#✷[ •❖• •❖• END THREAD •❖• •❖• ]✷

[trashytracktales]

Heyy girliee, first of all I want to say that your writing is absolutely amazing. I’ve been reading your Lando fics for the past couple of days and “endings, beginnings” had me feeling butterflies in my stomach 🫢 I wanted to ask you if you could write something about lando and reader being friends but constantly having sexual tension building up between them. Maybe they flirt with each other but never think of it as something so serious and one night after a party they completely destroy each other. I fully trust you with this and how you’ll develop the story haha and don’t hold back. Thank youuu :*

Think twice | LN⁴

💌 REQUESTED by anon ──── Thank you so much for the love on Endings, beginnings & I appreciate you for taking the time to share this. Hope you like it 🤍🎀

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𐙚 summary ──── What starts as a chill party, where they sit in their old habits, ends with new boundaries crossed and a heavy tension they can no longer ignore.

𐙚 pairing ──── Lando Norris x she/reader

𐙚 rating ──── explicit

𐙚 category ──── F/M

𐙚 warnings ──── 18+, mature/sexual content, descriptive language, swearing, mentions of alcohol and drinking, friends to lovers, bit of jealous!Lando, smut, slight teasing, praising, fingering & oral (sit on it), multiple orgasms, unprotected sex.

𐙚 word count ──── 4.8k

𐙚 date ──── Jan. 21, 2025

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THE TWO OF them are always standing next to each other, no matter the room they’re in. The context, just like the reason why this happens, is redundant. Plus, they don’t even do it on purpose; rather, they are unconsciously drawn to each other like two magnets.

The party has finally slowed to a lazy hum, the music just a tolerable background noise now. People linger in clusters around them, their voices a distant murmur blending with the faint bassline of a forgotten playlist. The living room is dim, lit mostly by the glow of a string of fairy lights drooping across the ceiling.

It was supposed to be a small gathering, but then a friend told a friend, and that friend told their friends. And now, it’s almost impossible to find a private spot to catch your breath without breathing someone else’s air.

Somehow, they did. They are tucked into the corner of a couch, their space a small bubble of comfort. Her legs are draped over his lap, bare skin warm against the fabric of his black jeans. He’s cradling her calf in one hand, his thumb absentmindedly stroking her skin.

Her fingers thread through his curls at the back of his head, twirling them lazily. It’s a casual gesture, but it sends a shiver through him every time she does it.

Their conversation shifted into easy gossiping about a mutual friend — someone they both think is trying a bit too hard with their Instagram posts.

“It’s fucking obvious he’s fishing for attention,” says Lando, sounding almost conspiratorial.

“I know, right? The cryptic ass captions, the mirror selfies. He thinks he’s smooth with it, too,” she replies, giggling at the thought.

Lando grins, his thumb still tracing circles on her leg. The banter feels safe, the kind of effortless connection they’ve always had. But underneath it, there’s a quiet tension that neither of them is ready to address. Because they are, maybe, a bit tipsy, or because none of them has ever had the courage to take it further, for some reason.

“Alright, I need to pee,” she announces suddenly, getting ready to stand.

But Lando tightens his grip on her legs, his lips twitching in a smirk. “No, you don’t.”

“Yes, I do,” she insists, half-laughing, half-exasperated. “If I don’t go, I might pee on you.”

Lando shrugs, “Go ahead. Then I might discover a new kink,” he encourages her.

“New?” she laughs. “That implies you already have at least one.”

Lando winks at her without saying a word, the corners of his mouth curling into a mischievous smile.

She rolls her eyes, smiling back at his immature behavior. “My God. You’re actually the worst. Move.”

He doesn’t. Instead, Lando, just stares at her with an expression that’s visibly different. His usual playful gaze has shifted to something more intense, and she tells herself he’s just a little... intoxicated. Still, it makes her heart skip a beat, because he looks so adorable when his eyes focus on something so intently. And so hot, that it makes her almost forget why she wanted to get up in the first place.

“Lan, I’m not joking, I actually have to go,” she whispers, her voice softer now.

He exhales, loosening his grip but not before giving her leg a small, reluctant squeeze.

“Don’t get lost,” he says, the words carrying more weight than they should.

She shakes her head, slipping off the couch and disappearing into the hallway. Lando watches her go, his eyes trailing after her like he’s afraid she might actually not come back.

Which is ridiculous, because he should not care. There are lots of other girls that he can take home tonight if he wants to.

Want, being the keyword.

Leaning back against the couch, he sighs, running a hand through his hair. He’s always known she was the embodiment of the perfect girl for him — funny, kind, and loyal. But tonight, there’s something else in the air that makes his mind wander. The way she carries herself, her laugh, the way she makes everything around her seem brighter.

Lando realized long ago that he wants to he in her presence. The truth hit him like a punch in the gut. And he still feels that punch sometimes, especially when he sees her interacting with other people. Especially men.

He’s had thoughts about her before. Many thoughts. Wild fantasies he brushed off as nothing more than fleeting curiosity. And they’ve joked about it, too, their drunken ‘if we’re single at 35’ pact a favorite running gag. But tonight, it doesn’t feel like a joke — he might actually marry her if she keeps letting him invade her personal space like that. Except she wouldn’t have let Lando do that if she didn’t want him there.

He finds himself smiling at his own thoughts. But then, an unwanted stiffness claws his body.

She’s on the way back when a guy leaning against the wall near the bathroom is blocking her path. He’s tall, too close for Lando’s liking, and he is gesturing animatedly. She’s always too polite, smiling as she talks, but Lando notices the way she shifts her weight, edging away slightly.

Something close to jealousy ignites in his chest, but he manages to tame the feeling by looking away, and forcing himself to take a slow sip of his drink. She can handle herself, he knows that. But he’s also ready to step in, just in case he needs to. Most men don’t take ‘no’ for an answer, and he’s aware of how insistent some of them can be.

When she finally returns, Lando’s mood has shifted drastically, and she notices it the second she looks at him.

“Hey, you good?” she asks, plopping back down and swinging her legs over his lap again.

“Yeah,” he says shortly, his hand resuming its absent stroking on her shin.

Her brows knit together. “Not you lying to me. Come on, Landinho, what’s with you?”

“Nothing,” he insists, but his tone is clipped, and his eyes won’t quite meet hers.

She punches his arm lightly, trying to break through whatever wall he’s just put up. “You sure?”

He looks at her then, and the vulnerability in his gaze takes her breath away. “Sure,” he says. But his hand tightens slightly on her leg, like he’s holding onto her in more ways than one.

Her heart clenches. Lando is her friend, the one person she can always count on, but in this moment, she feels the air between them growing in different direction. It’s not the first time, and it doesn’t make her uncomfortable, but it’s not easy for her to sit in it, either.

“You’re being weird,” she states, trying to lighten the mood, but her voice wavers.

“Yeah, sorry,” he mutters, forcing a small smile. “Just tired,” adds Lando, but there’s something he hides behind his eyes, something that makes her chest ache.

She studies his face, her teasing words dying on her lips. His eyes are heavy-lidded, the usual spark dulled by the late hour and maybe one drink too many. His movements are slow, lazy, his thumb still caressing her skin.

“I can see that,” she says gently, sliding her legs off his lap. “Up. Come with me?”

The sudden loss of contact pulls him out of his haze, “Where?” asks Lando, his voice faintly slurred with exhaustion.

“Do you trust me?” she replies with a knowing smile, standing up and extending a hand to him. “My god, Lando. My friend gave me keys to one of the rooms upstairs in case I wanted to crash.”

He hesitates, glancing at her outstretched hand before finally letting out a soft laugh and taking it.

They make their way upstairs, the faint thump of music growing quieter with each step. The room isn’t far, tucked at the end of a hallway. She unlocks the door, revealing a small but cozy space. The room is dimly lit, with a single bedside lamp casting a muted glow over the single bed that’s pressed against one wall, a small dresser, and an armchair in the corner.

Lando steps in behind her, the faint hum of the party fading as the door clicks shut. His gaze sweeps over the room, taking in the space. She lingers by the door for a moment, turning the key with a soft click, locking them in; the sound feels final, and heavier than it should.

Lando notices the bed immediately, his eyes narrowing briefly before he rubs the back of his neck, a gesture that betrays his unease. His voice is low and uncertain as he says, “You know what, I can crash on the couch downstairs. It’s fine.”

She tilts her head, her lips curving into a small smile as she watches him fidget. “You can,” she agrees, knowing that Lando has the superpower to fall asleep anywhere, no matter the place or how loud the background noise is. “Unfortunately, I locked the door,” she adds with fake concern in her voice.

Lando glances at her, his expression caught somewhere between playful and wary. “Yeah. You can unlock it, though.”

“But I won’t,” she replies, her smile softening, her words carrying an unspoken challenge that Lando catches immediately.

His lips part, and for a moment, he says nothing, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows. Then, quietly, his voice dipping lower, he says, “Then don’t.”

His words linger between them, and she feels the weight of his gaze as it shifts to her. There’s no teasing in his expression now, no trace of the lighthearted Lando she’s used to.

She lets her arms fall to her side, her pulse quickening.

Lando’s chest rises and falls steadily, though there’s a tautness to his posture. His gaze darts back to the bed, then to her, and she swears she sees a flicker of something in his eyes — fear? Desire? Anticipation?

His jaw tightens, his eyes searching hers, and she feels the weight of everything left unsaid pressing down on them both. Every glance, every touch, every joke that lingered a second too long — it’s all there, bubbling to the surface.

The tension between them that has simmered for months, maybe even years, suddenly feels unbearable. Lando’s eyes meet hers once again, and the quiet resolve in her gaze breaks something inside him. And then, suddenly, a glance he catches from her it’s all it takes. The restraint he’s held onto for so long snaps like a rubber band stretched too far. Before he knows it, he’s closing the gap between them, his hands cupping her face as his lips crash against hers.

She responds instantly, her hands tangling in his curls as she pulls him closer. The kiss is all-consuming, months of buried feelings and unsaid words spilling out in a rush. It’s intoxicating, a heavy blend of alcohol and the faint sweetness of her cherry lip balm. His lips are soft, impossibly so, molding against hers like they were made to fit. The taste of him is dizzying, a perfect balance of warmth and want, and each movement of his mouth sends sparks of heat rippling through her.

It’s overwhelming, the way Lando kisses her — gentle, but with a growing intensity that leaves her breathless, her heart pounding as if it’s trying to match the rhythm of his. His fingers trail down to her neck, squeezing lightly and pulling her against him as they stumble backward toward the bed.

“Do you know how long—” he begins against her lips, his voice rough with need.

“Too long,” she cuts him off with another kiss while her fingers are rushing to tug at the hem of his shirt.

Lando groans as they tumble onto the bed. Their breaths are loud and uneven, filling the small space as their lips crash together again, need and desire fueling every movement. Her palm presses against the small of his back, coaxing him between her legs. He instinctively follows her guidance, his body lowering against hers until his forehead rests on hers. At that, Lando sighs, not with frustration but a soft exasperation that halts them both.

“Are we… okay?” he asks, half-amused and half-concerned. “We shouldn’t—we should not do this. Not like this.”

She doesn’t release him, her hands still on his sides, her legs loosely wrapped around him. “We are,” she assures him, her voice calm but insistent. “It’s just us, Lando.”

His brows furrow, his lips parting in disbelief. “I know. I just don’t want you to wake up tomorrow and—”

Her hands move to his face, cupping it firmly and forcing him to look directly at her. “Regret it?” the girl asks, her thumbs stroking his cheekbones. “Don’t be silly. You know this isn’t about tonight. I’ve wanted you for a while now. I know you do, too.”

His eyes flicker with something raw, and he swallows hard. “I do,” he agrees. “But. It’d be such a waste to mess it up.”

The weight of his confession settles over them, and he falls onto the mattress beside her. For a moment, they both stare up at the ceiling, their fingers brushing tentatively before intertwining. It’s quiet, save for the hum of the party faintly bleeding through the walls.

And then, “You’re such a good kisser, by the way,” she finally breaks the silence.

He lets out a chuckle, visibly affected. “You’re not making it any easier.”

“I’m already messed up because of you, Lan,” she confesses, turning onto her side, her fingers finding his arm and tracing slow patterns along its length. “I trust us. No matter the outcome.”

Her hand travels to his chest, her fingers brushing lightly over his collarbone before moving to his jaw. She traces the line of it, her touch light but electrifying. Finally, her thumb brushes over his bottom lip, her gaze following her movements so closely, as if she wants to devour him.

Their thoughts run wild, revisiting every stolen glance, the tension, the want — it’s always been there. Every moment brought them here.

And now?

“Do you, really?” asks Lando, his voice laced with curiosity.

She nods, her hands sliding down to rest over his, her fingers curling around his. “Completely. I trust us to figure it out as we go. Don’t you?”

He lets her words settle, a warmth spreading through his body. He does. But he still has to think twice before agreeing to something so drastic, especially when he is faced with something he wants so badly that it makes him burn with impatience.

Finally, Lando sighs, looking at her.

“It’s not a big deal, right?” she says with a quiet laugh, her voice tinged with both affection and relief. “We’ve always been good at just... being us.”

He smiles at that, the tension in his shoulders easing just a little. “That’s true. We’re pretty fucking great at that.”

Lando’s breathing hitches as she guides his hand to her ass, pressing it against her curves with an undeniable confidence. His grip tightens instinctively, and she drapes a leg over his waist, pulling herself closer. Their eyes lock, her fingers tracing his features, as if committing every contour to memory. They’ve never been so close to each other, and the intimacy of the moment makes his heart race, while hers almost melts under the warmth of his body.

“You’re going to ruin me,” he admits matter-of-factly.

Her lips curl into a faint smile. “Hopefully,” she whispers, her hand traveling south, to work on unbuttoning his jeans.

Lando swallows hard, his gaze darkening as he grips her tighter. “If I fuck you tonight…” his voice drops, laced with a possessiveness that makes her shiver. “I won’t be able to let another guy come anywhere near you again.”

Her eyebrows arch in surprise, finally able to put the pieces together, understanding why Lando was acting so strange earlier.

“Are you jealous, Lando?” she teases, though there’s a flicker of curiosity in her tone.

Lando’s response is silent; instead, he leans in, his lips finding the soft curve of her neck. He sucks lightly, then harder, leaving a blooming hickey that makes her gasp.

When he pulls back, his voice is firm, “No, I just want people to stay away from what’s mine.”

Her breath catches, and before she can stop herself, the word escapes her lips in a near-whisper. “Yours.”

The corners of his mouth twitch, but he doesn’t say anything, letting the intensity in his gaze speak for him. She pushes at his chest, making him fall back against the mattress with a soft laugh, and crawls on top of him, her thighs straddling his hips.

Impatiently, her hands work on his shirt, pushing it up his chest. “Off,” she demands, tugging until he lifts his arms and lets her pull it over his head.

His hands waste no time, slipping under her skirt and pulling at the lace of her panties. “These,” he says quickly, his breath warm against her collarbone, “are in my way.”

With a sharp pull, he slides them down her thighs, and she shivers as the cool air kisses her damp skin. She leans down, burying her face in the crook of his neck to hide her embarrassment as he guides her hips forward, her bare core pressing against the warmth of his abs. The firm ridges of muscle beneath her send a jolt of pleasure through her body, and she lets out a soft moan.

Lando’s hand tightens on her hip, his thumb brushing over her skin. “Look at that,” he breathes heavily, “What got you so excited, hm?”

She whimpers at his words, the heat pooling in her cheeks as much as between her thighs. “Don’t—” she mumbles into his neck, her voice muffled and shy.

He chuckles softly, the vibration of it against her skin making her shudder. “No, that’s so hot,” he teases, moving her hips just slightly so she drags against him. His own breath catches, and his hips shift upward, pressing the hardness of his length against her thigh. “You feel what you’re doing to me? It’s mutual.”

She lifts her head, her eyes meeting his as she lets her fingers trail down his chest. Next, she adjusts herself as her hand slides lower, brushing against the waistband of his pants before she pushes them down just enough to free him. His cock springs free, and she bites her lip at the sight of it, her own arousal growing as she reaches out to wrap her hand around him.

Lando groans, his head falling back against the pillow. “Fuck,” he breathes, his voice rough and full of longing.

As she leans down to press her lips to his chest, her tongue flicking over his nipple, a sound escapes him that’s somewhere between a gasp and a moan. She glances up again, amused. “Well,” she teases, her voice playful but sultry, “I think I just found your new kink.”

Lando lets out a weak chuckle, his hand tangling in her hair as he pulls her back up to kiss her. “Shut up,” he speaks over her lips, but the way his hips buck against her hand tells her she’s right. “Everything you do is my kink,” he whispers, the rawness in his voice making her heart race.

Her cheeks flush a deeper shade, and with a playful glint in her eye, her hand squeezes his cock lightly, eliciting a sharp inhale from him. “Sorry,” she giggles, feigning innocence, “I just wanted to make sure.”

He scoffs, shaking his head with a smirk before his hands cup her ass firmly, pressing her harder against him. His voice is rough and dripping with need as he almost begs, “Come sit on my face.”

The unexpected plea is leaving her breathless, painting her face in confusion. “What?” she stammers, her voice nearly swallowed by the thrum of arousal coursing through her.

“Yeah, you heard me,” Lando assures her, his tone insistent, his eyes ablaze with anticipation.

Without waiting for her to argue, he pushes her skirt up around her waist, revealing the soft skin of her thighs, and pulls her closer to his face. She hesitates for a moment, her nerves warring with her desire, but when his strong hands guide her gently and his lips press a teasing kiss against her inner thigh, she gives in. The first swipe of his tongue against her entrance makes her gasp, her hand flying to the wall to steady herself.

Lando groans as he tastes her, the sound vibrating against her core and sending shockwaves through her body. One arm wraps tightly around her thigh, anchoring her to him, while his free hand drifts down to his cock, stroking himself in tandem with the rhythm of his tongue. Her moans spill into the air, mixing with his as Lando’s mouth works her over like a man starved, warm and wet and utterly relentless.

“Lan,” she breathes, her voice shaky as the intensity builds. Her hips jerk against his mouth instinctively, and he responds by pulling her even closer, burying his face deeper between her legs.

His tongue flicks, swirls, and presses in all the right places, and she can barely keep herself upright. She has to press both of her palms on the wall, but even then it’s not enough to keep her grounded. Not when Lando laps at her clit, his fingers digging into her thighs to keep her still as her body begins to tremble.

“You taste so fucking good,” he informs her between strokes of his tongue, his words muffled but clear enough to make her toes curl.

As her breaths turn shallow and erratic, she feels the pressure coiling tightly in her abdomen. Lando senses it, too, and his grip tightens, his movements growing more fervent. “Wanna come for me?” he asks as impatient as she is.

Before she can even process his question, her climax crashes into her like a tidal wave, her thighs trembling around his head as her moans echo through the room. Lando doesn’t stop, his mouth and tongue coaxing her through every pulse and tremor until she’s gasping for air.

In one swift, effortless motion, he pulls her down onto the bed and flips her over, positioning himself above her. His lips are slick, his gaze heavy-lidded with lust as he pumps two fingers into her, the wet heat of her still clenching around him.

“That’s it,” he encourages, his thumb brushing against her sensitive clit as his fingers curl inside. “Let me feel you.”

Her body arches off the bed as another wave of pleasure crests over her, Lando’s name spilling from her lips in breathless cries. The sheer intensity of his touch and the quickness of it all leave her spinning, her mind barely able to keep up as he drives her over the edge once more.

By the time her breathing begins to steady, Lando leans down, his lips brushing hers in a lingering kiss, tasting her satisfaction on his tongue. He grins against her mouth, utterly smug but entirely captivated.

“See how fucking delicious you are?” he whispers, and she can only nod, still lost in the aftermath of him unraveling her completely.

Seeing the pleasure etched across her face, Lando can barely hold it together. His hands tremble slightly as he shoves his jeans and boxers down for good, freeing himself at last. His cock, heavy and flushed, rests against her thigh, the warmth of her skin giving him goosebumps. He breathes heavily, his chest rising and falling in sync with hers as he pauses for just a moment, meeting her gaze with a mix of vulnerability and pure lust.

“Are we really gonna do this?” asks Lando, his voice hiding too much desire under its raspy tone.

His eyes search hers, looking for any hint of doubt. Luckily, there is none. She just nods frantically, her hands sliding down his back to cup the firm muscles of his ass.

Her touch sends electricity through him, and she guides him where she needs him most, her body arching in anticipation. “I want you. Please.”

Without breaking eye contact, he sinks into her, and the world stops for both of them. His head falls forward, a low groan rumbling from his chest as he feels her warmth envelop him, her slick heat drawing him in effortlessly. Her body opens for him so easily, so perfectly, that it steals his breath. The tension that had coiled tightly in her frame melts away as her legs wrap around his hips, pulling him closer.

Her arms encircle his shoulders, holding him tightly while she gasps Lando’s name. Her voice is music to his ears, and he presses his forehead against hers, the connection between them both overwhelming, yet grounding. Her fingers slide into his curls, playing with the strands at the nape of his neck as her hips shift instinctively, adjusting to his size.

“God, you feel…” he trails off, unable to find the words. Instead, he lets his body speak for him, drawing back before thrusting forward again. His movements are purposeful and powerful, each one making the bed creak slightly beneath them and pushing her up and down the sheets.

Her lips part with soft cries, her fingers tightening in his hair as her body meets each of his thrusts. “Lando,” she moans, her voice full of need and adoration, spurring him on. “Yes, that feels so good. Don’t stop.”

He catches her mouth in a searing kiss, swallowing her sounds as his hands wander over her body. His fingers hook under the hem of her t-shirt, and he tugs it upward, breaking the kiss momentarily to pull it over her head. The sight of her bare skin, flushed and glistening, takes his breath away. Her breasts are adorned with black lace, and the contrast against her skin ignites something primal in him.

“Stunning,” says Lando just as his hand drifts to her chest, brushing over the delicate fabric.

The way she arches into his touch, her nails scraping lightly against his shoulders, drives him wild. His thrusts deepen, his hips moving with purpose as the room fills with the sounds of their bodies meeting, her moans, and his ragged breaths.

“Fucking hell,” he rasps. His jaw clenches as he feels her tightening around him. “You’re killing me. So tight and—”

Before he can finish, she pulls him into a kiss. It’s shallow, their lips barely meeting as they breathe each other’s air. Her nails dig into his back, her legs trembling as she holds him as close as humanly possible.

“You’re so good, Lando,” she murmurs, her voice quivering, her praise like gasoline on his fire. “My favorite boy.”

Her words send him over the edge of control, his hips stuttering as he thrusts deep inside her, feeling her walls begin to flutter and clench around his cock. Her back arches, her head burying into the pillow as her orgasm crashes over her like a tidal wave. Again.

Her moans are unfiltered, and she clutches him like he’s her lifeline, while Lando stills inside her, groaning low and long as her body grips him so tightly that knocks the air out of his lungs. He presses his forehead against her chest, their breaths hurried as her aftershocks pulse around him so sweetly. Her nails scrape lightly down his back, grounding them both, continuing to whisper his name like a prayer.

It’s enough for Lando to surrender to his own orgasm, his body trembling as wave after wave of release takes him over. He stays buried inside her, unwilling to part just yet. The warm tightness around him makes him shudder, his hand gripping her thigh to anchor himself.

When he finally pulls out, he hesitates before pressing his knee between her legs, feeling the slick warmth of their combined arousal smearing against his skin. She squirms against him, her overstimulated body trembling, her hips shifting involuntarily as aftershocks ripple through her.

Lando watches her, his eyes dark with satisfaction, his voice husky as he whispers, “Forget 35. Let’s get married tomorrow.”

She exhales sharply, a laugh bubbling out of her. “I’m down,” she teases, her tone light but affectionate. “Let’s book the venue now.”

He looks at her, gaze softening, filled with something deeper as he reaches behind her and, with one measured motion, unclasps her bra. The suddenness of it catches her off guard, her eyes widening as he tosses it aside like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Before she can say a word, Lando leans over the side of the bed, fishing for his shirt. He finds it, holding it up, then tugging it over her head, the oversized fabric swallowing her frame.

“Perfect fit,” he says softly, his fingers brushing against her arms as he helps her adjust it. The gesture makes her chest tighten, her heart swelling with an ache she doesn’t fully understand yet.

After that, Lando slides back into his boxers and pulls the covers over both of them. The bed is small, forcing their bodies to press together in a tangle of limbs. It doesn’t feel awkward, though. It feels like a new home, safe and peaceful.

He rests his head on her chest, his breath warm and steady against her, while his hand absently caresses her through the fabric of his shirt, his fingers brushing over her nipple. Everything about the moment feels somehow so normal, like they’ve been this way forever.

The silence stretches on, so comforting, until she suddenly breaks it with a soft groan. “I have to pee again.”

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ MASTERLIST . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

Thank you for reading!

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© trashy track tales, 2025

[museanddream]

For Your Ears Only || Laia Codina x reader

Summary: Laia is too loud but you can’t say no to her. You’ll just have to deal with the consequences later. 🔞

Inspired by this drabble by the incredible @vixwritesagain - this story picks up where hers ends. Big thanks to Vix for a) inspiring this fic with her wonderful words and b) giving me permission to share this!

Word count: 3k

…

You should’ve learned your lesson.

An entire day of teasing, of Misa’s exaggerated and increasingly caricaturistic impressions of Laia’s moans, of wanting to spend every precious second you can with your girlfriend but also not wanting to give the rest of your teammates the opportunity to remind you how loud you were last night.

You should know that you need to be quiet or risk more of the same tomorrow.

Well, it’s not you that’s the problem.

Still, the way that Laia’s moans are muffled around the two fingers in her mouth is hardly doing much to deter you from causing a repeat performance. Quite the opposite, actually. You’re too far gone to change your mind now, tomorrow’s inevitable teasing be damned.

You lick at her cunt, timing the strokes of your tongue against her with the thrust of your fingers into her mouth. She tastes like heaven, like nectar on your tongue.

When your tongue flutters against her clit, Laia’s head falls back and your fingers slip from her mouth. The lyrical moan she lets out is what you imagine heaven sounds like too.

You really need to invest in an actual gag before the next camp.

Or, at the very least, manipulate the room plan so that you’re not neighbouring Jenni and Misa.

“Laia!” you chastise her, though there’s very little bite to your words.

“I’m trying,” she apologises. Even as she says it the second half of her words morph into another whine.

You find it hard to be mad at her for making so much noise. One; you’ve heard her unrestrained moans too many times before to think that this is the loudest she can be, which means she really is trying to stay quiet. And two; she looks far too pretty, splayed out and writhing against the crumpled sheets, for you to actually be annoyed.

With nothing in Laia’s mouth to muffle her sounds, you reluctantly lift your tongue from between her legs and start kissing up her body. And while your intention is to cover her mouth with your own to stop any more noises escaping, as your lips travel between Laia’s hipbone and her navel and her breath catches in her throat, you’re reminded that barring last night, it’s been weeks since you had her body laid out in front of you to explore properly.

So maybe it’s your fault when your lips pass across the ticklish spot on her ribcage and she inhales with a sharp hiss. Maybe it’s your fault when your tongue finds her nipple and swirls around the puckered bud once, twice, drawing out one of your girlfriend’s familiar mewls. Maybe it’s your fault when you finally settle on top of Laia and slot one of your legs between hers and she lets out a moan that fills the room.

“Laia,” you warn her again, though you continue to rock your thigh against where she’s hot and wet for you. “Baby, they’ll hear you.”

Laia pays no notice, instead more intent on pawing at your ass to get you to roll your thigh against her again.

Despite your better judgment, you’re happy to oblige.

You swallow her answering moan with a kiss, rocking against her core until her slick coats your leg.

Without breaking the kiss, you send one hand down Laia’s body and slip your hand between your thigh and her cunt. Her legs fall open obediently as your fingers slide easily through her folds, exploring without much of a purpose except to tease.

“Please,” Laia mumbles against your lips.

“Will you be good for me?” you whisper back.

Laia nods eagerly, threading her hand through your hair to pull you back into another blistering kiss.

As you kiss her back feverishly, your fingers graze over her clit with a few lazy circles, then dip lower to tease at her hole. Her hips buck beneath you, no doubt trying to coax you inside her, but instead you collect her arousal with your fingertips and drag them back up to smear around her clit.

“Stop teasing,” Laia half-growls.

“I’m not,” you say, pushing your hand lower and sinking two of your fingers into her.

It’s definitely your fault when Laia’s reaction is to let out a wanton moan, because you don’t think to muffle it with a kiss until the sound has already filled the room. But you kiss her anyway, even if it’s too late, capturing the sound that follows when you press down with the pads of your fingers inside her.

Laia is perfect as you fuck her. The way that her hands claw at you, one tight around your bicep and the other dragging blunt nails across your back. The way that one of her legs hooks around the small of your back, using it as leverage as she grinds upwards in rhythm with your thrusts. The way you can feel her clenching around you each time you find that one spot inside her that you know drives her completely wild.

Perfect, until her head falls back again and she lets out a hoarse “oh fuck” that’s just a fraction too loud.

“Laia, baby…”

You slip your fingers out of her as you hush her, though when you immediately move them to rub tiny circles above her clit, Laia lets out a breathy sigh of pleasure.

“I know, I know,” Laia replies, eyes fluttering closed in a way that makes you pretty sure that she’s only half-listening to you.

You watch her closely, admiring the tiny details in her face as you play with her clit. Her forehead crinkles with the exertion of trying to keep quiet, her eyes screwed shut in pleasure and her lips slightly parted. You commit it all to memory, knowing that national camp is short and it won’t be long until the memories are all you have.

“Get the strap,” Laia murmurs, eyes flickering open again.

Your fingers fall still on her clit and you tilt your head to the side as you look down at her.

“Baby, we both know you can’t stay quiet when I fuck you like that,” you remind her.

“But … but I need you.”

I need you. Words that you often hear through the phone late at night, when it’s only your own fingers between your legs and Laia’s melodic moans are choked by the phone’s tinny speaker instead of filling your room.

You’ve waited ages, too long, to hear her say those words in person.

So why would you deny her now?

Besides, hasn’t the damage already been done?

“You really have to be quiet,” you remind her, as you roll off her and wander over to your open suitcase. The strap is barely hidden beneath a t-shirt, your favourite dildo already fitted into the harness from last night.

“I’ll try,” Laia assures you. “I promise.”

But with the way she stares at you as you step into the harness and tighten it around your hips, her lips parted and pupils blown, you’re pretty sure Laia wants you enough to agree to anything right now.

“Hands and knees,” you instruct Laia as you kneel your way back into the bed. “If you need to make a sound, use the pillow.”

Laia scrambles into position like she thinks you might change your mind if she doesn’t do it quickly enough, rolling onto her front and pushing her ass towards you as she raises herself onto her knees.

“Fuck, baby,” you praise her, bringing your hand down onto her ass cheek with a slap, then squeezing the flesh appreciatively. “You really want this, don’t you?”

“Always,” Laia nods in response.

You slide your hand between her legs, teasing with your fingers. Then, when Laia pushes herself back again, you reach for the cock strapped to your hips and nudge the thick head against her entrance.

“Yes,” Laia breathes. Her head falls forward, forehead pressed to the bed between the arms that hold her weight.

The way that Laia offers herself up to you so willingly has you losing your mind in all sorts of ways. It takes all the self-restraint in the world to hold back from letting yourself get lost in the moment and start pounding into her.

Instead, you push forward with your hips slowly, filling her inch by inch. Laia hisses and gasps as you move, pretty noises for your ears only, until you’re sheathed fully inside her.

“Fuck, Lai.” It’s your turn to groan, palming her ass with both hands and spreading her cheeks so you can see where the purple silicone stretches her open. “You’re taking me so well.”

“I’m yours,” Laia tells you. “Always yours.”

The possessive beast within you stirs, pulling out halfway, then thrusting back inside.

“Yes,” you growl. “Mine.”

The pace you set is a steady one, not too fast while you let Laia get used to the feeling of you inside her. But it’s really hard to control yourself, the way she presents herself for your pleasure and the extra shine you can see on the toy each time you withdraw, requiring a lot of restraint to not just start rutting into Laia with abandon.

The sounds she lets out are thankfully soft. Breathy gasps, pretty grunts each time you fill her, all much quieter than Laia’s usual volume. Where her head is turned to the side, one of her cheeks pressed to the pillow, you can see the way her face is twisted with the exertion of trying to stay quiet, or maybe just the sheer pleasure of it all.

“You can go harder,” Laia suggests, between choked groans.

You know you shouldn’t. You need her to stay quiet. You really shouldn’t-

“Beg for it.” The words spill from your lips before you have the chance to stop them. “Beg for me.”

“Please,” Laia urges you without hesitation. “Harder. I need it. Fuck me properly.”

It’s this, Laia’s thinly veiled implication that what you’ve been doing so far isn’t quite to her satisfaction, that makes you lose your mind.

You grab Laia by her thighs and manhandle her until she’s flat on her stomach beneath you with her legs wide enough for you to slot between them. In your roughness, the toy slips out with a pop, slick with her arousal, but you’re quick to wrap your fingers around the wet silicone and nudge it back between her legs.

In hindsight, you should’ve expected Laia’s groan of pleasure as you fill her in a single swift thrust, far louder than any she’s made since you started using the strap. But all you can focus on is how much you want her, all the pent-up frustration from spending the entire day being relentlessly teased by your other teammates each time you even glanced in Laia’s direction, flooding out of you as you start to fuck into her properly.

“Fuck!” Laia cries out. “Like that!”

You curl your body over hers, arms planted on either side of her shoulders as you lean towards her ear and growl, “Yes? You like it when I fuck you like this?”

Laia nods as much as she can with you practically pinning her to the mattress.

“Yes! Feels so good!”

“Fuck, baby.” You muffle a groan of your own by pressing your lips to the tanned skin of her shoulder blades. “You feel so good too. I can feel how tight you are.”

Still, you don’t relent the vicious rocking of your hips, filling her over and over again, drawing sound after pretty sound from her lips.

“Shhh,” you hush her half-heartedly. You have no intention of actually forcing Laia to shut up, though your sex-addled brain knows you should probably make more of an effort to be quiet.

Even if Laia herself was quieter, the sounds of your sex fill the room. The chatter of the television you turned on when you arrived back to your room in an attempt to mask the sounds you knew would soon follow seems to fade into the background, drowned out by the rhythmic creak of the mattress below you, the occasional thump of the headboard against the wall.

Even the slick sounds of the toy filling Laia over and over seem amplified.

“Don’t stop,” Laia pleads,

“Are you going to come?” you ask Laia.

She doesn’t answer with words, but you see the frantic nod of her head.

Her confirmation is all you need to realise how close you are too.

This position has always done it for you. Having Laia beneath you like this allows you to grind your clit against the harness each time you rut into her, a delicious pressure that builds you towards your peak without fail.

“Gonna come soon,” you warn Laia, as you manage to slip your hand between her body and the bedsheets with only the tiniest stumble to the rhythm of your hips, eager fingertips seeking out Laia’s clit.

“Yes!” Laia cries out. “Want you to come with me.”

The way you fuck into her has her grinding against your hand. She’s so wet that you barely need to do anything except hold your fingers in place and let friction do the rest.

Even just the thought of feeling her fall apart beneath you has you rapidly hurtling towards your own peak.

“I’m so fucking close,” you manage to gasp out. “Are you gonna come with me, Lai?”

Laia lets out a sound to the affirmative, somewhere between a whimper and a squeak, as she continues to hump your hand.

“Yes!” you encourage her. “So good for me, baby. So perfect.”

“I’m coming! I -”

You feel it as it hits her, the way that her body tenses beneath you, then writhes as much as she can where you’ve got her trapped against the mattress.

But it’s the sounds she lets out that tips you over the edge into your own orgasm, the soft pants as it builds, the few seconds of complete silence when it finally hits her, then the absolute wail of pleasure that spills from Laia’s throat as it wracks her body.

Your movements are almost non-existent as you work through your climax, the way that Laia clamps around the toy meaning that you can only really hump the harness as wave after tidal wave of ecstasy courses through you. You manage to muffle your own cry of pleasure by sinking your teeth into the nearest thing, which just happens to be Laia’s shoulder.

As your body goes heavy, you melt into Laia until you’re practically one person, until you can’t tell where you stop and she begins. Her skin is soft beneath you, her hair tickling your cheek where you nuzzle into her neck. You just want to feel every inch of her body against yours.

When the last tremors of your orgasm have subsided. you pull out of Laia carefully, pressing an apologetic kiss to the red mark forming on the back of her shoulder, then roll off her and make quick work of discarding the harness.

Afterwards, Laia pulls you close, her hot body nestling against yours as you both catch your breath and calm your racing hearts.

“You promised me you’d be quiet,” you murmur amusedly, wrapping your arms around Laia and pressing a kiss to the wispy tendrils of hair at her temple as she snuggles into your side.

“No, I promised you I’d try. There’s a difference.”

She smiles lazily up at you, clearly pleased with her loophole in her post-orgasmic haze.

“You’re the worst.” You roll your eyes, then squeeze her affectionately. “But I love you. So much. I wish the only time we get to spend together wasn’t like this. There’s so much more I’d do to you if we had more time and privacy.”

“Yeah? Like what?”

If Laia’s noise is half the problem, her insatiability is the other half. The mischievous glint in her dark eyes is very hard to say no to.

“Don’t tempt me. We’ve got a game in two days so we really need to sleep. You know I had to invent a migraine to explain last night’s poor sleep score to the performance staff?”

Laia chuckles under her breath as she replies, “I pretended I had bad dreams.”

“They’ll figure us out soon. We won’t be allowed to share a room again.”

A wicked grin stretches across Laia’s cheeks as she rolls fully on top of you and cups your jaw as she says, “Then we should make the most of it while we can.”

She leans in for a kiss and you respond slowly, with absolutely no intention of letting this escalate, just content with leisurely making out with the person you’ve spent so many weeks missing the company of.

Until you hear a sudden noise from next door that forces you to break apart, the creaking of a mattress and the distinct sounds of two different headboards hitting the wall in different rhythms.

“Oh Laia!” You hear Misa’s poor imitation of your voice drift through the wall.

“Yes, baby!” comes Jenni’s exaggerated echo. “Give it to me! Right there!”

“Oh yes, just like that!”

“More! More!”

The banging stops and you hear Jenni’s loud cackle, clearly pleased with herself.

Your cheeks burn as you picture Jenni and Misa jumping up and down on their beds as they impersonate the two of you, realising only now that you’ve heard them exactly how thin the hotel walls are.

You wrap your arms tighter around Laia, as if holding her close will protect you both from the embarrassment.

“We don’t sound like that,” Laia mumbles into your chest.

“We don’t,” you agree. “But you did.”

You can still hear Jenni and Misa’s raucous laughter from next door, no question in your mind who is the butt of their jokes.

“If I murder them both tomorrow morning, will you help me hide the bodies?” you ask Laia softly.

Ever the perfect girlfriend, Laia is quick to agree.

“Of course!”

[xoluvx]

Literally just went through your Billie master list and read EVERYTHING. I’m obsessed babe. Would absolutely die for a Billie edging fic. Need her to talk me through it ughhhhh

omg thank you so so much, babes!! for youuuu, mwah! ˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ 

"does that feel good?" she whispered watching the way your face contorted in pleasure. she was asking a question that could easily be answered by the pout on your lips and furrowed brows. it was more than good. the way she curled her fingers and held your thighs open was electrifying. your skin was coated with goosebumps as you held your breath biting down on your lip so hard it'd leave a nasty mark. you whimpered jolting your hips when her fingers dug deeper, nearly knuckle deep. you gripped her wrist teetering on the edge of your orgasm.

"i know, i know-" she teased feigning a frown as she moved her thumb over your clit impossibly slow as she fingers buried themselves impossibly deep. you were ready to explode. you could feel the tightness building. it was coiling in the pit of your stomach. every inch of your body was covered in goosebumps. this had been going on for what seemed like hours and every time you got closer, she'd do something to bring you right back to the beginning. there were no clear signs of this ending in the horizon; just her pointed words and her mocking tone holding you hostage in that room.

"i'm so-" you gasped holding her wrist "-so close," you breathed jolting your hips when her thumb pressed down on your clit and she moved her arm in a way that made the pressure rise tenfold between your legs. her palm pressed down on your cunt, rubbing as her fingers fucked you in a way that was going to ruin you once you were granted permission to cum.

"so close?" she whispered with raised brows as if she didn't know that you were so close to unraveling. you were hanging on by a thread and her fingers were controlling the string. you nodded desperately breathing heavily almost choking on your own saliva. you swallowed and hung your mouth open gasping for air as you clung to the bedsheets under your burning body.

"but you're doing so well for me. i think you can hold on a little longer," she added smiling devilishly before planting her lips on your cheek. she could taste the saltiness on your skin from ours of teasing and edging. you shut your eyes and whimpered leaning into her touch. you felt the heat of her kiss rush down to your nipples, tingling down your body and to the bottom of your feet as you throbbed on her digits. clenching, pulling her deeper.

"please, please" you breathed no longer able to hold it. you felt lightheaded and you weren't sure how much more of this you could take.

"please what?" she whispered against your cheek. her free hand cupping your jaw holding you from squirming. she wanted her lips pressed on your warm skin and she wanted to feel your warm breath trickling down her hand.

"please, let me cum" you croaked gasping for air as your body quivered. the bottom of your feet felt as if they were pricked by needles each time she moved her hand in the slightest way. she turned your face. fingers digging into your cheeks. eyes dark with lust.

"cum for me," she instructed. voice raspy and just as desperate to have you cum on her fingers. she wanted to feel the pulse on her digits. she wanted to feel you released the pent up tension. she wanted to feel you crush her fingers and see that look on your face. the one of pure bliss and satisfaction. she ran her thumb along your bottom lip massaging the red print from your teeth before cupping your face again, wrapping you in gentle kiss; wrapping you in softness and tenderness.

[honeyryewhiskey]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ❝ 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒄𝒂𝒏 𝒃𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒃𝒐𝒔𝒔, 𝒃𝒂𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒃𝒐𝒏𝒆, 𝒔𝒊𝒄𝒌 𝒂𝒔 𝒂 𝒅𝒐𝒈 ❞

moodboard for mid40s!dean x early20s!reader,

he's still hunting (sometimes) and got a call from an old friend that lead to you needing his protection. older dean grew his hair out, got some tattoos, still drinks too much. smokes, occasionally. he's tired. he's rough. he's fucking delicious.

sneak peak drabble !

"Fuck, that was brutal," Dean groans, leaning heavily against the brick wall behind him. His chest heaves with the aftershock of adrenaline, the guts of his latest kill smeared across his worn out shirt.

Your eyes track his hands as they disappear into the pockets of his jeans, the flex of his forearms drawing your attention. He fishes out a black crumpled pack of american spirits and a lighter, the familiar routine undeterred by the dents and scuffs the pack took during the fight.

He flicks the top open, lips retrieving a fresh cigarette from the box. The click, click of the lighter plays the high notes to his low grunt of annoyance as the wind  plays spoilsport with the flame.

Without thinking, you step closer, cupping your hands around his to shield the fire. It catches immediately, the ember glowing bright. Dean exhales a low groan of relief that borders on sinful, the sound curling low in your stomach, sparking a heat to rival the cherry-red tip of the cig.

"Thanks, sweetheart," he murmurs around the stick, his voice gravelly and muffled. His cheeks hollow as he takes a long drag, the nicotine visibly easing some of the tension in his shoulders.

The smoke curls lazily around him, his jaw angling to direct it away from you. Still, the sharp, smoky scent threads through the air, mingling with the faint metallic tang of blood and sweat.

"Can I get a drag?"

You're sporting your best doe-eyed stare as he fixes you with a skeptical scowl, eyes scanning your face like he’s searching for the punchline of a joke between your lips and eyes.

"Easy, trouble," he chuckles, flicking the ash off the end of the cigarette with a practiced motion. The corner of his mouth quirks up, adding to the lines framing his eyes. "You just survived your first hunt. Give it twenty years before you start looking like me."

"C'mon, don't baby me."

"You are a baby," he retorts, a bite of exasperation lacing his words. He takes another deliberate pull, the ember glowing as his gaze locks onto yours with an intensity that makes your breath hitch.

The standoff lingers, but you hold your ground, keeping your pout firmly in place. Finally, with a resigned sigh, he pushes off the wall. his broad frame looming closer, casting you in his shadow. His hand lifts with unhurried confidence, the cigarette balanced between his fingers like an extension of him, natural and practiced.

"Alright," he gives in, lowering it toward you. "But take it slow."

You steady his arm with your hand, fingers curling gently around his wrist. His skin is warm, the pulse beneath it steady and grounding. The filter brushes your lips as you take a cautious inhale, the cherry burning brighter as you draw in the rich tobacco.

"Slow, slow—yeah, just like that," he murmurs, his voice threading a careful line between soothing and authoritative. His gaze sharpens, studying every twitch of your expression. He’s taking too much pleasure in the sight, like he’s savoring the moment as much as the cigarette between his fingers.

The smoke scratches down your throat like sandpaper, and you can't contain the coughs that sputter out in thick grey clouds. Your ears burn with embarrassment, but the deep, rumbling laugh that spills from Dean only stokes the fire.

"Told ya," he drawls, slipping the cigarette back between his lips with effortless ease. His eyes glint with amusement, the faint crinkle at their corners deepening as your cheeks flush a telling shade of pink. He throws you a wink, the smug curve of his smirk both infuriating and disarmingly charming. "Give it twenty years."

ok i have too many stories going on to rly do anything with this at the moment but just know she exists. more to come.

i feel as though this needs to be here as well <3

[telomeke]

[Image Description–

Threadpost by "theheatherashley". The thread reads:

The timeline of Tik Tok

Everyone loves it.

Trump hates it and wants it banned.

It gets banned.

Turns out there have been no legitimate security breaches and no misuse of data.

Trump offers to consider saving it.

Democrats try to delay the ban.

Republicans vote against it.

Biden decides not to enforce the ban.

Trump and Zuckerberg get real close.

Trump and the owner of Tik Tok get real close.

Instagram changes their design to mirror TikTok.

Tik Tok does not have to go dark.

Facebook joins TikTok.

Facebook users see prompts to link their TikTok to their Facebook account.

Tik Tok makes a video thanking Trump.

Tik Tok reposts a video of a Trump ally who coerced homeless people in Greenland to appear to support Trump's takeover.

Tik Tok goes dark before the deadline.

I repeat, Tik Tok did not need to go dark.

Trump posts to Truth Social to "SAVE TIKTOK" even though…it never had to be taken away, and he was the one

Who wanted it banned in the first place. When he brings it back, he's not your savior. He did nothing special. He created chaos so he could "solve" the problem. That's what sick people do.

End Image Description.]

‌

Republicans wrote laws in the House, Republicans in the Senate approved.

Trump is not in office.

There is no executive order.

Yet everything changed and changed back.

This is a performance.

EVERYTHING Trump does is transactional.

Trump personally benefitted. 100%. 1000%

[obito-in-disguise]

| How they handle falling for you, realistically |

featuring: Gojo Satoru, Ryomen Sukuna, Nanami Kento, Fushiguro Toji, Geto Suguru, and Kamo Choso.

Gojo Satoru

When Gojo Satoru realizes he's fallen for you, hard, he starts avoiding you completely.

Beneath his playful and confident exterior was an eerily serious demeanour that you rarely ever got to see, until now.

It hurt like hell. Satoru went from showering you with his affection and time, to giving you curt responses and zero contact. The worst part? When you approached, he’d immediately turn away or take a long detour. As if the mere sight of you was too much.

His eyes widen when you suddenly burst into the supply closet he's been hiding in for the past twenty minutes, hurling a cardboard box filled with gifts and items he’d given you directly at his face the moment he opens his mouth to speak.

"Save it, Satoru. I don’t care anymore."

He grips the box tightly, knuckles white. The sorrow in your eyes was like a blade piercing through him, exactly what he didn’t want.

He hadn’t meant to hurt you. He’d convinced himself that distancing himself was the easiest way to end this. God, he was an idiot.

Quickly, he shoots up, grabbing your arm the moment you turn to walk away. He'd be damned if he didn't try to do something.

"I'm sorry, Y/N."

His voice is softer than usual, almost a whisper, in stark contrast to the force with which he holds onto your arm.

You inhale a shaky breath. "You could’ve just told me you didn’t feel the same way." Your gaze flickers anywhere but at him, fighting back the tears. This whole situation was humiliating.

As soon as the tears well up in your eyes, he instinctively pulls you into a crushing hug. He couldn’t stand to see you cry, especially because of him.

"I'm sorry, Y/N," he repeats, voice trembling. "You deserve better…and that isn’t me. I’m no good for you." His face buries into the top of your hair, his words a whisper, pained and filled with regret.

And that was it? That’s why he made you feel like garbage? You sigh, exhaling a breath of relief before pulling back and smacking his shoulder as hard as you can.

"-What…ow…" he clutches his arm, wide blue eyes staring at you in disbelief.

"You’re an idiot, Satoru" you say, softly this time, your hand gently caressing the spot you hit in a silent apology, but you grip it when you see him open his mouth to argue.

"I'm not a child, Satoru. I think I can decide what's good for me." You offer a small smile, one that immediately melts away all his defenses.

"And that’s you."

Ryomen Sukuna

Falling for someone was not in Sukuna's nature. Love was a weakness, a frivolity that he had neither the patience nor interest for. Yet, there you were, pulling threads of his attention he hadn’t willingly given.

You had been a prize he claimed during one of his many raids, a servant he’d kept around because, quite frankly, he found you amusing. He’d given you several opportunities to flee, and yet, you stubbornly stayed, either stupid or somehow enjoying his presence.

"You’re staring again" you said, not even looking up from the book you were reading.

"I can look at whatever I want. This is my kingdom" he replied, his voice low and dripping with amusement.

You snorted. "You're so humble too…"

His grin widened, sharp and predatory. "Careful, brat. I don’t take kindly to disrespect."

But his words lacked the venom they usually carried. He found himself indulging in this back-and-forth, this bizarre game where you didn’t fear him, where you met his taunts head-on. It was thrilling in ways he didn’t quite understand.

"Or what?" you say, flippantly lifting your feet and crossing them on top of his expensive furniture. The other servants gasped in horror, half-expecting him to snap, but he simply barked out a laugh, flashing his sharp claws in a half-hearted scare.

"Care to find out?" he challenged, dragging one long talon up your pulse point.

Your eyes flicker to his, unimpressed, before you yawn and grab the hand by your neck, cuddling into it and closing your eyes, putting the book away.

Yep. He knew he had definitely fallen when he found himself staying still, barely breathing, so as not to disturb you as you fell asleep, resting against his large hand, a weapon of death and mass destruction.

As you slept soundly, he watched you in the dim light. He could end you with a flick of his wrist, yet the thought was unthinkable. You trapped him in a web of contradictions, frustrating, fascinating, infuriating.

Leaning closer, his voice softens into something almost contemplative as he whispers, "Congratulations, brat. You’ve done the unthinkable."

To love wasn’t his intention. But Sukuna didn’t play fair. If he was falling, he’d make sure you fell harder, and there would be no escape.

Nanami Kento

The realization hit him one evening when you insisted on walking with him home after a long mission.

Every one usually went home in groups or pairs depending on where they lived, but Nanami never had anyone to walk with him.

It wasn’t necessary, he told himself he couldn't care less but, there was something about being left alone that chipped at the human soul.

“You don’t have to do this” he said, keeping his hands firmly in his pockets to avoid brushing against yours.

You simply smile up at him. “But I want to.”

He kept replaying that simple statement over and over. It wasn’t extravagant or particularly sentimental, but it struck him.

"Besides, I think it's about time we become best friends don't you think Kento?"

He stares at you for a good minute wandering if you were crazy. He wasn't the most approachable of persons and he liked it that way, but here you were walking him home and extending an offer of best friendship to him like this was kindergarten.

If Nanami wasn't enthralled before, then he definitely was now.

He takes your heavy bag from your hand before slinging it over his shoulder, ignoring your look of surprise and subsequent grin of victory.

Having somebody to walk with home everyday wouldn't be that bad he decides.

"Consider this a formal acceptance"

Fushiguro Toji

“Don’t you have anything better to do than bother me?” he grumbled, though the corner of his lips twitched upward when you laughed.

Toji wasn’t the type to fall for anyone anymore. Life had made him hard, and love had never been a luxury he could afford.

But you? You were the exception he never saw coming.

“Bother you? I’m the best company you’ll ever get, Fushiguro.”

He only said things like that to hopefully deter you but you didn’t back down, and somehow, that was what broke down his walls.

Every sharp comment, every cold glance he threw your way, you met with puzzling warmth instead.

He hated how easily you got under his skin, how he found himself looking forward to the moments you’d spend together, even if it was just you rambling about nothing while he pretended not to care.

Toji knew he wasn’t a good man. He didn’t deserve you, and he knew it. But the way you looked at him, like he was more than just the sum of his past mistakes, made him want to believe, even just for a moment, that he could be something more.

He sighs, wrapping his arm around you and all but pulling you into his side as he continues to watch TV lazily, the ghost of a smile on his lips when he hears you giggle.

This was going to be a pain, but when was Fushiguro Toji ever afraid of pain?

Geto Suguru

"Is it to your liking?" Suguru asked with his usual charm, his head resting on his fist as he played with your hair, sitting across from you.

Suguru could feel his heart pounding louder when you smiled and nodded before sipping the tea he made.

He’d always been selfish, he knew it. He shouldn’t let himself feel this way, shouldn’t let himself dream of a life where you smiled at him every day.

You had no idea what he harbored, what he was about to become. No matter how hard he tried to rid himself of these thoughts, you’d seep into his mind relentlessly.

"What are you thinking of Sugu?" you asked, setting your cup aside and intertwining your hand with his on the table.

He simply smiled in response, pulling your hand to his lips to place a lingering kiss.

He would let himself fall for you, indulge in you, before he had to let you go, before you would eventually face the horrors he would become.

Kamo Choso

You nearly jump out of your skin when you turn around and immediately come face to face with Choso.

"Choso! what are you doing!"

He immediately takes a few steps back "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you"

You sigh nodding. Staying mad at Choso is impossible, especially when he looks at you like that, like a kicked puppy.

"I have strange feelings for you" he immediately blurts out as soon as he sees that you're ok.

The confession stops you in your tracks. “What?” you ask, eyes widening.

"When I'm around you, my heart feels funny, and the other day when that guy put his hand on your shoulder, I wanted to rip his guts out-"

"woah! ok Choso, I get it" you chuckle, patting his shoulder.

"I just wanted you to know" he murmurs softly, fiddling with his fingers. He knew people got together when they had these strange feelings for eachother and more than ever he wanted that to be you and him. So he had to tell you, even if you didn't feel the same way. You were a chance he was always willing to gamble on.

"Well Choso..." you start, grabbing his hand softly before stepping closer. "Today's your lucky day because I have strange feelings for you too"

As soon as the words leave your mouth, he can't stop himself. He scoops you up into a bone crushing hug, laughing along with you. Even if you hadn't said yes, Choso was more than grateful to have you in his life.

Check out more of my jjk fics and other stories!

[sariyastars]

🕷 Silk and Shadows

I. Shattered Threads

Pairing: Older! Damian Wayne x Spider! Reader Synopsis: While fighting a multiversal anomaly, Spiderlily is thrown into a city of shadows. With their Gizmo shattered and no way home, they discover Gotham’s dangers are far greater than they ever imagined. But giving up is not an option, because with great power, comes great responsibility. TW: Violence, Anxiety, Light Injury, Threatening Creatures, & Disorientation Word Count: 3,601

The city lights of New York had begun to flicker on, as the sun slowly fell over the building's horizons. For the past week, you have been running on pure willpower. Between starting university, working, maintaining a personal life, and keeping up with New York as the friendly neighborhood Spiderlily, it has been difficult to say the least. You loved your life, but being (y/n) and Spiderlily was beyond demanding. 

Bells of the cafe chimed, as you turned to greet the customer. While attending New York University, you worked at a local cafe part-time to help with the bills. The cafe was a small and cozy place, just off of a corner 10 minutes away from NYU. As you lift your head up from wiping the counters, you see your two best friends bounce in. 

Lenora Peterson, better known as Leni, has light brown medium-length hair that curls just a bit at the ends and big golden brown eyes that somehow always seem to have a mischievous glint to them. Leni is the crazy engineer type. She has quite the passion for crafting things and trying out new scientific experiments that should probably be considered illegal. You guessed that being a Mechanical Engineer major allowed her to create such strange machinery whenever she pleased. 

Hanley Munoz, also known as LeyLey, stands at 5'10" with fluffy brown hair styled to the side. His green eyes, often framed by his black thick rimmed glasses, are calculating. Kind but never sure. Hanley was never great with social cues and is trusting to a fault, but is incredibly intelligent despite this. Majoring in Biochemistry, he dedicates most of his time playing lacrosse for the NYU team. 

And then there was you. NYU Biophysics major and local spider-hero. The three of you were like the Three Stooges. Ever since middle school, you were always seen together and rarely ever apart. Participating in multiple different science fairs and other events together. However, you never wanted to involve them in your private life as Spiderlily. It did not take long for Leni to figure out your identity, but Hanley still has not yet seemed to catch on. His lack of awareness played well for you, and you planned to keep it that way. 

Although, ever since Leni has found out about Spiderlily, she began to self-proclaim herself as your ‘man in the chair’. While you were adamantly against this for a while, she ended up becoming one of your greatest assets. She has helped you improve and fix your gadgets when you didn’t have the time. She’s guided you through the city countless times. She has even made your spidersuit. Now, Leni was no seamstress. Except for when the fabric involves vibranium. How she managed to get her hands on a vibranium custom spider suit for you is beyond your comprehension. You’ve learned it’s best not to ask her these kinds of questions. Especially when it's handed to you on such a nice silver platter. 

The smell of coffee washes over you once again as you place your cleaning rag off to the side of the counter. Both Leni and Hanley make their way up to the register to greet you. 

“And how may I help you guys today?”, you ask playfully, meeting them at the front register with your hands on the counter and your head tilted to the side. 

“Our usuals please, madam.”, Leni retorts back in a terrible fake British accent. Her arm is slung around Hanley’s left one, whose hands are in his pocket. His Lacrosse bag is slung on his right arm, along with his school bag. The two both seem tired from the day, but Leni seems to be a bit more energetic as she is tugging Hanley back and forth as she sways.

You note the tired eyes Hanley has while he attempts to stifle a yawn. Presumably exhausted from his classes and Lacrosse practice. You look over to Leni who is now pulling out her wallet. Guess it was her turn to spot for coffee.

As you type up their usual coffee orders, you read it out loud to them- “So, that’ll be one blended medium vanilla frap and one extra large salted caramel cold brew.”.

“Oh! Can you add 5 extra shots to my cold brew.”, Leni quickly pipes in.

You look up at her with a stoic stare. “You’re joking. Right?”

“No, I have some essays I have to suffer through tonight for English 1301, and our personal project I want to complete.”, Leni finishes with an obvious wink at you. Hinting at the new spider gadgets she has been working on for the past week.

“What? You got something in your eye?”, Hanley questions, turning his head to Leni with a weird look of confusion.

You both are so lucky Hanley is as oblivious as he is. Truly.

Your eyes roll at this as you let out a soft chuckle. “Legally, no. Cold brews are already at max level of caffeine and it would be illegal for me to add any more. So, no.”

Leni scowls at your response, her lips pursing together in thought. “Can you leave some space in the cup and give me 5 shots on the side?”

You both stare at each other for what seems like a long moment. You are lucky the cafe is not busy at this hour. 

“Fine.”, you state while typing it into the system, your face still deadpan before letting out a soft smile. Leni cheered at this and tapped her card on the card reader. 

“What? No tip?”, you tease her again. She playfully sticks her tongue out at you, while Hanley begins to pull out a couple bucks from his wallet and drops it into your tip jar.

“Thank you, HANLEY.”, you emphasize his name. Leni laughs at this and begins to drag Hanley towards their usual table. Hanley grunts in response, as if saying ‘no problem’, as he allows himself to get dragged away from the counter. You laugh as well and begin to turn away to work on their drinks. You were the only barista for the closing night shift today. 

After handing Leni and Hanley their drinks, you lean against the counter as you all chat about your days. Leni is venting about her English 1301 essay she needs to complete. One hand is holding her coffee, that she had poured the 5 extra shots of espresso into, and the other is waving around in the air. “It’s 2 pages TOO long.”, she sighs exasperatedly. Drama queen.

On the other hand, Hanley is mostly quiet. Listening intently to Leni while sipping his vanilla frappuccino. He speaks about his coach and his teammates once in a while, but his schedule remains relatively consistent compared to Leni. 

You love moments like these. Where it’s just the three of you without the weight of anything else on your shoulders. No NYU scholarship kid. No Spiderlily. Just (y/n), and their best friends. 

The cafe is quiet now, with only the three of you left. It is 8pm, just about closing time. You sigh softly, now beginning the closing routine. As you clean up the cafe, you glance over to Leni, who’s sketching something on a napkin, and Hanley, who’s absorbed in his phone. Just for a moment, everything feels normal. 

With the closing routine completed, you lock the cafe up. The metallic click of the lock hit your ears, signaling that the door was properly closed and secure for the night. Leni stood beside you, watching as you locked the door, while Hanley stood a couple steps farther away- adjusting his bags on his shoulders. 

Just as you had removed your key from the lock and turned to face them, your Gizmo buzzed on your wrist, notifying you of yet another anomaly. You quickly glance at the watch that was now lighting up beneath your hoodie’s sleeve. Ignoring the watch, you give Leni a knowing look before glancing over to Hanley who was now yawning. His breath was visible with the cold crisp air. 

“Heyyy, oh my gosh. Completely forgot. I have a huge project to work on tonight that I really need to focus on. Rain check on our study group tonight?”, you ask hesitantly while slowly backing up, ready to run to your apartment.

Leni, always being your cover, quickly grabs Hanley’s arm and begins dragging him in the opposite direction. “Yep! No worries, Hanley and I can just work on other stuff. Isn’t that right, Leyley.”

Before Hanley can respond, Leni is already pulling him farther away. His eyebrows are scrunchies in confusion, but is accepting of his fate. Leni waves in your direction as the two slowly get farther and farther away.

“Bye! We’ll see you tomorrow!”, she waves excitedly. Hanley looks back as well, throwing up a small wave and smile.

Once the two were far enough, you rapidly whip yourself around and book it towards your apartment. The cold air was sharp against your face as you ran home. While running, you pull back the sleeve of your hoodie to read your Gizmo that was continuing to buzz for your attention.

ATTENTION: ANOMALY DETECTED- HIGH PRIORITY

The screen flickered with a brief glitch, just for a moment, before the alert stabilized. Your heart sped up a bit more and a knot tightened in your chest. “High priority?”, you whispered to yourself, your breath visible in the cold air. It has been a long while since you had such an urgent anomaly from the Spider-Society. You were grateful Leni was able to pull Hanley away so efficiently. 

Busting into your apartment, your bag tumbled across the room as you swung yourself into your bedroom. You quickly rip your spidersuit from your hidden wardrobe compartment and throw it on. The suit is sleek and form-fitting. Vibrant crimson web lines flow out from the center of your chest, with patterns similar to that of a spider lily at the base of your boots. Your spider logo is black, like the rest of your suit, with scarlet accents and covers a majority of your chest and shoulders with its long legs and stylized body. 

With a quick tug on your mask, you flatten the fabric around your neck and head towards your back apartment window. It creaks as you push it open, letting a gust of the cold night’s air. Luckily you could not feel much of it through the suit, as it was well insulated with its own warmer. You hop over the window’s sill, gripping to the wall, and push it back shut.

Dangling off of the wall, 5 stories up in the air, you check your Gizmo again to locate the anomaly. Downtown. Not terribly far. 

You jumped off of the building and shot a string of web from your wrist, your body twisting as you glided through the city. The New York’s city lights twinkled around you as you flipped past each window. As much as you loved to admire your city, you couldn’t help but focus on the alert on your wrist. A high-priority anomaly was never an easy night. They were world destroying. You had to take care of this anomaly and fast. 

As you swung into the heart of the city, the air and your chest felt heavier. It was almost suffocating. You jumped up, landing on a nearby building of the location, and found the anomaly. It was a large, iridescent vortex of crackling energy. The area around it was distorted, almost as if it was being sucked into it. The vortex pulsed and projected streaks of colors that flickered erratically. 

Your jaw became slightly ajar at the sight, as a dark clawed hand gripped the vortex’s edge. Almost as if it was trying to pry itself out from its gravitational pull. Soon enough, the shadow ripped itself from the vortex. Its body glitched erratically, similarly to that of the vortex itself. It had no distinct features, just the empty silhouette of a creature, and eyes that were nothing but narrow slits. The creature howled, its voice raspy and defective. 

“Jesus Christ.”, you muttered.

Just as you spoke, another clawed creature ripped itself from the vortex that was soon followed by another. Within just moments, multiple of these shadows had clambered through. You swallowed hard, examining the situation. 

“God… Ah, fuck it.”

You flick your wrist, shooting yourself to the closest shadow creature. They had begun to scramble down the street. With a quick dive, you drive your feet into the nearest creature. Curb stomping them as hard as you could. The creature screeched at the impact before glitching bright colors and dispersing into a black mist.

“One down… One too many to go…”, you say looking at your surrounding vicinity that was now infected with these things. 

You barely get a moment before another shadow lunges at you from behind. Your spidey sense had activated, causing you to jump up quickly. Its claws sliced the concrete street that you were just standing on a second ago, leaving a large scratch mark ingrained into it. You managed to land on a light post, but another lunged at you off of the nearby building. Your body twisted as you jumped, attempting to dodge all of these creatures' attacks. Just one hit might render you unconscious. 

Hanging on the side of a metal balcony, you watch as three more creatures advance toward you. While there were no distinctive figures to them, it almost felt as if they were predators- hunting their prey. Their eyes were locked onto you. Their movements seemed calculated, oddly robotic, and trained onto you. 

The first shadow attacked from below, scaling up the building quickly- tearing into the brick as it raced up. You jumped off of the creaky metal balcony, getting away just in time before webbing yourself up towards another building. As you jumped, you twisted your body around to shoot a web directly at its supposed face. The web hit, covering its face in the sticky strands. It immediately reached up to claw it off of its face, releasing the creature from the building and causing it to fall. A glitchy hiss echoed your ears as the creature was falling. It was not long before the creature hit the ground, dispersing into a glitch of bright colors and black mist- just like the first one. 

Another creature advanced towards you, leaping off of the previous creature's body right before it had hit the concrete. Swinging on your web, you redirected your momentum to make a tight turn and kick the creature with all of your weight. The force from your kick sent the creature through a wall as it yelled and dispersed. 

“So sorry tax-payers!”, you yelled out, still swinging and webbing the creatures as you moved by. 

You continued to take them down as quickly as possible. All it seemed to take was one good hit to destroy them, but there were just so many. You had to handle it by closing the vortex.

As you were thinking, you could hear a shriek cutting through the yells of the shadows. It was sharp and fearful. Your head quickly snapped in the direction of the scream; your spidey sense rang. Abandoning the creatures in front of you, you immediately zipped towards the voice.

There, a young woman stood shaking on the side of the street. Her phone was raised, held tightly in her hands as it recorded a creature about to pounce on her.

“Run!”, you yelled at her, but she did not move. Her eyes glistened with fascination but her body shook with fear. 

“I said MOVE!”, you yelled once again, charging at her full speed.

The creature was just about to pounce, its claws ready to tear into the woman. You quickly shot out a web and yanked her back towards you. The woman flew across the pavement, still attached to your web. Her beanie had slipped off, but otherwise she was still intact with her phone in her hand.

Where the creature had pounced, was left a small crater in the sidewalk. Cracked and dented. That was going to need quite a bit of fixing.

“Seriously? Risking it all just for what? A TikTok?”, you questioned the woman with a breathy angry sigh, grabbing her beanie and slapping it into her chest. “Now GO.”, you demanded.

“But I-”

Another shadow creature began to approach.

“GO!”

The woman nodded at this and quickly scampered off at the sight of it. The creature screamed once again, charging at you like a bull. 

“Always giving me more work.”, you muttered to yourself.

As the creature charged, you jumped up and shot two webs on the street below you. Once it had ran under you, you used the momentum of your webs to slam yourself down onto it.

You continued to take down more shadow creatures as you made your way back towards the vortex that was now pulsating rapidly.

“Okay, Spiderlily.”, you spoke to yourself. “How do we close a giant neon pulsating shadow puking multiversal portal? The answer is totally obvious. Came in the spidey handbook!”

Landing on the same building as the vortex, you look up at it. Analyzing it.

“Think, Spiderlily. Think.”, you whispered, staring deep into its colors.

It did not look like your typical portal. It was cracked, ripped- unstable with frayed ends. Everything about it was simply unnatural. It throbbed violently and seemed to distort reality itself. This anomaly was different from your usual ones. You couldn’t open a portal and kick this portal into it. There had to be a way to reverse it. You just didn’t know how. 

Eventually, you decide that any attempt is better than no attempt. So, you began to pull at the edges of the vortex with your hands and attempt to physically shut it. Sure, there is probably a better solution, but there wasn’t much time and your options were looking relatively limited.

Good news though, the vortex was moving. It was closing with the force you were putting into it. Feeling it slowly inch, you began to pull harder. Soon enough you were close enough to grab the other edge of it with your hand and were now able to pull both ends towards the center. 

“Come on…Come on!”, you grunted through your teeth.

The vortex continued to thrash against you, colors flying out of it as some left over shadows shrieked in the distance. You were nearly there, with just a bit more you would be able to forcibly shut it closed.

Just as you were about to give the last pull, you saw a flash of movement come from behind you and a ringing in your head. Within a split second, you feel a kick on your back. With no time to react, you fall into the vortex.

You felt a surge of panic as you were kicked into the vortex. As you fell, you could see a humanoid shape stand at the end of the vortex you had just fell through. It was glitchy, shadowy, just like the creatures you fought before. However, it held a more sinister smile to it.

Your surroundings dissolved into a blur of glitchy bright lights and colors as the world around you fractured into jagged shards. Your senses were overwhelmed, caught in the series of spiraling portals. Each one flew past you like windows into other dimensions. Worlds you didn’t recognize.

Soon enough, the vortex had spit you out. You tumbled across yet another rooftop, the gravel scratching your sides as you rolled. It took a moment, but you eventually were able to push yourself up- groaning as you held your side. Definitely bruised.

You looked around at your surroundings. The colors of this world were relatively similar, but somehow darker. As you stood up, you immediately checked your Gizmo. The screen was cracked, a bit glitchy, but still responded when you touched the screen. You sighed at this and immediately looked to see what universe you were pushed into. Hopefully, if you were lucky, it would be one of your other spider friends.

As soon as you clicked the screen for it, the Gizmo beeped.

ERROR: UNREGISTERED DIMENSION

“...What?”, you whispered. It glitches again. 

You attempt to recalibrate it, however nothing seems to work. You continue to get the same notification. Bewildered, you slap the watch on your wrist. Every dimension is registered, even if the Spider-Society does not have all of the spiders from each one. This was supposed to be impossible.

A wave of anxiety washes over you after minutes of attempting to recalibrate it. Your knees were buckling, realizing that there was no way to fix it without any tools. Getting back was going to prove more difficult.

“No, no, no, no!”, you yelled as you continued to slap it- not knowing what else to do. Your breath quickened as you stared in disbelief. You were stranded. 

Your heart pounded in your ears at this thought as you turned your attention to your surroundings. The buildings were similar to New York, but the streets sounded different. The air was heavier, thicker. You could feel the weight of it pressing down on you like some sort of thick fog. The architecture around you was so similar yet so different. Everything was just darker, as if encased in an evercasting shadow. You glanced across the city skyline, your eyes catching onto a beam of light- piercing the foggy night sky. A bat logo.

Shit.

Next ➔

A/N: yay! so happy to finally push out the first chapter. hopefully i keep up the motivation to get this finished. i haven't written creatively in a really long time, so i am a bit rusty. i am also a very slow writer which does not help my case lol. anyway, i hope yall liked it! i think im still tryna get a grip on spiderlily's character, so if you guys have any suggestions for this fic- i am very open to it!! i appreciate all comments, notes, and reposts dearly. <3 this was also inspired by a bunch of fic's i have read in the past and @/yannawayne, so please go check them out!

[astertimberwolf]

I feel insane (in a good way) because I somehow managed to do this to myself: resolving all of my trauma, with very little to no guidance. Blindfolded. In the dark. With pitfalls sporting spiky bottoms surrounding me on all sides and while balancing myself on a thin thread.

I did fall and survive being impaled several times, where I thought I was done for, for good- each time thinking "this is it, this is how it ends" ...and yet, finding a way to climb back onto the darn thread over and over again. It only cost me like...

(Hold on im gae, tired and counting with limited brain cells and energy)

...16-17 years of my life to get there? Yeah. That's how long ago it's been, since depression hit me hard... All the way up until now.

That's a long-ass time. Over a decade and a half...

...Was it worth it?

Remains to be seen. Depends on how the next couple of years play out.

I hope a healed mind, heart and body will finally give me the chance to thrive- something I've been robbed of for all of my youth... No thanks to my shitty parents and other blood relatives that enabled neglect and abuse. No thanks to all the people who sexually assaulted or groomed me, r*pist included- and definitely no thanks at all to the shitty human beings that bullied me, used me, made fun of me, verbally, emotionally and psychologically tore me down, never gave me the benefit of the doubt, called me the worst names in any book ever written- and betrayed my trust, taking advantage of my ignorance, benevolence and naïvety. Y'all can go f*ck yourselves. I have forgiven very few of you- and only partially when it comes to some of the things you've done to me. Some (people and things), I will never forgive... Karma will return the favor tenfold, don't you f*cking worry.

*takes a deep breath*

Despite the justified rage boiling up inside of me for all the shit that I've had to endure... I know I've done damage as well, some of which permanent. If anything, I want those people to know that 98.5% of the times where that happened, it really wasn't intentional, planned or whatnot. Life is just chaotic- and at times I've snapped where I couldn't take the pain anymore. But I've become a lot stronger, wiser, kinder, better- and I won't show my anger / rage / ugly side if I can help it.

I'm far from perfect. Doubt I'll ever even come close to scraping- or even so much as seeing perfection.

I'm battered, but sharper than ever. Like steel being turned into a sword, hit after hit. I hope the blacksmith of life is happy with their work. They've created a weapon that will cut through anything in its wake- and will hopefully be used to defend rather than offend.

May blood never coat my blade again.

You will patch up all the holes in 2025.

(this isn’t a post about knitting)

[nomie-11]

Grey

masterlist!

synopsis: you love letting vi play with your hair, but all semblance of happiness is shattered when she finds a grey hair

pairings: vi x reader

Softly sighing, you tightened your arms around her waist, your head resting gently against her chest. Each breath she took, each beat of her heart echoed in your mind, lulling your thoughts and calming your mind as you let her body heat penetrate through the thin pajamas you both adorned. You loved laying like this—laying on top of her, her hands gently threading through your hair, the only sound in the room the soft breaths from her lips. 

Her fingertips grazed your scalp, slow and soothing, as if she knew exactly how to untangle the stress woven into your thoughts. You felt her shift slightly beneath you, her lips brushing against your temple in a lazy, half-asleep gesture of affection. 

“You’ve got something here,” she mumbled, her voice still heavy with sleep. Her fingers paused at the crown of your head, twirling a strand of hair. “Huh.” 

“What?” you asked, not moving from your spot, your voice muffled against your chest. You didn’t think much of it. It was probably just another excuse for her to tease you—she loved finding little quirks about you to point out. 

“It’s grey.” 

You froze. 

“Grey?” you repeated, lifting your head to meet her gaze. 

“Mm-hmm.” her lips twitched into a lopsided grin as she held the strand out for you to see. “Right here. Just one, though. I think it’s cute.” 

“Cute?” you shot up, your heart racing as you scrambled off her lap and into a seated position. You tugged your hair forward, trying to catch a glimpse of this so-called intruder in the strands framing your face. “I have a grey hair!?”

“Relax, babe,” Vi’s chuckle followed you as she leaned back on her elbows, thoroughly amused. “You’re overreacting. It’s one hair. We just fought a war, it’s probably from stress or something.” 

“Or something?” Your voice hit an octave you didn’t even know you could reach. “Vi, this is how it starts! One day, it’s one little grey hair, and the next—” You gesture wildly, as though the mere idea of aging was too horrifying to put into words. “I’m old!” 

“Old?” Vi snorted, sitting up on her elbows. She reached for you, but you swatted her hands away as you stood, pacing the room. “Sweetheart, you’re not even thirty. You’re fine.”

“Easy for you to say!” You exclaimed, pointing at her. “You’re Vi. You’re going to be gorgeous forever. You’re the same person who looks perfect even when you’ve just woken up!”

Vi arched a brow, her grin widening as she leaned back again, clearly enjoying the show. “Keep going. I like where this is headed.” 

You groaned, grabbing a pillow from the bed and chucking it at her. She caught it easily, her laugh filling the room. “Don’t laugh at me! This is serious! I’m—” You paused, clutching your chest dramatically. “I’m having a quarter-life crisis.”

That did it. Vi couldn’t hold back, laughing so hard her shoulders shook. “Oh, babe,” she said between giggles, “you’re really something else.” 

“This isn’t funny,” you grumbled, crossing your arms and flopping back onto the bed beside her. You stared at the ceiling, your thoughts racing. “I’m too you for grey hair. What does it mean? Am I stressed more than usual? Is it genetics? Is it—”

“It’s life,” she interrupted, her voice softer now as she rolled onto her side to face you. “It’s hair. It’s not the end of the world, I promise.” 

Her hand found yours, her fingers threading through yours gently. “You’re beautiful,” she said, her tone earnest. “Grey hairs, stress, wrinkles—none of it changes that. If anything, it just means we’ve been through some stuff, you know?” 

You turned your head to look at her, her blue eyes bright with sincerity. “You really mean that?” 

“Of course I do.” She leaned in, pulling you back onto her, pressing a kiss to your temple. “You’re stuck with me, gray hairs and all.” 

You couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips. “You’re such a sap.” 

“And you love it,” she teased, grinning as she reached up to brush your hair behind your ear, her fingers threading back into your hair once more. “Now, let me see if I can find any more.” 

You groaned, burying your face in her shoulder as she laughed, the sound wrapping around you like a blanket. Crisis averted—at least for now. 

If you enjoyed this one shot, please check out my other series!

[liesonmytongues]

Figured it was about time to post some of my writings since I made this blog specifically for them. Here's a request for a fic on AO3

MILF! Slime girl x Male! Reader

Synopsis- Hot older slime woman goes on a date with you that ends in insane sex

Warnings/CWs- Egregious smut, extremely inaccurate/impossible biology, unrealistic sex and biology, breast expansion, throat fucking, multiple orgasms, cunnilingus, possible body horror (she does some crazy shit), thigh and breast fucking, biting, human/monster romance, Male reader, dirty talk, rough sex

Word count- 3,800

She’s perfect. Perfect in every way- you've never met a woman better than her. And sure, maybe part of that was because she was a slime lady, and you’ve been interested in monster women for a really long time- but this is different, she's just…everything. The first time you saw her was a few days after she'd moved in- she'd been standing outside, tending to the garden that had been totally empty for months- with a kid on her hip and a pretty yellow sundress that stuck to her thighs and tits like a second skin. Every time she touched a plant, she got a little bit of ooze on the leaves. Every time she stepped, it made a plop noise and left behind a sticky footprint, threads of slime connecting her to the ground before snapping. And when she bent over? You got the most perfect view of her pretty tits, bulging out the top of her dress like if she bent over just a tiny bit more they'd pop out. You weren't even able to say hi that day because of how hard just looking at her made you- spending the rest of the night stroking your cock to thoughts of thrusting between her beautiful tits, feeling her slime squish and mold your cock to her body like she was made for you.

She's absolutely perfect.

You weren't even sure she'd want you considering what you were sure was a big age gap- she had baby pudge and rolls and little wrinkles, plus the toddler has to make her at least 10 years older than you, probably closer to 15- but hell, no one gets anything if they don't ask for it, right? So- once you’d had a very long shower to make sure you didn’t embarrass yourself -you asked her on a date. She accepted of course, and after a conversation about how well you’d treat her and where you would go, she got a babysitter and you were on your way. The date went perfectly, and besides a couple close slip ups where you could’ve sworn she was teasing you on purpose, you were the perfect gentleman- you even walked her back to her house at the end and kissed her on the doorstep.

Which is what led you here.

“I’ve never- y’know, uh…” You started and vaguely gestured at her body, kicking off your shoes. She’d basically yanked you inside as soon as you kissed her- pressed you against the door while you tried shoving her in the direction of her bedroom. She won out. Or, more like you couldn’t fight her any longer when your pants were so tight and your zipper was starting to hurt where it pressed into your tip.

“You’ve never had sex?” And she had the gall to smirk and laugh- her body jiggled with it, and little drops of slime slid down her arms and legs and wetted your shirt. Fuck, the ones on her legs looked almost like cum…

“No! No- I’ve just… I’ve never had sex with a slime girl before. Or like…an older woman.” She scoffed at ‘older woman’ and rolled her eyes, but she didn’t stop touching you- so you hadn’t fucked it up yet.

“Oh, well that’s not an issue, is it, baby?” She shrunk down to her knees, making a soft, squishy ‘plop!’ when she landed, and you almost moaned from the visual alone. Every time she touched your pants it left a little wet spot before absorbing back into her, making it feel like you were being caressed directly through your clothes.

“Mmm- ffu-ck,” She moaned when she slipped down the top of her dress, her big, slick tits popping out and hitting your thighs. Your cock has never been this hard in your life, and when she finally got around to unzipping your pants, it basically slapped her in the face.

“Ahh, so eager! See, I knew this wouldn’t be a problem.” She leaned forward, barely gripping your base and rubbing her lips and cheeks against all the skin she could reach. Just sliding her face up and down your shaft felt like humping between a human girls’ thighs, drenching you in her- getting you all slicked without so much as a lick. You already felt like a mess, but it was when she started suckling on your head and stroking the rest of your length that you actually choked up a sound.

“Oh god, you feel so good- fuck, suck it-” Her eyes turned up and she stared at you, lidding every time she took your cock a couple inches deeper. You couldn’t look away, fighting back the urge to close your eyes from how good it already felt- which meant you got the full view of when she sat up a little taller, sliding your erection between her tits. It was hard not to buck your hips directly into her face, especially when she squeezed them together so perfectly. Every time her nipples rubbed on your stomach and thighs, she moaned like a whore, trying to play with them while also keeping a tight hole for you to thrust into. Could she cum like this? It was around then that you could feel slime starting to drip onto your foot, unable to tell if it was just her body or if her pussy was really that wet already- but fuck, you don’t care.

You reached down to help her- to grope her and squeeze that beautiful rack like she clearly wanted -but you froze when you touched them. They were getting bigger. Expanding in your hands, squishing between your thighs and nearly engulfing your balls- and it suddenly struck you that you could see it. See your cock through her slightly transparent body, see the globes squeezing your shaft tighter- they didn't even look like they fit her body anymore. Too big to be proportionate on any woman, you couldn't imagine she would even be able to stand in this state- they'd just cause her to fall face first, with her gorgeous ass up in the air for you to take.

You didn’t care if it was quick- this was too much!

“I'm gonna cum- fuck you're gonna make me cum-” You groaned, tossing your head back and grinding your hips as much as possible with her body pinning you back into the door. Your voice was getting embarrassingly higher pitched with every noise you couldn’t hold back, fucking just your tip into her mouth and lightly slapping her lips every time your cock throbbed. It felt so good! A million times better than your imagination could ever provide during late nights rubbing your cock raw at the thought of this exact scenario. Minus the expanding- that was a welcome surprise

You were cumming before you even had a chance to pull away, gasping and shooting your load over her tits and chin, drenching her. You could watch it drip down her neck, into the crevice of either giant breast and nearly to her navel.

“Really? You haven’t even- ah -touched me yet and you blow your load, j-just like that?” She huffed, still panting and moaning softly, flicking her own nipples and groping herself to get off, licking the cum off her lips while you stood there. You were gonna say something back- something snarky or a rebuttal so she didn’t just get away with making fun of you, but as soon as you opened your mouth she was on her feet and yanking you down the hall. To her bedroom, you realized after a minute.

“Shut up…” You murmured too late to have any bite. Her room was nice, with a big, perfectly made bed smack in the center and a connected bathroom off to the side. You wondered briefly what the rest of the house looked like- where her kid slept, if she had a home office, what her kitchen looked like- but you snapped out of it when she got on the bed with a giggle, laying on her stomach and watching while you undressed. Your pants were sticky from her slime, and you had a hard time peeling them off for a couple of minutes- the strands connecting your thighs to the fabric like saliva might during a kiss. It should’ve felt gross, but the visual of her on her knees, making you that way, just made your cock twitch as you finally got the pants down to the floor. Her mouth suddenly sucking you off was another surprise- considering she was, obviously, on the bed, and you had to have been at least two feet away. You had expected her to have just climbed off the bed without you noticing, but looking at her, that clearly wasn’t the case.

She had turned herself over onto her back, neck stretched at least a foot further than should have been possible- bulging where your cock was nestled down her throat and truly making her look like the monster she was. Just like with her tits, you could make out every detail of your shaft as it slid up and down, contorting her textured esophagus and forcing slime between her lips, dripping down your balls and taint.

“God- you’re such a w-whore- did you need to suck me off so bad that you had to- fuck -mutilate yourself like that?” She whimpered in response, grabbing your hips and manually grinding you into her mouth. You were still sensitive, but she was managing to get you hard again. Really, it didn’t take much- all things considered you’re a little surprised you didn’t blow your load as soon as she started kissing you. Never in your life have you been this turned on, never have you had so many of your most depraved fantasies fulfilled all at once- this is heaven.

“Yeah? Want me to fuck your face? Want me to bruise your throat, feel it every time you swallow?” This has to be a blessing. God you think you might be in love- in love with that soft, wet throat, with the way her tits and pudge and rolls bounce more and more the harder you thrust- your balls slapping her face and making slick ‘plap’ sounds loud enough to nearly drown out her moans and whimpers- every sound sending vibrations through your cock

“Dirty whore- fucking slut, take it- take it, take it-” You aren’t entirely sure when you bent over, but all of a sudden your face is pressed into her thighs, fucking her face, kissing and biting as best you can on slime. Your teeth sink into her like it's nothing, and she just keeps moaning- does she feel pain the same way you do? Does she even need to breathe considering she hadn’t tapped you or tried to pop off your dick yet? It doesn’t matter- you just keep biting and sucking and licking her thighs, pushing them together and burying your face in the crevice. God you want to fuck them- want to shove your cock into them, slide her panties to the side and rub your head against her clit. Want to fondle her tits and make her cum-

“Cumming- cumming again, fuck- swallow it, c’mon-!” You really need to stop getting so carried away with those thoughts. This time, every single gush went down her throat- you could see her swallow. See her throat constrict and milk cum out of your weeping cock, see it go all the way down and settle in her stomach, feel her continue swallowing until you physically couldn’t cum anymore. Only then did she stop, letting you soften and slip out between her lips.

“Ahh- god! Fuck me already! You’ve cum twice and I haven’t even cum once!” She rubbed her thighs together for emphasis, and with your face still right in front of them, you could see her slick- her actual slick, not just her slime -dribble out from under her panties. They were soaked. You had no doubt that if you tried, you’d probably be able to wring them out.

“What, did I suck you dumb? Did your mind come out with everything else?” Fucking hell, it’s not clear whether her attitude is from her age or just being horny, but it’s definitely doing it’s job of making you want to fuck her speechless. It’s not your fault she makes you like this!

“I’m getting to it! It’s not easy when you keep doing that before I even get around to touching you!” This is fun, it really is, but you’re just getting frustrated not being able to do what you want.

“Can’t believe you have such an attitude when you’re the one who basically forced yourself on me.” You murmured, circling the bed and climbing between her plump thighs. The bite marks from earlier were just barely visible, her body already mostly healed up the holes, leaving just little indents. Too bad, but not a problem, you can always make more.

You needed at least a couple minutes to recover, so maybe now you could work on that attitude of hers. Because her body didn’t really have bones or muscle or, like, really anything that made it keep its shape, you were able to take her legs and push her forward until she was bent in half- her calves nearly behind her ears and her ass and pussy up in the air and spread wide. She helped by grabbing the back of her knees, pressing them to her chest and keeping herself spread open like it was the easiest thing in the world while you dove in- licking stripes up her cunt to finally get a taste of her sweet slick. Being see-through made it a tiny bit harder to find her clit, but you got there after a minute, and, figuring she’d probably been edged enough, jumped headfirst into sucking it into your mouth. She wailed as soon as you did, tossing her head back before forcing it forward again so she could look at you.

The angle was a little awkward, but you managed to keep eye contact while you ate her out, moaning into her cunt and watching her try so hard not to let her eyes close in pleasure. She was starting to tear up, whining and moaning and crying out how good you were making her feel every time you sucked or licked stripes up her pussy. Her body was drooling for you too, it was almost difficult to lap at it all, half of her juices getting on your lips and chin and dripping down your neck or her ass. It was almost as good as actually fucking her.

“Fu-uck, fuck, baby, yes-! Oh g-god please, please, please, need your cock!” She cried again, bucking her hips into your face like she was out of control. Your cock had definitely taken interest again, rubbing at the sheets and begging for attention- and if she was asking for it, who are you to deny her? So with her body still bent in half, you started pressing at her cunt.

At first you didn’t mean to just rut between her thighs, but her body and pussy were so wet that it was making it hard to thrust inside- and you realized how good it felt after the third try. Your tip was bumping her clit just like you’d been imagining earlier, and if you pressed her thighs together just tight enough, it almost felt like being inside. Her knees fell onto your shoulder, and you had to wrap both of your arms around those pretty thighs to squeeze them together enough for your liking. Every time you rut against her clit, she wailed and moaned in higher and higher pitches- her pussy spasming against your shaft, begging for you to put it inside already. And humping between her thighs, spreading her lips, bumping her clit every time you thrust, was how she came.

Her back arched off the bed so far it would have snapped in any normal human, mouth gaping wide and legs trembling over your shoulder. Her cum dribbled down her thighs, furthering the mess on the sheets where you'd been eating her out a second ago.

She was having trouble even making sound, too caught up in her orgasm to so much as moan- reduced to gasping and chest spasms until she finally started to come down from her high. You hadn't even known women could cum that hard, let alone ever seen it outside of porn. Fuck everything else from that night- this was the hottest thing you've ever seen.

“Jesus- Christ-” She was laughing in between pants when she could actually talk again. Everything about her looked entirely blissed out- like she was floating on air -and you were struck with the fact that you did all that. You made her this way. Your dick shouldn’t be so hard after everything- but you’d be a damn liar if you said it wasn’t.

She didn’t get any time to relax before you flipped her onto her stomach, her body squelching again with the impact and again when you thrust inside her- needing to grip your cock and spread her pussy to be able to. She was so warm inside, and you found yourself again forcing her body forward until her lower back was nearly touching her shoulders- holding her calves to your chest and fucking her like a wild animal. You were so out of it that you didn’t even notice when her body started changing again until you fell forward, what used to be her legs fusing behind your back, making it hard to keep thrusting. It was like she never wanted you to stop, and the throbbing of her soaked cunt just added to it.

She’s still perfect in every way. Better than any woman you’ve ever met- ever fucked. Better than any fantasy. The shlick sound of your cock fucking in and out, the slapping of your balls against your clit that made her cry and moan and yell, the rough panting that made your lungs ache and her skin even slicker- nothing will ever live up to now. Her pussy keeps clenching around your shaft, spasming every time a gush of slick drips down her folds and makes your thighs as wet as being drenched in lube- making your thrusts even more obscene.

It’s like having sex with a pornstar- someone who has all the experience in the world and all the confidence to use it. She was made to be fucked by you. Made to take your cock over and over, made to cum around you and use her body to force you to keep going. Tendrils of slime slithered out of her torso and around your thighs, wrapping hard around your arteries and making you feel dizzy with the pleasure and loss of circulation- and at the same time, you could swear she was getting smaller. Your hands more easily wrapped around her waist, your cock gripped ever tighter, the bulge in her stomach getting bigger, moving up- she was forcing you to go harder, to push your cock past where it should possibly have been able to go. It felt like you could push into her womb if you tried hard enough- fuck, with her biology, you probably could. Her body wanted you to jackrabbit her cunt until you couldn’t cum anymore, drain you dry and then keep going.

“Ah! Ah! F-uck! Fuck me! Cum inside-” You yanked her torso up, wrapping one arm around her waist and using the other to grope her perfect, stunning, massive tits, rolling her nipples between your fingers- and she came again from the stimulation, screaming your name. Her pussy spasming and squeezing so hard you couldn’t pull out, a sudden spray of liquid absolutely destroying any bedding that was still clean- she was squirting on you. You couldn’t hold back after the sudden pressure- pulling her flush to your chest and cumming deep inside -your cum visibly shooting through her ribbed inside and against her cervix.

And promptly falling directly on top of her, face first into the ruined sheets. Your body was past the point of exhaustion- you couldn’t keep going. And seemingly, neither could she. Little, overstimulated moans and whimpers escaped her mouth, her body jolting and smaller waves of squirt leaking out of her hole- you’d be shocked if either of you would be able to move in the morning.

“Thank you- thank you…” Kissing her gently, rolling both of you over and gently pulling out of her abused cunt- eliciting another whine. You peppered more kisses over her face and neck, careful to put your hands somewhere that wouldn’t keep stimulating her poor body- even if that was a bit of a challenge considering how sensitive she is.

“I need to get up- need to clean us up. C’mon…” You pried softly at the tendrils and fused legs still wrapped around your entire lower body, but she was reluctant to let go.

“I’ll be right back.” A few more kisses.

“You promise?” She turned her face so you would kiss her lips.

“Promise, I’ll come back and stay the night.” You did what she wanted, leaving a long, soft kiss to her lips, waiting for her tendrils to go back and her legs to reform. It took a couple of minutes, and some more sweet words, but when her body eventually went back to normal, you were able to stand on wobbly feet and find her bathroom. You're not sure how exactly slime people bathe, or if they can even use towels and the like without getting absorbed or something, but you did find a soft cloth. You wiped yourself off first, hissing at the feeling of something on your oversensitive cock and thighs- then rinse, wring, repeat. Your new lover was exactly where you’d left her, and the only movements she gave you while you cleaned her up were twitches and little whines of ‘too much’ when you wiped a particularly sensitive spot. It was easy, and when you were both somewhat clean- and had somehow managed to yank the sheets off the bed and lay a clean blanket down -you finally went back to her and gave her what you promised.

Her whole body wrapped around yours, doing the same thing as earlier and fusing together, forcing you to stay still. You probably wouldn’t be able to convince her to let you go again, so it was best to accept it- and as soon as you did, you could hear her softly snoring.

You weren’t far behind, holding this perfect woman to your body, sinking your fingers into her slime, and letting yourself rest.

[orangerafe]

reader giving innocent!nerdy!rafe a blow job for the first time

cw; smut, blow job, nothing else I don’t think

School usually wasn’t a problem for you. You soared through middle school and high school with flying colours, getting A’s and B’s in every class. You thought collage would be easy, and it was at the start. But now you were on your second year, and it was getting harder each time you went to your classes. So after some hassling the teachers and begging for some guidance, they thought it would be a good idea to pair you up with Rafe Cameron

He was the schools golden boy, the one who passed every class with no problems and whose father funded the school to no end, favourited by everyone except most students. You didn’t mind him, he was a sweet boy and you found working with him fun. He explained things well, helping you understand the work better than most teachers did. Everything was going swimmingly, you two would meet up every Thursday and study for a few hours, sometimes getting dinner together

It was harmless, just casual studying after hours. That was until one night you just couldn’t help yourself. Your ovaries were on fire, making your hormones and horniness go through the roof. Poor rafe just wanted to help, and that’s how he found himself laying down on the bed, letting you take off his trunks

“Fuck, you’ve been hiding all this the whole time?” You almost moaned, taking his half hard cock out of his briefs and admiring the piece of flesh. He was big, thick and veiny. Absolutely made to satisfy your needs. He looked down, adjusting his glasses with his finger. “I-I yeah I guess so…” he mumbled, cheeks flushed a light pink. It was adorable really

You glanced up at him, a smirk playing at your lips as you poked your tongue out of your mouth, licking a strip from the base of rafes cock right up to his roaring red tip. Rafes mouth fell open, a low groan escaping his parted lips. He was now harder than ever, the feeling of his muscles spasming in your palm making you giggle. “You like it?” You asked him, watching his cheeks grow redder

Your tongue started to swirl around his tip, teasing the sensitive end. Rafes eyes rolled back, his head leaning back to the pillows as he let out moans of his own, even soft whimpers. You stared up at him, watching his every reaction as you started to throat his length, hallowing your cheeks and flattening your tongue to accommodate his largeness. He was hitting the back of your throat, and you hadn’t even taken him fully into your mouth yet

His hands moved down to thread through your hair, holding it into a makeshift ponytail. “Fuck, your so good at this” he breathed out, hips bucking into your mouth unintentionally. The way he pushed his his made you moan around his dick, the vibrations making him let out a slight whimper

The sound of his whimper made your stomach whirl, butterflies shooting through your body at the sound. You moved your hand to rest around his base, rubbing the rest of what you couldn’t fit in your mouth. Rafe was loving it, head lolled back and eyes shut in pleasure. He knew he wouldn’t last long, but he at least wanted to try last a little longer

Your tongue swirled along the underside of his length, the taste of his cock lingering on your tongue. “Your so good at this — I’m not gonna last” he hissed out, gently tugging on the coloured locks of your hair. You picked up the pace, wanting him to have a good orgasm, a good first experience with oral

His moans became louder, throatier as he came closer and closer to his climax. He was teetering on the edge of whimpering, sounds growing more stretched out and needy. You took him deeper into your mouth, determined to make him cum better than ever before. He whimpered, hands clutching onto your hair. “I’m — fuck I’m about to cum” he nearly whined, sounding desperate for this orgasm

It only took another bob of your head, another rub of your palm and swirl of your tongue for him to be cumming deep in your mouth, warm salty liquid spurting down into your throat. You pulled away, swallowing his load with no problems, minus the little bit that was dribbling down your chin. Rafes body was weak after cuming so hard, looking at you with dazed eyes that had you smiling

“You did good rafe, really good” you praised, rubbing his bicep as you grabbed his boxers and the tracksuit bottoms he was lazily wearing. Rafes cheeks flushed a little, still feeling a little overwhelmed. “Thanks” he replied, voice a little strained. Both of you then laid back on his bed, relaxing and enjoying each others company after something quite intimate

[girlsloveupdates]

To those who are looking for a list of what to watch, please check out my pinned post here.

(& go watch Us on GMMTV now!)

A (not-so) quick guide to GL

GL is an abbreviation for Girl Love (yuri/lesbian/sapphic), a genre of fiction which centers on the romance between women. The very first Thai GL series GAP aired in 2022, and has now reached over 800 million views worldwide.

GL is still a new genre which means that it’s a fresh market. The potential of it has been proven and now a lot of companies are interested in investing in it. This is why there has been a huge influx in new series being announced. Unlike Hollywood, who are afraid of including LGBTQ+ romances in their films and tv shows, Thailand understands the demand for gay and lesbian representation on screen.

Why should I watch Thai GL?

- The romance, the yearning, the pining. I’m smiling and kicking my feet.

- Thai GL offers some of, if not, the best lesbian romances and representation the world has to offer right now. Just like any other media, there are criticisms that should be taken into account, but altogether it is offering us something we have never seen before to this extent. And this is just the beginning.

- Thai GL series usually has a predominantly female cast and mainly focuses on female characters, friendships and relationships, with perhaps a couple of side male characters sprinkled in. Depends on the series. The female characters are allowed to be messy, jealous, mean, feisty: it’s part of the charm.

- There’s happy endings, no death involved.

- Most Thai GL series can be accessed on various platforms and many for free on YouTube with English subtitles available. Make sure you are watching on the company’s official account and you’re good to go.

- A lot of people both in the cast and crew of Thai GL series are part of the LGBTQ+ community and/or are always supportive and respectful allies to the community. The sexuality of someone is nobody’s business, but it’s always satisfying to know that the people who worked on it made it with the right intention.

To anyone who has watched Thai GL, please feel free to add onto this thread things you love about it or any of your favourite scenes or quotes etc.! I hope this can bring as much awareness as possible.

Western lesbian representation is so bad. It’s either the series gets cancelled, a character dies, they don’t get screentime, or the storyline only focuses on the homophobia they face.

Meanwhile in Thai GL, there have been over 30 series announced for 2025 alone. And let me tell you, there’s something for everybody. Space lesbians, childhood best friends to lovers, period drama lesbians, boss x employee trope, multiple couples and love triangles, mafia action lesbians, idol x bodyguard trope, lesbian with powers to control time, prisoner lesbians, black cat x golden retriever trope, crime-solving lesbians, messy sapphic friend groups who are all in love with each other, high-school sweetheart fluff, weddings, happy endings and so much more. And this is just the beginning. There will be many more great series to come in the future.

The only thing that’s stopping more western people from watching is because of subtitles. Which is such a pity because these people say “there’s no good lesbian representation”, but there is. You just have to be better at looking for it. Don’t set yourself up for disappointment anymore, don’t watch something for the bare minimum representation.

As Bong Joon Ho once said:

[buzzingroyalty]

how to grub your karkat

or you can use this for any other plush or if you wanna make a whole new plush entirely or whatever

disclaimer im not a professional in any sense of the word and theres anything technical im doing wrong or you think you can do it better by all means dont hold back

Things you’ll need

sewing machine unless youre really dedicated but doing it by hand is gonna be an agonizing feat i promise. I just used a straight stitch for everything

Fabrics: for the main body i suggest a minky or something soft, for the inner lining something in the same color as the main body and ideally with some stretch, and anything black for the legs. Less than a yard of each will do

if youre using minky or anything furry get a lint roller. Trust me

stuffing, i used polyfil

threads that match your fabrics

good fabric scissors

sewing needle for hand sewing/fixes

karkat plush (optional)

Heres the pattern i came up with! They are numbered for your convenience and pieces with the same numbers are going to be part of the same row of segments. cut everything out on the black lines (Make sure when you’re printing to fit the image to the page size.) on the left we have the belly pieces, the right is the main body, and we have the foot in between

Im using a relatively thin minky fabric, im sure you can use whatever but something with some fluffiness kinda helps to mask any imperfections in the sewing. When drawing out your patterns keep in mind what direction your fibers settle in and try to keep it consistent

On the wrong side of the fabric measure out at least a half inch seam allowance around each piece of the pattern, i used a centimeter and that worked but had me sweatin a bit.

For the main body pieces fold your fabric in half before you cut so you can have 2 of each segment that are mirrored to each other, i also extended all of the #1 pieces an additional centimeter/half inch at the top so we can fold them over at the very end. I highly suggest numbering the insides of all the cut pieces, especially in a way where you will remember what direction they are each meant to sit

After you’ve numbered all your pieces, set them aside and start making your feet!

Each of the 6 legs is made of two pieces, but i because i only had a swatch of the black minky i made up for the rest with some random black scrap fabric from an old project. Try to keep your fabric consistent if you can lol

I didnt give these pieces any more seam allowance on the fabric but i recommend adding a centimeter or half inch to the base of it to extend the length and have some more wiggle room

like so

Instead of cutting out 12 individual pieces and struggling to stitch them all together i started with 6, then pinning each piece real tight with the right/furry side down onto my secondary fabric, and slowly stitching around the shape real close to the edges- DO NOT CLOSE THE FLAT SIDE as we are going to stuff the feet through here

Now cut the shape out of the fabric and repeat till you have 6 feet

Now flip those bad boys inside out, stuff up, and if you wanna you can match them to their best pairs

now grab a pair of feeties and your #1 pieces and line them up, in this picture my belly #1 piece is shorter bc i forgot to add the extra centimeter and i recut that once i realized. Line those sides up with the right/furry parts touching and with the feet in between, flip it around to make sure everything's sitting the way you want it

Note. i didnt realize until later but i sewed my feet in upside down. save yourself the time it takes to fix it and dont make the same mistake

Straight stitch these layers together and repeat with the next two segments our good friends #2 & #3

Repeat this for the #2 and #3 sections but NOT THE #4, that part doesnt need feet! just line those edges up right/furry sides together and sew

the secret to the squish of the suit is making this inner lining from another fabric and stuffing it! I used what i had leftover from a stretchy red fabric for a kanaya skirt. For this we need to make a new pattern for each section, making sure it follows the curve of the round edge but the piece itself is shorter, almost like youre removing the seam allowance you added. Mine is a centimeter shorter on the top and on the bottom and reaches to the middle

Make one of these for each numbered segment,you only need to make half the pattern and you can fold your fabric in half on a crease and you end up with one symmetrical piece (bars)

Now you need to pin these pieces right on top of the wrong side of your numbered furry sections and line up the straight edges like so (disclaimer for LOTS OF SCARY NEEDLES !!)

Admittedly i didnt estimate how long these pieces needed to be very accurately and overshot it a bit, if you start pinning it from the middle and continue outwards on either side thatll ensure its not too lose and you can cut off any excess after

The only exception is piece #1, if you recall we gave this #1 section extra seam allowance. This is so we can sew down that excess at the neck later and hide any of the inside that might show once its all put together. Do not connect the top edge to the inner lining! Since i added an extra centimeter earlier im gonna leave that hanging and pin + sew down the inner lining a centimeter lower than the top edge. LEAVE THE CURVED EDGES OPEN! DONT SEW THEM TOGETHER! those stay open to stuff

Straight stitch the lined up edges together

Now you have all these skinned pieces of little freak and we need to connect all these segments together making sure to sew UNDER the existing stitches so we dont see those on the outside when its all put together

Inside looks like a bit of a mess but thats fine bc its not the part that matters

Now stuff it! you might need a stick or pencil or something long and thin to get stuffing into the middle bits

Now thats its stuffed you can finally close those curved edges. Try not to sew over a thick mound of stuffing, push it in a little further to give yourself some space and you can fluff it back out after everythings closed. I cut off that excess lining fabric after sewing

Ough… they filleted my boy…

Finally, match up all the edges and lines and HAND SEW them right sides together. You will destroy your machine trying to work around that stuffing i promise. You also have an excuse to get up from your work desk and sew on a couch or smth. I used a standard backstitch for a tight finish and again, make sure you sew under any existing stitches so they arent visible on the outside!

Speaking of the outside, once you stitch everything together you can very gently flip this sucker inside out

This is @hatamonu’s cat Cocaina, aka Coco. Her perfectly square figure made it into my grub files somehow so shes essential to the tutorial

Check the fit and all thats left to do is roughly baste stitch down that excess neck fabric onto the stuffed lining and youre set! I gave the thread slight tugs as i went to tighten the opening a bit put dont tighten it too much

tadaaaaa

It fits pretty snug but starts to slip a bit with motion. Heres a bounce test

 If you do shake your baby make sure to safety pin the plush to the suit so he doesnt prematurely shed his exosekeleton

Now spread that baby fever and show your baby to the world

pics from the ALA 2025 homestuck meetup and supplied by para.dox.cos

Tysm for coming along this ride with me especially if you followed the prototype journey on twitter, much thanks to my more sewing savvy friend for the solution to my grub dilemma and for helping me design and build my dolorosa cosplay <3 much love and hopefully many more homestuck cosplays and meetups to come in the future!

[writingsoftarnishedsilver]

i just imagine mc loving driving sebastian up the wall by whispering things like I want you inside me or I want to taste you before walking away like nothing all day sebastian and his will power are holding on by a thread

One of Those Days | Sebastian Sallow x Reader

ahhhh anon thank you for this request I had sooo much fun torturing Seb while writing this. I hope you enjoy it too!!

Words: ~5,500

Tags: Implied Smut, Reader Insert, Female MC, No Y/N, Post Canon, Seventh Year, Angst, Teasing, Longing, Established Relationship

Friday mornings always held a certain promise for Sebastian. The week’s end brought the light at the end of the tunnel: no more late-night study sessions, no looming deadlines, and—best of all—plans for the weekend. And this weekend was shaping up to be exceptional.

He was seated at the Slytherin table across from Ominis, who was currently buttering a piece of toast with his usual meticulous care. Sebastian leaned back, cradling his coffee, a rare smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“Why are you so smug this morning?” Ominis asked without looking up, his tone laced with suspicion.

Sebastian chuckled. “It’s Friday. The weekend awaits. And tomorrow’s plans? Impeccable.” He leaned in conspiratorially, lowering his voice. “She got me tickets for the Puddlemere United match. Front row.”

Ominis raised an eyebrow, still focused on his toast. “Ah, yes. Your doting girlfriend, endlessly spoiling you. Do remind me how the universe decided that you deserved her?”

“Still trying to figure that out myself,” Sebastian replied, taking a sip of his coffee. He grinned despite the jab. Ominis had been endlessly teasing him about your relationship since it had started over a year ago, but Sebastian couldn’t blame him. He still felt like he was getting away with something by having you in his life.

His gaze drifted to the Great Hall’s double doors for the third time in as many minutes. You were always late to breakfast—perpetually running behind in the morning.

“She’s late,” Ominis said flatly.

“She’s always late,” Sebastian replied, unable to keep the affection out of his voice. “You’d think by seventh year she’d have mastered the concept of time.”

“She must have overslept,” Ominis mused, as if it weren’t the obvious explanation. “Again.”

“She was up late,” Sebastian said defensively. “Studying."

“Is that what she told you?” Ominis asked, tilting his head with a knowing smirk. "Let's be honest, she was probably off fighting acromantulas in the forest again."

Sebastian opened his mouth to reply, but then he spotted you slipping through the doors, looking every bit as radiant as he’d expected. His heart did its usual stupid flip at the sight of you.

You glanced around the room, spotting him instantly. That smile widened, and you started toward the Slytherin table.

“Speak of the devil,” Ominis huffed a laugh, though Sebastian barely heard him. His attention was fixed entirely on you as you approached.

“Morning, boys,” you greeted, slipping into the seat beside Sebastian as though you weren’t a solid twenty minutes late. “Miss me?”

Sebastian leaned closer, brushing his shoulder against yours. “Always. Though I was starting to wonder if you’d gotten lost.”

“Got caught up,” you replied breezily, reaching for a piece of toast. “You know how it is.”

Ominis sighed. “No, we don’t. Some of us value punctuality.”

You smirked at him, your eyes glinting with mischief. “And yet, I still manage to charm you both despite my flaws. A talent, really.”

“Somehow, I don’t think it’s charm so much as sheer persistence,” Ominis replied dryly, but there was a flicker of a smile tugging at his lips.

Before you could reply, Imelda Reyes appeared behind him, her usual air of impatience in full force.

“Ominis, did you finish the notes for Professor Binns’ essay?” she asked brusquely, tapping her foot as if she had somewhere more important to be.

Ominis sighed heavily. “Yes, Imelda. Not that I understand why you insist on taking history so seriously. You do realize it’s impossible to impress a ghost?”

As Ominis turned his attention to Imelda’s complaints, you leaned toward Sebastian, the faint scent of your shampoo teasing him as you spoke just low enough for him to hear.

“You know,” you murmured, “I had a dream about you last night.”

Sebastian froze, the casual sip of coffee he’d been mid-swig nearly going down the wrong pipe. He coughed, turning his head away to avoid choking outright. When he finally managed to compose himself, he looked at you, his eyes narrowing in suspicion.

“And what, exactly, was this dream about?” he asked, keeping his voice even.

You didn’t answer immediately. Instead, you picked up your teaspoon, delicately stirring your tea, your gaze fixed on the swirling liquid as if it were the most fascinating thing in the world. When you finally lifted your eyes to meet his, you tilted your head, your lips curving into a slow, deliberate smile.

“Nothing appropriate for breakfast conversation,” you replied sweetly, dragging the edge of the spoon between your lips.

Sebastian’s brain short-circuited. He stared at you, a faint pink creeping up the back of his neck as you set the spoon down with an air of innocence. You went back to buttering your toast like you hadn’t just shattered his ability to think coherently.

“Everything all right, Sebastian?” Ominis asked, his attention back on him now that Imelda had left.

Sebastian cleared his throat. “Fine,” he said quickly. Too quickly.

You glanced at him out of the corner of your eye, biting into your toast to hide your grin. Ominis raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced, but didn’t press further.

You sipped your tea serenely, but Sebastian could feel the amusement radiating off you in waves. He knew that look. The playful light in your eyes, the subtle curve of your lips—it was the look you always got when you were about to cause trouble. And Merlin, it was only breakfast, but you’d already decided to make this one of those days.

He sighed internally, doing some quick mental math.

It lined up. Of course, it did.

Three weeks ago, you’d asked him to come with you to the apothecary, dragging him along while explaining that you needed to restock ingredients for a potion you brewed monthly. He had listened with genuine interest, mostly because you had a knack for making even mundane things captivating. You’d laughed when he asked a few questions, calling him “endearingly clueless for someone so brilliant,” and gone on to share more details about how the potion worked to ease period pains. But now, as he connected the dots, realization dawned with the weight of inevitability.

You were ovulating.

Sebastian’s stomach did a little flip, and a faint, involuntary heat crept up his neck. That explained everything: your heightened playfulness, the way you leaned just a little closer, the way your teasing had an edge that sent sparks skittering down his spine. You were always a minx—bold, confident, and unrepentantly mischievous—but there was something about these days that tipped you from charming troublemaker to full-blown menace. And now that he’d caught on, he knew exactly what kind of day this was shaping up to be.

He was in trouble.

The rest of breakfast passed in a blur. You kept your hands to yourself, but every glance, every comment, you sent his way held that same spark. It was enough to make him want to tug you into an empty corridor and—

“Ready for class?” Your voice broke through his spiraling thoughts, cheerful as ever. You rose from your seat, brushing crumbs from your skirt as if you hadn’t spent the last fifteen minutes planting suggestive landmines in his brain. He swallowed hard and nodded, pushing his chair back to stand.

Ominis muttered something about Sebastian being unusually quiet, but Sebastian waved him off, claiming he was still waking up. A complete lie—he was wide awake now.

As the three of you made your way to Charms, Sebastian tried to steel himself. He knew better than to let you get under his skin this early in the day. If he gave in to your antics now, you’d win—and you loved to win.

The moment you slid into the seat beside him, he felt the familiar brush of your knee against his under the desk. He told himself it was unintentional until you shifted just enough to press against him more deliberately. His gaze flicked to you, but you were already pulling out your parchment, looking perfectly innocent.

When Professor Ronen began the lecture, Sebastian attempted to focus. It lasted all of five minutes before you leaned toward him, your lips brushing the shell of his ear.

“Your concentration is admirable, really,” you whispered, the soft warmth of your breath sending a shiver down his spine.

His quill faltered mid-stroke, leaving a jagged mark across the parchment. He turned his head, intending to glare at you, but you were already sitting back, your expression unreadable as you scribbled down notes, head tilted in concentration, the very picture of academic diligence. But then he felt it—your hand, light as a feather, brushing against his thigh under the table. His breath hitched. You didn’t react, didn’t even glance his way. Instead, your quill kept moving steadily across the parchment as though you hadn’t just set his pulse racing.

Your fingers rested there for a moment, almost as if testing the waters, before you began to trace slow, deliberate circles against the fabric of his trousers. Sebastian swallowed hard, his jaw tightening as he gripped his quill. He tried to will himself to focus, to block out the sensation, but you didn’t stop. In fact, you leaned slightly closer, your arm brushing his as you added a flourish to your notes.

“Comfortable?” you murmured, your voice low enough that no one else could hear.

Sebastian glanced at you sharply, his eyes narrowing in warning, but you didn’t look at him. The only sign of your mischief was the faintest twitch at the corner of your lips.

His hand twitched, tempted to grab yours and stop you before you pushed him any further, but he knew better. Drawing attention to what you were doing would only give you more satisfaction. So instead, he gritted his teeth and leaned slightly away, his voice a hushed growl. “Behave.”

You finally turned to him, feigning wide-eyed innocence. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Seb,” you said, your tone sticky sweet. “I’m just taking notes.”

The corners of your lips quirked upward, and Sebastian let out a slow exhale. You were relentless, and this was only the beginning. He shifted slightly in his seat, praying for the class to end quickly before he did something that would land both of you in detention.

But then your hand slid higher, and all thoughts of self-control vanished in a haze of heat and frustration.

“Are you trying to get us caught?” he muttered, his voice strained. His hand moved under the desk to still yours.

You leaned in slightly, your lips close to his ear. “What’s the fun in that?” you whispered, your breath warm against his skin.

Sebastian’s jaw clenched, his knuckles white as he gripped his quill. He managed to hold on until Professor Ronen called for the end of class . You finally withdrew your hand, gathering your things with a pleased smile that only deepened the blush on his cheeks.

When Defense Against the Dark Arts rolled around, Sebastian had convinced himself that you’d already done your worst for the day. Charms had been a test of endurance, but surely you couldn’t keep it up through another class—especially not with Professor Hecat keeping a watchful eye.

You slid into the seat next to him without a word, a soft hum of a tune under your breath as you unpacked your things. Sebastian didn’t miss the glint of mischief still lingering in your eyes, but he chose to ignore it.

Professor Hecat began the lesson with her usual briskness, outlining the day’s activity: practicing defensive and offensive spells in pairs.

Sebastian exhaled in relief. Partner work meant he could focus on the task at hand, and spell practice was something he excelled at. He cast a sidelong glance at you, waiting for the inevitable quip about how you’d wipe the floor with him. But instead, you gave him an easy smile, looking far too composed for his comfort.

“Alright, partner,” you said, drawing your wand and stepping into position across from him. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

Sebastian smirked, eager to reclaim some sense of control after the morning’s torment. “Ladies first,” he said, gesturing for you to make the first move.

You raised your wand, your posture flawless, but before casting, you paused. “It’s so warm in here,” you murmured, loosening your tie and pulling it free with a casual flick. You undid the top two buttons of your blouse, fanning yourself with your hand. “Don’t you think?”

Sebastian stiffened, his smirk vanishing. “I—what?”

You gave him a pointed look, as if waiting for an answer, before shrugging lightly. “Never mind. Let’s get started.”

He barely had time to blink before you cast Expelliarmus, your wand aimed with precision. The spell hit him squarely, sending his wand spinning out of his hand. You grinned triumphantly as you caught it midair.

“Not bad, huh?” you teased, your voice light and smug.

Sebastian huffed, running a hand through his hair to buy himself a moment. “Not bad,” he echoed, stepping closer. “Now, hand it over.”

You tilted your head, your eyes gleaming with playful defiance. Instead of returning his wand immediately, you held it up, forcing him to move closer. “Come and get it."

Sebastian gritted his teeth, closing the distance between you. His pulse quickened the moment he got close enough to take in the details: the faint flush across your cheeks, the way your chest rose and fell just slightly faster than normal, and—Merlin help him—the open collar of your blouse that gave him a perfect view of your collarbones and just enough cleavage to make his mouth go dry.

He hesitated for a fraction of a second, his gaze flickering to yours. Your pupils were blown wide, and that maddening smirk was still firmly in place. You smelled like your usual perfume, that subtle scent that had been driving him to distraction all day, mixed with the faintest trace of parchment and ink.

Sebastian’s hand shot out to take his wand, but you pulled it back at the last second, your smirk widening. “What’s the matter? You look a bit tense.”

He took another step closer, his chest nearly brushing yours. The air between you crackled with tension, and he was certain you could hear the rapid thud of his heartbeat. He locked eyes with you, his voice low and rough. “I’m starting to think you want me tense.”

You shrugged. "Not sure what you're talking about."

Sebastian’s jaw tightened, his patience hanging by a thread. He reached for his wand again, his fingers brushing against yours as he finally pried it from your grip. For a moment, his hand lingered over yours, his thumb skimming the back of it before he pulled away.

“Your turn,” you said, stepping back with a satisfied smile. “Let’s see if you can disarm me.”

Sebastian let out a slow breath, gripping his wand tighter. Focus, he told himself, though it was easier said than done with the way you were looking at him—like you were daring him to lose control.

“All right,” he said, his voice steady despite the storm raging inside him. “Ready?”

“Always,” you replied, your smile unwavering.

He raised his wand, channeling every ounce of his frustration into the spell. Expelliarmus! The red jet of light shot toward you, and your wand flew from your hand, clattering to the floor behind you.

You sighed dramatically, shaking your head. “Well done,” you said, your tone dripping with mock defeat. “I suppose I’ll have to get that.”

Sebastian watched, helpless, as you turned and bent over to retrieve your wand, taking your sweet time as you reached for it. His gaze betrayed him, trailing down the curve of your back to your hips and further still. The hem of your skirt rode up as you bent, barely covering what it was meant to, and leaving absolutely nothing to Sebastian's already frazzled imagination.

He swallowed hard, dragging his eyes away with an effort that felt almost physical. Merlin, you were going to kill him. He could already feel the warmth creeping up the back of his neck, and he prayed to every deity he could name that no one else was paying attention.

When you straightened and turned back to him, wand in hand, your smirk was firmly in place.

“Enjoy the view?” you asked, tilting your head as if the question were perfectly innocent.

Sebastian couldn’t help the low growl that escaped him as he stepped closer again, his voice a quiet warning. “Keep it up, and you’ll regret it.”

Your grin widened, utterly unrepentant. “Is that a threat?”

For a split second, he considered saying something that would wipe that smirk off your face, but Professor Hecat’s sharp voice cut through the tension. “Back to your positions!” she barked, her gaze darting between the two of you. “Focus, Mr. Sallow, Miss—”

“Yes, Professor,” Sebastian said quickly, stepping back and trying to calm his racing heart. But as he moved into position, he could still smell your perfume lingering in the air, and the image of your teasing smirk was seared into his mind.

He was barely holding it together, and the day was far from over. But surely, over lunch and surrounded by friends, he’d have some semblance of a reprieve. You wouldn’t dare push things in front of an audience—or so he hoped.

He slid into a seat beside Ominis, who was already stirring a bowl of soup to cool it off. Garreth and Natty sat across from them, deep in a lively debate about the Honeydukes confections.

Sebastian exhaled a small sigh of relief as you arrived a few moments later, seating yourself between Natty and Garreth across from him. You greeted everyone cheerfully, plucking a goblet of pumpkin juice from the table with your usual grace. For a fleeting moment, Sebastian thought he might actually survive the meal unscathed.

He was wrong.

You reached for the fruit platter in front of you, selecting a piece of pineapple and popping it into your mouth with a content hum. Sebastian caught himself watching the way your lips curled around your fingers, quickly tearing his gaze away as heat crept up his neck.

He wasn’t fast enough. You noticed, of course, and your eyes gleamed with mischief as you plucked another piece of pineapple, holding it up thoughtfully.

“Sebastian,” you said, your tone far too casual, “do you eat pineapple often?”

His brow furrowed. “Uh, not really. Why?”

You shrugged, biting into the pineapple and chewing slowly before answering. “Oh, it’s just something I read once. Supposedly, it makes… certain things taste better.”

The words hung in the air for a split second before their meaning hit him like a Stupefy spell. His jaw dropped, and he felt the heat in his cheeks spread like wildfire.

Garreth, who had been mid-sip of pumpkin juice, choked and started coughing, his face contorted with suppressed laughter. Natty’s eyes widened before she covered her mouth with her hand, a muffled giggle escaping. Even Ominis, usually the picture of composure, pinched the bridge of his nose with a long-suffering sigh.

Sebastian, on the other hand, was frozen, torn between mortification and the desperate urge to throttle you—or kiss you senseless. “You—” he spluttered, his voice low and strained. “You can’t just—why would you—”

You tilted your head, feigning innocence. “What? It’s just a question. I’m curious.”

“Curious,” Sebastian echoed, his voice a growl. His grip tightened on his goblet, knuckles white as he tried to maintain some semblance of composure.

You grinned, clearly pleased with yourself, and went back to your meal as if nothing had happened. Garreth finally managed to stop coughing, wiping tears from his eyes as he laughed. “Merlin’s beard, Sebastian, you’re as red as my tie.”

“Shut it, Weasley,” Sebastian muttered, glaring at him before shooting you a dark look.

Ominis sighed again, his patience clearly wearing thin. “Do the two of you ever give it a rest? Some of us are trying to eat in peace.”

Sebastian gritted his teeth, forcing himself to focus on his plate. You, meanwhile, continued to eat with maddening grace, each bite more deliberate than the last. To anyone else, you seemed completely oblivious, but Sebastian knew better. The way your lips lingered on the edge of your goblet, how your tongue darted out to catch the stray drop of pumpkin juice, the slow way you licked your fingers after finishing a piece of fruit—it was all deliberate, and it was driving him insane.

When lunch finally ended, Sebastian practically leapt to his feet, eager to put some distance between you. But as the group began to disperse, you slipped up beside him, your hand brushing against his arm.

“What do you say we use our free period to get a head start on homework?” you suggested, your tone casual but your eyes sparkling with mischief. “The library’s quiet. Perfect for concentration.”

Sebastian narrowed his eyes at you, suspicious. “Concentration, huh?”

You tilted your head, looking up at him with faux innocence. “What else would we be doing?”

He exhaled heavily, running a hand through his hair. “Fine. The library it is.”

Sebastian trailed after you, already regretting his decision to agree to this “study session.” He wasn’t walking to his doom—not exactly—but it certainly felt like you were leading him into a trap he’d willingly sprung. Every step you took ahead of him, your hips swaying just enough to catch his attention, felt deliberate, and his patience was wearing thin.

When you reached the secluded table in the back of the library, you slid into a seat with a satisfied smile, glancing up at him as if daring him to sit across from you. Of course, he did—because, Merlin help him, no part of him could resist you, even when you were driving him out of his mind.

“You’re awfully quiet,” you said, leaning forward to rest your chin in your hand, your voice laced with amusement. “Something on your mind?”

Sebastian opened his mouth to reply but quickly thought better of it, forcing himself to focus instead on pulling out his parchment and quill. He needed to get this essay done, fast—before you found another way to turn his brain to mush.

“Nothing,” he muttered, not looking up. “Let’s just work.”

You hummed in response, a light, teasing sound that sent a shiver down his spine. When he finally risked a glance at you, you were watching him with that knowing smirk, the one that said you knew exactly what you were doing to him—and you had no intention of stopping.

To your credit, the two of you did manage to work in relative silence for about an hour. It was a miracle, really, considering the way you had been tormenting him all day. The soft scratching of quills and the occasional flipping of pages filled the air, lulling Sebastian into a false sense of security. You even asked him a few legitimate questions about your arithmancy work, and he found himself easing into the rhythm of study.

But of course, it couldn’t last.

You tapped your quill against the edge of the table thoughtfully, drawing his attention as you tilted your head, a curious expression on your face. “Sebastian,” you said slowly, like you were turning something over in your mind.

He glanced up, cautiously optimistic that this might be a real question. “What?”

“If you cast Levioso on something heavy enough, do you think there’s a weight limit?”

Sebastian frowned, considering. “There’s a theoretical limit, I suppose. It depends on the skill of the caster and the strength of the enchantment. Why?”

You propped your chin in your hand as you gestured toward the sturdy oak table in front of you. “Can you cast it on objects to make them stronger, or is that a separate charm altogether?"

Sebastian blinked at you, trying to gauge where this was going. Your expression was innocent enough—curious, thoughtful—but he’d spent far too much time with you to let his guard down completely.

“That’s a separate charm,” he said slowly, leaning back in his chair. “Reinforcement charms can strengthen objects, but Levioso isn’t meant for that. It’s just levitation.”

You nodded thoughtfully, your fingers tapping lightly against the edge of the table. “Makes sense,” you mused. “I was just thinking… these tables have probably been here for decades, maybe centuries."

Sebastian frowned, unsure where your train of thought was leading. “I suppose so. Why?”

Your lips curved into a soft smile, and you tilted your head, your eyes sparkling with a mischief he recognized all too well. “Oh, no reason,” you said lightly, waving a hand. “I was just wondering how much weight they could handle. You know, hypothetically.”

The room seemed to still as your words hung in the air, and Sebastian felt his stomach drop. His quill froze mid-scratch, and he stared at you, his mind racing to keep up.

“Hypothetically,” he repeated, his voice flat, though his pulse was anything but.

"You know," You shrugged, leaning back in your chair with an air of nonchalance that was completely at odds with the gleam in your eyes. "Like the weight of two people."

Sebastian stared at you, half-convinced he was hallucinating. You were far too composed for someone who had just casually suggested something so completely inappropriate in the middle of the bloody library, yet here you were, twirling your quill like the picture of innocence. He wanted to say something clever, something sharp that would throw you off your game, but his mind was stuck on one thing.

Two people. This table.

Sebastian’s knuckles turned white as he gripped his quill, his patience dangling by a thread. He could feel the heat crawling up the back of his neck, and you noticed, of course. You always noticed. The way your eyes sparkled with mischief, that faint smirk tugging at your lips—you were daring him to lose control, and you both knew it.

But Sebastian was stubborn, if nothing else. He forced his gaze back down to his parchment, his quill scratching out nonsense as he tried to focus on anything other than the absurdly inappropriate image you’d planted in his head.

“Anyway,” you said lightly, your tone as innocent as ever, “I've had enough of arithmancy for the day. What was the essay prompt again for potions? Something about brewing methods?”

“Yeah,” he said slowly. “The efficacy of different brewing techniques for enhancing potion potency.”

“Right,” you said, nodding thoughtfully, a contemplative look crossing your face. “Hm… I think I know a book that covers this. It talks about how it’s all in the measurements. Every little thing has to be just right. You’ve got to be so careful with how deep you’re going in, or… well, the whole thing can become quite explosive."

Sebastian’s quill snapped in half.

He froze, staring down at the broken pieces in his hands as if they might somehow offer an escape from this torment. But when he looked up, your smirk was waiting for him, smug and triumphant.

“Oops,” you said sweetly, tilting your head. “Did I say something distracting?”

Sebastian gritted his teeth, his patience unraveling by the second. “You know exactly what you’re doing,” he growled, his voice low and tense.

“Do I?” you replied, feigning innocence. But the glint in your eye betrayed you. You leaned forward slightly, your voice dropping to a near-whisper. “Surely you'll get top marks on this essay... I think you know exactly how deep to go."

Sebastian stood abruptly, the chair scraping loudly against the floor as he pushed it back. His eyes locked onto yours, dark and filled with a heat that made your smirk falter for the first time all day.

“Outside. Now,” he said, his voice low and commanding.

Your brows lifted in mock surprise, but the flicker of excitement in your expression didn’t escape him. You opened your mouth to say something—no doubt another teasing remark—but he wasn’t having it.

“Don’t,” he warned, cutting you off. “Just move.”

For once, you complied without argument, though the playful sway of your hips as you walked ahead of him made it clear you weren’t done yet.

Sebastian followed close behind as you weaved through the bookshelves, his chest tight with frustration and something far more dangerous. He didn’t know what he was going to do when he finally got you alone—but he knew he couldn’t take another second of this.

“You’ve been playing games all day,” he growled as you walked, his voice low and rough. “Do you think I didn’t notice? Do you think I’d just let it slide?”

You raised a brow. “I don’t know what you mean,” you said, tilting your head in mock confusion. “I’ve been perfectly well-behaved.”

Sebastian grabbed your wrist, his forehead nearly brushing yours as his hand came up to cup your jaw. “Well-behaved?” he echoed, his tone dripping with disbelief. “You’ve been driving me mad. Every look, every word, every touch—” He cut himself off, dragging a hand through his hair before pinning you with a glare. “Do you have any idea how hard it’s been to keep my hands off you?”

His grip on your wrist tightened—not enough to hurt, but firm enough to leave no room for argument. Without another word, he turned sharply, dragging you through the corridors at a pace that made it clear his patience had completely run out.

You didn’t protest, your steps falling into sync with his as he led you toward the one place he knew you’d have privacy: the Undercroft.

When you finally reached the hidden entrance, Sebastian didn’t even bother with his usual careful precision. He muttered the incantation quickly, his voice rough with impatience, and the hidden door swung open. He tugged you inside, the heavy door slamming shut behind you with a resounding thud that echoed in the quiet, secluded space.

The silence hung for a moment, broken only by the sound of your unsteady breaths as Sebastian turned to face you. His gaze was dark, intense, and utterly consuming as he stepped closer, backing you up until your spine pressed against the cool stone wall.

“Do you think this is a joke?” he demanded, his voice low and dangerous, every word dripping with frustration and something far more primal. His hand braced against the wall beside your head, effectively caging you in.

Your smirk returned. “I think you’re overreacting,” you replied, your tone light but laced with a hint of defiance. “All I did was—”

“All you did,” he interrupted sharply, his other hand gripping your chin gently but firmly, tilting your face up to meet his eyes, “was make me spend the entire day trying not to lose my fucking mind.”

You didn’t back down, even as his chest brushed yours. “I was just having fun."

“Fun?” Sebastian echoed, his lips curling into a humorless smile. “You think driving me mad was fun?”

You tilted your head, grinning. “I think you like it."

Sebastian’s jaw tightened, and for a moment, the tension between you seemed to reach its breaking point. His thumb brushed over your jaw, a deceptively soft gesture that made your breath hitch. “Maybe you're right,” he admitted, his voice gravelly. “But don’t think for a second that you’re off the hook. You’re going to pay for every second of torture you put me through today.”

Your smirk widened, and you leaned up to brush your lips against his, your voice a teasing whisper against his mouth. “Promise?”

Sebastian’s answering smile was dark and full of intent as he guided you toward the sofa. “Oh, you have no idea.”

[tiredeg]

People everywhere sense imminent danger all around. They sense that whatever just happened is the beginning of the savagery, not the end. People abandon their vehicles and begin to flee on foot. They exit buildings, run down stairs and out doors. People in subway trains and on busses, in halted elevator cars, work to pry open emergency exits and doors. They crawl, walk, and run for their lives. The most basic human instinct is to survive.—Annie Jacobsen, Nuclear War: A Scenario

They’re going to die, probably.  

“It was stupid of us to take the elevator,” Oscar says. 

Carlos manages an eye roll back at him. Oscar’s surprised the motion of his eyeballs doesn’t unbalance him, perched as he is on the railing around the edge of the elevator car, calves straining, reaching his phone up towards the emergency lighting strips. As high as possible, as if he can will the texts out of his phone, force the words out of the frozen elevator, up the shaft and out into the sky, send them floating through the air towards the recipients, soaring past the bombs coming the opposite way. 

Oscar’s no expert but he knows enough Spanish to be able to decipher the glimpses he’s managed of the screen. I will be ok. I love you all. Incongruous against the previous message in the thread, a picture of a scrappy white dog asleep on a couch. Oscar had watched Carlos add a heart react to it not two hours ago when they got back to the hotel after FP2. 

God, two hours ago. One hour and fifty minutes before someone told them to check their phones, before the awful silence as they watched the video. A farmer somewhere in California had put it on Facebook, a mushroom cloud blooming over a power plant. It was shared everywhere, Oscar had watched it with Kim, hunched over Twitter, or X, or whatever. The farmer is probably dead now. Facebook certainly is, anyway.

The bomb hit hundreds of miles away from their hotels in Vegas. Not far enough.

Finally, Carlos hops down, collapsing beside Oscar on the floor of the cab. The wall opposite them is a mirror, floor to ceiling, so Oscar doesn’t have to turn his head. It’s easier this way. 

“I think they have gone through,” Carlos blurts out, like he’d wanted to keep quiet but the words forced their way up his throat. “It has the two grey ticks. I think that means it's gone from my phone but I will not get blue ticks without signal.” 

It takes Oscar a second to catch his drift. There’s no way the messages went through. The signal’s been gone for a few minutes, Oscar reckons, about the same time the elevator stopped. Carlos isn’t an idiot, he must know. Oscar knows. 

“I think that’s right,” Oscar says. “They’ll have signal in Spain still, so they’ll have got it.” 

He feels Carlos sag a little at his words. They’re touching from shoulder to knee, something they wouldn’t have risked this morning. Doesn’t matter now. Probably shouldn’t have mattered at the time. 

“How would you go, if you could choose?” Carlos asks.  

Oscar shrugs. “Dunno, never really thought about it.” 

“Don’t be boring, think about it now.” Carlos shoves into him, puts his body weight behind it, but Oscar’s expecting it, can see him decide in the mirror. He braces himself, doesn’t move. Now they’re tangled. Now he can think. 

“I guess I read this book in school. It was nuclear stuff but not bombs, just radiation, so it was really slow. This one girl took her boyfriend’s good car out for one last drive, then floored it off a cliff in the end. I think I’d like that.” 

Carlos doesn’t say anything, just leans his head onto Oscar’s shoulder proper. If they stay like this too long Oscar won’t be able to feel his arm. Maybe that’s how he’d like to go, let Carlos lean on him limb by limb until he can’t feel anything anymore.  

“He was with her? The boyfriend?” Carlos mumbles. 

“Huh?” 

“In the nice car. Was she with her boyfriend?” 

“Oh, well not exactly, he was in a submarine I think, I don’t remember it all. They might not have been boyfriend and girlfriend actually, or maybe they were, I don’t know. They definitely loved each other.” 

“Oh,” Carlos says, “that’s nice.” 

“Yeah. What about you, what way would you go?” 

Oscar watches in the mirror as Carlos looks up at him.  

“I had a different answer but I like yours better, I think.” 

“Copycat. I suppose you can come along.” Oscar shifts, rearranging Carlos’s arms around him. 

“Who would drive?” Carlos asks. 

Oscar wants to be the one who wants to drive. He could take that role, let Carlos hold on as their imaginary car gets closer to the point of no return, make the decision to keep the car pointing forward, his foot to the floor. He could take the wheel, if he had to. 

In the mirror he can see Carlos is still looking at him. He meets his own eyes in the reflection, then lets his head turn, lets himself look for real. 

“I don’t want to drive,” Oscar whispers.

“Okay,” Carlos shrugs, easy. “I’ll do it.” 

The emergency strips go dark. Oscar doesn’t know what that means, why they worked when the power went out or why they’ve stopped now. He’s annoyed at how he expects his eyes to adjust, blinking hard when they don’t as if he can force the nonexistent light into his pupils.  

He can still feel. He’s shaking, he thinks. Carlos’s arms tighten around him, unsteady too. Oscar revises his previous answer, overwhelmingly glad of the elevator; they can’t get lost in here, it’s too small. He doesn’t really know the timeline on these things, maybe it’ll take a day, maybe a few seconds. They’re here for now. 

[fear-is-truth]

WE FOUND LOVE IN A HOPELESS PLACE

pairing — NAM-GYU x f!reader. warnings — toxic love. angst. mention of drūgs & sex. english isnt my first language / word count 1420

a/n : here’s a playlist to compensate

NAM-GYU was never the man you should’ve fallen for, and maybe that’s why you did. there’s no ceasefire. loving him is a siege, a never-ending war, and you’re always the one waving the white flag, bleeding surrender into his hands. but he lures you back into the trenches with the smallest moments of disarmed humanity, gestures that feel colossal only because they’re so rare—

his head resting in your lap, your fingers threading through his hair. the slight crack in his voice, almost boyish, when he asks you to hum something, anything to drown the chaos in his head.

his hand in yours when the drugs have wrung you both dry, your bodies trembling, drenched in sweat. and for once, he’s not trying to control you. he’s just holding onto you like a lifeline.

nam-gyu is the match you struck yourself, knowing full well it would burn you to the wick. destruction wrapped in allure, and you let him destroy you because he makes you feel. drunken nights blur into each other, smudged by pastel-colored pills and lines of white powder, leaving a haze too thick to see through.

sometimes, it’s better to feel pain than to feel nothing at all, and with him, the pain comes sharp and vivid, carving itself into the parts of you that numbness could never reach.

he’s sitting fully clothed in the bathtub, the curve of his spine pressed into the porcelain. his knees are drawn up to his chest, one arm slung lazily over the edge, and an unlit cigarette dangles limply from his lips. the dim bulb above sputters weakly, bathing the tiles in a lurid, piss-yellow glow. he looks at you like he always does—bored—but the disinterested slack of his mouth is betrayed by the dimple carving into his cheek. he’s waiting. for you.

eyes narrow into slits, sharp and dark, like he’s measuring the space between you and him. you hover in the doorway, lighter in hand. the cigarette bobs as he smirks.

“you just gonna stand there?”

his voice is edged with disdain, like he’s daring you to leave. you don’t leave. you kneel by the tub, the coolness of the tiles biting into your knees. close enough now to see the faint sheen of sweat on his collarbone, bruises just below it. you don’t ask what happened.

the lighter flicks once, twice, before it catches, and you lean in, holding the flame to the tip of the cigarette. his lips curl around it as he inhales, eyes locked on yours. he exhales to the side, smoke curling against the tiled wall. you pluck the cigarette from his mouth and take a drag, the bitterness scraping your throat like broken glass.

“don’t get cocky.”

his chuckle is soft, lilting with faux innocence. “cocky? me?” he leans forward, elbows resting on his knees, your faces inches apart.

“that’s funny coming from the girl who keeps crawling back.”

you blow smoke directly into his mouth, watching his pupils blow wide as he inhales.

“don’t flatter yourself.” the words fall flat on your tongue, a lie you both recognise. the nicotine burns as it settles in your chest, addictive in the way his presence is—killing you slowly, but it’s all you want.

he’s all you want.

nam-gyu grabs your wrist, pulling you forward until you’re practically in the tub, on top of him. his lips crash into yours, tasting of ash and anger. his teeth scrape your bottom lip, and you dig your nails into his shoulders, both of you are trying to take something from the other and neither of you is willing to give.

when you finally pull away, gasping, nam-gyu stares at you like he’s searching for something—an answer, a reason, anything. his hand lingers at the nape of your neck, fingers curling into your hair.

“you’re too good for this.”

you laugh, sharp and bitter.

“don’t lie to me.”

he doesn’t. not about this.

you sit there in the jaundiced haze, staring at each other. nothing’s fixed, nothing’s said, but it doesn’t matter.

this is what you are.

sometimes, though, he makes you forget how fucked up the rest of it is. like when he drags you into the fluorescent glow of a run-down arcade after wandering the city, the drugs still humming in your veins. your feet ache, your throat is dry, and you want to crash somewhere, but he pulls you forward, muttering something about “just one thing.”

he stops in front of a claw machine filled with stuffed animals, shoving coins into the slot. you lean against the side, arms crossed, watching him maneuver the joystick with a concentration you haven’t seen since his last poker game.

“what are you doing?”

“winning,” he says simply, his tongue poking out slightly as the claw descends. you’re about to chide him for wasting money, but the claw jerks, grabs a small bear by the arm, wobbles as it retracts, and finally drops it into the chute. he grins, a boyish smirk that doesn’t match the sharpness of his features, and hands the bear to you.

“for you.”

it’s stupid how your chest tightens.

“dumbass…” you mutter, but you take the stuffed animal from him anyway.

later, you’ll lie in his bed, the bear clutched to your chest, your body still buzzing from the euphoric high of sex. the sheets are tangled around you both, skin slick with sweat, the lingering warmth of his touch on your back. the pleasant ache between your legs is still fresh, and you feel a wonderful cocktail of everything—desire, confusion, a hint of something almost resembling affection, even though you know it’s all so fucked up. he’s asleep, am arm draped lazily across your waist, and you tell yourself that everything is good.

or there’s the night he buys you tteokkochi from a street vendor, even though you’re both broke and he doesn’t spend money on anything but vices. it’s late, and the air is cool. you sit on the curb, legs stretched out in front of you as you eat, the spicy sauce staining your lips.

“you didn’t have to do this,”

“shut up and eat,” he replies, spearing a piece of rice cake and shoving it into your mouth.

because for all his faults, nam-gyu has a way of making you feel like the only person in his world. and in those fleeting moments, you almost believe you could save each other.

almost.

being in love with nam-gyu is living on a fault line, constantly bracing for the ground to split open beneath your feet and swallow you whole. it’s the dizzying heights of his affection—the way his gaze softens when he’s not too far gone to let you in. and it’s the freefall—the screaming matches, the slammed doors, the nights he disappears without a word, and the sick, creeping dread that maybe this time, he won’t come back.

but he always does. not with apologies, never with promises to be better. he shows up with that lopsided grin, the one that wraps around your resolve and strangles it. you’ll forgive me, because you love me.

and he’s right. you do.

and you hate him for being right.

he never breaks you in one clean snap. it’s slower, crueler—he feeds on your forgiveness, on how easily you bend under his will. but he bleeds too. the rare times he allows you to touch the soft underbelly of his pain, the nights he holds you so tightly you almost can’t breath.

you hate him for that too, for needing you so much it drowns out the parts of you that should have walked away.

nam-gyu is a liar, a manipulator, a hurricane you walked into with your eyes wide open. but for all the wreckage he’s caused, he’s never lied about one thing: he loves you. and you love him, too—not despite the ruin, but because of it. because he’s yours, and you are his, and love is the only thing strong enough to make the devastation feel worthwhile.

he kisses you, but you don’t pull away.

you could pull away, though. you should. but you don’t. because for all the ways he’s ruined you, you’ve ruined him too.

a love that tastes like blood, like the copper tang of wounds you keep reopening just to feel him. it hurts, every second of it, but it’s the kind of hurt you’d crawl through glass for, just to hear him say your name.

𝘐𝘵'𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘯𝘰 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳. 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘭𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭 𝘢𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘮𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘣𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘵, 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨. 𝘯𝘰 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘪𝘵 𝘩𝘶𝘳𝘵𝘴. 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭 𝘩𝘰𝘱𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴, 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘴𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶. 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘪𝘵'𝘴 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘵'𝘴 𝘨𝘰𝘯𝘦, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘭𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘴𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘣𝘢𝘥 𝘴𝘵𝘶𝘧𝘧 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬, 𝘴𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥. — WE FOUND LOVE by RIHANNA ft. CALVIN HARRIS

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