FUCCK BASHIR & FUCCCK NETFLIX
Sade Olutola
Game of Thrones Daily
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One Nice Bug Per Day
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let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open

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@ariesthesun
FUCCK BASHIR & FUCCCK NETFLIX
⭐️he definitely yoked her up after this performance..he doesn’t like his ‘pretty baby’ showing the world what’s only meant for him.
SHAMONEEE
whewwwwwww
| THIS PAIRRRR OMFG ALEXA PLAY “NAUGHTY GIRL”
⭐️ it’s giving bratty up and coming pop star who thinks she can’t be fucked with (rightfully so!!) and michael lovesssss that shit.
⭐️ she pays his ass DUSTTT at public events, ignoring him as if she could care less but behind closed doors 👀 he quickly gathers all that attitude when he spanking that ass.
but yall ain’t hear this from me shhh.
it’s getting baddddd
Jaafar Jackson in Michael (2026)
sooooo is anybody gonna write about michael or do i have to 😩
Tyriq and Damson taking turns loosening me up
sorry i can’t get the thought out of my head
Off Script
You were halfway zoned out on your couch, TV murmuring in the background more for noise than entertainment, when your phone lit up with your agent's name. You answered without thinking, still staring at the screen.
"Y/N, I have good news and bad news."
That alone made your stomach tighten. "Okay..." you said cautiously, finally sitting up a little straighter.
"Good news is-landed you a role in a new movie."
Your heart jumped. "What-seriously?"
"Very seriously."
"And the bad news?" you asked, already bracing yourself.
There was a pause. Too long. "You're cast as Tyriq Withers' love interest."
You sat completely upright, eyes darting around your apartment like there was a hidden camera waiting to jump out. "You're joking."
"I'm not. And look, I know you and him have y'all differences but-"
"Absolutely not," you cut in immediately, shaking your head hard. "No. No way."
"Y/N-"
"No," you repeated, firmer this time.
"You're not even letting me speak," your agent said patiently.
"What could you possibly say right now that would make me agree to working with that man again?" you snapped, pacing the length of your living room.
She sighed, then softened her tone. "I can say that this role will blow your career wide open. I can say that you and Tyriq are exactly the look they need for this film. I can say the chemistry on paper is undeniable-even with the tension. And I can say that whatever dislike you two have for each other, you're going to have to put it aside...for the sake of your career."
Silence stretched between you. You pressed your lips together, jaw tight, because the worst part was-you knew she was right.
Finally, exhale, rubbing your forehead. "If this goes wrong," you said quietly, "it's going to be your fault."
She squealed on the other end of the line, all professionalism gone. "Oh my gosh, yes! You're going to thank me for this."
You barely had time to react before she added brightly, "Tomorrow morning. Chemistry read. Ten a.m. Don't be late."
The line went dead before you could get another word in.
You stared at your phone, heart pounding, one thought looping through your mind-
Working with Tyriq again might be the worst decision you've ever made.
Flashback
You decided you didn't like Tyriq Withers within the first hour.
He walked onto set like owned it-late, unbothered, greeting people by first name like the world naturally made room for him. Confidence rolled off him in waves, effortless and loud. The kind of man who's never been told no and couldn't imagine why he should start now.
You watched him joke with the crew, charm the director skip right past rehearsal.
Must be nice, you thought.
When it was time to shoot, you were already in position, script dog-eared, mind locked in. Tyriq slid across from you at the last second, grin easy, eyes flicking over you like he was sizing you up.
"Relax," he murmured. "It's not that deep."
You didn't look at him. "It is if you care."
His smile dimmed-just a little.
The scene started. You hit every beat. Every emotion landed. When Tyriq responded, he leaned into the moment like instinct alone would carry him through.
It showed.
"Cut," the director said. "Let's reset."
You exhale through your nose. "Maybe try saying the lines as written."
Tyriq turned to you slowly. "You always this... intense?"
"You always this underprepared?"
He laughed, sharp and incredulous. "Wow. You really think you're the authority in the room."
"Oh look who's talking." You tilt your head, "No, I just respect the work."
He scoffed. "You respect control."
You finally looked at him then. "And you confuse arrogance for talent."
A beat passed. His jaw tightened.
"You're stuck up," he said bluntly. "You act like everyone needs to prove something to you."
"And you act like no one ever has," you shot back. "When's the last time someone checked you?"
Silence fell heavy between you, the air buzzing with something dangerous and unspoken.
He stepped closer, lowering his voice . "Careful. That attitude's gonna get you labeled difficult."
You met his gaze without flinching. "I'd rather be difficult than forgettable."
His eyes flicked down, then back up-heated, irritated, caught.
From then on it was set.
To you, Tyriq was everything you hated: Too cocky. Too careless. Too used to being praised for doing the bare minimum.
And to him? You were stubborn. Rigid. Unwilling to bend or let anyone in. Every interaction lingered too long. And neither of you had the slightest intention of backing down.
The dislike didn't fade-it settled in. It grew in the little things.
Tyriq would show up five minutes late to rehearsals like it was a joke, flashing that easy grin like the world should be grateful he made it at all. He'd improvise line without warning, throwing off scene you spent hours perfecting, the shrug when you called him out. "It worked though, didn't it?" he'd say, like effort was optional when talent came naturally to him.
That alone drove you crazy.
What really got under your skin was how unbothered he was. How nothing seemed to matter as much to him as it did to you. He'd lean back in his chair during table reads, feet stretched out, eyes on you like he was waiting for you to snap. And when you did-when your mouth got slick and sharp- he'd smile like he'd won something.
But deep down, he hated that about you. The way your words always landed clean and cutting. The way you never backed down. The way you could shut him up without raising your voice.
Behind the scenes, you argued about everything. Blocking. Delivery. Tone. Even music choices. You wanted structure; he wanted freedom. You wanted intention; he relied on instinct. Every disagreement turned into a standoff, neither of you willing to give an inch.
And yet, somehow, the tension followed you everywhere-thick, buzzing, impossible to ignore.
Crew members noticed. Whispers started. They don't get along, people said. They clash.
By the time filming wrapped, you were exhausted-not from work, but from him.
So you made a decision. That would be the first and last time you ever worked with Tyriq Withers.
Currently
You sat in the sudden silence of your living room, phone still warm in your hand long after your agent had hung up. The TV kept playing, some meaningless show running in the background, but you weren't watching it. You were already somewhere else-back then.
Working with Tyriq had irritated you in a way no one else ever managed to. He had a talent for getting under your skin, for knocking you clean out of character with a look, a comment, a smirk that felt deliberate. You'd be locked into a scene, grounded, focused-then he'd change the cadence of a line, step closer than rehearsed, lower his voice just enough to throw you off balance. He always noticed too. Always clocked the split second your composure cracked.
You hated that.
You hated that he could disrupt you so easily, that he made you feel reactive instead of in control. Acting was supposed to be your safe place-measured, intentional-but with him, it felt like walking into a scene without knowing the blocking. Unsteady. Exposed.
It had been a while since you'd worked with him, long enough that you'd convinced yourself it was over, that you'd never have to deal with that kind of frustration again. But now, just the thought of being on set with him- of sharing space, scripts, scenes-had irritation already curling in your chest.
You leaned back against the couch, staring at the ceiling, jaw tightening.
Maybe he'd changed.
Maybe he wasn't the same arrogant, cocky man who thought talent excused everything. But you doubted it.
And somehow, that made the pit in your stomach sink even deeper.
Chemistry read
You were early. Painfully early.
The hallway outside the casting room was quiet except for the low hum of production chatter somewhere down the hall. You sat with your legs crossed, posture perfect, fingers tapping once against your knee before you forced them still. You didn't need to check the time again-you already knew.
Ten minutes late.
You exhale through your nose, annoyed but not surprised.
Of course he was late.
You were just about to stand and ask the assistant if they wanted to reschedule when air shifted-subtle, but familiar. Like the room suddenly knew he'd arrived.
You look up.
Tyriq was walking toward you like he owned the place. Jacket slung over his shoulder, steps unhurried, expression relaxed in that way that always made you want to knock it right off his face. He didn't look rushed. He didn't look apologetic.
He looked exactly the same.
You stood as he stopped in front of you, arms folding instinctively over your chest.
"You're late," you said, voice calm but sharp. "I see some things didn't change."
His lips curved into that slow, infuriating smirk. "And you're still you," he replied easily. "On time. Serious. Already annoyed."
Your eyes rolled so hard that almost hurt. "Amazing how you can be late and still act like you're the one being inconvenienced."
He chuckled under his breath, leaning back slightly like this was entertainment. "Relax. I showed up."
"The bare minimum," you shot back. "Congratulations."
His eyes flicked over you-not lingering, not respectful, just enough to make your jaw tighten.
"I'm surprised you actually agreed to doing this," he said, head tilting slightly. "Figured you'd turn it down."
"Trust me," you said cooly, "I didn't at first."
That seemed to catch his attention.
"Oh yeah?" he asked, curiosity slipping through the arrogance. "What changed?"
"My agent," you replied instantly. "And my desire to keep my career moving forward."
He hummed, amused. "So I'm just collateral damage?"
"You've always been," you answered flatly.
A quiet laugh left him, low and disbelieving. "Damn. Still stubborn."
"Still cocky," you fired back. "Still late."
"Still got that slick mouth," he said stepping a little closer now, voice dropping. "You know that's what gets you in trouble."
You smiled-tight, unimpressed. "Funny. I was about to say the same about your ego."
For a split second, something unreadable crossed his face. Then the smirk returned, sharper this time.
"Guess we're really doing this," he said. "Again."
"Unfortunately." You stepped past him, shoulder brushing just enough to be intentional. Heels clicking down the hallway, not giving him the satisfaction of another word.
Behind you, Tyriq watched you go, jaw tightening, smirk lingering.
Tyriq POV
Tyriq stayed exactly where he was when you walked away.
Didn't follow. Didn't react. Didn't give you the satisfaction of knowing you'd landed a hit.
But his jaw tightened all the same.
Your heels echoed down the hallway, and he hated that the sound lingered longer than it should've. Hated that his eyes followed you before he caught himself and forced them forward. Hated that, even now, you had a way knocking him off balance without touching him.
Your mouth was still slick. Too slick. Always had been.
You talked like you were above him, like he was an inconvenience instead of a co-star. Like his presence was something you tolerated rather than respected. And that little look you gave him-slow, deliberate, unimpressed-felt like a challenge he never asked for and never wanted.
You thought he was everything you hated in a man. Arrogant. Loud. Too sure of himself.
And he thought you were exactly what he couldn't stand-stubborn, stuck up, always acting like you were the smartest person in the room.
The problem?
You might've been.
Tyriq clenched his fists at his sides, forcing himself to breathe through the irritation crawling up his spine. You always did this-walked in, disrupted his rhythm, then disappeared like nothing happened. Left him standing there looking like the one who cared.
Which only made him angrier.
He'd worked with difficult people before. Divas. Egos.
People who ran their mouths and folded the second they were checked.
You never folded.
That was the part he despised the most.
He shook his head once, sharp and annoyed, before finally moving toward the casting room.
This chemistry read was already a mess.
Not because you didn't have chemistry-but because whatever it was between you had teeth.
And Tyriq had a feeling that if he wasn't careful, you'd draw blood before the day was over.
The Casting Room
The room was too quiet.
Not the good kind.
The kind that made every breath sound loud.
You stood on your mark, script loose in your hand, posture professional even though your patience was already thinning. Across from you, Tyriq leaned back against the table instead of standing where he was supposed to. Relaxed. Unbothered. Like this was just another thing he'd stroll through and dominate.
The casting director clapped once. "Alright, let's take it from the top. Scene three. This is the moment they finally let their guard down."
You bit back a laugh.
Good luck.
"Action."
You lifted your gaze to Tyriq, slipping into character-softening your expression, lowering your voice, reaching for something open and vulnerable.
And then he smirked.
Not scripted.
Not subtle.
Your jaw tightened immediately.
"I can't believe I agreed to doing this," you muttered, the line bleeding out sharper than intended.
"Yeah," Tyriq replied easily, eyes locked on yours. "Me either."
Your head snapped toward him.
You shot him an irritated look, eyes rolling so hard it was a miracle you didn't pull something. The tension in the room spiked instantly.
"That wasn't the line," you said, voice clipped.
"Felt honest though," he replied, unfazed.
A chair shifted behind the monitors.
You took a step closer, anger buzzing just under your skin. "If you're going to half-ass it, at least pretend to respect the work."
Tyriq straightened then, finally stepping into your space.
His voice dropped-too low, too calm.
"Funny," he said. "I was thinking the same about you." Mocking the statement you said earlier.
Your pulse jumped.
You laughed once, sharp and humorless. "Please. You stroll in late, act like this is beneath you, and now you wanna talk about respect?"
"Late doesn't mean unprepared," he shot back. "And maybe if you weren't so busy being... whatever this is—"
"Professional?" you cut in.
"Stuck up," he corrected without hesitation.
The director cleared her throat. "Let's-let's pause for a second."
But Tyriq wasn't finished.
"You walk in here like you already decided you're better than this," he said, quiet enough that only you could hear.
"Than me."
You stepped forward, closing the distance completely. "I don't think I'm better," you said through a tight smile.
"You just keep proving it."
The silence in the room was deafening.
"Cut," the director said quickly. "Let's take five."
You broke away first, turning on your heel before your mouth could get you in more trouble. Your hands were clenched at your sides, heart racing for reasons that had nothing to do with nerves.
Behind you, Tyriq scoffed.
"No chemistry," the producer said carefully. "It feels... combative."
You paused, glancing back at him over your shoulder.
Combative didn't even begin to cover it.
By the third chemistry read, the room felt cursed.
You'd tried everything.
Softening your delivery.
Changing your body language.
Standing closer. Standing farther. Sitting. Touching. Not touching.
Nothing worked.
Every read ended the same way-too sharp, too tense, too loaded with irritation that bled straight through the script. If anything, it got worse the more you were asked to "connect."
Tyriq paced near the window now, jaw tight, arms crossed like he was holding himself back from saying something reckless. You stood on the opposite side of the room, script folded, nails digging into the paper so hard it crinkled.
The director pinched the bridge of his nose.
"Again," he said, already sounding tired. "From the middle."
You locked eyes with Tyriq.
Instant static.
"Action."
You barely made it three lines in.
"That's not-" Tyriq cut in.
"That is the line," you snapped back.
"Yeah, the line," he said, smirking. "Not the attitude."
"Cut," the director barked.
Silence slammed into the room.
He stood slowly, chair scraping loudly against the floor.
When he spoke again, his voice was low. Controlled.
Dangerous in the way calm always was before an explosion.
"You know what?" he said. "Enough."
You stiffened.
Tyriq straightened too.
"You two are acting like children," the director continued, eyes flicking between you. "And I don't mean passionate actors clashing-I mean stubborn, egotistical, refusing-to-budge children."
Tyriq scoffed. "With all due respect-"
"I don't want to hear it," the director cut him off sharply, holding up a hand. "Not from you. Not from her. Not from either of you."
He took a few steps forward, closing the distance like he needed you to feel this.
"You are both good actors," he said firmly. "Great, actually. That's why you were picked. Not because of your faces. Not because of your names. Because you can act."
Then he pointed between the two of you.
"But this?" he said. "This has to stop."
Your stomach tightened.
"We've done three chemistry reads," he continued.
"Romantic. Casual. Emotional. Even improvisational. And every single time, instead of connection, all I see is resistance."
Tyriq clenched his jaw.
You looked away.
"There is something here," the director admitted.
"Something real. And instead of leaning into it, you're fighting it like it personally offends you."
You opened your mouth. "We're professionals-"
"I said I don't want to hear it," he repeated, sharper this time. "Because professionals don't let personal feelings sabotage a film."
The word personal hung heavy in the air.
"So," he said finally, folding his hands together. "Here's what's going to happen."
Neither of you spoke.
"I'm sending you away. Two weeks. No crew. No press. No excuses."
Your head snapped up. "Excuse me?"
"Vacation," he said plainly. "Somewhere quiet. Somewhere you can't avoid each other."
Tyriq let out a disbelieving laugh. "You can't be serious."
"I am very serious," the director replied coolly. "You will spend time together. You will talk. You will exist in the same space without scripts or cameras or an audience."
"And if we say no?" you asked quietly.
The director met your gaze without blinking.
"Then I'll find someone else," he said. "Both of you are replaceable. Don't mistake talent for immunity."
The room went still.
"You want this movie?" he continued. "Then figure it out. Because I don't care who started it, what happened before, or whose ego is bruised."
He picked up his folder.
"But when you come back," he said, voice firm, final, "I expect chemistry-or you won't have a career to argue about."
He turned toward the door, then paused.
"And for the record," he added over his shoulder, I didn't pick you two by accident."
Then he was gone.
The door clicked shut behind the director, the sound echoing through the room like a gunshot.
Silence.
Heavy. Suffocating.
You didn't move. Tyriq didn't either. You could feel him vibrating with it, the anger rolling off him in waves.
Then—
"Look at what you did."
His voice was sharp, accusatory.
You turned slowly. "What / did?"
He snapped his head toward you, eyebrows lifting. "Oh, don't start. You walk in with that attitude, that mouth, and suddenly we're getting sent away like we're the problem."
You laughed under your breath. Bitter. "You really believe that, don't you?"
"Believe what?" he shot back.
"That you're untouchable," you said. "That nobody ever checks you. That people just work around you because you're Tyriq Withers."
His jaw tightened.
"You think you can say whatever you want," you continued, heat building now, "show up whenever you feel like it, derail entire rooms, and nobody's supposed to react."
He took a step toward you. "Watch your mouth."
"No," you snapped. "You hate that I don't fold. You hate that I don't look at you like everyone else does."
Tyriq crossed the distance in three long strides, his hand coming up fast, rough, gripping your cheeks and forcing your face up to his.
"Say that again," he growled, voice pure venom. "Say it again."
Your heart slammed against your ribs, but you didn't flinch. Didn't blink. You held his gaze, face tight with anger and something else neither of you wanted to name.
"You're not mad at me," you said quietly. "You're mad because I see right through you."
His grip tightened instantly, fingers pressing harder into your cheeks as he pulled you closer-nose brushing yours, breath hot against your skin.
"Keep talking," he warned lowly. "That mouth is gonna get you in so much trouble."
Your skin prickled at the sound of his voice, the threat threaded with something dark and charged.
"I think," he continued, voice dropping even lower, "I have a way of fixing that."
For a split second, neither of you breathed.
Then he shoved your face back abruptly, breaking the contact like it burned him.
He stepped away, jaw clenched, eyes dark.
"Get ready," he said, already heading for the door. "Two weeks is a long time."
The door shut behind him.
You stood there frozen, chest heaving, your face still tingling where his hand had been-every nerve awake, every thought spinning.
Home
As soon as you stepped into your apartment, the quiet barely had time to settle before your phone started ringing.
You glanced at the screen and scoffed.
Of course.
You answered immediately. "Heard the great news?" you asked, sarcasm dripping from every word.
Your agent laughed on the other end. Actually laughed.
"Is it that bad?"
You kicked your shoes off harder than necessary. "Did the director call you?"
"Yes," she said easily.
"Then it was that bad," you replied flatly.
You dropped your keys onto the counter and started pacing. "I told you. I told you this wasn't gonna work. Now I'm being forced to go to God knows where with a man I can't stand-for two weeks. Two fucking weeks-or my career is over."
Your chest felt tight as the words spilled out. You didn't even wait for her to respond before yanking your bedroom door open and pulling your suitcase from the closet. It hit the bed with a dull thud.
"What time is the flight?" you asked sharply, already unzipping it.
"Eight p.m."
You froze. "Today?"
Silence.
Your eyes darted to the clock on the wall.
3:43.P.M
You let out a breathless laugh, shaking your head as you dragged a hand down your face. "Of course. Of course it's today."
"Cheer up, babe," your agent said, still trying. "It's not the worst situation in the world."
"Feels like it," you muttered, yanking open drawers and tossing clothes onto the bed with no real system. Jeans. Dresses. Anything that didn't require thinking.
"Start packing," she added. "Don't be late."
You scoffed. "Yeah, I know," you said mockingly. "You don't have to tell me."
She laughed again before hanging up, leaving you alone with the hum of your apartment and the reality crashing down all at once.
You closed your eyes and took a slow, steady breath, forcing yourself to calm down. You needed a clear head if you were going to pack two weeks' worth of your life into one suitcase on a ticking clock.
No matter how much you hated it—
There was no backing out now.
Fiji
"Fiji."
The word left your agent's mouth earlier like it was supposed to soften the blow. Like a tropical destination somehow erased the fact that you were about to be trapped on an almost twelve-hour flight with the one man you couldn't stand.
And now here you were.
You didn't even need to look at your boarding pass again to know how cursed this trip was. The universe had a sense of humor, and it was cruel.
You spotted Tyriq before he saw you-already seated, long legs stretched out, relaxed like this wasn't about to be the most inconvenient flight of his life. When you stopped beside his row, he glanced up slowly, eyes dragging over you like he had all the time in the world.
His brow lifted. "Well... this just keeps getting better."
You exhaled through your nose, unimpressed. "Move."
He leaned back instead, smug. "No hello? No 'safe travels'?"
You shoved your bag into the overhead bin, ignoring him completely. "If you want pleasantries, try someone who doesn't know you."
That earned a low laugh. "Still hostile. Consistency is admirable."
You slid into the seat beside him, buckling in with a sharp click. The proximity was instant and irritating-too close, too warm, too aware. Your elbow brushed his arm and you pulled away like you'd been burned.
He tilted his head slightly. "You act like sitting next to me is a personal attack."
"It is," you replied flatly. "I requested peace. This is the opposite."
The plane began to move, engines humming beneath you.
You stared straight ahead, counting your breaths, already tired and you hadn't even left the ground.
"I didn't think you'd actually come," he said after a moment. "Figured you'd fight it harder."
You turned just enough to look at him. "Don't flatter yourself. This isn't about you."
That wiped the smirk clean off his face for half a second.
Not enough to feel good about it, but enough to notice.
"Good to know," he said coolly.
"Please," you said finally, voice tight as you reached for your headphones. "I've had enough of you today. Sit back, shut up, and let us get this flight over with so we don't have to be practically on top of each other anymore since the plane is so small."
You didn't wait for his response.
You shoved the headphones over your ears and turned toward the window, jaw clenched, watching the city blur past as the plane lifted into the air.
But even with music playing, you could feel him.
His gaze burned into the side of your face-unapologetic, unblinking. You shifted slightly, irritation crawling under your skin. You rolled your eyes, shaking your head because of course he was staring. Of course he couldn't just let it go.
The flight dragged on painfully slow.
Thankfully, Tyriq kept to himself for most of it. No commentary. No snide remarks. Just quiet tension and stolen glances when he thought you weren't paying attention. You pretended to sleep. He pretended not to notice.
By the time you landed, your patience was threadbare.
You grabbed your bags without a word, moving through the airport like muscle memory took over. Outside, a driver waited, ushering you both into a sleek black car.
The ride to the villa was silent.
Tyriq stared out the window, jaw tight, hands clasped together like he was holding something back. You mirrored him, headphones back on, eyes focused on the scenery passing by, pretending the man beside you didn't exist.
When the car finally stopped, you were out before the door was fully open.
You grabbed your bag and made a beeline for the front entrance, pushing inside and doing a quick scan of the space. Beautiful-open, airy, all white and wood and ocean views—
Then you saw it.
One bedroom.
Your heart skipped, panic flaring as you moved quickly through the space, opening doors until-relief.
A second bedroom. Directly across from the first.
You let out a breath you didn't realize you were holding and stepped inside, dropping your bag onto the bed. The room was stunning-large windows, soft linens, ocean just beyond the glass. You took it in quietly, exhaustion finally catching up to you.
You didn't notice him at first.
Tyriq stood in his doorway across the hall, leaning against the frame, arms crossed as he watched you.
There was something unreadable in his expression-tight, dark, simmering.
You lifted your gaze and met his.
Then you walked toward your door, plastered on a sarcastic smile, eyes flicking over him before rolling them.
And you slammed the door in his face.
You leaned back against it for half a second, chest rising and falling, before pushing away and collapsing onto the bed.
The travel exhaustion hit you all at once.
Sleep took you before you could even think about what tomorrow-and two weeks alone with him-was going to bring.
Hey my loves🫶🏾 thank you so much for reading the first part of Off Script. this is very much a slow burn (like... agonizingly slow), and we are truly just getting started. There's so much tension, angst, banter, and emotional chaos coming, so stay tuned because things are only going to get messier from here😌🔥 I appreciate every like, reblog, and comment more than you know it-its means everything to me. If you'd like to be added to the tag list, just met me know! 💌
@shellyyy177 @2fab4utheatrediva @shimmeringsunshinestars @yourleogf
deserve (2) — tyriq withers.
pairing ⁀➷ plug!aaron x plus-size!blackreader
synopsis ⁀➷ you’d been avoiding aaron. the last encounter you two shared far too embarrassing to speak about. you think all is well until aaron confronts you and gives a night you can’t run from.
song(s) of chapter ⁀➷ ‘bending my rules’ by flo & ‘planez’ by jeremih ft. j.cole
word count + warnings ⁀➷ 5.0k || usage of the ‘n’ word, party setting (in the beginning scene), fast driving, small mention of gun, shy!reader, virgin!reader, inexperienced! reader, plug!aaron, sweet!aaron, praise, compliments, pet names (mama, baby), alcohol usage, mentions of smoking & hookah, kissing, breast fondling, fingering, small body insecurity (aaron pushes all that to the side🤪) oral (f receiving), mutual masturbation. i think that’s it, lol?
part 1 to ‘deserve’…here
a/n: let’s just say i went all in on this one. (wipes brow sweat) hope yall enjoy! and don’t forget to reblog/ comment, it means the world to me!! also this was meant to come out on christmas but you know black people ain’t never on time.
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‘little brown liquor in my liver, pretty brown thing in my bed.’
stacey was so damn hardheaded, you’re surprised her skull isn’t made of metal.
standing in the corner of the dim room, you cuddled the red solo cup in your hand with apprehension. the very last thing you needed was to be seen out right now.
a college party with rambunctious twenty-something students scrambled about. from the entrance of the frat house where people struggled to find parking all the way to the backyard where others were leaping from the house’s roof into the 8-foot inground pool. you clambered your way past party streamers and empty bottles of alcohol, while the tunes of lil wayne and drake’s 2011 ‘she will’ thumped so rough, you could practically feel the bass in your chest as you spoke.
“drink up lil bih’,” stacey jokes as she fills your cup with more of the mixed party punch. “stop being a prude, girl come dance with me.”
she struggles to pull on your arm because you’re planted firmly on the hardwood floor. “no, stace, i’m not really in the mood right now. you go dance without me.”
she frowns, squinting at you. “what’s wrong, doll, why are you acting so upset?”
“i’m just—i’m just tired right now, that's all.”
that wasn’t all. you were on the lookout for aaron. two weeks from the last time you’d seen him and you knew he’d be lurking somewhere. the best dealer on campus and the current chaotic party meant he wasn’t far.
your thoughts kept drifting off to the evening you’d spent with him. he scribbled down his phone number on a piece of paper before he left and you hadn’t even typed it into your phone. you thought about it, but ultimately decided against it. you dry humped the fucking plug and refused to contact him again.
fearless.
had this been any other situation, you would be proudly patting yourself on the back.
all was fine a few days ago. besides the fact you acted completely out of character, you adjusted to the situation—but being here at this function made you anxious with the thought that aaron could be here soon.
unbeknownst to you aaron is already in attendance.
he stood in the bathroom upstairs swiping an oval hair brush across his shaved head. he lowered himself to fully look in the mirror as he did so, smoothing the hairs down with his large hand afterwards. he turned his face side to side, getting a good view of himself before flicking the bathroom light off.
he jogged down the stairs to join the scene and playfully cringed when he heard her.
“ayeeee! turn that shit up!”
the familiar loud mouth of stacey hines somehow rang louder than the music. aaron shook his head and took a swig from his cup as stacey continued to dance, making her way over to him.
always platonic and respectful of each other, aaron laughed at her antics.
“i didn’t think it was possible for anyone to be louder than the music, but here you go.”
“don’t start with me, aaron. yo’ egg head ass always fucking with somebody.”
aaron held his chest in faux shock. “stacey i do not mess with you.”
“boy, you be bullying me, don’t act dumb,” she rolls her eyes as aaron pulls her in a gentle hug. “how you been, aaron?”
“shit,” he sighed. he’d been busy as all hell. “i’ve been good, you know me.”
“you making that money last i heard!” She laughs and he smirks, sipping from his cup.
“i fucking wish,” he made a fair amount with selling weed and pills to stressed college kids, but he’d still worked at the local tech store. college was far from cheap.
“speaking of which—do you think you can spot me for tonight? just a little something, you know?”
“man, stacey get your ass on,” he chuckles. “i’m always spotting you. you don’t need shit else.”
she smacked her lips, switching away. “you fucking suck. let me go find my homegirl.”
just as she says it, aaron sees you from across the room.
clear as day. 20/20 vision.
aaron couldn’t miss you if he tried to.
he’s not a stalker. he swears.
fate truly was on his side. kismet you two were.
the party’s lighting gave you no justice. dark strobe lights and flashes from partygoers recording on cell phones were your only source of illumination. aaron didn’t mind too much, he made do with what he had. he hadn’t seen you weeks. not on campus, not at any of these parties—hell not even at the grocery store a few minutes away. you didn’t bother to call or text him for weeks. he’d given you his personal number—which he never gave anyone besides close friends and family. he'd even sent back the cashapp money you’d sent him.
yet, he heard nothing from you.
standing with his back pressed against the wall, aaron watched. this wasn’t like him. staring, observing and not saying a fucking thing. you laughed and danced along with your small group of friends as they tugged on your wrists. you seemed unwilling, but eventually caved. lengthy knotless braids rubbed against your round ass with every turn. a light blue skin-tight two-piece legging and cropped t-shirt set showed off just a bit of your chubby stomach. a pair of all white asics gel 1130 on your feet and that was your attire for the night.
simple enough, but the beauty of your face is what struck him the most. a beat of makeup over your features. falsies on your lashes, blush on the apples of your full cheeks and a lip gloss and liner combo around the edges of plump lips.
maybe it was the punch he drank—the party host probably poured too much vodka into the fruity concoction, aaron wasn’t sure. the only thing that pulled him from his daze was when someone came over and began to whisper into your ear. a guy. aaron had no idea if it was an associate or someone you fucked with, but he didn’t like the sight.
aaron usually had these things down pat but this was different. he had to approach you differently. the situation was unique, aaron couldn’t scare you off like he had before.
he walked over smoothly, placing a hand on the shoulder of the guy you’d been talking to. he caught your attention immediately and you inwardly thanked him for freeing you from this exhausting conversation.
“excuse me, my man, is this your lady?”
the stranger can’t even answer, because you respond for him. “no, we’re just talking.”
aaron smiled a full toothed grin, peering down at you and you stared back up at him while the stranger disappeared into the background without a trace.
“how you doing?”
his voice is deep. so deep he doesn’t have to raise the pitch over the loud music because your focus was on his lips.
“i’m-i’m good. better now. thank you.”
you look at the ground, feeling like you’d been staring for too long. this man was so handsome it almost hurt you. beautiful tawny skin, pearly white smile and a low fade. his eyes? his eyes were a mix of blue and green and you were getting dizzy from staring in them.
“was that your nigga?”
you shake your head. “no. not at all. we just met a bit ago. he started talking to me out of nowhere.”
aaron notes the tone in your voice is timid. he has to lean down some to better hear you. “you liking the party?”
“yeah, um, it’s been fun so far. how about you?”
“i’m vibing,” he chuckles and you do the same, pink braces on display in the process.
aaron’s breath catches at the sound of your laugh. so light and pretty it makes his chest tingle. he’d made you laugh and it wasn’t a fake one like you used moments ago with that guy. he’d made you laugh and didn’t even have to do much.
“i’ve missed you.”
you blink, inhaling some. “y-yeah i just—”
“why you ain’t never call me?”
you look around the room. no one could save you from this tense conversation or aaron’s strong stare. “i’ve been busy, it’s not like that.”
“i ain’t trynna pressure you or anything, but i thought we had a good time. i thought you enjoyed yourself just as much as i did.”
“i did,” you emphasize, searching for the words. “i did, aaron, i just—i don’t know what happened.”
he nods, rubbing his chin as he listens to you. “i wanna talk with you, y/n. i don’t want it to be here with this fucking noise and shit.”
you both chuckle, yours in slight relief and aaron just laughed because you had. you made him a simp so easily and he’d only know you for a small amount of time.
“um, i’m here with my girls right now,” you look over at stacey twerking to the club anthem ‘freak hoe’ by speaker knockerz as a crowd of partygoers hype her up. “i would have to talk to stacey being that she’s my ride here and all.”
“let me talk to her,” aaron says and your eyebrow raises. “i can probably explain things better.”
you shake your head in agreement, letting aaron walk over to soften the blow stacey was bound to give. “yeah, if that’s okay with you, then yeah.”
he stares at you just a second longer, large hand brushing against your arm, almost as if he needed to make sure you’d stay. hoping that when he got done talking with stacey you wouldn’t be heading out the door to go back home.
he finally walks over to her and the conversation is extremely brief, but the way stacey glares over at you, you know something isn’t right. aaron immediately comes over to you, stacey quickly following suit.
“you ready?”
“yeah, but what did you say to stacey?”
he shrugs. “told her you were coming home with me.”
“aaron!” stacey is agitated as she stands behind him, muffing his head she says, “don’t play with me, nigga.”
aaron laughs because stacey’s hit caused zero damage. the man was 6 foot something. he towered over both you and stacey with ease.
“girl, what are you doing? are you okay?”
“yes, stace, i’m good.”
“you haven’t had too much to drink have you?”
you hadn’t even sipped from the cup she’d given you. you were completely sober.
“no, i’m good best, i’m good.”
now that she knows you’re okay, stacey sighs. she then lowers her voice to get some tea. “you fucking with aaron?”
you laugh nervously, not sure what to say. you didn’t tell stacey about the moment you and aaron shared back your apartment. she was your best friend and knew mostly everything about you, but this situation seemed so embarrassing and unlike you, that you preferred to keep it private.
“kinda, i guess. we’re just starting to hang out.”
stacey’s head pulls back in shock. her best friend didn’t get into flings with guys often, so this is surprising. especially because of who she’s spending time with. aaron was a bit rough around the edges—a good guy despite it all, but still gritty.
“hey, ain’t mad at you, sista, get yours,” she cackles, slapping your hand in a high five. this girl was insane. “let me know how everything goes and call me if you need me, i’ll pick right up.”
“okay, stace. i’ll see you a little later, alright?”
she nods, making sure to check your shared location before you left. she rapidly turns to aaron and gives him the rules for the night.
“and yo’ yellow ass better keep my girl safe. i don’t want no problems, aaron.”
“aye, what’s with all these empty threats? yo’ lil ass ain’t gon’ nothing,” he jokes. “and she’s good. as long as she’s with me she gon’ be straight. right?”
they're both looking at you for an answer, to which you quickly nod your head. “yes, i’ll be fine.”
stacey gives you both a final look almost like a concerned mother sending her daughter off to prom, before granting silent permission of dismissal.
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you were trying your hardest not to be so uneasy, but the speed of aaron’s 2023 charcoal gray dodge charger certainly didn’t bring you any comfort.
you held onto the door handle of the car so tightly that the palms of your hands shifted colors. a roaring engine going about 80 miles an hour down the street as the mellow tunes of kendrick lamar and sza played from his radio. complete contrasts. he asked if you had any music requests but you declined, just saying r&b was your favorite genre. with that aaron shuffled a popular r&b playlist from apple music.
aaron is clueless to your nervousness as he hums and taps against the leather steering wheel to the current hit ‘luther’.
“who you like more, kendrick or dra—oh shit, you okay, y/n?”
his attention shifts as you smile nervously, your stomach in knots right now. you didn’t do well with heights or fast speeds, but you couldn’t be a killjoy. you wanted tonight to go well. you didn’t need aaron to become annoyed with you.
“am i going too fast?”
“just a little bit, yeah,” you giggle.
“damn, why you ain’t tell me,” he eases the pressure applied to the gas pedal. “my bad, mama, im not trynna scare you.”
you try to relax but the nickname makes your stomach twist in a different way. “we getting close to my place. it’s not all that far from campus.”
“okay.”
“you know you can tell me how you feel, y/n,” he’s speaking with sincerity. “anything that makes you uncomfortable or upset, let me know. you don’t have to be worried.”
the rest of the ride is brief. aaron pulls the vehicle into the parking lot of his home. he’s one of the few cars in this residential neighborhood. it’s quiet and dark outside. a stark difference from the noisy college students residing near you and stacey’s home.
climbing up a short flight of stairs, aaron unlocks the front door to his home, allowing you space to enter inside. he turns on the nearby lightswitch and closes the door behind you two.
“oh my, your house is actually so nice,” you say it before you think and mentally facepalm yourself at the mistake.
“actually?” he laughs. “danggg, you ain’t have to do me like that.”
you’re explaining. “i-i didn’t mean it like that, aaron. it’s just, guys don’t usually decorate their houses and such. they usually have a chair and xbox as their setup.”
his mounted flatscreen tv slowly displayed a montage of exotic flowers and breathtaking scenes around the world. a jet black coffee table with lighters and a hookah kit, perch on top of a matching furry black rug. and a full length mirror reflected the view of his cozy-looking glacier gray couch. a well decorated home, you could not deny.
“nah, you good, i get you,” his hand brushes yours again, wrapping his fingers around your much smaller ones. “you want anything? something to eat, drink, smoke?”
“i’m okay. maybe a water?”
“i got you. you can take a seat on the couch, get comfortable.”
you kick off your white gym shoes and aaron grabs your heart-shaped peony coach purse to hang in the closet as you cross over into the living room, taking a seat like aaron offered.
you tried to get comfortable, but the realization of being in this man’s house kept hitting you. just a month ago you were home alone crying over rescued cat videos, now here you are, potentially forming a…relationship with someone. your thoughts disappear into thin air as aaron joins you in the living room, a bowl of potato chips, your water bottle and a half pint of hennesy in hand.
“you were such a good host last time, i had to take a few tips.”
laughing, you thank him for the water and drink a sip from the cold bottle. you needed something to calm your nerves. aaron uses the remote to turn on the television, flicking through youtube for something you both could watch. after a minute he’d settled on ‘training day’ starring ethan hawke and denzel washington. he sits on the couch beside you and the cushion lowers from his weight.
“oh shit,” he grumbles, standing up for a second. you stare as he removes a glock from the waistband of his jogging pants.
almost if he can sense the worry in your eyes, aaron explains. “it’s licensed and i ain’t never had to use it before, nigga’s know better.”
he was so sexy.
you had to be insane because why did that turn you on badly? he pours a shot of henny and throws it back, the alcohol burning his chest for a moment before he decides to take another one. it seems to get him together, because aaron settles and his eyes lower.
“do you have any roommates?” you ask with concern because you didn’t want anyone walking in on the two of you.
“hell nah,” he shakes his head. “i can’t live with no messy ass roommates, nigga’s not wanting to pay rent and shit.”
you laugh because you understood completely. fortunately for you, stacey was a good roommate.
“why you so far?” he teases, toned arm resting over the back of the couch.
“i’m not far,” you giggle.
“you are. all this space between us,” he grabs you by the manicured nail of your pointer finger. “come closer.”
you do as he says, taking up the room beside him, getting comfortable underneath his outstretched arm. he smelled amazing. a hint of method men’s sandalwood body wash and some cologne you couldn’t put your finger on, but an intoxicating scent nonetheless. round cut earrings twinkled in his ears and an equally dazzling gold chain around his thick neck. he peered down at you with a full dimpled smile that connected to his stormy blue eyes.
“you don’t have to be shy around me.”
you were trying not to but he didn’t make this easy.
“i know,” you groan, hands perspiring from anxiety. “i don’t know why i’m like this.”
“you want something to help calm you down?”
he’s reaching for the hookah hose. “no, not tonight. i wanna be in my right mind.”
“right mind?” he repeats, unsure by what you meant.
it’s the main reason you hadn’t contacted aaron. “i feel as if i acted so out of body last time, it might’ve been the weed, but i feel like i was a cavewoman or something.”
aaron snorts and you pinch his side playfully. “a cavewoman, y/n? we both had fun, what’s wrong with that?”
“i don’t know. i feel like i embarrassed myself, honestly.”
aaron’s staring as you speak. you were so enthralling and didn’t even realize it. you hadn’t known how long he waited for you to call after that night. or how many showers he took to calm down the ache in his pants as he thought of y’all’s affair.
you didn’t know how much he liked you and that only made him want you more.
“you think too much, mama. you’re focused on the little stuff when we both had a good time.”
you bit your lower lip, dazing off as you think about two weeks ago once again. you weren’t able to shake the feeling. the palm of aaron’s hand against your face grounds you back to earth.
“let me help you relax. can i take your mind off it?”
“yes, please,” your chest is arching into his, full breasts pressing on his chiseled pecs, thirsty for whatever remedy he can offer. he chuckles because even when you’re desperate—you’re still the most polite girl he’s ever been with.
aaron is aware of your needs and immediately grabs hold of your thick hips, lowering his head to press pink lips onto your fully glossed ones. the both of you moan, needing each other's touch. you missed aaron’s knowing and skilled kiss leading the way and he missed your soft, luscious lips gliding smoothly over his.
his rough fingers travel their way through your braids, where they cradle your head, pushing your lips further into his. while his opposite hand molds the flesh of your breasts from the outside of your bra and shirt. his grip is strong, making your nipples stiffen despite the clothing barrier.
squeezing your thighs together, pussy pulsating from where you sit. “i’ve fucking missed you, missed kissing you.”
he only kissed you once and already he was hooked. you gasp from the passionate words he utters. “can i touch you? can i make you feel good?”
“yes, please, touch me.”
it’s almost as if it’s slow motion. you know what’s coming, but the feeling is indescribable. aaron’s veined hand makes way into your yoga pants, where he pries past your pink cotton panties and searches for the real treasure.
“you’re so fucking wet already, what the hell?” he says it frustratedly, because you were going to be a fucking problem for him. “i should’ve known by the way you were grinding on the couch that this pussy would be soaked.”
“aaron, baby please,” you're whining from his heated actions and the filthy words he spews.
he pushes you back into the cushion some, giving both of you room to make magic happen. a heavy index finger thuds against your aching clit and you gasp from the minuscule action. he swirls around the hardened bud, pressing onto the surface with the pad of his finger.
“oh, my g-god,” your voice wavers, trying not to use His name in vain. “aaron, please.”
he takes it further by dipping a finger into the source. your hand flies to grip his wrist, not used to having anyone cross this territory before, but ultimately become useless as he slides in and out, the sound of your wetness radiating through the room. the faint noise of the television continues to play as your eyes flutter closed. your hand eventually turns into moral support as you lie languid, breath held as he works, collecting your slick and using it to massage your clit.
“baby,” you whine, shivering and aaron smirks deviously, adding a second finger to your cunt.
“just relax. let it happen.”
the stretch burns deliciously, digits curling upwards, touching the spot within you that makes your stomach tighten. you clamp your legs closed around his hand, but aaron continues stroking. you’re gasping and arching up from the couch as he pumps, holding you still by the stomach while a torrential orgasm overcomes you.
“yesss,” you’re sobbing, “yesss, aaron.”
“there you go,” he praises, working you through the climax as you cry out, shaking wildly. “there you fucking go, let it out.”
aaron’s weight crashed onto you as he kissed you again, sucking on your tongue and groaning in your mouth as his hard-on pressed hotly against your stomach. “i gotta taste you. it’s driving me insane, baby.”
you have no words or rebuttals, on cloud nine you watch from another planet as aaron tugs on your blue yoga pants, tossing them to the floor right along with the panties you’d ruined. you don’t realize his actions until he’s in process.
no one had ever given you head.
what if he thought your vagina was ugly?
when was the last time you shaved?
a week ago wasn’t that long ago, right?
what if you didn’t taste goo—
“oh…my… god,” a forceful stripe is licked against the sensitive bud in between your thighs.
you push his head away, attempting to close your legs, but aaron holds a tight grip around both of your thick legs, his face planted firmly in your pussy. he’s groaning and cursing beneath you, breathing hotly over your cunt.
“you taste so fucking good, baby. pretty fucking pussy, i fucking love it.”
you heave, craning your head to gaze down at him as he admires you. aquatic orbs peering back at you while he works, one hand holding your shaking thigh back and other rubbing circles along your clit. he’s watching the way you clench around nothing, dribble from your elixir cascading down your slit and onto his couch.
“look at her,” he mutters and it causes you to short circuit, hiding shyly behind your forearm as you moan. “a fucking sight to see. i haven’t done anything and she’s already leaking. imagine if you were on my dick. do you think she’d cry this much?”
“baby, please,” it’s like he’s trying to kill you.
he’s talking about your pussy as if she could speak back. her only response is the soppy noises he causes when entering a finger. adding his soft, pink tongue, aaron’s laps at the wetness making you squeal. you watch his actions from the mirror propped against his living room wall. thick thighs wrapped around aaron’s head, but he’s in no way complaining, instead his right hand inside his underwear, jerking his dick as he jaws at you.
you needed to see him. all of him.
he always told you to speak how you feel.
“aaron,” you whimper, attempting to gain his attention. “aaron, baby, wait.”
he’s a demon as he feasts on you, no air needed while he enjoys his meal. you giggle and yelp out, begging to be released. aaron does so against his own will.
“you okay? what’s wrong?”
his voice is concerned. had he gone too far? was it too much?
“i’m okay. i’m perfect, actually,” you caress his low cut head, acrylics scratching his scalp as he rests against your thigh. “i just wanna see you, baby.”
“see me?”
you nod, biting your lip. “i wanna watch you from up here, wanna watch you while i play.”
it takes him only a second to understand what you mean. aaron’s eyes widen as you smile shyly. a fucking nympho. you claimed the weed made you act out, but this side had been in you for forever, you just needed someone to bring it out you.
you needed aaron to get it out of you.
“it’s like that, ma? you wanna watch me while you touch that pussy?”
you inhale and arch, your hand making it’s way to your cunt. there was one thing you knew well and that was how to please yourself. books, audios, porn…the one time you weren’t shy was when it came time to touching yourself. hands or toys it didn’t matter, you made fun out of the situation each time. being a virgin helped you learn your body and know what you truly wanted.
things would only be slightly different because of…him.
aaron would be watching as you masturbated. part of you was nervous at the thought while the other side was on fire and anxious for the moment to arise.
he pulled his underwear and jogging pants down, freeing his beautiful dick from the confinements of his clothes. it’s the first time you’ve ever viewed a dick in person. seen and felt hard on’s here and there but never the real thing and aaron’s definitely made up for lost times.
shaft a hue darker than his upper body, his tip is an hot pink and burns with ardency as precum drips from the head onto the floor. he’d been hiding that weapon in his pants all this time and you wondered how he kept it discreet. he had to be at least eight inches.
“you gon’ fuck yourself, baby?”
you nod, watching as he comes closer, standing directly in front of you. the hand he fingered you with extended. “get me right.”
he places two thick fingers into your wet mouth, forcing them down your throat as you gag around them. using your spit as lubricant, aaron wraps his hand around his dick and hisses at the sensation. stroking his length slowly, he patiently waits for you to start.
and when you do, there’s no stopping you.
you spread your lips apart and allow aaron permission to see. pink, gummy walls, coated with your own essence. “muthafucka, so pretty. you got that shit glistenin’.”
“aaron,” you’re whimpering as you use two hands to work. one lazily rolling your clit and the other fucking your soaked hole as your leg is propped in the air. “aaron, baby i’m so close.”
“shit, i’m right there with you, baby,” he’s cursing and throwing his head back, pumping his dick with his large hand, swiping across the tip with each pass.
the noises emitting from the two of you should count as lovemaking. although no penetration is being made, the slick and sloppy sounds mixed with high pitched cries and heavy breathing could convince anyone. aaron’s neck tensed as his eyes rolled back, licking thin lips as the high he’d been chasing finally neared.
“shittt, fuckkk,” he growls, the end of the white t-shirt he wore now tucked between his teeth. “i’m finna nut. fuck, i’m finna nut.”
you adjust, allowing him room to explode onto your chubby stomach. thick, white spurts shoot onto your skin and you moan at the sensation. aaron groans with his lips pulled into a snare.
“fucking amazing. you so fucking beautiful.”
he’s kissing you so hard you can hardly breathe, moaning and groaning into your mouth. before you know it his hand replaces yours and it’s back inside your pussy, you squeak in surprise at the difference in size. he swipes up the expelled cum from your stomach and works it inside of you. an action so obscene it’s the nail in the coffin for you to climax for the final time tonight.
“yess, right there, aaron, yess!” your moans come out as wheezes while his hand jackhammers inside you, helping you join him in your orgasm. you clamp your legs shut, gushing around his fingers, making your whole body tense from the orgasm.
“so fucking good,” aaron praises, rubbing your thighs and face to calm you down. you gave your everything whenever you orgasmed. it took all the energy from you and aaron caught on to that fast. “so fucking good.”
all rights reserved. no part of this publication may be reproduced or distributed in any form without the prior permission of the author. by complying with the authors moral rights, no persons shall face penalties for illegal copyright infringement and will not face zero charges.
—𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑-𝐒𝐋𝐔𝐓
AHHHH I NEED THATTTT
Love in The Dark (Sinners Universe)
Tyriq Withers as “Isaac Flores”
BlackFem Reader as “Seraphine Valentine”
Summary: As Seraphine grieves the death of her lover at the hands of vampires, she is haunted by the calls of the night, tempting to find a lake, where things impossible are possible.
Warnings!!!: MINORS(-18) DNI!!! Angst! Slight Gore, Cussing, praise kink, switchyxIsaac, Cunnilingus, minor spit play, biting, p n v, creampie? Minor bloodplay
Author’s note: Something from my drafts, this was lowkey just to practice writing smut so there will be a lot of errors.
so many smut ideas in the draft but the thought of a man receiving any sexual pleasure is annoying me so bad right now.
him & her | final.
cameron cade x female!oc
“the girl or the world, you see someone gotta lose. i thought i could have it all, do i really gotta choose”
https://www.tumblr.com/ariesthesun/801432347163738112/him-her-2?source=share
part 2^
him & her | 2
cameron cade x female!oc
“i told you exactly what i wanted, and that love is exhausting but, im not tired of you yet”
https://www.tumblr.com/ariesthesun/801256340343373824/him-her?source=share
part 1^ disclaimer: slight profanity
a/n: i wrote this quickly while i was waiting for the food to be ready so expect a part 3! happy thanksgiving to all that celebrate. also, jazmine is loosely based on h.e.r, i felt like it was cute for the story lol. ⭐️
lay with me | tyriq withers
Pairing: Tyriq Withers x Selah Andrews Summary: Tyriq is always there to lift Selah's spirit. Warnings: 18+ suggestive content. Tyriq being the best partner to Selah. Songs: Lay With Me by Ebube WC: 2289 Note: Be nice and engage! Comment and reblog! Let me know your thoughts!
this was better than any thanksgiving meal 😩😩