck angling his hips to thrust deeper and I squeal, my eyes meeting with his blues, an electric feeling shooting through me.

He wouldn’t let up his pace, his cock plunging into my tight hole as the pain turned to pleasure thankfully as my cunt morphed to fit his dick.

And Chris was fucking right, I was a slut for him and I has tried to hide it this whole time by being innocent and flirtatious with his brother but the second I was underneath him, I was begging for him to touch me

“Oh shitt- d-don’t stop- fuck”. I throw my head back on the soft pillows, moaning curses breathlessly, my tits bouncing with his quick and hard movements, bound to leave bruises between my thighs burning with sensation.

“mmph fuck- wasn’t planning on it pretty girl”. He moaned, completely infatuated with how I wrapped around him perfectly, like I was made for him. And shit- was he made for me.

She felt so good, almost as if her pussy and every thing about her was made for me.

I couldn’t get enough of her, the Moans and squeaks of my name leaving her swollen lips could’ve made me cum on the spot.

the way she could barley form a sentence as I fucked her, and I wasn’t even close to being done with her yet.

I was going to make sure she knew that she was mine, my fucking girl.

“Chris-you feel so good”. She moaned my name again, turning me on much more than it should’ve, the way her eyes barely opened, and how she’d bite her and stare at me grasping her breasts.

“yeah? you like when I fuck you dumb like this? Can’t even get a word out?”. I taunt, I gripped her neck tighter, her legs finding their way up on my shoulders crying out my name like it’s the only one she knew.

I couldn’t even answer, the things he were asking me required my full attention and shit- I was so far gone.

“I suggest you answer me ma because your about to to cum”. Chris presses his chest on mine, our noses touching as he breathed heavily into my mouth while I reciprocated the same action.

“mm-m I-fuck I-i love it”. I shudder on each word, praying he heard me because I really could not talk right now. I squeezed my eyes shut and he chuckled seeing how speechless he fucked.

“God I could listen to you like this all day”. Chris grunted into my ear as I felt the stomach coil I had began to burst unexpectedly from the overwhelming pleasure.

Chris made me squirt

“S-shit! I’m sorry I-“. I shook as the fluids made a mess over his lower stomach but gasping as he didn’t slow down.

“Never apologize that was hot as fuck- got one more in you?”. He pants resting his head on my shoulder quickening his pace and I whimper gripping his back.

“Oh god Chris- I-I can’t”. My nails run down his back making marks and he bites his bottom lip as I pulled him closer.

His hips pushing into mine, as my juices had coated his cock, leaking out of me creating a wet sensation of our sex.

“You can take it baby, being such a good girl, fuck just one more”. He let out a shaky moan throwing a my leg around his waist and I let out a loud moan at the angle Chris’s cock hit, brushing my g-spot.

“C-Chris ur so deep-“. I let out pornographic sounds and he gave me a deep kiss before pressing his hand where his dick was poking through.

his hand pressed down on the bulge in my stomach and I felt the tears run down my face from the overwhelming pleasure.

“that’s all me baby- fuck I love ur pussy so much-“. He stutters throwing his head as hair sticks to his forehead, the sight was more than appealing.

His slightly parted lips producing whimpers, curses and moans of my name. The way he squeezed my hips making sure I could feel every thick inch of him and the sweat coating over his body.

Her lips parted releasing pants and moans of my name and the occasional “fuck”, her hair now sweated out with hickeys along her neck and tits reminding her that she was mine now. The way her nails would grip my back drawing marks that showed how much she enjoyed it.

“Oh shit- ma- can I cum inside you? M’need you so bad-“. He moans into my neck and I shiver and chant yes’s.

Chris released his seed inside me triggering a second hard orgasm for me, creaming his dick as my body shook.

I turned my head to lay on the pillow before he could catch a glimpse of me, slowly sliding his cock out of me.

He took one look at me and his eyes immediately shifted to one of concern

“wait wait shit- did I hurt you?”. Chris started, seeing how my legs shook from the orgasm I just had.

“please talk to me”. He cupped my cheeks and I gave him a soft smile.

“I’m fine Chris that was- shit- the best sex I’ve ever had”. I let out a quiet sigh and a smirk tugged at his lips as he pulled me into a bridal style hold.

“Well come on let’s get you cleaned up, I wanna spend time with my girl”. He giggled like a child and I rolled my eyes as he carried me into the bathroom running a warm bath for both of us

“No seriously tho your okay?”. He said softly rubbing my shoulders as we soaked in the warm tub.

“Chris the way you put that dick on me I’m more than ok”. I kissed his cheek and his cheeks flushed a bit as he leaned back against the tub whilst I’m in his arms.

She’s really my girl.

@sturniolopowers @gdsvhtwa @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @worldlxvlys @chrisslut25 @princessbetsy123-blog @mattslolita @guccifrog @blahbel668 @mattsneezing @trickywritters @hearts4chriss @nonamegirlxsturniolo @luvmxtt @theyluv-meee @hoesformatt @luv4kozume-deactivated20240512 @kikisturnioloo @itzdarling @pepsiimaxx @babyddolly @iiheartstef @junnniiieee07 @vanteguccir @ast3ro1dzz @sturniolowhore @st7rnioioss @emma4eva @braindead4l @ihearttsyouu @kqyslyho3 @imaslut4kehlani @sturnsfav @sunsetsturniolos @sturniololoverr @gamermattsgf @lilyloveschris @dlyansworld @chrisloyalgf @soimightlikeoldmen69 @abbie13sworld @ineedchriscock @sturniol0s @chrissgirlsstuff @luhsexcbihh @nickgetsmewetter @rubyjaneaxx @love4chris

[cryoculus]

— TRACK 04: GUILTY ⟢

aidonia is in the rearview, and the future is yours to take. but as your connections with the band deepen further, you find yourself toeing across the boundaries of what should and shouldn't be.

★ featuring; mydei x f!reader

★ word count; 8.5k words

★ tags; rock band au, found family, hostile acquaintances to friends to lovers, grief/mourning, angst, slow burn, eventual smut

★ notes; hi <3 i was supposed to have this up on here yesterday, but real life got in the way and i completely forgot lol!! as always, thank you saur much for the reception of the previous chapters!! really warms my heart.

★ header art cr; sarhiyu on x & ig

TRACKLIST ✧ READ ON AO3

The signal came back sometime that evening.

First as a faint flicker of bars, then solid enough to get a call out. Aglaea stepped out to contact the label the moment she was able, her voice tight but professional as she recounted everything for the higher-ups back home. Power followed not long after, humming back to life in a blink that felt both underwhelming and miraculous. The flickering panic of the blackout gave way to a tired kind of normal.

The show in Aidonia was officially pulled. There was no way to reschedule when the roads are covered in snow, and fans were promised full refunds. Tribbios handled most of the damage control, coordinating with local venues and media to get ahead of speculation. Come morning, the snow had let up a little, but it was enough for you all to get a move on.

None of you talked about what had happened in Tribbios’ suite. 

By the time the tour bus rumbled back to life and pulled out from the frost-stiffed hotel parking lot, Aidonia was just another name in the tour itinerary. Missed, marked. and moved on from.

You’re at your usual corner at the back of the tour bus, laptop balanced on your knees, and a weak signal blinking in the corner of the screen. The heater hums low beneath the bench, a small mercy against the cold that still clings to your bones. Everyone else is scattered in their own little silences—some pretending to nap, others just staring out the foggy windows.

You scroll through the band’s shared cloud, mostly looking for something to keep your mind busy. A setlist doc, rough rehearsal footage, old draft folders with half-named files and outdated timestamps. It feels safe here, in the admin side of things. 

But then it finds you again.

That file.

Not only did the person who edited this retain your horrible spelling, but he made sure to change the file format just to mock you. For a moment, your eyes flicker towards the front, where you know Mydei is sitting. He’s got headphones on with his eyes shut, but something tells you he’s far from asleep.

You dismiss the file with a flick and a huff of breath, shutting your laptop and stuffing it back into your bag. Now’s not the time.

The air still feels cracked open in places, too raw and brittle to touch.

So you’re surprised when Cipher plops down beside you with a cup of something hot clutched in both hands and a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. She’s never been the awkward type. She grins through chaos, flirts with disaster like it’s her personal hobby, but right now she looks…uncertain.

“Hey,” she says, softly.

You glance over with a curious look, nodding in acknowledgement. 

She hesitates before speaking again, which is the second red flag. “I, uh… I wanted to say sorry. For what happened back at the hotel.”

“...To me?”

“Yeah.” Cipher fidgets, turning the mug in her hands. “I kind of…mentioned you like you were part of the problem. That’s not what I meant.” 

You don’t say anything just yet, letting your silence feel comfortable enough for her to keep talking.

“Being snowed in definitely fucked with my head, but... I was angry,” she admits quietly. “At Aglaea, the silence, the way we’ve all been pretending like we’re fine when we’re clearly not. But I shouldn’t have pulled you into that. You didn’t know about the whole rule, or whatever the hell it was.”

There’s a weight behind her voice that you’re not used to hearing. A sort of vulnerability that doesn’t dress itself up in sparkle or sarcasm.

You exhale, shifting your gaze to the window. “You didn’t pull me in. I was already there.”

Cipher nods slowly, biting the inside of her cheek. “Still. I made it sound like you were the reason no one talks about him. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

You meet her gaze, finally. “Neither did Hephaestion, did he?”

Her eyes flicker, like the name hits her in the chest and scrapes on the way down.

“No,” she whispers. “He didn’t. Not to us anyway.”

Her voice is raw, stripped of all the usual luster. “Heph was kind. Stupidly kind. Even when he was tired. Even when it cost him. I think… I think part of me got used to believing people like that can’t break.” She swallows. “But they do, and it was too late when we realized.”

The guilt in her voice bleeds out slow and quiet, like a wound that never fully closed. Suddenly there’s pressure building in your chest.

Because you remember watching Cipher from afar. Chaos incarnate. The one who lit up every stage like a sparkler burning at both ends. Back when you were just a shadow behind a screen, she felt untouchable—louder, brighter, too electric to hold. You used to think that if she ever cracked, she’d do it with a punchline. Keep smiling through the smoke.

But most of her fire was real.

Cipher was the first to congratulate you after your debut show. The one who stayed up late with you, noodling through some half-formed song you both knew was going nowhere. The one who knocked on your door in Dolos and dragged you out for a night you didn’t know you needed.

Now she’s here beside you in the low hum of a darkened tour bus, grief softening her edges.

No jokes. No glitter. All that lingers is ember after the flame.

The distance you once felt seems to be dissolving. All that noise between who she was to you then and who she is to you now... It narrows into something small and human. For once, you see her clearly. Not as a firework, but a person left blinking in the dark, once the sparks have all faded.

“I didn’t know him like you did,” you murmur. “But I wish I had.”

Cipher nods again. “Hephaestion would’ve liked you. He always liked people who gave a shit.”

Her words sting just a little.

Because you hadn’t given a shit, not at first—not about him. You’d been too focused on hiding. On keeping your past fan-life buried deep, sealed off from this new, shinier present where you weren’t some anonymous handle obsessing over a band, but a real part of it. 

Yet here she is. Trusting you with a piece of a story you were never meant to be part of.

You turn to her again, eyes soft. “Thanks. For telling me.”

Cipher exhales, nods, and leans her head back against the seat. Her eyes drift shut, but not in sleep, only silence.

You both sit there in the lull between storms, the road stretched long and uncertain ahead.

The bus pulls into a highway gas station just past noon.

No more snow. Only wet roads and gray slush melting under a pale, forgiving sun. Everyone seems to breathe a little easier.

Garmentmaker powers down the anxiety alerts. Phainon hums something tuneless under his breath while Castorice carefully picks out snacks. Even Mydei wanders off toward the drinks aisle without that usual tension in his shoulders. You grab a pack of potato chips, a drink, maybe something sweet. The fluorescent lights buzz overhead, and for a second, the world feels like it's unpaused.

Outside, Tribbios rounds everyone up.

She’s standing near one of the green plastic tables bolted to the pavement, paper bag in one hand, sunglasses pushed up on her head. Her voice cuts through the highway noise.

“Alright, gather up! I’ve spoken with Aglaea. We’re taking a detour.”

That gets everyone's attention as you all glance at her expectantly.

Tribbios continues, “Before we head to the next stop, we’re heading to a nearby town—small place, nothing fancy, but I made some calls. They’ve got a community center with an open recreation hall. We’re doing a little impromptu team-building.”

Groans ripple through the group, but she holds up a finger.

“Don’t even start. You don’t have to sing, you don’t have to play, you don’t even have to talk if you don’t want to. But we’re showing up. Together.”

Someone mutters, “Please say this doesn’t involve trust falls.”

She simply grins. “No trust falls. But it will be something grounding. The center’s hosting a lowkey open mic session. Locals only. No press breathing down our necks. No stage lighting that can render you clinically blind. It’s a place where we can remember how to be people again.”

A beat of quiet passes. Then Aglaea, still sipping coffee like it’s the only thing keeping her upright, gives a small, exhausted nod.

“Fine,” she says. “But we don’t stay long.”

Tribbios flashes a thumbs-up. “Three hours tops. Then we hit the road.”

The town’s only fifteen minutes off the highway, but it might as well be a different planet.

You’ve gotten used to glass towers and rhythmic traffic of bigger city states. Here, the buildings are squat and sun-faded, old bricks clinging to paint jobs from a decade ago. The roads curve softly around weathered homes and shuttered bakeries. Here, the trees aren’t ornamental. They simply grow.

Castorice leans over from her seat behind you, voice hushed. “Think we have fans out here?”

“If we do, they’re the kind that still burn CDs.” Cipher snorts, still sprawled across the aisle with a bag of marshmallow popcorn.

As the bus rolls deeper into the town, past the rusted gas pumps and schoolyard fences, something inside you twists. It’s not just the strangeness of being somewhere so quiet. It’s the fact that no one here seems to care who you are. Or what the hell just blew up back at in Aidonia.

It’s almost peaceful.

The recreation hall comes into view in seconds: wide, low-roofed, with flaking white paint and a notice board out front boasting yoga nights and bingo tournaments. The words COMMUNITY OPEN MIC are written in colorful marker on a taped-up sign by the door.

The bus slows. Someone stretches. Someone else yawns.

You clutch your jacket closer as you step off. The air smells like earth and trees. Like a place that doesn’t expect anything from you.

Maybe that’s exactly what you all need.

The floorboards creak beneath your boots as you step inside, worn lines from long-forgotten dodgeball games stretching across the scuffed wood. In the corner, someone strums an acoustic guitar, clumsy but heartfelt, the chords drifting lazily through the space. There’s coffee in paper cups, cookies stacked on fold-out tables, and someone’s grandmother knitting in the front row without sparing a glance toward the stage.

It’s far from glamorous. But in its own way, it’s charming.

Garmentmaker’s already unpacked their camera gear, moving with eerie, fluid precision between tables, adjusting tripods with a grace that makes even mundane angles look cinematic.

“Tribbios said this’ll make good ‘contrast material’ for the tour reel,” they say as they float past. “Aesthetic tag: Band Rebuilds in Rustic Amphoreus. Thoughts?”

You give a soft laugh. “You forgot emotionally devastated edition.”

Eventually, the band disperses. 

Phainon’s the first to strike up a conversation with a local, his easygoing charm folding neatly into the warmth of the room. Cipher, of course, is sampling cookies like it’s a formal competition. Castorice and Anaxa whisper over the sign-up clipboard, nudging each other toward it with half-hearted resistance. Mydei hangs back, still near the entrance, hands jammed in his pockets.

Then—Aglaea.

She’s at the edge of the room, looking wildly out of place in her pressed black slacks and blazer over a band tee. Her gaze is fixed on the wall of thank-you notes and photos tacked up near the old piano. She doesn’t see you approach, or maybe she pretends not to.

“Hey,” you say, quiet.

She doesn’t flinch. “This wasn’t part of the original plan.”

You nod. “Yeah, but maybe the original plan sucked.”

That gets the smallest twitch of her mouth. You stand beside her for a moment, both staring at the cluttered bulletin board like it’ll explain what the hell you’re supposed to do with all this—loss, tension, silence.

Then she murmurs, barely audible, “He’d have liked it here. Hephaestion. He was…always better with small rooms.”

You don’t say anything, but you give her an imperceptible nod.

The music pauses moments later. Tribbios claps twice from across the room, gathering the band like ducklings. “Alright, listen up!” she chirps, practically glowing under the twinkle lights. “Let’s make some magic today, shall we? Think of it as an emotional karaoke session with fewer regrets.”

She scans the group. Then her finger lands squarely on two people.

“Mydei. Diana. You’re first.”

It takes a second to register. Your name and his, spoken in the same breath, like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

You freeze. So does Mydei.

“Why us?” you blanche, sharp and stunned.

Tribbios simply grins. “I believe in symmetry.”

Cipher lets out a wolf-whistle. Castorice claps like someone just got engaged.

Mydei shifts his weight but doesn’t argue. He heads toward the stage with a slow, deliberate gait, the kind that buys him time. You trail behind with a skittering pulse. As you both climb the steps, your companion makes a move toward the mic stand until Phainon calls from where he’s leaning against the wall.

“Switch it up! Let Diana take the vocals, and get Mydei on the strings again.”

“Seconded,” Anaxa agrees with half a smirk. “We’re sick of hearing that bastard’s voice.” 

The small space erupts in quiet laughter from the rest of your bandmates, and the sound of it loosens the tension that’s been coiling around your ribs for days. You glance at Mydei, but he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he exhales through his nose, shoulders lifting in a subtle shrug. He takes the stool, and props the borrowed guitar on his lap without much thought.

The mic crackles as you touch it.

“Um, any requests?” you ask the room, a half-smile tugging at your lips.

One of the locals grins and shouts, “Surprise us!”

You stand there, trying to will your pulse to slow. The spotlight feels too hot, like it’s burning every thought and breath into sharp focus. Mydei, on the other hand, is already settled in. He adjusts the guitar with that casual precision you can never quite match, eyes scanning the room, and then, just as smoothly, he looks up at you.

“So,” he begins, fingers curling around the frets like they belong there. “How about we do workigntitledotmp3?”

Your stomach lurches. “Oh my god. Can you stop calling it that?” 

“Why? That’s what you named it.” He shrugs, like it’s no big deal. “I’ve listened to it on repeat a few times. Took a guess at the chord progression.”

You want the floor to swallow you whole. The laughter from earlier feels like it’s miles away now. Your palms sweat against the mic. While this is not the first time you’re hearing of Mydei’s knowledge about that stupid demo, finding out that he listened to it repeatedly is a different story. 

“Seriously?” you groan. “You’ve—?”

Mydei’s grin catches you off guard, like a rare sunrise breaking through clouds. 

“Come on. It’s your song, remember?” he says again, but the softness in his voice makes it feel like he’s not just coaxing you into playing. He’s handing you the moment, like he’s sharing a piece of his own truth.

That’s the worst part.

It is your song.  A relic from a night you couldn’t sleep, poured out like a secret. Now it’s here, about to be exposed under the stage lights and his fingertips.

Note to self: send that cursed file off to digital purgatory later. 

Seconds later, you nod. Just once.

Because what else is there to do, when someone hands your own heart back to you and asks you to sing?

The lights overhead hum faintly. Somewhere in the back, Cipher leans forward, popcorn paused midair. The mic is warm beneath your fingers, but your voice still catches in your throat. When Mydei plays the opening chord, your heart nearly stumbles.

He really did listen to it.

Then, your mouth opens before your fear can catch up.

 

I’m more than the silence I taught myself to keep A name behind glass, too careful to speak Built all these walls out of fear I’d break But a cage is a cage, no matter the shape

So let it fall, let it burn, let it echo inside Let the truth in my chest be the thing I don’t hide If I’m meant to shatter, then let it be loud— I’ve lived in the shadows, but I’m stepping out.

 

Mydei finds the rhythm quickly. It’s not flashy or polished. You can tell it’s been a while since he played something for himself, much less a song that barely existed until now. But each chord comes out steady, as if he’s anchoring the room to give you space to fly.

Your voice rises into the second verse, so much stronger now.

 

I wore my doubt like a second skin, Danced on the edge but never gave in. But I’m done with shrinking to make space for the storm, I’m not small—I’m a universe, still being formed.

So let it fall, let it burn, let it echo inside, Let the truth in my chest be the thing I don’t hide. If I’m meant to shatter, then let it be loud— I’ve lived in the shadows, but I’m stepping out.

 

You don’t dare look at him yet, even if you can feel Mydei beside you, catching every breath you take with the press of his fingertips against the strings. It’s like you're speaking in a language only the two of you know, and you don’t want to shatter the spell with a single glance.

 

I won’t apologize for the way I ignite, This voice was never made for staying quiet. I’m done pretending I don’t want more— My name’s not a whisper. It’s a roar.

 

The last chorus crests like a wave you’ve been chasing your whole life. Each word strikes clean and resolute, carried by the burn of Mydei’s guitar beneath you. He doesn’t push the melody. He just follows, like he’s always known where you were going.

Then, with no grand finale or perfect cadence, the song ends.

The weight of it settles around you like something earned. Your chest lifts with a breath you didn’t realize you’d held since the first note. Mydei sets the guitar down with care, a soft click of wood on wood. When he looks at you, you can still see the ghost of a smile beneath those warm, golden eyes. 

As the applause breaks, you realize this song never really belonged to you alone. It was always meant to be shared.

When you step down from the stage, neither of you says anything. But something passes between you anyway. It’s both quiet and electric, something that settles just beneath your skin.

You’re not sure if you want to give it a name. 

Up next on Tribbios’ itinerary is Cipher, who’s dragging a slightly reluctant Castorice behind her like it’s just another night in Dolos. They stumble through a sugary pop duet once they get around to it, giggling more than singing. Somehow, that only makes it better.

Phainon follows with a borrowed harmonica, joining a local girl in a surprisingly sweet back-and-forth that leaves the crowd swaying. Then comes Anaxa, half-speaking, half-singing a smoky story-song about highway ghosts and forgotten gods. It’s weird. But completely on-brand.

Even Aglaea steps up. Her song sounds like a long drive through rain. She doesn’t wait for applause when it ends, just walks off with her usual grace. Tribbios jumps in to lift the mood, belting a melodramatic power ballad and, halfway through, accepting a kazoo from a stranger like it’s a trumpet solo. 

During the interlude, your eyes catch on Cipher weaving around the stage, nervous energy radiating off her in waves. It’s the same jittery restlessness she had when she apologized to you on the tour bus. You start to wonder what’s got her wound up again, right up until she beelines for Aglaea with a tight-lipped smile.

You’re too far to hear their conversation, but the way their shoulders drop, the soft exhales, and the quick, relieved hug they share—it's enough to fill in the blanks.

Later, while the others finish a chaotic group cover of something vaguely punk and absolutely off-key, you settle into a folding chair with Garmentmaker’s tablet. You scroll: blurred mid-jump shots, wide grins, messy chords, fleeting glances.

But something makes you stop. 

It’s a photo of you and Mydei, taken just after the last note faded. He’s turned toward you in the soft wash of stage light, bangs framing the glow of his amber eyes. The look on his face is open in a way that feels rare. He isn’t smiling exactly, but neither are you. 

As you stare at the photo, something stirs deep in your chest. It feels like a sudden surge of warmth that spreads slowly, settling into the spaces that were waiting to be filled. Then your eyes lift to the scene before you: all the people who’ve welcomed you into this disaster of a band.

Loud and alive and indisputably yours.

Aidonia is behind you now, the snow, the silence, the fallout. Whatever waits on the next stage, the next road, the next night—

You’ll meet it like this.

Together.

[Original Tweet by @PulsePopDaily – now deleted]

EXCLUSIVE: Is The Flamechasers’ newest guitarist hiding a very devoted past? 👀

Fans are connecting dots between “Diana” and a once-mysterious mega fan who ran the largest account in the fandom. Full theory & receipts here 🔗 [link]

Top Replies:

@ GoldenDamselInDistress: y’all will accuse a girl of anything if she knows the setlist too well

@ NothingBurger123: not saying it's real but… that 2017 Tumblr post? uncanny

@ Hehehehehe: uhh am i the only one who thinks this is a red flag

@ GODNAXA: it’s giving Black Swan energy and I’m here for it

@ MydeisMic: okay but if it is her… that’s actually iconic??

Everyone is back in the game in no time. 

After that much-needed wind down, you play every song on the setlist with twice the confidence you had on the opening night. It doesn’t take a genius to know that your bandmates are faring much better now, as well. The next three stops fly by in a blur of sold-out crowds and perfect cues. Five weeks into the tour, you don’t just feel like you’re keeping up. 

You feel unstoppable.

Feedback from the label seems to be mostly positive. Aglaea finally looks less like she’s carrying the weight of the world and more like she’s just managing a band again. That’s partly thanks to Tribbios, who told Garmentmaker to force her into breaks the second her emotional readings dipped below a certain threshold. Still, no algorithm can fix burnout on its own. Aglaea only started breathing easier because the rest of you showed up and held the line.

The sixth stop is in Carmitis, a city cradled by pale green hills and washed in gold at dusk, where the horizon burns like molten steel when the sun begins to drop. You’ve never done a soundcheck half-dazed by the sky before, but there’s a first for everything.

When Tribbios told you this was Aglaea’s hometown, it made perfect sense. The place has her kind of presence—striking, composed, impossible to overlook. Not the type of beauty that sneaks up on you, but the kind that announces itself the moment it walks into a room. Just like her.

You can see that she’s at ease here. The band, too.

Everyone seems to know the local venue staff by name, and Aglaea makes a point of introducing you like you’ve always belonged. You try to wave her off, stammering that it really isn’t necessary, but she gives you a look that cuts through any excuse.

“Lest you forget,” she says, with that cool edge only she can pull off, “you’re part of the team too.”

For the better part of the evening, everything runs like clockwork. You tear through the setlist with your usual moxie, each note sharper than the last. But just as the final chords fade and you’re ready to launch into the closing act, the lights dim, and something unplanned flickers to life on the stage screen.

A surprise fan project.

None of you were briefed on this. Your bandmates exchange puzzled glances, clearly just as blindsided, eyes flicking toward the unfamiliar video rolling in front of a cheering crowd.

But when you spot Tribbios peeking out from backstage, she gives you a look that reads loud and clear: Just go with it.

The video fades in with a soft glow, met by an audible wave of surprise and delight from the crowd. Someone’s layered a slowed-down instrumental from the band’s debut single under the footage. It’s warm, nostalgic, full of reverb and care.

It opens with flickering clips of the band over the years: Cipher with shorter hair. Castorice clumsily adjusting her amp mid-show. A rare moment where Anaxa is the one laughing, and Phainon is mildly disgruntled.

Then comes a clip of Hephaestion. Larger-than-life as always, grinning wide as he throws his arm around Mydei mid-interview. The crowd cheers louder.

You’re not thrown off by it. You’d been a fan back then too. Before Diana, before the stage. Seeing Hephaestion on the screen doesn’t shake you. If anything, you find yourself smiling.

Part of you wonders if most of the fanbase has truly accepted you into this space yet. You know from experience how long fan projects take to put together—how they’re often in motion for months before they see the light of day. It wouldn't be unusual to find yourself absent from something like this, especially considering how much has changed in such a short time. You’d almost resolved to let the rest of the band have this moment, to simply smile and move on out of courtesy.

But then, the music shifts into a more upbeat track, the rhythm as infectious as you remember. The energy in the room pulses along with the song, and suddenly, newer clips start to flood the screen. More recent moments, clearly captured by someone who’s been woven into the band's orbit since the tour started.

There’s Mydei, grinning with the crew while setting up gear before the Okhema show. Phainon and Castorice, hilariously off-beat, attempting a terrible dance challenge onstage in Sabany. Anaxa with his mouth wide open in deep, oblivious sleep as Cipher tries and fails to drop a piece of chili into his mouth.

The crowd erupts in laughter, and it’s impossible not to smile. It’s so perfectly...them. These are the little moments between the chaos of shows, the kind that never make it into official footage but tell the real story of life on the road.

Then, there you are.

Your first show with the band. That solo where you leaned too far back and nearly toppled over—only to catch yourself at the last second, spinning the recovery into something that looked intentional. The crowd never knew, but they cheered like you meant it all along.

Then comes a slow pan: your silhouette framed in golden hour light during soundcheck in Dolos, fingers ghosting over frets as the stage hums beneath your boots.

Somehow, they even dug up a clip that moment. The one where you and Cipher are doubled over in laughter beside the tour bus, nearly wheezing, as Phainon mourns the tragic loss of his ice cream cone. The one knocked clean out of his hand by an oblivious Mydei, who still swears it wasn’t his fault.

You laugh at first. A soft, startled sound that slips out as the crowd roars with delight over Phainon’s theatrics. But as the next few clips play, the smile on your face starts to falter.

Because it isn’t just about the jokes or the spotlight.

They’re showing you.

Not just the polished moments, but the awkward starts—the missed notes, the way you used to grip the neck of your guitar like a lifeline. Candid flashes of quiet, caught when you thought no one was paying attention. The grit in your jaw when you pushed through another long rehearsal. The light in your face when the music took over and you forgot to hold anything back.

The way you kept showing up, not to prove anything, but because somewhere along the way, this stopped being a dream and started feeling like home.

Your eyes sting before you can stop it. One blink too long and the tears slip free, warm and fast. You try to laugh it off, to wipe at your cheeks, but your breath catches somewhere in your chest and refuses to come out steady.

Castorice is the first to notice. She nudges a hand into yours, fingers gentle and sure, like she’s grounding you without needing to be asked. Anaxa leans in from the other side, pretending not to look too directly at you, but the way he shifts his shoulder in front of yours feels like a shield.

You sniffle, try to hide behind the curtain of your hair, but it’s no use. 

The final montage begins to slow. The colors dim, the music softens to a hum. Then, across the screen in clean, glowing text, the last frame lingers:

Thank you for being our light in the dark.

The silence after the screen fades is thick with feeling. You can barely breathe past the lump in your throat. You don’t even try to wipe your tears anymore, but Anaxa begrudgingly pulls out a handkerchief from his tight leather pants for you to take. Of course, you blow your nose into it without a second thought. 

Just when the silence starts to feel like it might swallow you—

“Oh no,” Mydei says, with exaggerated gravity. “Looks like we’ve got a problem.”

You lift your head, just barely. The audience holds its breath with you.

“Our lead guitarist,” he goes on, pausing for effect, “is absolutely, completely inconsolable.”

Laughter ripples across the crowd, warm and easy. You hear a few awws sprinkled in. Someone yells, “We love you, Diana!”

You press a shaky hand over your mouth, a laugh escaping through the tears. Castorice squeezes your hand. Anaxa mutters, “You’re stealing the encore,” but his smile says he doesn’t mind.

Mydei walks over, unhurried and steady, his eyes locked on yours. He leans in just enough for his voice to reach you—low and private, meant for no one else.

Your brain short-circuits for a second.

Because, naturally, this is the show he decided to go shirtless. The stage lights catch the sweeping red tattoos that blaze across his chest and the curve of his arms, every line sharp and intentional. His torso looks sculpted—like something out of myth, all effortless strength and impossible detail.

And he’s looking at you.

“You feeling alright?” Mydei murmurs, his hand brushing lightly against your back.

You nod. Kind of. But the spot where he touches you burns even when he pulls away. 

“You sure?” Mydei tilts his head, smiling in that way that’s all quiet mischief and something gentler underneath. “I can tell them to roll the blooper reel next. That’d really finish you off.”

That makes you laugh for real. It’s breathless, a little cracked, but genuine.

He straightens up, raising his mic. “Alright, looks like we’re keeping the show after all. You ready for us?”

Once the heartfelt fan project wraps up, you deliver the last song for the evening. Your fingers move on their own, riding the music like a wave you were born to ride. The lights flare, the crowd sings louder than the amps, and for one breathless stretch of time, it feels like the universe exists only in this moment—sweat and sound and starlight.

Then the last note hits. Mydei throws his head back, letting the echo ring out as Phainon crashes the cymbals like a firework.

Silence, for just half a second before the crowd explodes.

People are on their feet, screaming, chanting, holding up phones and lightsticks and hand-painted banners. Some are crying. Some are laughing. But all of them are alive with the same wild current pulsing through your chest. You’re still catching your breath when Mydei turns to the crowd, hair clinging to his face, chest heaving.

“This—” he pants, gesturing to the sea of people, “This was one for the books.”

Castorice takes your hand. Cipher waves dramatically to the front row. Anaxa pulls off his jacket and throws it into the pit, because of course he does. Phainon lifts his sticks to the sky like he’s offering them to the gods. Mydei moves forward and you all fall into step with him.

“Carmitis, you’ve given us your voices, your hearts, your light. We’re gonna carry that with us to every stop ahead.”

The crowd screams back, thunderous and loving.

Then the band’s frontman turns to you with an unfamiliar glimmer in his eye, “Oh, and if you see our lead guitarist sobbing again, just know—it’s because you’re all too damn sweet.”

You cover your face, laughing into your hands as the others hoot and whistle and give you playful shoves.

Tribbios’ voice crackles through the earpieces. “Final bow, kids. Let’s make it good.”

And so you line up, shoulder to shoulder. Aglaea’s watching from the wing, her hand over her heart. Garmentmaker gives you a subtle thumbs-up from the lighting rig. Even the crew is beaming.

You all bow together. One movement, unified.

Something you wouldn’t trade for anything else in the world.

Backstage hums with movement. The kind of chaos that feels earned—high-fives from techs, congratulations from the venue crew, a water bottle pressed into your hand as someone passes. Your body’s still vibrating with leftover stage energy, but already you can feel it beginning to ebb, that delicate shift from performance to person, spotlight to shadow. 

The show’s just ended, your adrenaline still tapering off as you and the others trail toward the exit, weaving past venue staff and local press. The security detail usually handles this stretch well, keeping the band insulated from anything unscheduled. But tonight, someone slips through.

“Diana!” a voice calls, sharp and cutting through the din like a needle. “Is it true you used to run firescapes? The biggest Flamechasers fan account on Twitter?”

Your heart misfires instantly.

Your steps carry on, automatic and numb, but your breath hitches and the smile you’ve worn since the encore fades from your lips like steam on glass.

The reporter holds a phone up, recording whatever scoop he can get from you. The flash is off, but you feel the heat of it anyway. You don’t even have time to process what expression you’re making. Your past, the one you kept buried under layers of name changes, fake email addresses, and silence, is cracking open.

Your bandmates are a few steps ahead, laughing about something Castorice said. None of them hear it. None of them see you falter.

Except for one.

Fortunately, security peels the reporter away before it can turn into a scene and soon enough, you're all piling into the shuttle back to the hotel. The others are still riding the buzz of the show, laughter echoing, voices overlapping with excitement. But you can’t seem to match their rhythm.

Not when the question keeps echoing in your head.

Is it true you used to run firescapes?

You swallow hard. The name alone feels like a live wire.

How could he have known? You were careful, meticulous, even. Not even the current mods knew your real identity. You’d scrubbed every trace, buried it years ago, left it behind. At least, you thought you had. Fuck. You can already imagine the headlines once word gets out. 

“You good?”

Phainon’s voice hauls you back to the present. 

Your designated shuttle seatmate is staring at you with one part curiosity and two parts concern. His voice stays easy, laid-back as ever, but there’s a quiet weight beneath it. Like he’s giving you room to lie if you want, but hoping you won’t.

You shift, suddenly aware of the tension in your spine.

You want to say yeah, all good, or something breezy to match his tone. But even as he tosses in the occasional quip to whatever conversation is happening a row over, you know better.

He heard what the reporter had asked. 

The words don’t come easily. You’ve kept this part of yourself buried for so long that it doesn’t feel like a secret anymore. It feels like something anchored deep inside, always there, holding you steady but uncomfortably heavy. Part of you that wants to shove it all back down, and convince yourself the reporter was just guessing. That Phainon didn’t actually hear, and pretend none of it matters now.

But it does. Of course it does.

You half-expect him to pick at the corners, to pry something out of you. Any sane person who just found out their newest member could be a crazy fan would exercise that sort of caution. Yet, Phainon doesn’t breathe a word of it. He simply lets the question hang in the air like it’s your choice to answer. 

Ultimately, it’s his patience that helps loosen something in your chest.

Your fingers twitch in your lap, restless, and you trace the edge of a fold in your jeans, the way you used to ground yourself when you were nineteen, posting concert clips under a name no one knew. You remember the surge of excitement whenever a post caught fire. The way it felt like belonging. The way it made them—the Flamechasers—feel a little closer.

You press your lips together.

“You... You heard what that reporter said, didn’t you?”

Phainon doesn’t answer right away. His blue eyes shift to the window, watching the city lights blur past as if he’s lost in thought. When he finally speaks, his response catches you off guard.

“Do you want me to say yes or no?”

Your brows furrow. “Sorry...?”

He turns back to you with a small, lopsided smile. “It sounded like something that’s none of my business. So I’m giving you a choice: do you want me to say I heard it, or keep pretending I didn’t?”

You should want the easy out. For Phainon to just shrug it off and go back to chatting about setlists or late-night food runs. But the cat’s already halfway out of the bag already, and somehow, the idea of letting him believe a lie feels worse than the risk of the truth.

You sink back in your seat, the confession dragging behind your ribs.

“It’s true,” you murmur. 

Cipher shrieks somewhere in the back, and while that normally wouldn’t have fazed you, you visibly jolt at the noise. It’s a reaction that isn’t lost on Phainon, but he affords you enough grace not to point it out. 

“I see,” he says. “You haven’t answered my question though.”

...That's what he cares about?

“Aren’t you going to tell the others?” you ask with a frown. “We have all sorts of protocols set in place for obsessive fans, so—”

“Are you an obsessive fan?” he asks, cutting you off gently.

Your mouth opens, then shuts. “No? I mean—I don’t think so. I just... loved the band. A lot. In a maybe-slightly-too-intense-but-not-unhinged way? Ugh. I don’t know.”

Phainon chuckles under his breath, the sound soft and unbothered.

“That’s good enough for me.”

Part of you expected judgment. At the very least, some unease. Surely the universe would be demanding payment for all the secrets you’ve smuggled into this life by now. But instead, Phainon just leans back, like your confession weighed nothing at all.

When he casually shifts the conversation—I think I need to replace my snares, they’re starting to sound a bit off—you realize the moment’s passed.

No pressure. No expectations. 

But even with Phainon’s quiet acceptance, the unease doesn’t leave you.

It lingers in the corners of your chest, coiled tight, like a thread pulled taut but never snapped. You glance around the shuttle. Cipher is giggling at something Castorice said while Tribbios and Aglaea are talking in hushed tones. Anaxa’s got his headphones back on, staring out the window. Right next to him, Mydei is half-asleep with his head tilted back, the one who obviously poured out more energy than the rest of you.

They all look...unburdened.

That’s what makes your stomach twist. Because Phainon might be willing to let it go, but what about the rest? Would they be that easy? That kind? Or would they see you differently?

You swallow hard and look away, guilt settling in even as Phainon leans his head back, content to let the silence stretch. He’s already made space for the truth.

But you can’t shake the fear that the others might not.

You thought you’d feel better by now.

The adrenaline’s long gone, replaced with a hollow kind of quiet that settles deep in your chest. Outside your hotel window, the city hums softly beneath the dark—streetlights stretching into quiet halos, distant cars slipping by like whispers. Somewhere downstairs, the band’s celebrating, but you’re here alone, and that’s how you want it.

At least, that’s what you keep telling yourself.

You were just about to crack open your laptop, fingers hovering over the keys, ready to finally wrestle with that unfinished demo. The awful file name seems to glare at you from the screen, a passive-aggressive reminder of how long you’ve neglected it. But tonight, you figured, was as good a time as any. You needed something to keep your hands busy. Something to keep your mind off everything else.

That was the plan, until you hear someone knock on the door of your hotel room.

You think about ignoring it. You’ve already passed on the group’s celebratory drinks—“just tired,” you told them, which wasn’t entirely a lie—and the last thing you want is Cipher trying to guilt-trip you into joining late. But of course you cave. Of course you open the door, but it’s not Cipher that’s standing on the threshold.

It’s Mydei.

But he looks different somehow. Loose in the shoulders, sprawling tattoos peeking through a half-unbuttoned shirt, one hand braced on the doorframe and the other holding a dark green bottle.

“Didn’t see you downstairs,” he says, tilting his head slightly. “Those bastards told me to make sure you didn’t get spirited away by the vending machine ghosts.”

“The what?”

“You know. Hotel haunts. Always by the vending machines. That’s what Phainon told me.”

You stare at him. “Are you... drunk?”

“Not yet.” He holds up the bottle: Velkaria Bloodwine. It’s smooth, easygoing, tastes better than it should for how dangerously drinkable it is. Expensive, too. “Wasn’t in the mood for a party either. Figured I’d share with someone less loud.”

There’s a pause. Long enough for you to wonder if this is pity, or worse: concern thinly veiled as company. Despite himself, Mydei doesn't push. He just raises a brow, waiting for your verdict. 

After a beat, you step aside and gesture him in. “Only if you let me keep working.”

“I’ll be a ghost,” he says, slipping past you with the kind of ease that always makes it feel like he belongs in whatever room he enters.

Mydei settles right next to you on the sofa, kicks off his shoes, and starts pouring out two fingers of wine into the glasses from your minibar shelf. There are no words for a while, just the sound of your keyboard tapping and the faint clink of glass.

You hate how comforting it is, the quiet, the company. Especially coming from him.

Because most of the time, Mydei is cool and remote, wrapped in that untouchable, quiet of his. You’re never quite sure where you stand with him. But tonight, he’d been unusually attentive in a way that caught you off guard. He asked if you were feeling alright while his entire damn chest was on display. And you, very valiantly, had to stop yourself from spiraling into one of your deranged ex-fangirl daydreams.

Now he’s here in your hotel room pouring drinks. Like this is some long-standing tradition between the two of you and not absolutely insane.

You don’t know what version of him this is, but it’s disarming. Maybe a little unfair.

“Are you finally going to name that file or are you just building a shrine to it?”

You shoot him a look, but it’s half-hearted at best. “It’s a work in progress.”

“Everything is,” Mydei says, bringing the rim of his wineglass to his lips. “But not everything can be performed as an impromptu duet in the middle of nowhere.”

For some reason, your heart skips at the fact that he remembers the recreation hall. That was weeks ago—you’ve already forgotten the name of the town. But not the way it felt to perform a song you wrote together. At the time, you brushed it off. Didn’t let yourself linger on it. But now, sitting here alone with him, the memory hits different.

The realization curls warm and awkward under your skin, and suddenly your face is burning with embarrassment.

You should tell him to go. You should guard this space the same way you do your secrets. But instead, you let yourself breathe in the silence that settles between you like warm smoke. It’s neither heavy nor sharp. You’re simply just two people too tired of the noise.

“Thanks,” you say quietly when you retrieve your own glass. “This is wine, isn’t it?”

Mydei grunts. “It’s fermented pomegranate juice.”

“So... Wine?”

He chuckles into his drink like he doesn’t know what to do with you. You sure as hell don’t know what to do with him. But the corners of your mouth tug upward anyway, and the silence that follows is easier now.

The project loads on your laptop, sluggish and messy, a patchwork of uneven synths and ghost track layers you’ve been too annoyed to clean up. It starts playing from a random marker. You wince.

Mydei leans forward, brow creasing. “That’s the chorus, right?”

“No,” you groan, scrubbing back a few seconds. “That’s the mess before the chorus.”

He hums, nods, then points at your screen. “Your mids are crowding each other. That guitar line could be cleaner if you isolate it.”

You blink at him. “I knew you were involved in producing our songs, but not to this extent.”

“I’m not. I’m just annoying.” He takes another sip. “Play it again.”

You do. Again and again, with a few tweaks each time. Mydei gives you his thoughts in single sentences—concise and thoughtful, never pushy. It’s almost infuriating how he speaks less than you do but still ends up being right more often than not.

Somewhere between exporting a new version and looping the second verse, your wineglass gets emptier. Then it’s refilled. And emptied again. The room softens. Your laughter spills easier. He says something about your synth patch sounding like a broken traffic light, and you almost choke from laughing too hard.

Time skips like a scratched record. You’re not sure how long it’s been when you realize how close Mydei has gotten. One of you must’ve leaned in. Or both. He’s angled toward you now, shoulder brushing yours, watching the screen from over your arm.

When you glance up, his face is right there. 

Your breath stutters, caught somewhere between your lungs and your lips. The distance between you could be measured in heartbeats. 

Up close, his features are unfair. Sharp in a way that still manages to feel soft, like how dusk blurs the edges of sunlight. His bangs fall just slightly into his eyes, that deep, burnished gold catching the glow of your screen, turning them molten. You hadn’t realized how long Mydei’s lashes were. Or how his mouth, usually so unreadable, looks almost gentle now, the faintest curve resting at the corner.

You should look away.

But instead, you’re cataloguing him like a fool: the way one brow arches more than the other when he’s focused, the way he smells faintly of old cologne and wine and something darker underneath, like cedar smoke or thunder about to break. The worst part? He’s watching you too. Not in the casual way people glance around a room.

He’s looking at you like there’s a question in his mind and you’re the only answer that fits.

The demo has stopped playing. The glass in your hand has gone warm. You can’t tell if the thudding in your ears is the leftover bass line or your pulse losing composure. You should move. Say something. Laugh it off, maybe. But the words don’t come, and your body won’t listen.

Then, Mydei tilts his head just slightly. His gaze flickers from your eyes to your lips.

Nothing about it is subtle.

“You’re staring,” he murmurs.

You swallow. “So are you.”

His mouth curves, just slightly. “Guess we’re both guilty.”

There’s a pause, light but loaded. The kind that stretches between two people suspended in a moment that might become something else if no one stops it.

It would be so easy. The room is quiet, the lights low, your skin humming from the wine and the proximity and the way his gaze doesn't waver. He’s close enough to count your breaths, to see the hesitation flicker across your face. Something waits at the edge of all this silence; something fragile, and bright, and irreversible.

But then you remember who you are. Who he is. And what crossing that line would mean for the both of you. 

Maybe in another life, you’d let it happen. You’d lean in. You’d chase the heat gathering between you until it tipped into flames. But your body moves before your heart can answer. A blink, a breath, a laugh that comes too fast and a little too loud.

“You make staring at someone sound like a felony,” you say, aiming for playful, missing by an inch.

That gives you room to shift back in your seat to put space between you. It’s not a lot, but it’s enough to breathe. Then, your eyes flick to the screen of your laptop, where the demo’s still frozen mid-loop.

“You gonna help me fix the synth patch?” you ask, quieter now. “It’s still clashing with the bass line.”

Mydei’s reply takes a second. “Did Cipher really help with this? She’s usually... more precise than this, even on her chaotic days.”

He laughs, but there’s something brittle underneath it.

You ignore it. Or try to. “Hey, you’re the one who said even the producers couldn’t tame this thing.”

The silence that follows feels heavier than the one before. Like something that had opened between you has quietly, carefully, closed again. Mydei doesn’t offer up a retort of his own. He simply leans forward, fingers finding the keyboard with practiced ease, as if that moment never touched him at all.

But as the track stutters back to life, you can feel it. In the way your pulse stumbles. In the way he doesn’t speak for a long time.

The music plays on. Everything’s back where it was.

Except it isn’t.

TRACKLIST ✧ READ ON AO3

© cryoculus | kaientai ✧ all rights reserved. do not repost or translate my work on other platforms.

[lukeevangelista]

imagine vince streaming and you walk into whatever room he’s in wearing only his shirt and he. can’t. take. his. eyes. off. of. you. and his viewers are either giving him shit or just flat out confused when he ends the stream just to spend time with you

Shirt - V. Dunn

Coming back with a draft I’ve been holding onto for a little bit <3 enjoy

———————————————————————————

You crawled out of bed, Vince’s tshirt from the night before gracing your body as you heard his voice echoing up the stairs.

Slowly walking down the stairs, you heard his voice getting louder and louder as he continued to yell at Sammy and some of the other boys, who you assumed he was playing with.

You hit the bottom step when you heard him let out a ‘ah fuck’, signaling he had died; once again.

“Another round? You really want to get killed again?” You heard him chuckle into his headset as his eyes slowly looked over at you as you reached up into the cabinet to grab a glass to fill with water.

His eyes quickly left your body as he started up another round. You walked over to where he was sitting, standing beside him, but out of the camera view.

“Dude what the hell?” Vince shouted as he died, his attention on you; him suddenly not caring about the game that was dancing across his two monitors.

His chat was suddenly flooded about how he was playing like shit in the last few minutes and how the others were kicking his ass.

He pointed out a few comments as they came in while the round was finishing, making comments back as the boys quickly went to start up another round, but Vince had other ideas.

He muted the mic as he watched you walk towards the couch, his shirt gracing your body, “Is that my shirt?” He asked, already knowing the answer to his question.

Of course it was his shirt. Matter of fact, it was his dress shirt that went with the suit he was wearing the night before. He remembered how it felt feeling your hands taking it off his body after the game- of course he recognized the shirt- and the very thought had him wanting to shut down the stream immediately and drag you back to bed to relive last night’s activities.

An notification popped up on the screen to alert him that he’d died.

Yet again and this time, you were the one to blame.

You sat on the couch just out of view of the camera but in his perfect line of sight- his eyes catching you over the top of his monitors, but for some reason, he couldn’t remove his eyes from your figure as a beep came through his headphones, signaling another round was fixing to start.

It wasn’t like you were doing anything particularly sexy, and maybe that was the frustrating part. Just by existing, he was ready to toss his headphones and jump your bones.

You were scrolling on your phone when you bit your lip and laughed at something under your breath. A few seconds later, you laughed again and threw your head back, exposing the marks he left on your neck last night that trailed from your neck down to your chest where they peaked out from the collar of his unbuttoned shirt.

Another notification popped up on his screen to signal that he died.

Perfect.

While his chat was screaming at him for sucking ass the entire time, all he could focus on was getting you back in bed. He bid a quick goodbye and ended the stream before tossing his headphones aside and striding over to you.

“Done already?” You asked as you felt his hands grabbing at you, pulling you to your feet; his hands caressing almost every inch of your body.

“Shut up.” he said as he kissed you. “Bedroom, now.”

[pfhwrittes]

have some transmasc reader with the 141 silliness that just popped into my head.

tags/tw: transmasc reader has a backstory, attempts at humour, discussions of the english school system, brief mentions of classism, "cunt" used as a term of endearment.

unedited and written straight into the drafts as per usual.

790ish words of platonic silliness.

you can't remember how the conversation started exactly, it seems that one minute they're all chatting about the football scores (dull, but you make all the right noises in the right places) and then the next they're talking about their experiences at school.

you share a fondly exasperated look with gaz when soap explains his long list of lunch time and after school detentions (how he got away with making that many beakers explode in a chemistry lab you'll never know), you wince when ghost curtly informs soap that he was "too thick" for school (patently untrue from the way you've seen him demolish a crossword), you elbow soap in the ribs when he starts getting carried away taking the piss out of price's a-level in english literature (even if you did grin at the thought of him slogging his way through twelfth night).

and then gaz turns to you.

"come on then, mate. what was school like for you?" he grins, still enjoying the buzz of hearing price recite the famous quote about a man's "greatness".

"it was alright. just school, y'know?" you shrug carelessly feeling relaxed and comfortable.

"aye, but what was it like? we ken yer the only bastard here who had private school education." soap chips in, purposefully making his voice posh and plummy on the last three words.

"shut up, you knob. it wasn't like that." you scoff and elbow soap again, "and i'm not the only bastard here with private school education! gaz went to, fucking what'sitcalled, st paul's!"

"fide et literis." price intones gravely.

there's a pause where everyone looks at price with varying levels of surprise until ghost snorts a laugh.

"pretty sure my school's motto was 'stay out of prison you shit'eads'."

you all laugh boisterously and you spot ghost's eyes crinkle at the corners as his own mouth pulls into a grin behind his mask. you sigh happily and make yourself more comfortable by butting up against soap's arm. you let your mind drift a little until gaz interrupts your thoughts.

"go on then, what school did you go to?"

"hmm?" you blink tiredly, "oh, uh, st helen's and st katharine's."

gaz whistles lowly, impressed.

"bit posh that, mate."

you cringe, suddenly embarrassed, and your ears burn up with mortification.

"i got a scholarship, alright?" you mutter, as if that justifies the inherent classism of your education. ghost kicks your ankle and you shoot him a weak smile even as your face feels like it's bursting into flame.

soap makes a confused sound and looks between his phone and your face.

"are ye sure you've got the name of yer school right?" he asks.

"yeah?" you look at him quizzically as his eyebrows draw together forming a crease. you shoot a look at price who holds his hands up in the universal "don't fucking ask me" gesture in response.

"yer positive?" soap questions again sounding baffled.

"...yeah?" you say slowly, feeling just as confused at soap's questions.

there's a pause while soap scrolls through his phone.

"but, it's a girl's school?"

you blink. you blink again. what the hell is he confused about? you look over at ghost who has gone stock still before his shoulders start jerking up and down with silent laughter. you turn to gaz who looks confused before his face clears and his mouth splits into a wide grin.

"how can ye have gone tae a girl's school if yer a boy - a man?"

price groans and hides his face into his hands at soap's question and mutters something about soap being "a proper fucking muppet" to himself. ghost wheezes out a surprisingly breathy laugh.

you blink for a third time before tilting your head back and howling with uncontrollable laughter. your ribs ache and tears collect in the corner of your eyes.

"soap -" you snort, still giggling madly when you go to speak, "did y- did you forget -" you stop to heave in a breath to calm yourself "did you forget i'm trans... again?" you finish, tears streaking their way down your hot face.

soap's face is nearly crimson over his stubble when you turn to face him again, clearly embarrassed as gaz hollers.

"he did! he fucking did! oh my god!"

"how the fuck can you f'get summat like that?" ghost manages to wheeze out before breaking out into laughter again.

"you silly cunt." you say warmly, deeply pleased by the accidental affirmation as you knock your shoulder into soap's affectionately.

soap offers you a lopsided grin in response even as gaz and ghost continue to laugh and price groans.

"i can't believe i know you pricks."

and for some reason that makes you break out into laughter all over again, but this time soap's braying laugh joins in.

[dakusan]

‼️S C R O L L   Q U I E T L Y   O R   G E T   B L O C K E D   L O U D L Y .

real. fuckin. talk.

somebody sent me an ask like “can I get into your DMs?” and I was like, cool, lemme check—

SIXTEEN.

six. teen. writing smut. tagging smut. broadcasting it like a bat signal to every creep in a ten-mile radius. your profile damn near screamed “please ruin my future!”

and here’s the thing: I’m not here to lie to myself or you. we’ve all done dumb shit on the internet. you think I wasn’t reading NSFW fics at 15 like I was auditioning for hell? please. I was deep in that forbidden fruit fanfic pipeline.

but that was then. now? I’m grown. I got bills. pay taxes. my skincare routine costs more than your weekly lunch money.

I AM NOT SIXTEEN ANYMORE. so I don’t play sixteen-year-old games.

yes, I post SFW sometimes. yes, I have sweet little moments, fluff, banter, warmth. but this blog? it runs on filth. intensity. manipulation kink. degradation kink. dom/sub brain chemistry. emotional violence. teeth marks and bruises. this is a fucking inferno, not a starter pack. you see DNI / 18+ / MINORS DO NOT FUCKING INTERACT you scroll. you vanish. you read quietly in your shadow corner and say NOTHING.

what you don’t do is slide into my inbox like this is a fuckin dating sim. you don’t flirt. you don’t RP. you don’t send confessions about what my NSFW content made you think or feel when you’re out here with “16 🧚🏻‍♀️ she/her” in your goddamn bio.

that shit is reckless. stupid. and dangerous. not just for you—but for ME. and every other adult creator out here trying to do this responsibly.

HERE’S WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU’RE A MINOR POSTING SMUT PUBLICLY:

❌ You get blocked. Fast. No explanation. No apology. ❌ You put a target on your back for predators who love when you make their job easy. ❌ You risk getting your account nuked. And guess what? No one’s gonna fight for you. ❌ You put adult creators at legal risk—because YOU crossed the line. ❌ You break the one thing that keeps this whole messy fandom space functioning: trust.

and nah. I’m not your mom. I’m not your mentor. I’m not your moderator. but I will drag the line of salt around my content and protect it with claws.

if you’re here for fluff? fine. you wanna lurk? sure. but do not EVER think you get to step into my DMs, send NSFW asks, or breathe near my explicit content and think you’re untouchable.

you are not grown. you are not exempt. and I will not catch a case because you can’t shut the fuck up about your age.

yes, I wrote smut too when I was underage. and now? I look back and CRINGE. but I survived that phase quietly. I didn’t slap my age on my chest like a neon sign and go knocking on adult creators’ doors. so if you’re gonna read it anyway? do it in silence. don't you dare announce it. don’t you dare try to engage with me like you’re one of us. because you’re not.

18+ means 18+. not “emotionally mature.” not “I swear I’m responsible.” not “but I’ve been through things.” I don’t care. you cross that line, you get burned.

LET ME BE CLEAR, ONE LAST TIME:

I’m not your friend. I’m not your safe space. I am not here to be pulled into your reckless online habits.

I am here to write. to create. interact with adults. and to keep my circle clean, sharp, and safe. you threaten that? you’re gone.

stay in your lane. stay off my NSFW. stay out of my DMs. stay silent if you’re not grown.

and if you still don’t get it?

I hope the block button smacks some sense into you.

love & bloodspatter, Daku 🦇💋

p.s. will be answering some asks today before dropping today Sunday Softdrop bcz it's staring at me from my drafts like “let me out u bitch”

[saddled-on-stars]

Hey! So for some reason your ask was deleted somehow?? It disappeared from my drafts?! But anyways, here you go lovely <3 @habitabel asked: please write Keatlejuice gifting reader stuffed animals please 🙏 and then listening to reader ramble on about the names, backstories, and how they got the stuffed animals they already have ty 🫶 I’m sorry that this one took me so long!! I hope you enjoy it!!

Happy reading! - Star ★

-★-★-★-★-★-★-★- Trigger Warnings: Explicit Language, Suggestive Themes -★-★-★-★-★-★-★- Key: ★ (Y/N) = Your Name ★ (L/N) = Last Name -★-★-★-★-★-★-★- Requested by: @habitabel (THANK YOU FOR BEING SO PATIENT WITH ME, I'm sorry that this took so long 😭🙏) -★-★-★-★-★-★-★-

- ★ - Stuffing Stories - ★ -

It’s 3AM, and the only sounds in the room are of your own groaning, and the pillows shuffling along your bed. You can’t sleep due to the constant negative thoughts running through your brain, at a million miles a minute.

The day was going great—work was it’s typical busy, but you don’t mind, and you even had a lighthearted chat with your coworker about your shared love for old sitcoms. But then came the side-eyed comment about your ‘Unwilling Service’ from someone who didn’t even know you, and how much it got into your head. You were just trying to answer their question, which was unbelievably bizarre. They asked something about how to get to the park that was thirty minutes away. Hell, you didn’t even know the place existed, and you didn’t work for a directory station.

You are already practically on edge as you walk through your apartment door. Dinner is an afterthought, the thought of eating even something small, sounding like too much of a task. And though you try distracting yourself with a movie, The Exorcist, obviously, the restless energy refuses to fade.

It isn't just today, though. Sleep had been a problem for weeks, a relentless cycle of tossing and turning that left you staring at the ceiling, wondering why you just couldn’t sleep. Tonight is no different. The clock ticked past midnight, then 1AM, now 2AM, each passing minute a reminder that tomorrow would be another day of exhaustion.

Your chest grows tight, your breathing shallower than you’ve experienced, in a LONG time for that matter. The usual distraction techniques aren’t working. Counting sheep, breathing exercises, even scrolling through your phone—all useless.

You pull the covers over your head, but the heaviness of the day’s events looms large. That offhand comment from earlier—’unwilling service…’ Did they mean lazy? Disinterested? Were they secretly annoyed with you? Did everyone at work feel that way? Was it the same with your friends?

The spiraling thoughts claw their way deeper. You clench your fists, nails digging into your palms. You hadn’t meant to start tossing and turning, the pillows shuffling deeper.

"Fuck, what is wrong with me?" you mutter under your breath.

With a shaky breath, you sat up, rubbing your eyes. The weight in your chest hadn’t gone away, but you knew someone who’d make it bearable.

"Beetlejuice," you whispered, voice cracking. "Beetlejuice... Beetlejuice."

The flash of green and black in the corner of the room becomes bright with flair, causing his entrance to be as grand as ever. "It's showtime-”, he begins, but the second he takes one look at you, his demeanor shifts.

“Whoa, whoa. Babes? Fuckin’ hell, you okay?” he says, eyebrows furrowing as he notices your trembling hands and red-puffed eyes, shaking his head as he curses himself for not being there sooner. He’s by your side in an instant, sittiing on the bed with a mix of concern and determination.

“C’mere,” he mutters, pulling you close. His arms wrapped tightly around you, his striped blazer soft against your cheek. “Talk to me, Babes. What’s going on?”

You want to answer, but the lump in your throat won’t let you. Instead, you bury your face into his shoulder, your breaths uneven.

Beej doesn’t press. He doesn’t ask questions. He just shifts back against the headboard, tucking you against his chest, one hand rubbing soothing circles on your back.

“I’ve got you,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “Whatever it is, you don’t have to carry it by yourself, okay? I’m here.”

The familiar rasp in his voice, usually cocky and teasing, was softer now, filled with a warmth you didn’t know you needed.

As you start to calm down, the sound of his voice keeps you grounded. “You know what you need, Babes?” he said, pulling back slightly to look at you with a small grin. “Some quality cuddle therapy... and maybe a new friend. One sec.”

Before you could protest, he vanishes with a poof, leaving you in a sense of longing, wondering where he’s gone. Only for him to reappear quickly, holding something behind his back.

“Ta-da!” He reveals a small stuffed bat with button eyes and a goofy grin. It’s actually quite cute, and it’s got a lot of character, it seems. He chuckles, and holds up the little creature, “Meet, uh... Flappy. Thought you might like him.”

The absurdity, yet adoration, of the name makes you laugh, a weak but genuine sound that seems to lift the tension in the room.

“Flappy, huh?” you say, gently taking the plushie in your hands. “What’s he doing here?”

“Oh, you know. He’s a night owl. Bit of a chatterbox. Thinks you’re the coolest guy around.”, Beej says with a large grin.

You smile, turning the toy over in your hands. “Guess he can join the others.”

Beej’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “Wait, you’ve got others? Babes, you’ve been holding out on me.”

And just like that, the weight in your chest eases, feeling the utter excitement of getting to share your wholesome obsessions over your stuffed animals, each one having a characterized personality of its own. You find yourself rambling about your collection—each stuffed animal, its backstory, how you’d gotten it.

Beej listens intently, actually seeming interested in what you have to say, throwing in the occasional quip, but mostly just letting you talk.

“And this one’s name is Gemini! My friend named her, since it’s her zodiac sign, but she’s a little fruit bat, who was an orphan from the time she was a baby! She got adopted by a bunch of normal bats, who accepted her into her family, and when she grew up, she went to explore the world!”, you exclaim happily to Beej.

Beej nods with excitement, “Woah, Babes! I had no idea how much you knew about these little guys.”, he says with a joking tone and a wink.

You feel the heat rising to your cheeks, as you blush. “Sorry, I don’t mean to bore you with these little guy-”, but you’re quickly cut off.

Beej’s lips are softly pressed against yours, his eyes closed, as your eyes flutter to do the same. You wonder what made him want to do this, but you’re too shocked to care.

He pulls back slightly to look in your eyes, chuckling softly. “Do not EVER apologize for that, Babes. I think hearing about them is very sweet to hear from you. And besides, what kind of demon would love you if they didn’t hear about your little stories?”, he asks with a smile.

Your face is surely entirely red now. What did he say?

“W-What did you just say?”, you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

His black-circled eyes soften as he gazes at yours, “I love you.”, he says in a whispered tone, his gaze flickering to your lips.

Your gaze follows to his own lips, as you softly whisper back, “I love you too.”. You lean closer slowly, closing the space once again.

Out of all the backstories that you’ve shared tonight, this one will always be your favorite.

- ★ - Written By Saddled_On_Stars - ★ -

[uceyliyahh]

UNDER YOUR TOUCH

Summary: After her difficult breakup, Tiana wanted to start anew with her life. That's when she realized her life would be better when she met him.

This fanfic is 18+! NO MINORS ALLOWED

word count: 4665

smut warning; it’ll come in the story randomly so PLEASE PLEASE look out for it I’m not really good at writing ✍🏽 smuts but I’m improving at the moment.

Jey Uso x Tiana

AWFUL GRAMMAR IM GETTING BETTER I SWEAR LOL.

comments, likes, repost are appreciated I would love the constructive feedback in what area I need to approve in. 🤍

ALSO! I don’t not want nobody stealing my fanfics or take it as theirs that will be an issue fasho so keep it cute respectfully.

I only own my OC along with the make up scenarios

But I’ll be writing along the way since this story is in my drafts on Wattpad right now so yuh. 💁🏽‍♀️

TAGS ⬇️ lmk if you wanna be tag 🏷️ @pinkwithhearts @420days @jstarr86 @empressdede @angiedawn02

@bebesobrielo @biancasreign @punksyeet @papireigns-05 @paigereeder @yana3sworld @aikosilo @fearlesschimera

@zillasvilla @partypoison00 @skyesthebomb @mselenalovebug @magnificentbouquetmusic @xbriexx @celesteheartsjey @charmed-dreamssss @hunnidmilly

18.

TIANA Since I had today off, I spent it watching Baddies Caribbean upstairs in my room. I also considered improving my nail salon as soon as I had saved up enough money to allow me to do the things I needed to do.

I noticed that Trinity had texted me while I was watching my show, so I took my phone off the charger and retrieved it from the dresser.

IMESSAGE 💬 Trin🤭🫶🏽: Hey baby girl! I was just checking up on you. Tiana: Hey, I'm fine Trin just watching my show yk Trin🤭🫶🏽: yeah, have you spoken to your future husband yet? Tiana: Um no I haven't heard from him today why? Did something happen? Trin🤭🫶🏽: Damn ig he didn't tell you Tiana: 🤨🤨 wym? Trin🤭🫶🏽: oh...nothing, nothing girl Tiana: un-unt don't do that girl spill it now Trin🤭🫶🏽: Tiana yk I can't because Josh will kill me if I do so sorry. 😭😭 Tiana: omg yall is honestly scaring me Trin🤭🫶🏽: 😭😭

What the hell was happening today? And what the hell is Trinity talking about, a surprise? I mean, don't get me wrong; I love me some surprises, but this one seems a bit unfamiliar to me.

I brushed off the feeling while scrolling through my socials and seeing what everyone was posting on their stories. Ever since Malakai got sentenced to prison, I've been receiving threats from his people, including Kehlani, but I didn't let that bother me because they're so delusional, just like him.

I saw that my man had posted something. Since he was sweating in the video about his story, I assumed that he had gone to the gym for a little bit.

'God, he looked so fucking fine. I just wanna suck him up so badly.'

While I was eye fucking my man, I heard a knock on my bedroom door, seeing Bianca coming in with my favorite white roses.

I raised an eyebrow, looking at her. "B, what's going on?" This was honestly scaring me. I didn't know what was going on, and nobody was telling me anything.

"Oh, nothing, girl. Josh just bought you your favorite roses." She said.

"Bull shit B what's going on?" I said, folding my arms.

"Tiana, nothing is happening. Also, Jey said to be ready around nine tonight." After she said that, she left the room, leaving me dumbfounded.

I rolled my eyes as I placed the roses in a clear, clean vase. I walked towards my dresser, picking out some dresses that would be suitable for whatever Jey had planned.

rikishi replied to your story: My son will take care of you T uceyjucey replied to your story: you deserve them mama. ❤️ jonathanfatu replied to your story: you'll be so happy for tonight T. biancabelairwwe replied to your story: 🤭🤭 trinity_fatu replied to your story: you'll start crying for sure for tonight. shelovesemma replied to your story: be prepared for tonight girly.

Reading everyone's replies made me think about what Jey had planned for tonight. And what was everyone talking about?

✧.* JEY I was extremely excited about what I had planned for tonight. I couldn't wait to finally put a ring on her finger and call her my fiancée and, soon, my wife, too.

I made reservations at our favorite restaurant around nine, which she loves to go to. After we left the restaurant, I decorated my house with the help of Bianca, Trin, and Emma. I know that she'll love it.

I was at work getting a client's arm tattooed when I heard someone yelling up front. That's when I saw Kierra coming inside the room, and I looked up at her.

"What's goin' on, Keke?" I asked.

"Jey, I think your ex-girlfriend is here, and she's starting shit up front." She said with a perplexed expression on her face.

"Shit ight I'll handle it could you finish up his tattoo for me please?" She nodded her head while I went out of the room to see what was happening.

When I went towards the front, all I could see was Kehlani standing there with her arms folded. I just rolled my eyes. Her eyes darted towards my direction, and as she walked towards my direction, she almost slapped me in the face. That's when I held onto her wrist, giving her a stern expression.

"Kehlani, what the fuck are you doing here?" I asked sternly.

She scoffed at me as she yanked her arm away from my grasp. "Boy, why are you going to marry that bitch!"

"That's none of your business. We ain't even together anymore. We broke up like two years ago, Kehlani. Leave me alone, bro." She shook her head, standing there pouting like a little kid knowing damn well that doesn't work on me.

"No! I'm not leaving you, and that bitch got Kai in prison for five years for something he didn't do. She just made that all up!" She shouted as I stared at her in disbelief.

'She can't be fucking serious right now?'

I couldn't believe what I was hearing right now, her denying that Tiana was never abused and just "made it up" just to get attention when she's really the one trying to get attention.

"Girl, yo' ass is tripping right now; get out before I have somebody come handle yo' little ass." I threatened as she chuckled.

"Who will handle me? Because can't nobody handle me, baby." I rubbed both of my hands against my beard, nodding my head and smirking.

I pulled out my phone and dialed Tiana's phone number.

OTP Mamas🩷: Heyy Papi ZaddyJey🤍: Hey mama what you doing right now? Mamas🩷: I am at the salon getting my hair done why what's wrong? ZaddyJey🤍: send me some pics of it when you're done but can you come to my tattoo shop and handle a certain someone. Mamas🩷: babyyyy I'm going to mess up my hair if I deal with her ass ZaddyJey🤍: I'll pay for it to get it done again just please I can't put my hands on her and she don't wanna leave Mamas🩷: ight ight I'll be there in a little bit. ZaddyJey🤍: ight then mama love you Mamas🩷: love you too.

CALL ENDED

After she hung up, I put my phone back inside my pocket, folding my arms in the process. I stared at Kehlani, who also had her arms folded.

"Was that yo' bitch you just called? I will beat her ass in a heartbeat." Kehlani said confidently.

I chuckled at her, "Yeah, we will see."

"I will fuck her up, Jey, ion' why you're with her ass, including marrying her when you should be marrying me instead." I rolled my eyes at her.

"I don't marry cheaters, Kehlani, and you know that." I said.

✧.* I saw a black BMW pulling up towards my shop, knowing that it was Tiana coming from the salon, and damn, she looked so good right now.

Walking in wearing this cute ass all brown one-piece along with some Nike Dunks can't believe to say that this is all mine. Her eye went towards my direction, then towards Kehlani's, and she rolled her eyes at her coming towards my direction.

She wrapped her arms around my neck as my hands snaked around her ass cheeks, giving them a good squeeze before kissing her on her thick lips.

I gave her a few more kisses, pulling away in the process.

"Girl, you need to go ahead and leave because ion' have time to mess up my hair." Tiana said as Kehlani chuckled at her.

"Whatever, you weren't going to do a damn thing anyway. Pick me bitch." She spat as Tiana walked up to her, grabbing her by the hair.

Tiana dragged Kehlani outside, throwing her on the concrete ground while she winched in pain, holding her body. This was something interesting to watch as I stood there seeing my fiancée handling business.

"I'm not going to warn yo' ass again; don't bring yo' ass back here," Tiana warned.

Kehlani got up from the ground, holding onto her stomach, and glared at us as she tried to run up on Tiana again, causing her to push her into the pole.

Tiana grabbed her by the hair and punched her in the face while Kehlani was covering her head, trying to protect herself.

She stopped fixing her hair and backed up away from me as she stood next to me. I snaked my hand around her waist, kissing her on the cheek, and watched Kehlani struggle to get up.

"God girl, you're so pathetic, man; go do something with your life and leave us alone. Can't you see that we're happy?" She said.

I'm not going to lie. Tiana looked so good. Being all worked up and worried about me just turned me on a little bit.

"I don't give a damn. He was mine first before you even came into the picture." Tiana rolled her eyes at her while folding her arms in the process.

"But you cheated on him, and he left you with someone better, and that someone is me, so you can go ahead and cry like a baby all you want."

Kehlani threw us the middle finger before getting inside her car and pulling out of the parking lot as Tiana and I stood there watching her leave.

"Damn, mama not goin' lie; you look good all worked up." I said.

"Well, I have to protect my man from people like her." She flipped her hair to the side, showing her side profile more.

"Ight ight but why don't you go home and get ready for tonight I'll come pick you up."

Tiana smiled at me as she wrapped her arms around my neck kissing me on the lips before removing her arms from my neck.

"What do you have planned? Like everyone has been weird today." Tiana asked.

I chuckled at her, knowing that I couldn't tell her, or it would just ruin it. "I'm not spilling, ma; you just goin' have to wait and see when I come get you." She rolled her eyes at me, giving me one more kiss on the lips before heading towards her car.

I took a slight peek at her ass while she walked towards her car, and damn, that's such a view for me to see.

I went back inside the shop, and Kierra was standing there looking at me.

"What's up, keke?" I asked.

"Wasn't that the same girl who got her tattoo covered up?" Kierra questioned.

"Yeah? That's my girlfriend, who will soon be my fiancée later on tonight." Once I said that, her face went into complete shock, and her lips parted.

I just chuckled at her facial expressions while heading towards my office.

✧.* OMNISCIENT Tiana was finishing getting ready for her date with Jey, which he had planned for them tonight. She didn't know what was happening or what he had planned, which made her nervous.

As she was getting ready, she saw her phone blow up. She grabbed it, seeing that Malakai's mother was sending her messages.

IMESSAGE 💬 Mrs Jackson sent 3+ messages

Mrs Jackson: I fucking hate you: you bitch now my son will be in prison for something he hasn't done! Mrs Jackson: all he did was love you and adore you! But you had to make these fake allegations against him Mrs Jackson: pick me bitch

Tiana read through the messages thoroughly and chuckled at them before blocking his mother and deleting her number. She checks herself out in the mirror, thinking to herself, 'damn, I look good for tonight. He is a fortunate man.'

"Tiana! Jey is at the door!" Bianca shouted.

Tiana ran and grabbed her purse and keys before heading downstairs to greet her man, who was standing there looking good as always. He never fails to look good.

He was wearing a button-down white top, some ripped jeans, and his white Air Forces, including his piercings on both ends of his ears. He also had a nice, fresh haircut.

She walked up towards him, wrapping her arms around his neck. His hands snaked around her waist, kissing her on the lips.

His lips became behind her ear, making sure nobody could hear what he was whispering to her.

"you look fine as fuck right now, baby; it makes me wanna put a baby inside of your pretty ass." Jey whispered, giving her ass a good grip.

"Joshhhh." Tiana whined softly as he chuckled at her pulling away from each other.

"C'mon, let's go before we are late." She nodded and walked out of the house toward his car.

He started the ignition to his car as he pulled out of the driveway driving to the restaurant.

Jey pulled out a blunt from his glove department and gave it to Tiana to light up for them. She took a few puffs of it before giving it back to him.

He placed his hand on her left thigh vibing out to the music that she was playing in the car as they were driving towards the place.

✧.* They finally made it to the restaurant as Jey blindfolded her, holding onto her waist and carefully walking her towards the door.

While he was doing that, the host walked them towards their tables. Tiana felt a breeze coming from outside, and Jey carefully sat her down in the chair.

When he removed the blindfold from her eyes, her face went wide as she looked at the view from the food and then outside, seeing everything.

He chucked at her reaction as she looked at him with a beaming smile.

"Oh my gosh, Josh, this is so beautiful, like from the view and everything." Tiana complimented.

"I mean, I had to make today special for a reason, but like I said, I won't be spoiling anything, " he said as she poured champagne into the glass next to them.

She couldn't stop looking at the view. It was such a beautiful view; in her eyes, everything looked so small. Tiana felt Jey grabbing her hand and pulling her towards the piano. While he put their glass of champagne down, he opened the piano and began playing Monica Love All Over Me.

Tiana couldn't help but admire her man playing the piano as she sipped off her drink, watching him. She leaned her head on his shoulders, closing her eyes.

He played the piano passionately, kissing Tiana on top of her head and smiling in the process.

After their dinner together, Jey made Tiana cover her eyes yet again, which she hated because she wanted to see what it was, but he wasn't going to let her.

He unlocked his door, taking her upstairs. She carefully walked into the living room, signaling Trin, Bianca, Emma, Montez, and Jon to come out in front. He then removed his hands from her eyes.

Tiana covered her mouth with a shocked expression. When she turned around, she saw Jey on one knee with a ring in his hand.

As everyone was recording this precious moment, she couldn't help but have tears forming in her eyes.

"Tiana ever since I met you that day at my tattoo shop I just knew that you were the one for me I've been through everything with you just how you have with me you have a special place in my heart and I don't regret it mama will you marry me? And be with me forever?" Jey confessed, waiting for Tiana's answer.

Tears flowed down her cheeks as she nodded her head, "Yes," and gave him a hug. He hugged her tightly, tears coming down his cheeks as well.

Everyone around them was cheering and crying happy tears, including Bianca and Montez, who were so happy for their best friend to finally be happy.

They pulled away from each other as Tiana wiped his tears from his face while he did the same to her. He put the ring on her finger; it fitted her finger perfectly, along with the promise ring that she still had.

He cupped both of her cheeks together, placing a soft kiss on her lips. Montez and Bianca ran up to her, giving her a huge hug.

"Tink, you're officially a fiancée girl!" Bianca said excitedly.

"I know I am so fucking happy man." Tiana said.

Trinity came up behind her excitedly. "Welcome to the club, babygirl! " she chuckled at her while staring at Jey, who was dabbing it up with Montez and Jon as they congratulated him.

"Yall were in on this huh." She asked.

"Yeah, of course." They both said at the same time. Tiana just rolled her eyes at them.

✧.* Everyone left Jey's house while Tiana was upstairs in the bathroom, looking at herself in the mirror. She was wearing her lacy red bra and cheeky panties, which Bianca had bought her.

She was fixing her hair before putting in her silky robe turning the door knob seeing Jey lying down on his phone, not even looking her way.

He looked up at her, saw her wearing a silky robe, and tried to figure out what was hiding underneath.

When she loosened the robe and dropped it on the floor, his eyes widened and he fought to regulate his breathing. He was staring at her up and down, so she went onto bed.

His eyes tracked her motions as he placed his phone down, like if she were prey. Tiana straddled into his lap, removing his shirt in the process. He was allowing her to take charge of the situation, something he never did.

She began rubbing all over his chest as he felt his breath become irregular, and she kissed him all over his body. She carried on, seeing him squirm under her touch.

Tiana placed her lips on his neck as she heard a groan escaping from his lips, he gripped onto both of her ass cheeks tightly as he thrust his hips making her feel how hard he was getting for her and only her.

She snaked her fingers down his shorts and into his PSD red boxers, stroking his dick up and down, making him roll his eyes in the back of his head. His lips parted as he murmured gently into her ear as she continued to stroke it, driving him wild.

"F-fuck...mama.." Jey moaned.

Trying to get control of the situation, he clutched her throat firmly while sitting up, his eyes dark and lusty. Placing his lips on hers, fiercely tongue kissing her down her throat while pinning her to the bed, regaining control and authority, he was taken aback by what she did.

"Yo' ass finna get it little mama." He said in a raspy tone.

SMUT WARNING Jey had her arms pinned behind her back as he was beating her shit in; his lips were tucked in while throwing his head back.

He looked down at his view seeing her ass jiggling through his strokes, hearing her sweet soft moans escaping her lips.

It was music to his ears

Slapping her left ass cheek as she whined giving her these punishing strokes while she tried to push him away despite her arms being pinned behind her back.

"D-daddy Please..." Tiana begged.

"Nah take this fucking dick." Jey grunted gripping onto her hips tightly.

'Come with me, come with me Come with me, come with me (You're so fuckin' nasty)'

She couldn't take it, attempting to get away from his strokes, which prompted Jey to grasp a full load of her hair, yank her back, and fuck her senselessly. He made her eyes roll in the back of her skull.

"Shit Joshua..."

"What's up mama?" He says with a raspy tone fucking her balls deep.

Her walls were clenching around him, causing a groan to escape his lips while looking down at his dick sliding in and out of her wetness.

'Came across an oasis in the Mojave Follow any instructions of your body I bottle that shit up, pour it and sip (Bottle, bottle, bottle, bottle, bottle, bottle)'

Her essence was covering up all over his dick, which satisfied him. He let go of her hair pulling out of her as she wailed like a baby going onto the bed lying down, indicating her to come mount him like a pony.

She got onto him reversed cowgirl style, holding onto legs for support while she stuck it back inside of her and began bouncing up and down on it.

Jey watched while keeping his hands behind his head, enjoying his view. He loved the way she rode it like a big girl.

"Yeah, keep ridin' that dick, baby. You doin' so good, mama." He cooed, slapping her ass.

"Uhn, Daddy, this dick feels so good, fuckk." Tiana moaned.

Her skin was slapping against his stomach as she continued to bounce on it while the whole room was filled with her moans and skin slapping.

'Girl, you should taste the water from your well (Bottle, bottle, bottle, bottle, bottle) You ain't gotta tell me what you like, she say it for you'

Meanwhile, Jey sat up with a malicious smirk on his face, clutching her waist and driving his hips up, slamming her shit in as she moaned loudly.

"Joshhhhh oh my goddd."

"Un-Huh ma take this shit, take it." He growled fucking her vigorously.

'I just wanna fuck you 'til you cry, vintage Dior you I need you to hold it 'til you can't, I'll reward you (I can't, no, I can't, I can't, I can't, I can't, I can't)'

This man had her seeing stars, and she couldn't stop rolling her eyes as he proceeded to assault her moist cunt while she was miserable and defeated by him. "This my pussy mama?" He questioned her as she tilted her head to look into his eyes and nodded.

She couldn't even grasp or say the words because she was so overwhelmed by the pressure and wonderful agony she was experiencing. 

Until he grabbed her firmly by the throat maintaining that eye contact that they had. "I'm not repeating myself baby."

"Y-yes daddy! this is yours all yours!" She mewled weakly.

He rolled her over on her back, putting his dick deep inside her in a missionary position while they kept eye contact. Their foreheads are touching as they watch his dick enter and exit her. He kissed her thick lips, holding her throat in the process.

"Talk to me baby, I'm hitting that shit?" Jey grunted.

"Yes Josh yes." Her facial expression scrunched up a bit which Jey took notice knowing that she was going cum so he sped up his pace.

'So, come with me, come with me Come with me, come with me'

Circling his hips and hitting her spot drove her insane, seeing her break beneath him. She clawed his back badly, forcing him to hiss at the agony in his back.

"Scratch me up all you want princess, fuck you're so beautiful."

"Hmm...shit shit shit daddy."

"Keep calling for me baby I'm right here daddy's right here mama."

His beautiful rhetoric turned her on even more, and he marked her up with wet kisses on the neck, letting her know that he was hers and she was his.

'Cuida'o si me pide' duro, que voy y te enchulo Ahora no me suelta', baby, raro que no te haga un baby.'

As Jey continued to pound into her gushy insides, he felt his dick twitching inside her, tucking the bottom of his lip while watching her take his dick like a champ. She could feel it all the way through her gut, and tears streamed down her cheeks as she covered her face to hide it.

'Si quito el seguro, vuelve' de seguro Ay, sí, tocándote así, yo muero ahí Mami, que Dios nos perdone, pero si ven las conversacione', bueno'

What she didn't realize was that Jey had taken note when he withdrew her hands from her face and pinned them down.

"Lemme' see how good I'm fucking you I wanna watch you cum on this dick." He rasped.

"Fuck Josh fuckkkk." Tiana moaned softly gripping on his shoulders.

'Tal ve' no entienden, pichea a la gente y vamo' a empezar de cero La muerdo y le dejo un tattoo, pregunto si le gusta ahí, mmm Yo sé, baby, yo sé, la que se puso a probar fuiste tú'

Tiana let out a loud gasp and rolled her eyes in the back of her head, cumming all over him, while Jey watched her do exactly that. She couldn't stand it any longer, feeling sensitive and her legs shaking violently as Jey held her still, forcing his dick deep inside of her. Jey gasped as he gently thrusted his hips into her, revealing his seeds blended with her essence trickling from her.

SMUT OVER

'Come with me, come with me (Sabe' que te gusta, se siente cabrón, yeah, yeah, oh) Come with me, come with me (Por ley que le caigo si estás home alone)'

Tiana's body shook violently, and she placed her hands on her chest to help her breathing, keeping her eyes closed for a while. Meanwhile, Jey went to the bathroom, using a cloth with warm water to wipe up Tiana. He noticed her shaking, her eyes closed, as he stroked her legs to calm her down. His touch made her feel at ease, and when she opened her eyes, she saw him standing there.

'Come with me, come with me (Ahí mismo, oh, en 4K frente a la cámara, te muevo por toda la recámara, los recibo' están en las sábana') Come with me, come with me (Se prende más con la luz apagá')'

"You okay baby? Did I go to rough on you?" Jey asked softly.

"N-no you're fine love." Tiana softly said.

"Ight imma start us up a nice warm bath okay?" She nodded her head yes as she watched him disappear in the bathroom. She looked at her ring along with her promise ring on her finger.

Tiana couldn't believe that she is engaged now to the man she will soon call her husband.

Under Your Touch.

zillafatu, romanreigns, shelovesemma and others liked your post.

tianasworld: guys I said yes! he went all out for me for this special moment to happen I am so happy to be called Mrs Fatu I love you so much baby🥹💍 @ uceyjucey

uceyjucey: you deserve it all baby you know imma spoil yo' ass rotten Mrs Fatu 😮‍💨🫶🏼 tianasworld: @ uceyjucey 😩😩 biancabelairwwe: I AM SO HAPPY FOR YOU TINK! FINALLY MY BESTIE CAN BE HAPPY AND NOW I CAN CALL JOSHUA BROTHER-IN-LAW🙂🙂 tianasworld: @ biancabelairwwe PLEASE LOOK WHAT YOU DID JOSHUA😭😭 zillafatu: cuzzo popped the question out? okayy I see you I'm happy for yall shelovesemma: I am happy bro like what 🥹 trinity_fatu: welcome to the club babygirl! romanreigns: happy for yall ❤️ rikishi: proud of yall two ❤️ tianasworld: @ rikishi thanks pops ❤️🫶🏼

Read all comments.

tianasworld replied to your story: I am so honored to be Mrs Fatu baby 🥹🩷 jonathanfau replied to your story: finally no mo teasing you put a ring on her finger 😭 biancabelairwwe replied to your story: BROTHER-IN-LAW!! zillafatu replied to your story: I am proud of you cuzzo lmk when the wedding happens most def be there 🫡🫡 rikishi replied to your story: proud of you son ❤️ theylovekehlani replied to your story: you're fucking kidding me right? 😐 trinity_fatu replied to your story: YESSSS

A/N: Tiana is now engaged y'all 🥹 I am so happy for her but what the fuck is they goin' to do with Kehlani ass? She just a pick me atp I'm tired of her ass I'm author and I am tired of her ass is diabolical 😭😭

Also do yall like it when I add the lyrics to the spicy scenes? Or nah? Me personally it brings out more imagination.

THEYRE BACK IN BUSINESS BABY!!! in my opinion I feel like they rushed this a little bit but hey I'm not complaining 💁🏽‍♀️

But I hope yall enjoy this chapter lmk in the comments.

Stay Ucey.

[chryseis-lxve]

🍸 NEW YEAR GREETINGS

💬 if i'm being honest, this year has been a wild fucking ride, lol but all of you little pies have been a huge help by simply popping up now and then and being a little ray of sunshine, or by having stuck around for a long time. i genuinely appreciate all of you, and wish you all a lovely year ahead! also, please note that the order of names doesn't matter here XD

@floraldresvi i sincerely appreciate you a lot. when you mentioned that you were grateful i stumbled upon that writing blog of yours, i wanted to mention that such was the play of fate but ig it's too obvious to be worthy of mention. i still hope you write sometimes on that blog, but i can understand why you don't. you always tag me in the loveliest stuff and ask me the most intriguing questions, but sometimes my responses get so long that i forget about it after saving them in my drafts so i hope you know that's not me ignoring you! 😭 i wish to express that both your words and actions are extremely touching and i'm always grateful you entered my life. you're like a ray of soft sunshine, yk? the kind that comforts you and heals you, and i'm always so happy to be around you. your presence itself is a harbinger of joy. after a long and tumultuous year, i just want to remind you that you're also worthy of love and care and affection. please don't forget that.

@rightfate-posts shiro, my lovely!! your words are srsly the most impactful ones. i still remember that day i was feeling depressed as hell, but the words you sent me where like an angel showing light to me who had forgot what it felt like. it was like being reintroduced to love and appreciation, yk? and it isn't just about that specific time either, it's always. your words always have an impact on me, and i often think about you, your health, your likes and dislikes, what you'd appreciate, what you'd love. it's like a spiraling loop, but i'm glad to be stuck. your boundless optimism is contagious, and the way you express yourself and look out for others is heart warming. in a way, you're like a worried friend whose always smothering others with care in spite of their own struggles. i just want you to look after yourself this year, and i wish utmost happiness and joy to you!

@meimeimeirin mei!! our fellow granny 🤝😂 no, but i have stated this many times, and i will state it once again- your sense of responsibility, your optimism, your upright nature and your mindset are all genuinely inspiring. sometimes when i'm sulking i just scroll through your blog for the positivity XD the way you interact with others is proof of your radiance. i just think you deserve the whole world. you're the first friend i made here, and even though we don't interact as much anymore, our convos and laughs remain fresh in my mind. you're of those people you can't get enough of, yk? the best part is that you're a good influence XD i just hope we remain together as friends for a long time!!

@beloved-brynn what should i say about you, you little meme lord. words fail me with the kind of joy i feel when it comes to you. i just don't know what exactly it is about you that makes you so attractive but i've genuinely always thought of you as this shiny little pokémon who didn't know how to perceive itself because it didn't have other shiny little things around itself. i know you're not the best with sappy stuff, but let me be rn, i'm getting emotional 😭😂 on the lighter side, you're a little bundle of joy wrapped up in jokes yk? literally my favourite combo. when you describe the things you like i want to sit down and listen to you forever, because your passions seem to all stem from genuine love and interest. you're one of those people who don't pull too much sarcasm, so you can just be honest and open with them. i trust you a lot, and i srsly love you. like love love you. the reason i emphasize it is because we don't really talk too much emotion, but i just want to let you know because i have the chance to yap rn. i love you a lot, and your works are awesome.

@circeappxteer rhea!! it's always so lovely to speak with you, i can't even describe it. your words are always so laced with care and empathy that i can feel it even when they are just words on a screen yk? i really appreciate you reaching out to me, speaking with me and stuff because ngl i'm not very good with checking up on people and going out of my way to speak with them so i genuinely appreciate you a lot 😭❤ you're a very kind person! unfortunately, we haven't had many opportunities to interact this year, but hopefully the coming year will be kinder to us in terms of free time and opportunities! here's to an year of happiness and lasting memories 🥂

@naraven ven, you're like. CRAZY TALENTED, i hope you know that!! your works, compositions they are all so awesome i just don't even know in what words describe my adoration. i used to learn music when i was younger, a sitar and i always loved it. unfortunately, i couldn't connect with it the way i connected with art but it continued to fascinate me, regardless. in a way, the lack of connection was actually a lack of ability to express myself in notes, strings, tunes and melodies but you can, and i'll never have anything less than pure admiration for you. aside from that, you're an AWESOME person literally 10/10 you're so cute i just want to squish your cheeks XD we didn't have many personal interactions or deeper convos, but i look forward to new moments spent together! let's hope the next year will bring more with itself :D

@cherieiu you cutie pie xue XD if there's any complaint i have against you, then it's that you're always busy so we can rarely interact D: BUT!! i appreciate and respect your sense of discipline a lot! be focused on your studies, it is greatly rewarding! you always get back to me though so i love that XD and you're SO polite and well mannered it's so cute!! regardless, i wish utmost success to you for this coming year! do well in your studies, and go far in life ✨

@pranabefall anya, to me you're like the mutual XD i always think we just get each other, yk? maybe it's because we have very similar backgrounds, but regardless of that i appreciate the connection we have! i always feel like i could say the craziest stuff and you would still get me XD but you also remain dignified, so i appreciate that very much, too! you're a very hard working person, so it's always lovely to see you having fun and letting loose. we haven't interacted a lot, but let's hope it's better in the following year! do take care, though! this year wasn't the most stable, so please look after yourself <3

@euniveve eun, i got to know you only this year, but to say that you're the most intriguing person regardless would be an understatement for the kind of curiosity i hold for you. the way you manage to hold on in spite of all difficulties, the way you outshine struggles, the way you make even the harder things appear simple is simply awe-inspiring to me. your sense of responsibility and the way you carry yourself is genuinely amazing. you're srsly like an elder sister figure to me, and i admire you a lot. above everything else, i relate to you on a lot of aspects and in our thoughts towards various things as well. i really enjoyed the convo we had about ghosts and stuff, so i hope we get more chances like that one! regardless, i hope the next year brings relief from so many responsibilities, or at least gives you the strength to bear them. my best wishes are always with you!

@mochinon-yah YOU!

jokes aside, you're a cutie pie!! literally my baby istg, i read your message on my christmas tree and i wanted to hug you so hard!! i appreciate you in ways i can't describe, mochi. when i said i see you as a younger sister, i was being SO fr i can't even describe it. really. i just want you to be happy and flourish like you deserve! if you ever need advices, any help, any info, know that i'm out there, ready and willing to help to the best of my abilities! and ofc, over everything else, you have my best wishes <3 i hope success, joy and love become your closest companions!

@shinchansbitch you're such a boundless bundle of energy i don't even know how to describe it XD when you express deeper feelings, which is again pretty rare but always welcomed, i always wanna listen to you, understand what you mean and express my own ideas as well. we haven't had a lot of chances to interact previous year, but i hope it gets better in this one. you're literally one of the funniest people i've ever seen! your ability to be authentic, and the small windows of genuinity and vulnerability are cherished memories in my heart. i've been busy so i couldn't interact much with you, but i always end up laughing whenever you pop up on my dash with another of your out of pocket posts. srsly, love you sweetie pie <3

@teabutmakeitazure // @haven-avalon // @harmonysanreads // @stickyspeckledlight all of you are literally amazing people! we don't really talk much on tumblr, but you guys' interactions on the server never fail to make me laugh or catch my attention. hopefully, we have more chances at closer interactions this year! but really, all of you are genuinely nice and kind people, too.

@kazuinvocation os, although we met at a very busy time, and for a very work-kind of purpose, i still appreciate you a lot. i srsly loved your message on my christmas tree. yk, i'm just glad to make others happy so i just felt really happy when you said that. i'm glad to have you in the team, especially because you're also particularly responsible. thank you os, for all the things you do behind the curtain. they're all noticed, and lovingly appreciated!

@pneumosia welcome back yona! we didn't interact at all the last time we were mutuals lol so i don't have much to say, except, let's hope we have more chances this year to come together and interact. i hope you've been doing well, and that the coming year will bring joy and success to you in your endeavours! don;t get too distracted, and focus on your studies. you're running various servers so it makes me concerned sometimes, make sure to study properly. i wish you success!

to all of you: a very happy new year! regardless of how much we have interacted, let's hope the next year brings joy, success and lovely memories for all of us. may the wheel of time bestow joy upon all of us! let's remain together and have many more moments of happiness together!

[screamlet]

2024 Tumblr Top 10

tagged by @rcmclachlan​!!! what a fun journey through time, especially because this is the first time i've been in a tumblr-centric fandom... ever.

Share your top 10 tumblr posts from last year! Visit this site, scroll down to "Find your Tumblr Top 10," type in your username, and select 2024. When you get the results, simply click "Share to Tumblr" and you'll get an auto-generated draft for a post with links and previews. Make any adjustments you see fit.

---

1. 558 notes - Nov 9 2024

Another hospital room. Buck takes a deep breath and closes his eyes again, letting it out and hoping he gets back to sleep. It doesn’t happen, though, because his brain catches up to his eyes: Maddie, wearing a yellow paper hospital mask, a hand anxiously on her belly, sitting in the chair next to him with that too-familiar oh-thank-god-you’re-finally-awake face… and Tommy leaning in the doorway.

this is from break and be mended, the 4.5k bucktommy fix-it fic i vomited up literally two days after the breakup aired. the spirit (of anger and spite) moved me i guess

2. 406 notes - Sep 17 2024

so imagine: s8e1, many bees, zero tommy until another last 5 minutes of the episode, the jeep pulling up to this small house...

this little whatever from a week before the s8 premiere when we thought the bees would be something and/or tommy would do anything and/or we would ever see tommy’s fucking house. the dodgeball of apollo missed me on every count.

3. 400 notes - Oct 4 2024

“well we’re so happy the co-pilot’s awake! everything’s gonna be just fine and we can land this plane now” god don’t they know they’re in part two of a three-part season opener, they did this to themselves

this random post from an episode live blog and it wouldn’t have gone anywhere without @dadvans​ and the assist, god this still makes me laugh

4. 232 notes - Dec 8 2024

It’s not until the elevator starts moving that he hears it through the doors: “Tommy! Tommy, wait—Tommy!”

the fic post for a wolf without a foot, my 34k bucktommy fix-it fic that just... 😐 i might write a buck interstitial to this one because buck’s (lack of) presence in it continues to bug me. no promises!!!!

5. 222 notes - Aug 28 2024

The plan doesn't involve kissing Evan, this man he's met three times. Disaster rescue, work tour, basketball disaster, Evan's apartment right now—four times. This is only the fourth time he's ever laid eyes on Evan Buckley, but Evan Buckley hasn't fucking blinked since he stepped into the room. Has Tommy?

for a random wip wednesday, i posted the whole tommy pov scene of The First Kiss from what are your intentions? and it’s still getting notes four and a half months later. this poor man!!! what’s a terrified gay to do!!!!!

6. 214 notes - Dec 11 2024

Tommy has one arm firmly around Buck and one finger pointing at Sal. "I'm from LA. When the hell would I have seen a live chicken?"

aw, this cute @118dailydrabble​ where buck learns about Maurice the Chicken while hanging out with tommy, sal, and bobby.

7. 213 notes - Dec 20 2024

Buck reads to himself: If my grief is violent enough, perhaps he will come back to life again... "Mayday, mayday, mayday, companies respond to an explosion at Harbor Station."

the beginning of blow up that chopper!!!!

8. 204 notes - Nov 16 2024

"Yeah, pretty much. You got some good parts, though. The really good ones." He swallows past the lump in his throat, and means it when he says, "I wouldn't give you any less." "But I wanted all of them," Evan says. "You gave me less, Tommy. Don't think you did me some favor, here. You didn't. You gave me less."

a wip wednesday excerpt from a wolf without a foot, gahhhhhhh yes it still kills me, too

9. 201 notes - Nov 26 2024

my favorite part of the bucktommy breakup fic explosion is seeing each writer focus on THE thing that bugs them most about this breakup and/or breakups in general...

"confessions” aired almost exactly two months ago and man has this fandom been a fucking ride since then

10. 198 notes - Dec 9 2024

unfortunately kinley cafe posits a REALLY interesting coffee shop au where the fluffy gay owners break up and a whole neighborhood has to scheme to get them back together so they don't sell the cafe

where is this coffee shop au!!!!!!!!!!!

tagging: YOU, YES, YOU

[valiantroeagleangel]

You look gorgeous tonight.

Vinny mauro x female reader

Kinktober day 31. Ruined makeup, mirror sex, unprotected sex.

I know I said this one would be on Justin but I had this in my drafts for some time now and I feel like it's more appropriate for Kinktober. Plus my beta reader liked the spice sooo... Here it is. This one is for all the Vinny enjoyers who read me. I see you guys.

Hope you'll like it.

Going out with the girls was something you always loved to do but these nights have made themselves rare lately. You were constantly focused on work or your boyfriend. Now that you had settled, finding time to go out with your pals was hard, especially to go to bars without Vinny.

But tonight was the night, your favourite short black dress on, you were doing your makeup in the bathroom while your boyfriend scrolled through his phone in the living room.

Vinny was an angel, truly the sweetest boyfriend in the world but you liked having time with your friends. Alone time. Because Vinny might be sweet but he also was a lot to deal with.

Lost in your thoughts you spent the last thirty minutes bending over the sink to apply black everywhere except where you wanted it to be. You cursed in annoyance. But a few seconds later you heard Vinny call you in the back.

-What?

He didn't hear your answer and called you again, louder.

-What Vin? You were basically screaming through the house, still fighting with the black pen in your eyes as your tone came out more severe than you intended it to be but you got no answer.

Was he fucking deaf? All these years of music must have damaged his eardrum after all.

You heard him approach, your gaze checking his reflection in the mirror as he stood behind you, leaning against the door frame.

-Hey, I've been calling you for minutes now.

-Yeah I know. I answered back, didn't you hear me?

Back with your liner, you stopped looking at him but as he went silent your gaze shifted again in worry.

-Vin? Are you alright?

Hell yes, he was. He just realised how nice the view was from his spot, the bottom of your dress slightly rolled up as your ass was pushed back to him.

-Hm? His gaze went up, looking at you through the mirror. Sorry, you were saying?

You sighed.

-Why were you calling me?

-Oh, I just wanted to know when you were leaving.

-In forty-five minutes, something like that.

He nodded, his gaze going back to your dress as you resumed your makeup, letting Vinny leer at your ass.

Minutes passed and he didn't leave. Your maquillage almost done, he stepped closer, his hand coming to brush briefly your inner thigh.

His lips came to the top of your head as he tried not to ruin your foundation.

-You look gorgeous tonight.

You smiled at him and straightened yourself. In a smooth movement, you directed your head toward him and his thumb came for your cheek to gently rub under your eyes.

-You have some black here.

You groaned.

-It's that fucking liner, it ruins my makeup every time.

He laughed softly.

-Come here, I'll help you.

You turned yourself, your waist now resting against the furniture.

One of Vinny's hands rested on your face while the other grabbed the pen. His face upon yours, you felt his breath on your lips the moment he leaned your head back. In silence he started to correct your makeup, gently brushing the soft pen against your closed eyes.

But Vinny groaned, putting lines everywhere.

-This liner sucks, why are you still using that shit?

-I wanted to finish it before throwing it away.

-Well throw that trash now. I'll buy you a new one, okay?

You nodded and turned back on the counter to finally look at yourself in the mirror.

-Oh my god Vin, what the heck? I look like a fucking raccoon.

He frowned his brows, not happy with your reaction.

-I did very well. Your liner is great.

-Hell no, I look like Ricky. You laughed at him heartily, desperate with the way he made you look.

He started to sulk, visibly hurt by your comment and the way you mocked him. But you kept laughing, tears in your eyes you kissed his cheek gently in an attempt to comfort him a bit. His pout immediately changed into a grin while he used this as an occasion to bring you against him, his hands going for your ass.

-Alright, you might look like a raccoon, I admit it. But you are a very sexy raccoon.

You rolled your eyes back, sighing softly.

-Vin, I don't have time for this. I'm supposed to be gone in thirty minutes and now I have to redo my makeup completely.

-I haven't ruined it. It's your shitty liner's fault.

You chuckled, his lips coming for yours.

-Vin. You warned him.

-I'm sorry baby. I'll drop you off so you can have more time, hm?

You smiled in approval, letting him kiss you. Still, you put a hand on his chest to keep him at a reasonable distance while he played with your lips.

His hands still resting on your ass he pushed your hips against his, deepening the kiss.

Your hands left his torso, surrounding his neck with your arms as you melted in his embrace. But quickly his hands raised you, sitting you on the furniture and he went back for your lips. His tongue started to play against yours making you whine softly.

You broke the kiss ready to speak but he was already ahead of you.

-Yes I know, your makeup.

His head went down your neck, trailing kisses under your ear. At this point, you will not have that much resistance.

-But it's your fault you know. Bending over the counter with that small black dress of yours. He whispered.

You hummed at him, your hand rummaging through his hair when his lips went down your clavicle.

-I love that bustier though, it's very convenient.

His head dipped down your cleavage, leaving kisses everywhere on your skin. You soughed, your hands still in his hair, you tried to raise his head.

-Vin, come on.

But as he finally peeked up you faced a Vinny with red cheeks, bushy hair, and lipstick everywhere on his lips. He stared at you with an expression full of desire, waiting for you to tell him what to do. Oh, dear gods.

Your insides twitched the second you focused on his half-opened mouth, breathing heavily.

-I have to get ready. But he went back to you, gently kissing your jaw, making you pause between each word. I'll be late.

-You still have plenty of time.

Vinny raised his head again, his dilated pupils looking at you with a desire that made you curse internally. Without thinking anymore, you brought his head to yours, your lips initiating a kiss as you gave in to his pleas. And he understood that quickly, not losing time to ravenously eat your lips.

Whimpering you used your heels to push him closer to you. His hands to your thighs he brushed delicately your skin, pushing the bottom of your dress up.

-Your skin is so soft. He whispered against your lips.

You didn't answer back, waiting for his next move but he kept staring at you, red lipstick all over his face. Your thumb went for his mouth, softly caressing his lips, almost as if he was an illusion that could disappear the moment you scared it away.

His gaze still on you he pushed your hand down, crashing his lips against yours one more time. Your hands back in his hair you kept stroking it while he made a mess out of you.

-Now I ruined it. He teased your makeup smeared everywhere on his face.

He moved away, letting you off the furniture.

-Look.

You turned yourself, checking your reflection in the mirror. Your cheeks were red, your pupils dilated and your mouth was covered in that red lip stain.

He stepped toward you, your back bumping against his chest as his arms surrounded you. One of his hands came to grab your neck and the other rested on your stomach. His lips on your ear he whispered breaking the sound of your heavy breaths.

-You're such a mess. You definitely can't go out like that. Let me fix it, hm?

You looked at him through the mirror, your gazes encountering. Your head leaning back on his shoulder you sighed when you felt his hand leaving your belly to pass under your dress, brushing your thigh. Quickly it went to your underwear, caressing it.

-Is that black lace?

You nodded, closing your eyes as he started to touch you through your clothing. Biting your lips you only whined, not responding to focus on the feeling between your legs.

He kept caressing you like that for a bit, his right hand still holding your throat as he pinned you against him.

The more he teased you the more you whined, moving your hips in his direction to rub your ass on his crotch. He cursed quickly getting your underwear down, the hand on your neck leaving to lift your dress.

Freed from his grasp you turned back on him and grabbed his belt, unbuckling it in a fast movement. Shortly you went for his trousers, getting your hand in his underwear to caress him a little. His fingers sank into the skin of your hips, grabbing you harder.

You looked for his lips, kissing them as you started to stroke him. His breath quickly became heavier heavily you, soft pants escaping his lips. Getting hard he stopped you to twist you for you to face the mirror again. With one of his hands on your back, he pushed you forward, making you bend on the furniture.

-Ass up baby. You gasped, not expecting his voice to be that low. His fingers back to your intimacy he started to play with you a little, letting them brush your slit as you moaned under him. Lemme ruin you completely. 

-Fuck Vin stop playing already.

He laughed hoarsely, his torso leaning on your back as his lips came for your ear.

-Right, weren't you in a rush? He teased, kissing your temple softly while you felt his fingers go away. We should hurry.

He didn't say anything else as he grabbed himself pushing his way inside you. You moaned loudly, definitely not expecting such brutality. Still, he didn't move, letting you get used to the feeling.

-Is it better? You nodded. Good. He kissed your temple one last time, straightening himself up.

One of his hands was keeping you bent in front of him as the other grasped your hip, stabilizing himself when he started to thrust inside you. You heard him groan, seeing him tilt his head back through the mirror in front of you. His eyes half-closed in ecstasy he called your name in a deep voice, losing himself inside you. And fuck it felt so good, the sight he was offering behind you gave you butterflies.

You started to moan as his movements became more abrupt, more deep. Your sounds brought him back to reality and his hand left your back to rest and press on your stomach.

You leaned on your forearms, trying to straighten yourself a bit as his fingers descended to your core to gently caress you again. Which created a contrast with the way he was roughly riding you. You whined one more time at the feeling of his fingers on your clit while he traced slow circles on it, your back arching his way. Your head up you kept looking at him through the mirror, contemplating the way he was thrusting in and out of you with such passion. But he bent down on you, his lips coming for your nape.

Your gaze shifted to yourself, noticing the way your makeup was definitely ruined. Your hair stuck to your face as your chest rose erratically, making you pant under him.

-Oh god Vin. On the verge of coming, you cried, as out of breath as he him.

Gently he stroked your hair, now kissing your shoulder.

-Hm? His lips still pressed on your back he didn't look at you, too concentrated on the way he was moving inside you. Come for me babe, it's okay.

And so you did, his words making you lose your mind as he kept chasing his own orgasm. You clenched so hard on him that you felt him relieve everything he had inside of you as he collapsed on your body not even seconds later.

After some time he separated himself from you, lifting you back on the counter.

-Yeah, you might actually be late now.

He smiled at you and pushed his hair back from his forehead. Now, you had to redo everything, including the shower.