#viralblog

[dominicfikesbaby]

love island series!!

part { 1 }

꣑ৎ { user x dominic fike} ꣑ৎ

{ ! } contains: contains: celebrity love island au, second person pov, slow burn, tension-heavy moments, jealousy, subtle attraction, dom fike already coupled up, reader catching his eye, not cheesy, lowercase style, emotional undercurrent, light angst, groundwork for future drama & steam

they told you this season was going to be different. you thought it was just marketing — “new twists,” “bigger stakes,” “hotter singles” — all buzzwords to make another round of hot strangers in bikinis seem fresh. but then you got flown out a week early. they made you sign extra NDAs, kept repeating how intimate this version would be. curated. exclusive. watched. that’s when it started to feel real. you weren’t even supposed to be here. your friend filled out the application as a joke, said they needed someone who didn’t live for the camera — someone with a resting bitch face, a dry sense of humor, and no desire to promote a fast-fashion code. the producers agreed. and now here you were, freshly mic’d up, lips chapped from the desert heat, locked in a villa in the middle of nowhere spain. you’d almost said no. you hated attention. hated playing games. and love island was a game, even if they never called it that. edited moments. producer-led chaos. strangers trying to out-charm each other for likes, alliances, clout. you weren’t fake enough for that — but something in you said yes anyway. maybe boredom. maybe heartbreak. maybe just… curiosity.

you landed two days before the others. they took your phone, walked you through the rules, stuck you in a villa with blackout curtains and a minibar full of overpriced snacks. you were restless. homesick for a place you didn’t even miss. and then came the first night. five boys stood on the platform, waiting like mannequins. tall, tan, identical in the way gym guys always are. white smiles. scripted charm. one winked at you like he’d already forgotten your name. you were tuning out when the host appeared, glowing with rehearsed excitement. “this year, we’re doing something we’ve never done before,” she beamed. “a limited celebrity edition. one surprise guest. a wildcard. a challenge.” and then he walked out. dominic fike. the air shifted.

he wasn’t trying. he didn’t have to. white t-shirt, cargo pants, curls hanging in his face, tattoos licking up his arms and collarbones. gold chain glinting under the lights. sunglasses still on even though the sun was setting. no smile. no words. just presence. the girls next to you gasped. one whispered, “no fucking way,” and another immediately reapplied her lip gloss. but you just looked. and then you looked away. he didn’t. his eyes stayed on you. not flirtatious. not smug. just… interested. like he saw something he didn’t expect. you didn’t hold the gaze for long — you were too used to pretending not to care. but something about that moment stuck.

he didn’t pick you. he picked alyssa — tall, blonde, the one in a hot pink bikini with 300k on instagram and a rehearsed giggle. she laughed too loudly at his name and curled herself into his side like she was claiming territory. he smiled for the cameras, played along, but his eyes didn’t smile with him. you told yourself it didn’t matter. he wasn’t your type anyway. you liked privacy. liked people who didn’t belong to the world. and dominic… he didn’t belong to anyone, but the world kept trying. and somehow, he kept letting them. you found out later that alyssa’s management begged her to do the show — said it’d boost her following and soften her image. she didn’t want love. she wanted screenshots and storylines.

you were the opposite. you didn’t even tell anyone you were coming here. your ex had gutted you, left you with a lease in your name and an inbox full of unanswered apologies. you weren’t healed, not even close. but you were here, in this strange bubble, trying to find a version of yourself that didn’t ache anymore. dominic wasn’t supposed to factor in. but he didn’t act like the others. he wasn’t loud. didn’t perform. when the cameras weren’t on, he’d sit by the edge of the villa, roll cigarettes, and stare out at the mountains like he was somewhere else entirely. he only spoke when he had something to say — dry jokes, muttered comments, sometimes just a look. and more than once, that look was at you. you weren’t friends. not really. but you weren’t strangers, either. once, when a producer was re-clipping your mic, you found yourself next to him, standing shoulder-to-shoulder in silence. he didn’t look at you right away. just said, quiet, “you hate it here.” you blinked. “…what gave it away?”

“your eyes,” he said, lighting a match instead of a lighter. “what about them?”

“you don’t look around like you’re trying to be seen. just trying to get through it.” you didn’t reply. you didn’t need to. you understood what he meant. alyssa noticed the shift before anyone else. she started clinging harder, laughing louder, asking where he was every time he drifted more than six feet away. she pulled you aside one afternoon and said, dead serious, “he’s mine, okay?” you shrugged. “wasn’t aware we were twelve.”

still, you backed off. you weren’t here to start drama. but every time your eyes found his — across the fire pit, at breakfast, brushing past him near the pool — you felt it. a slow hum. like static under your skin. it came to a head during a party challenge — someone dared him to kiss the girl who “keeps you up at night.” everyone assumed alyssa. even she stepped forward. but he walked past her and kissed you instead. slow. certain. his hand on your jaw, thumb brushing your cheekbone. it wasn’t for show. and you kissed him back.when it ended, no one spoke. alyssa looked gutted. your heart was pounding. and all you could think was: this wasn’t supposed to happen.

taglist: @birlemsbae @elianamattlvr @sagesturns @adoreyousturniolos @sturnizolo @flowerfike @slvt4chrissturniolo @floweredsturn @sturniolo-szn2 @sturnitup @matts-girlfriend @chrispleasure @sturns-mermaid @loverrgirl3 @chrisspussygang @mattsweethrt @kait123456789876543 @sturnsiolos0 @chrissv4mp @auttysturnz

[jedidjahemanuel]

🌅 Walking in His Light (Special Version)

“Arise, shine, for your light has come, and the glory of the Lord rises upon you.” — Isaiah 60:1

There comes a moment in every believer’s journey when darkness tries to whisper louder than truth — when the world seems dim, and the path ahead feels hidden. But then, the Light of Christ breaks through. “Walking in His Light (Special Version)” is that holy awakening — a prophetic soundscape where surrender meets strength, and faith becomes sight.

This song is not just music; it is a declaration, a devotion, a journey of restoration. Every lyric carries the fragrance of heaven — every beat pulses with the rhythm of grace. It calls you to step out of confusion and step into clarity, to leave the valley of shadows and walk boldly in the radiance of the King.

When you listen, let the light of Jesus surround you. Let His Word wash over every hidden place inside of you — for “the entrance of His Word gives light” (Psalm 119:130). The Spirit of God desires to illuminate your mind, awaken your spirit, and remind you that you were never meant to dwell in darkness. You were created to shine, to reflect His glory like the morning sun rising after a long night.

The “Special Version” carries a deeper prophetic weight — an atmosphere of renewal and divine encounter. It was birthed in a season of prayer and stillness, where the Lord whispered, “Tell My people to walk in My light again — not in fear, not in confusion, but in faith and fire.” This version merges worship, hip-hop, and cinematic elements, weaving together the modern and the eternal. It’s a sonic altar — a place where angels minister and hearts are reignited.

As you listen, close your eyes and picture the Savior walking beside you. His eyes are flames of love; His voice, a whisper of peace. Every step you take in His light reveals more of who you truly are — a child of the Most High, sealed by purpose, anointed to carry His glory to the nations.

This song was created for the dreamers, the worshipers, the warriors — those who have been through fire but still choose faith. It’s for the ones who fell and rose again, the ones who refused to let go of hope. It’s for you — the one who knows deep down that there is more.

May “Walking in His Light” remind you that your story is not over. The same light that guided Moses through the desert, that shone upon Mary as she said yes, that burst forth from the tomb on resurrection morning — that light lives in you.

So rise again. Walk again. Shine again.

Let every verse become your prayer:

“Lord, I choose Your light over my feelings, Your truth over my fear, Your presence over the crowd. I will walk in Your light, even when the night seems long, for You are my dawn.”

🎧 Stream it. Soak in it. Share it. Let this song become a banner of light over your home, your car, your city — until every shadow flees before His glory.

“Arise, shine, for your light has come, and the glory of the Lord rises upon you.” — Isaiah 60:1

🔥 Written and performed by Jedidjah Emanuel 🎵 A sound of awakening from Desiderium et Selah / ThroneFire 💜 Colors of Heaven: Royal Purple & Holy Turquoise 🕊️ Let the light burn — and never go out.

[mindmotives01]

Remain calm like Ayanokoji #selfimprovement #ayanokoji #classroomoftheelite

please follow us so we can continue to create content like this .

[lieahsblog]

shall i start speaking a different language? which one do u personally recommend?

CAUSE IVE USED EVERY WORD IN THE ENGLISH DICITONARY TO DESCRIBE HOW URGENT THIS IS‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️ RAZAN NEEDS TO LEAVE GAZA W HER FAMILY NOW. HER MOTHER NEEDS TREATMENT(DO YOU GET IT!???!!)

this family needs $50k to leave and 4 expenses in egypt(including medical). IF THERE CAN BE 400 people that donate $125 to this campaign IT WILL BE FULFILLED‼️‼️ PLEASE BE ONE OF THOSE 400 PEOPLE AND PLEASE HELP ME FIND MORE PEOPLE WILLING TO BE ON OF THOSE 400 PEOPLE.‼️‼️‼️ I NEED YOUR HELP. just 400 people donating $125 is all it will take. PLEASE PLEASE BE ONE OF THEM, AND SHARE SO MORE PEOPLE CAN BE ONE OF THOSE PEOPLE. if you are willing to be one of those 400 people, please comment on this post after you donate $125‼️‼️‼️

she graduated september 2023. this should not be what her post-graduation looks like. the least you can do is help her and her family. DONATE AND SHARE. FIND A FRIEND TO MATCH YOUR DONATION. we need to raise $50k(or more) for this family IMMEDIATELY! PLEASE DONT JUST STARE AT THE SCREEN, PLEASE SHARE AND DONATE AND BE ONE OF THOSE 400 PPL. DONATE DONATE DONATE. SHARE TO EVERYONE. PLEASE‼️‼️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️

Hello my name is Nadin and I live in Ottawa Canada. My dear friend Ghada Afi… Nadin Jabbour needs your support for Help evacuate my Childhoo

[dominicfikesbaby]

𐙚 unexpected but so expected, prom date 𐙚

{ ! } contains: rodrick heffley x reader, senior year / last homecoming, mutual pining, mild insecurity & self-doubt, intense kissing / makeout, smudged makeup, rodrick being rodrick, moms meddling,friends gossiping, fluff with tension

you’ve known rodrick heffley so long that it doesn’t feel like a choice. he’s just… there. always has been. your moms became best friends sometime before either of you could form memories, which meant shared holidays, shared carpools, shared birthdays where rodrick blew out candles too hard and spit everywhere. it also meant you grew up hearing his name constantly, even when he wasn’t in the room.

his mom adored you in a way that felt aggressive sometimes. she called you “sweetheart” and “angel” and once told your mom, right in front of rodrick, that she wished he’d “end up with someone like you instead of some girl who scares her.” rodrick nearly died on the spot.

you and rodrick had always existed in this weird in-between. too close to be strangers, too familiar to be anything else. he teased you relentlessly, but never crossed certain lines. he acted like you annoyed him, but showed up every time you needed help. by senior year, people noticed. friends whispered. classmates stared. your group chats wouldn’t shut up about it.

“just go together,” your friends said.

“it’s your last homecoming,” they reminded you.

“his mom already wants you dating,” someone laughed.

they weren’t wrong.

the idea didn’t even come from rodrick. it came from his mom, sitting at your kitchen table one afternoon, smiling like she’d cracked some secret code. “it’s your last homecoming,” she said, pouring herself iced tea. “you two should go together. it would make sense.”

rodrick stared at the wall like he’d dissociated.

“mom,” he said. “no.”

“why not?” she asked innocently. “you already know each other. i trust her. her mother trusts you. and it would make me feel better.”

that last part was what sealed it. guilt. obligation. mom logic.

two days later, rodrick stood on your porch, hands shoved in his jacket pockets, hair clearly not styled so much as existing. “my mom won’t leave me alone unless i ask you,” he said flatly. “so… do you wanna go to homecoming with me.”

it wasn’t romantic. it wasn’t smooth. but it was honest.

you said yes.

now it’s the night of homecoming, and rodrick is sitting in your bedroom because both your moms insisted he come early “so you wouldn’t be nervous.” he’s wearing a striped button-up that looks like it was pulled straight from the back of his closet, a black tie loosely knotted like he gave up halfway through, sleeves not even rolled neatly. his hair’s brushed, barely, like someone reminded him at the last second. he smells like deodorant and that same old cologne he’s been using since sophomore year.

you do your makeup first, carefully, because you don’t trust yourself not to mess it up once the dress is on. the dress hangs in your closet, staring at you. you thought it was cute when you bought it. white fabric, tiny black polka dots scattered across it, a fitted top and a flared skirt that falls in soft layers. black piping along the edges, a thin black ribbon tied at the waist. it felt sweet. pretty. simple.

now it just feels… young.

when you step into the closet to change, rodrick turns away without being told, suddenly quiet. when you come back out, the dress feels heavier than you expected. not physically. emotionally.

you face the mirror.

and immediately hate it.

“oh my god,” you say. “i look like a kid.”

rodrick turns. stops short.

“what are you talking about?”

you tug at the skirt, watching it sway. “the polka dots. i thought they were cute, but for homecoming they just look childish. like i’m going to a birthday party, not a dance. i look stupid.”

he exhales sharply, frustrated, and steps closer. “you don’t.”

“yes, i do,” you say. “i look like i’m playing dress-up.”

“no,” he says, firmer now. “you look… different. like you’re not the same person who steals my fries and yells at me for breathing too loud.”

you glance at him. “that’s not helping.”

“you look grown,” he says instead. “like, actually grown.”

you shake your head. “you’re lying.”

something in him snaps. maybe it’s senior year. maybe it’s the way you keep tearing yourself down. maybe it’s the fact that his mom’s stupid idea is suddenly making too much sense.

he grabs your waist and pulls you into him, hard enough that it knocks the breath out of you. his mouth crashes into yours, urgent and rough, like he’s done pretending. his hands slide up your back, fingers digging in, kissing you like he’s been holding this in for years and finally gave up trying to be normal about it.

it’s intense. messy. heated. the kind of kiss that makes your thoughts short-circuit. you kiss him back without thinking, fingers gripping his shirt, heart racing. he kisses you like he’s frustrated and relieved all at once, like this is overdue.

when you pull away, dizzy, you shove his chest.

“are you kidding me?” you snap. “my makeup.”

he looks at your smudged lipstick, then grins. “worth it.”

you groan and grab your makeup bag. “sit down. don’t move.”

he does immediately, watching you redo everything, eyes glued to you, quiet in a way that feels serious. you fix your lipstick, clean the edges, smooth everything out. when you’re done, you look at him through the mirror.

“you barely even tried,” you say, nodding at his outfit.

he shrugs. “yeah, but you did. that balances it out.”

you roll your eyes, but you’re smiling.

“everyone’s gonna talk,” you say.

he shrugs again. “let them. it’s the last one anyway.”

for once, rodrick heffley doesn’t sound like he’s joking.

taglist: @elianamattlvr @sagesturns @dominicfikeenthusiast @fikenight @sturnsrecord @sturnstars5 @sturnsdarling @sturnslutz @adoreyousturniolos @sturnizolo @flowerfike @floweredsturn @sturniolo-szn2 @sturnitup @matts-girlfriend @chrispleasure @loverrgirl3 @chrisspussygang @mattsweethrt @kait123456789876543 @sturnsiolos0 @chrissv4mp @auttysturnz @chrissonnyangel @auttysturnz @sturnswiftie @sturn-baby05 @nickmattchris @nicksprincess @superlegend216 @dessxoxsworld @oopsiedaisydeer @rodrickheffeley

[dominicfikesbaby]

love island series!!

part { 2 }

꣑ৎ { user x dominic fike} ꣑ৎ

{ ! } contains: slow burn, secret tension, messy heavy makeouts, electric guitar backstory, avoidance & pining, late-night encounters, dom’s teasing, thigh grabbing, hair pulling, soft whimpers, unresolved feelings, lowkey angst, villa drama, forbidden attraction, reality tv chaos

you’d been avoiding him since the night of the dare it wasn’t even intentional at first. more like survival instinct. because the second dominic fike kissed you — really kissed you, slow and deep, thumb on your jaw like he’d been waiting to do it for weeks — everything inside you lit up. in a way it absolutely should not have. you didn’t come here for this. you didn’t come here to unravel on camera for a guy who didn’t even pick you on day one. so you made yourself scarce. ducked into conversations with the new bombshells, let producers steer you into dumb group games. let yourself laugh too loud with people you didn’t actually like, just to avoid catching dominic’s eye. he didn’t make it easy.

the next morning he tried to sit by you at breakfast, but you pretended to be busy wiping down your glass. later he drifted over to where you were sunbathing and asked something casual about your tattoo, but you got up and jumped in the pool before he could finish. once he caught your eye across the courtyard — half-smirked, like he was amused by your efforts — and you just blinked at him, expression blank, then turned away. it wasn’t even about playing hard to get. it was just… safer. you weren’t here to catch feelings. you weren’t here to have your heart cracked open for a global audience. and you sure as hell weren’t here to hand it to a guy with a girl already hanging off him for the cameras. but none of it stopped what happened later.

—

the guitar thing was your secret, always had been. your dad taught you when you were a kid, back before things got complicated, back when he still sat in the living room with a beer and actually laughed. he’d let you strum his old busted acoustic, fingers too small to hold down the chords, proud anyway. after he left, you saved up for your first electric. bright red, a little too flashy. it felt heavier than it should, comforting in your hands, something you could control when everything else in your house felt tense. but you didn’t like talking about it. never played for other people. it was yours. the one piece of your life nobody else got to direct or edit or take from you. so when you snuck your electric guitar into your suitcase before flying to spain — carefully wrapped in t-shirts so the crew wouldn’t see it — it felt reckless. like keeping a piece of home hidden under your bed. most nights, you’d sneak out when the villa was dead silent, headphones in, volume low, playing for no one but yourself.

—

you were out there again tonight. couldn’t sleep. nerves still a mess from the last few days. fingers sliding over the strings, notes humming through your cheap amp. it was late enough the air turned cool against your bare legs. you were only in a sleep shirt and shorts, hair still damp from the shower. you didn’t notice him until it was too late. “you hiding from me out here?” you jumped so hard you nearly dropped your guitar. “fuck— dominic. jesus.” he was leaning against the patio doorframe, sweatpants hanging low, curls a disaster, eyes dark and locked on you. he looked unfair like that. too real. too close.

“been trying to get you alone for days,” he muttered, voice rough. “yeah well. maybe take the hint next time,” you shot back, untangling your cable a little too aggressively. he just smirked, stepped closer. “nah. i like watching you pretend you don’t want me around.” you rolled your eyes so hard it hurt. “you’re insufferable.”

“mm. maybe. or maybe you’re just scared.”

“of what?”

“this.” he didn’t wait. he dropped to a crouch in front of you, hands on your thighs, eyes locked on yours. your heart was hammering, palms slick on the guitar body. you tried to say something — anything to keep this from happening — but your voice died when he slid one hand higher, thumb tracing a slow line just under the hem of your shorts, “gonna run again?” he asked, voice low, almost amused. you opened your mouth, about to spit out something mean — something to keep this safe — but then he leaned in and kissed you. it was messy. greedy. not the slow pretty kind. his lips dragged over yours, biting down a little like he was punishing you for ignoring him. your guitar slipped out of your grip and clattered onto the patio, but neither of you moved to pick it up. instead his hand fisted in your hair, tugging just enough to pull a whimper from your throat. “fuck, there it is,” he breathed against your mouth, smirking. “knew you’d sound pretty.” you wanted to slap him. you also wanted to crawl into his lap. your hands clutched his shoulders instead, pulling him impossibly closer until you were half on his knee, his chest pressed tight to yours. he kissed you like he’d been starving, tongue sliding against yours, teeth scraping your bottom lip. when he finally pulled back, both of you breathing hard, his hand was still on your thigh. thumb rubbing tiny circles that made your whole body feel electric. “don’t avoid me again,” he muttered, voice dark, forehead resting against yours. “or i’ll come find you. every time.” you didn’t have anything clever to say. didn’t want to. your brain felt scrambled, skin burning everywhere he touched. and when he leaned in and kissed you again — slower this time, but still just as hungry — you let him. because maybe it wasn’t smart. maybe it’d fuck everything up.

but right then? it felt like the only thing that made sense.

taglist: @birlemsbae @elianamattlvr @sagesturns @dominicfikeenthusiast @dominicfike @fikenight @adoreyousturniolos @sturnizolo @flowerfike @slvt4chrissturniolo @floweredsturn @sturniolo-szn2 @sturnitup @matts-girlfriend @chrispleasure @sturns-mermaid @loverrgirl3 @chrisspussygang @mattsweethrt @kait123456789876543 @sturnsiolos0 @chrissv4mp @auttysturnz

[dominicfikesbaby]

love island series!!

part { 4 }

꣑ৎ { user x dominic fike} ꣑ৎ

{ ! } contains : jealousy • tension • heated makeout • grudges • messy emotions • forced games • new rival • sharp banter • reckless decisions

the thing about being coupled up with jake was that it gave you cover. nobody really questioned it — on paper it made sense. he was easy, bright, uncomplicated. there was zero pressure to perform for the cameras because everyone could tell you were friends. your bed was always neatly made. he’d wink across the pool and mouth “love ya babe” like a sitcom husband, and you’d flip him off. it worked.

but it made dominic twitchy. you could see it in the way his eyes tracked jake’s hand when it rested on your lower back during group recaps. how his knee would bounce when jake sprawled too close on the daybeds. once, dominic actually pulled you aside by the drinks fridge — jaw tight, voice low — and said,

“he doesn’t even look at you properly.”

“what’s that supposed to mean?”

he just shook his head. “forget it.”

then didn’t speak to you for the rest of the day.

you hated how it made your chest hurt.

—

then leo arrived, new bombshell and the producers practically drooled. he was all sun-bleached hair, smirky dimples, easy swagger. he made a point of going around to greet every girl with the same charming grin, lingering just a breath too long on each. but you could tell right off he was scoping you specifically. every time you laughed, his eyes cut over. every time you stood up to adjust your bikini, his gaze followed. it was like watching a shark scent blood.

the challenge was brutal by design. instead of your typical spin-the-bottle crap, it was a blindfolded selection. the new bombshells got to pick their “mystery girl” from a line-up by only touching arms and hips. they were supposed to then kiss whoever they picked — no takebacks. it was clever, evil, exactly what the producers needed to stir shit.

leo’s hand landed on your wrist, then trailed up to your shoulder. you felt your pulse jackknife. when he announced your number, everyone whooped. dominic’s whoop was notably absent.

and when leo kissed you, it wasn’t sweet or shy or awkward. it was greedy. full palm splayed across your lower back, pulling you into his chest until you stumbled. his other hand cupped your jaw, thumb brushing your cheek so tenderly it almost disguised the way his mouth immediately slanted hot over yours. his tongue pushed in with no hesitation, swallowing your startled sound. your hands braced on his shoulders, trying not to completely collapse into it. he angled your head, deepened it, teeth catching your bottom lip until you let out a muffled whimper that made the villa gasp. somewhere in the back of your mind, you knew you should pull away — but instead your fingers curled into his shirt, holding on.

it felt like hours before the host called time.

when you stepped back, dazed and breathless, leo smirked. wiped his thumb across your bottom lip. “that’ll give them something to replay.”

you couldn’t even form words.

—

dominic didn’t just get quiet after that. he got cold.

he stopped meeting your eyes across the villa. started sitting at the far end of every couch, every dinner table. wouldn’t partner with you in games even when the numbers forced awkward groups. you’d pass him by the pool and he’d look right through you. at night, when the villa lights dimmed for bed, you’d hear his low laugh from across the patio — but never directed at you.

three days of it. three days where you felt physically sick every time he avoided you, like your insides were twisting up tight. you hated that it hurt. hated that it mattered.

—

the break finally snapped after a dumb truth-or-dare spin in the smoking corner. the bottle pointed at you, and alyssa — ever the petty instigator — leaned forward with a nasty little grin.

“truth. out of everyone here, who do you think is the worst kisser?”

the group ooo’d. you forced a laugh. “honestly? i’ve only really kissed… you know.” you waved vaguely, not wanting to look directly at leo.

alyssa pounced. “oh my god. so leo’s your only point of reference? tragic.”

someone else joked, “guess she needs more data.” it was lighthearted but still stung. you felt heat crawl up your neck, embarrassment clawing. across the circle, dominic was silent, staring down at his drink like it was personally offending him.

later, you found him alone by the outdoor shower, scrubbing sweat off his tattooed shoulders. the string lights made his wet skin glow. you hated how your throat went dry.

“dom,” you started, voice small. “can we just —”

“don’t.” his voice was flat. he didn’t even look at you. “go practice with your surfer boy.”

that pissed you off. “are you kidding me? it was a game. you’ve been ignoring me for days over nothing.”

he turned then, eyes sharp. “nothing? that’s what you call letting some random asshole devour you in front of everyone? i couldn’t even hear the host over how you were fucking moaning.”

you recoiled, stung. “that’s not fair. you weren’t even trying to talk to me before that. you’ve been holding this grudge since jake, since day two, like you were looking for an excuse.”

his jaw tightened. for a second you thought he’d just walk off again. instead he stepped close enough your chests brushed. “maybe i was. because i knew the second i gave a shit about you, this’d be exactly how it’d go.”

you swallowed. your hands itched to touch him, but you didn’t move. “then why are you still standing here?”

for a beat, neither of you spoke. then he muttered, “because i’m a fucking idiot,” grabbed your face, and kissed you so hard it knocked your head back into the wooden beam behind you.

it was filthy, messy, desperate — all open mouth and clashing teeth. his hands fisted in your hair, tilting your head back.

—

a/n: soo starting to fall in love with this series.

taglist: @birlemsbae @elianamattlvr @sagesturns @dominicfikeenthusiast @fikenight @sturnsrecord @sturnstars5 @sturnsdarling @sturnslutz @adoreyousturniolos @sturnizolo @flowerfike @slvt4chrissturniolo @floweredsturn @sturniolo-szn2 @sturnitup @matts-girlfriend @chrispleasure @sturns-mermaid @loverrgirl3 @chrisspussygang @mattsweethrt @kait123456789876543 @sturnsiolos0 @chrissv4mp @auttysturnz @chrissturnslovergirlx @chrissonnyangel @chriscantwhisper @mattscumdump @chrissleftshoe @sturnswiftie @sturn-baby05 @nickmattchris @nicksprincess

[dominicfikesbaby]

dominic fike fanfic ! ⋆.𐙚˚

warning: adult activity, swearing , nsfw content

. ۫ . behind the scenes . ۫ .

{# guitarist user x dominic fike! }

you weren’t supposed to mess around with anyone on tour, especially not dominic fike.

you were new, hired last minute to play guitar for the live shows. the rule was simple: don’t get involved. don’t screw up. don’t get distracted, but dom made distracted feel like the easiest thing in the world.

it started with the looks. the smirks across rehearsals. the way he always ended up sitting too close, bumping your knee like it was an accident..it was harmless — until it wasn’t.

now you were pressed against the wall of a backstage closet, dom’s hands slipping under your shirt, his mouth hot against your throat. “you’re nervous,” he teased, voice low, cocky, the words brushing your skin. “you should be more worried about the show. not about me.”you swallowed hard, your hands still fumbling with his belt. “you’re the one who started this,” you whispered back, breathless. he laughed under his breath, that lazy and cocky kind of laugh that made you want to slap him and kiss him at the same time.

“yeah? but you’re the one undressing me,” he said, cocky as hell, grinning as he kicked the door shut behind him. you rolled your eyes, but your fingers didn’t stop moving. he pulled a condom from his back pocket, holding it between two fingers with a smirk. “don’t worry, sweetheart,” he said, ripping it open casually. “i’m not that much of an asshole.”

he made a show of rolling it on, eyes dragging over you slowly like he was already picturing you falling apart. then he grabbed your thighs, lifted you like you weighed nothing, and pressed you hard against the wall, his mouth crashing onto yours in a kiss that was all tongue and teeth.

“you’re gonna have to be quiet,” he murmured, nipping at your bottom lip. “unless you want the whole crew hearing how bad you want me.” you scoff and cross your arms, “oh i don’t want you that bad please, lower the ego.” you respond making dominic chuckle. “alright than.”

you gasped when he pushed inside, stretching you slow but steady. he held you there, giving you a second to adjust, his forehead resting against yours.“fuck,” he muttered, voice rough. “so perfect.”

your fingers dug into his shoulders, your whole body aching for more. he didn’t make you wait. he started moving, hips slamming into yours with a rhythm that made your head spin. each thrust was deep, controlled, like he was making a point.

you bit your lip to stay quiet, but dom wasn’t having it.“fuck it, don’t hide it,” he whispered against your ear, voice dripping with amusement. “let me hear you.”your body betrayed you, a small whimper slipping out before you could stop it. he laughed again, a low, breathless sound that went straight to your core.

“good girl,” he said, fucking into you a little harder now. “knew you’d sound pretty.” you clenched around him, earning a sharp curse against your neck.

he was still cocky, still running his mouth, but you could feel it — the way he was losing his edge, getting sloppy, chasing his own release.

you dragged your nails down his back, clenching tighter, and that was all it took. he slammed into you once, twice, then buried himself deep, groaning low in your ear as he let himself go, the condom catching everything.

you stayed tangled together for a second, both of you breathing hard, your heart racing so fast you could barely think. he finally set you down, tucking himself back in, and tossing the used condom in the trash.

you fixed your clothes quickly, cheeks burning, feeling the buzz of adrenaline and something dirtier humming under your skin. dom caught your wrist before you could leave, pulling you back for one last kiss — slow, lazy, like he had all the time in the world.

“you’re gonna be thinking about me all night, arent you?” he said against your mouth, cocky as ever. “oh shut the fuck up, dominic,” you shoved him playfully, rolling your eyes, but the heat between your legs and the smirk on his face said he wasn’t wrong.

you grabbed your guitar and slipped into the chaos of backstage —pretending you didn’t already want it to happen again.

written by adeline! . ۫ .

@elianamattlvr @adoreyousturniolos @chrissv4mp @owensbabygirl @sturnizolo @birlemsbae @sturnitup