#and life is hitting me harder than i thought ._.

[skvaderarts]

The Line.

Holy shit.

This fucking song has me in a death grip. I've been listening to this song on a loop for 3 days now. The line about the goddamn BLANKET?! Exquisite in the worst possible way. Fuck that blanket. That blanket has given me emotional damage and so has this song.

I accidentally found the song through a random AMV that was recommended to me, and it's RUINED MY LIFE. And then I learned the context and it got 100 TIMES WORSE. Every time I hear it it gets worse because I think even deeper about what it means. I could write a thesis paper on this shit at this point down to the key signature and the bpm. "I can't fight this time now"? Why did you have to come for my throat like this? Song's choking me harder than Viktor choked Jayce during that fight. It's perfect. Do you know how many times I've thought that in my life? I hate it. It's too real. I'm so glad for it.

I want to reach through the screen and hug Viktor so hard that his shiny new Hextech spine shatters.

I want to clamber my short butt up onto a step ladder and grab Jayce by his giant goofy but loveable shoulders and shake him and tell him it's okay. But like, talk to your boy. Just saying. Leave the laser hammer at home. You both need each other. And I need you both to be okay.

These people who don't exist have hurt me so bad because I UNDERSTAND. That pain is REAL. I feel it. This song hits me in such a real, personal way, and so do these characters. I feel like this song sat me down and put me through therapy and I came out with deep personal insight and an urge to feel better about myself.

I've been under that blanket. Spent years under it. Sometimes I still am. This song made me want to stand up, shake it off, and burn it. I just never even thought about it that way. Never even thought about that I was under it. Literally or figuratively. I've been under it so long I didn't even know it was there anymore. This song woke me up. It was just what needed in my life right now. The lyrics cut me like a knife and I can't thank them enough because all the best music does.

And I know I'm not alone. You aren't, either.

Fuck The Line. I love it. Best song I've heard in years.

Thank you Twenty One Pilots.

[brodygold]

My New Place

A collab with @rossgold-drone110. Thanks for helping me flesh this idea out bro!

It all started when Matt joined the Golden Army Gym, the newest, flashiest gym in town. It wasn’t just a gym—it was practically a phenomenon. Ads were everywhere, promising not just a better body, but a “better you.” Matt had been hooked immediately, signing up on the first day.

“They’ve got it all,” he raved. “State-of-the-art equipment, personalized training, and this cool uniform thing they do. You’d love it.”

“Uniform?” I asked skeptically.

“They give you this black Fred Perry polo when you sign up. It’s got gold details and looks sick. Everyone wears it while working out. It’s part of the vibe.”

At first, I chalked it up to just another gimmick. But soon after, Matt started changing. His physique transformed almost overnight—his arms thickened, his shoulders broadened, and his chest looked like it had been sculpted out of stone. His personality, though, seemed to shrink. He became quieter, less expressive, and his enthusiasm for anything outside the gym faded.

A week later, Matt convinced me to come check it out. “You’ve gotta see this place,” he said, his voice strangely monotone. “It’ll change your life.”

The gym was a sleek, intimidating space, with polished black floors and golden accents. Everyone there was… perfect. The members moved with a mechanical precision, their black polos gleaming with sweat as they worked out in eerie silence. The sound of clanging weights and treadmills filled the air, but there was no chatter, no camaraderie—just focus.

Matt was waiting near the squat racks, looking even bigger than before. His polo clung to his torso like a second skin, accentuating his bulging biceps and the deep ridges of his abs. His usually messy hair was now slicked back, and there was a strange glossiness to his eyes, like he wasn’t entirely… present.

“Hey, Matt!” I called out, but he didn’t respond. He finished his set with a robotic precision, then turned toward me with a vacant smile.

“You made it,” he said, his tone flat. “I told you this place is amazing. You should join.”

Something about his demeanor set me on edge. “Matt, are you okay? You’ve been acting… weird.”

“I’ve never been better,” he replied, his vacant smile not fading. “Here, let me show you around.”

As he led me through the gym, I noticed more unsettling details. Everyone was wearing the same tight black polo, their faces blank, their movements unnervingly synchronized. Some of them had black rubber masks covering their faces, smooth and featureless except for small slits at the mouth and nose. The sight sent a chill down my spine.

“What’s with the masks?” I asked, trying to sound casual.

“They’re for the advanced members,” Matt said, his tone almost reverent. “When you’ve truly embraced the program, you get one. It’s part of becoming… perfect.”

Matt brought me to the front desk, where a staff member handed me my own black polo. “Put it on,” Matt urged, his eyes glinting with an intensity that made me hesitate. “You’ll feel it right away.”

Against my better judgment, I slipped the polo over my head. The moment it touched my skin, I felt a strange warmth spread through my body. The fabric clung to me like it had been custom-made, and I could feel it tightening slightly, as if it were adjusting to my form.

“You feel that?” Matt asked, his voice suddenly more animated. “That’s the first step. Now hit the weights.”

I was reluctant, but Matt’s insistence and the strange pull of the polo made it hard to resist. I started lifting, and with each rep, I felt stronger. My muscles burned, but it was a good burn, an addictive burn. The polo seemed to be fueling me, pushing me harder and harder. My arms swelled, veins popping to the surface. My chest expanded, and my abs became more defined with every crunch.

At first, I was thrilled. I had never felt so powerful, so alive. But then, my thoughts started to blur. The idea of stopping seemed… wrong. All I wanted was to keep going, to push harder, to be like the others.

I turned to Matt, desperate for help, but he was already gone—mentally, at least. As I watched, two staff members approached him, carrying one of the black rubber masks. Without hesitation, Matt knelt before them. They slid the mask over his face, and he let out a shuddering breath as it sealed tightly. When he stood again, he was unrecognizable. The mask covered every feature, leaving him an anonymous drone. His body moved with even more precision now, his posture impossibly rigid.

“Matt!” I shouted, trying to snap him out of it. But he didn’t even flinch. He turned and walked away, blending into the crowd of other masked drones.

Panic set in. I clawed at the polo, trying to rip it off, but it wouldn’t budge. My body was still growing, my muscles inflating beyond anything I thought possible. The polo grew tighter, almost like it was merging with my skin. My mind was slipping, my thoughts consumed by a singular urge to join.

“Need some help?” a voice cut through the haze.

I turned to see a man standing nearby, his golden soccer jersey gleaming under the gym lights. He was tall, broad, and radiated an almost otherworldly confidence. His smile was easy, but his eyes were sharp.

“Name’s Brody,” he said, extending a hand. “You look like you’re in over your head.”

“I—I can’t stop,” I stammered. “They’ve got Matt. They’re… they’re turning him into one of them.”

Brody nodded, his expression serious. “Yeah, that’s what the black polos do. They take you over, make you mindless. But you don’t have to go down that path.” He reached into a bag slung over his shoulder and pulled out a gleaming gold soccer jersey.

“This,” he said, holding it out to me, “is your way out. Forget the drones. Join the real Golden Army. We’re not about mindlessness—we’re about excellence.”

I hesitated, staring at the jersey. The black polo was still pulsing against my skin, trying to keep me under its control. But something about the gold jersey called to me. I grabbed it and tore the polo off, gasping as the hold it had on me broke.

The moment I slipped on the gold jersey, a surge of energy coursed through my body. My muscles exploded with growth, stretching the fabric of the jersey to its limits. My biceps became huge, my shoulders broadened into massive slabs, and my legs thickened with pure power for the soccer field. My mind cleared, replaced with a sharp, confident focus.

I looked at myself in a nearby mirror, barely recognizing the golden-clad, muscular jock staring back at me.

“Welcome to the team,” Brody said, clapping me on the back.

I turned back toward the gym floor, now seeing the drones for what they were: hollow shells of their former selves. Matt was among them, his rubber mask gleaming under the lights.

“What about him?” I asked, my voice deep and commanding now.

“What about him?” Brody asked. “He’s found his place in life, just like you.”

I thought about it more, and realized Brody was right. Why shouldn’t I be at the top? It’s only natural that I’d end up here. I’d been going to the gym for years, hadn’t I? The soccer practice certainly helped too. The more I questioned it, the more things made sense. I was never a nerd! I was a jock through and through with my pal Brody.

As Matt and I walked out of the gym together, I felt a sense of purpose like I’d never known before. I wasn’t just a new man—I was part of something greater, something golden. Matt had his place, and so did I.

[tsukis-marauders-microfics]

The Quidditch Pitch

Nov. 27th - 491 words - @wolfstarmicrofic

Gryffindor just needed to catch the snitch.

They were tied with Ravenclaw in points, so whoever got the snitch first would win.

Remus didn’t care for Quidditch, but one of the downsides of having two roommates who are on the team is that you hear about it constantly (especially with one of those roommates being your boyfriend- then you really never stop hearing about it).

It was the final match, and the winner would win the Inner house Quidditch cup, so Remus had come down to the pitch to support Sirius and James.

Peter was commentating on the game, which had always been one of his dreams, and Remus thought he was doing a good job, but he did seem to have a lot of bias (he kept calling for James or Sirius to watch out, almost getting the microphone taken away every time).

Remus was sitting alone from everybody else, they were all too loud right now and he couldn’t break his concentration- he knew how much this game meant to James and Sirius and how sad they’d be if they lost, which was probably why they were playing harder then Remus had ever seen them. James was practically a blur, and Sirius was hitting bludgers with such ferocity Remus was surprised that they didn’t break on impact.

“Potter grabs the quaffle thanks to McKinnon- nice one James- throws it to Thomas- Thomas misses- OH, OH, SEEKERS DIVING FOR THE SNITCH!” Peter shrieks, as Remus quickly snaps his eyes down to the seekers, neck in neck, both diving for a gold little ball. Looking back up to Sirius, Remus saw him hit a bludger, and in almost slow motion, the bludger slid past the Gryffindor seeker and hit the Ravenclaw one, causing the Gryffindor player to lurch forward and grab onto the snitch.

Immediately, the Gryffindors roared, and Remus jumped to his feet, quickly walking down to the pitch, a smile growing on his face at every step.

Once his feet touched the grass, he’d only gotten a few steps before something hurdled at him, almost throwing him backward. Sirius was in his arms, smiling wider than Remus had seen him in a while.

“WE WON!!!” He exclaimed excitedly, his arms still around Remus’s neck. Remus just looked down on him happily before tightening their embrace.

“You did amazing love.” Remus told him, burying his face in Sirius’s hair, but trying to make it look platonic to outsiders.

“I can’t believe we won! Did you see that last move Moony? I just saw them so close together and Marlene hit a bludger to me for me to hit and then I just- hit it! And we won!!” Sirius beamed at him. Remus laughed and subtly kissed Sirius’s head

“I really need to snog you right now.” Remus whispered in his ear. Sirius turned beetroot red and without another word pulled Remus below the stands and kissed him.

Life was good.

[idkyetxoxo]

Daemon Targaryen - To Ruin or Reign

Summary - In a tense clash of vengeance and desire, she confronts Daemon, whom she blames for her cousin's death. As they struggle for power, the line between hate and attraction blurs, revealing dark truths and an undeniable connection.

Pairing - Daemon Targaryen x Royce reader

Warnings - Violence (threats)

Word count - 2415

Masterlist for Daemon • House of the Dragon General Masterlist.

"You really ought to pay for your crimes," I whispered, my voice a deadly promise as I pressed the dagger harder against his throat. The sharp edge kissed his skin, just enough to remind him of how easily I could end him. 

My body was anchored over his, knees digging into his arms, holding him pinned beneath me.

Daemon's smirk never wavered, his dark eyes glittering with mischief despite the danger. 

"No crimes were committed," he said smoothly, but his expression told a different story as if daring me to prove him wrong.

"You murdered my cousin," I hissed, leaning closer until I could feel the heat of his breath on my face. 

The satisfaction of seeing a thin line of crimson bead on the tip of my blade sent a pulse of triumph through me.

"She fell off her house," he repeated, feigning innocence, though his eyes gleamed with something far more sinister.

I rolled my eyes, pushing the dagger just a hair deeper, drawing another drop of blood. 

The warmth of his blood against my fingers was intoxicating, a reminder of how thin the line was between life and death in this moment.

"You expect me to believe that?" I growled, lowering myself until my face was inches from his, knees pressing even harder into his arms.

He let out a small, exaggerated sigh. "I was quite saddened by it, truly. But," his voice dropped into something darker, "if it hadn't happened, we wouldn't be in such... a delightful position."

My stomach twisted at the heat in his gaze. I scoffed, disgusted at the thought that he could even think of something so base while teetering on the edge of death. 

"This position?" I asked mockingly, dragging the blade down his chest, leaving a neat, shallow cut in its wake. His muscles tensed under me as I brought the dagger back to his throat, daring him to keep talking.

His lips curved into a wider grin. "No," he whispered, voice thick with amusement. "This one."

Before I could react, his leg shot up, knocking me off balance. I barely had time to gasp as my back hit the cold ground with a thud. 

In an instant, Daemon was on top of me, his weight pinning me down, reversing our roles as he straddled my hips. 

My dagger, which had felt so powerful in my grip a moment ago, now hung loosely in my hand. With a deft movement, he snatched it away, holding it effortlessly at my throat.

"So pretty... so fiery," he murmured, his lips dangerously close to mine, his breath warm against my skin. His words sent an unexpected shiver down my spine. 

I squirmed beneath him, cursing myself for the traitorous heat rising in my cheeks.

"It's a shame, really," he continued, his voice soft, but laced with something darker. "You weren't offered to me instead. We could've had so much fun." 

His eyes flicked down to my lips, and for a moment, it felt as though time itself stilled.

I narrowed my eyes, refusing to give in to his games. "Rhea was a good woman," I spat, my voice venomous. "Better than you deserved."

Daemon's laugh was low and rich, rumbling from deep within his chest. 

"Perhaps. But that doesn't change the fact that you look far more intriguing," he countered smoothly, the edge of the blade tracing a slow, teasing line along my cheek. 

The cold metal was a stark contrast to the warmth that radiated from his body, pressed so intimately against mine.

I bit back a gasp as the blade's tip lingered under my chin, forcing my gaze up to meet his. His eyes were intense, flickering with something far too dangerous to name. 

It was maddening how he could toy with me like this, so close to death, and yet in complete control.

The tension between us crackled in the air, thick and suffocating, as if the line between hate and something else entirely was blurring with every passing second. 

Every fibre of my being screamed to resist him, but there was something undeniable in the way our bodies were entangled, something electric that neither of us could ignore.

"You may have me pinned," I whispered, my breath ragged, "but don't think for a second you've won."

His smile was wicked, his lips ghosting near mine. "Who says I want to win?" he purred, voice dripping with dark intent. "Maybe I just enjoy the fight."

Daemon's eyes flickered, that damned smirk playing at the corners of his lips as if he found my resistance amusing. 

The blade in his hand traced slow circles along my skin, daring me to challenge him, testing just how far I was willing to go.

"Maybe you like being on top," he mused, voice a dangerous purr, "but we both know you thrive on the fight. Admit it."

I clenched my jaw, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a response. 

My body ached beneath his weight, every nerve alert, and every muscle screaming to throw him off me, but he had me pinned too well. 

The heat of his breath ghosted over my lips, his proximity maddening.

He dipped his head closer, his voice dropping to a dark whisper, "It's intoxicating, isn't it? The way we burn when we fight."

His words sent a pulse of fury through me. My breath hitched, but I quickly masked it, glaring up at him with all the venom I could muster. "You don't know a damn thing about me."

Daemon's grin widened as if my anger only fueled him more. 

"Oh, but I do. You hate how much you enjoy this, don't you?" His tone dripped with arrogance, the tip of the dagger now lingering just beneath my collarbone, teasing the edge of my top.

I seized the moment, pushing up with every ounce of strength left in me. My hands shot up, grabbing at his wrists, using the element of surprise to roll us, our bodies a tangle of limbs as we struggled for dominance.

I ended up on top again, straddling his waist, my chest heaving with exertion. I snatched the dagger from his grip, pressing it against his throat as before. 

But this time, I leaned closer, feeling the rapid rise and fall of his chest beneath me. He was breathing hard, his smirk finally faltering.

"Who's in control now?" I whispered, my voice low and dangerous.

His lips parted slightly, a flash of something darker crossing his gaze, and for a moment, I thought I'd won.

But then his hands shot up, faster than I expected, gripping my wrists with bruising force. His eyes locked on mine, the intensity between us almost suffocating. 

With a sharp pull, he yanked me down, our faces inches apart, his breath hot against my lips.

"You think this means control?" he rasped, voice raw with challenge. "Control is in your head... and right now, you're losing it."

The air between us crackled, our bodies tangled in a game neither of us was willing to surrender. 

My pulse raced, not just from the physical exertion but from the maddening way his eyes held mine—dark, daring, pulling me into something I wasn't sure I could escape.

The dagger was still in my hand, pressed to his throat, but my grip faltered as the proximity of his lips, the heat of his body against mine, sent a traitorous thrill down my spine. 

Damn him. I wouldn't let him win. I couldn't.

But I hated how right he was. Control was slipping through my fingers, like sand I couldn't hold on to. 

The fury, the frustration—it was all blending with something more dangerous, something I didn't want to name.

"You want to know the truth?" Daemon's voice was a low rumble beneath me, his hands tightening on my wrists, keeping me anchored. "I could've killed your cousin. Easily. But I didn't."

I blinked, shock cutting through the haze of lust and fury. "Liar," I spat, pressing the dagger harder, just enough to make him flinch.

His lips twitched into that infuriating smirk again. "I didn't say I didn't want to. I said I didn't. Rhea's death was... unfortunate, but I don't take credit for it." 

His voice turned bitter, a shadow passing through his gaze.

I didn't know whether to believe him, but something in his tone gave me pause. I hated how much his words affected me. The uncertainty gnawed at my resolve.

"You expect me to just take your word for it?" I growled, frustration boiling over. "After everything you've done?"

His eyes darkened, the humour draining from his face.

"I've done a lot of things, and I'll pay for my sins. But not that one." He shifted beneath me, his body tense, and for the first time, I saw a crack in his perfect composure. 

"You think I'm the monster in this story, but you've barely scratched the surface."

I froze, my grip on the dagger loosening just a fraction, uncertainty creeping in. Was this just another one of his games? Another way to twist my emotions, to make me doubt everything?

He used that hesitation to his advantage, one swift movement and I was on my back again, the dagger flying out of my hand as he pinned me once more. 

But this time, there was no smirk, no teasing. His eyes were cold, hard, the playful façade gone.

"You're not the only one who's lost something," he said, voice tight with barely contained anger. "You think I enjoy this? You think I want to play these games with you? I'm doing what I have to do to survive."

I glared up at him, defiance blazing in my chest, even as my mind scrambled to understand the shift in his tone. "So, what? You're the victim now?"

His grip tightened on my wrists, and for a moment, I thought he might snap. But then his eyes softened, just a touch as if he were letting me glimpse something deeper beneath the surface.

"We're both victims," he whispered, leaning down until our noses nearly touched. "You just haven't figured that out yet."

The proximity of his lips, the weight of his body pressing into mine—it was maddening, and yet, in that moment, the line between hate and something darker blurred completely. 

My heart raced for reasons I refused to acknowledge, and every fibre of my being screamed at me to push him off, to fight him. But I couldn't. Not now.

Because for the first time, I saw the truth in his eyes.

It wasn't just a game anymore. And that terrified me.

With a slow, deliberate movement, Daemon released my wrists, his hands hovering above me as if he were daring me to make the next move.

"Go ahead," he murmured, his voice soft but dangerous. "Fight me. Or..." His gaze dropped to my lips, his voice thick with an emotion I couldn't name. "Kiss me."

The challenge in his eyes burned hotter than ever, and for the first time, I didn't know if I wanted to kill him or... something else entirely.

Breathing hard, I stared up at him, my mind a whirlwind of confusion, anger, and desire. 

I hated him. I hated everything he stood for.

But damn it, in this moment, I wasn't sure if I hated how much I wanted him even more.

His fingers brushed my jawline, barely a whisper of contact, but it sent a shiver through me that I couldn't suppress. 

He noticed. Of course, he did. His lips curved slightly, just enough to show he was still in control, despite the thin thread of tension holding us both on edge.

"I see it in your eyes," he murmured, his thumb tracing a slow line along my cheek like he was savouring every second of my reaction. "That fire, that fight..."

My breath hitched, every nerve screaming to push him away, but my body betrayed me. 

Instead of shoving him off, my hands gripped the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer, as if the space between us was suffocating.

"I hate you," I growled through gritted teeth, my voice barely a whisper, but even to my own ears, it sounded hollow, a fragile protest against the tidal wave of emotions threatening to consume me.

His dark gaze never wavered, the intensity of it burning into me as if he could see every wall I'd tried to put up between us, every lie I'd told myself. 

"Then show me," he whispered, his voice a rough, dangerous challenge. "Hate me."

And before I could stop myself, my lips crashed into his, the force of the kiss fueled by every ounce of fury I had left. 

It was raw, a collision of teeth and lips, neither of us willing to give in, both fighting for control even in this.

Daemon responded in kind, his hands tangling in my hair as he deepened the kiss, rough and unyielding, as though he were trying to conquer me, and I, him. 

It wasn't gentle. It wasn't sweet.

It was a battle, just like everything else between us—a war of tongues, a clash of wills.

I pushed against him, my hands gripping his shoulders, nails digging into his skin, but he held firm, pressing me harder into the ground, his body radiating heat as our lips moved together in a fiery, relentless rhythm.

Every kiss felt like a fight, every touch a challenge, and yet beneath it all, the line between hate and desire blurred even further. 

It was maddening, consuming, and I hated that I craved more of it. More of him.

When we finally broke apart, gasping for breath, my chest heaving beneath him, Daemon's lips hovered just above mine, his smirk nowhere to be found this time. His voice, low and rough, brushed against my skin. 

"You may hate me now," he murmured, his fingers still gripping my hair, "but sooner or later, you'll realize—this is exactly what you've been wanting all along."

I glared up at him, my breath shaky, my heart racing in ways that scared me more than the blade ever could. 

"Don't flatter yourself," I bit back, but even I could hear the unsteadiness in my voice.

His smirk returned, but there was a glint of something darker in his eyes, something possessive. 

"I don't need to. You'll come to me," he whispered, his lips ghosting over mine once more, "whether you want to or not."

And with that, he pulled away, leaving me breathless and burning, my mind a chaotic swirl of anger and desire that I couldn't untangle. 

He was dangerous—more dangerous than I'd ever realized.

But the worst part?

I wasn't sure I could stop myself from wanting him anyway.

A/n - Enemies to lovers is just 🤌🏼will forever be my fav trope

[lanternlightss]

having loop and nameless bard interacting thoughts again. the rot

[pepprs]

my depression is getting really really bad. like it’s been bad before but this is like… consistently really bad. like a long unending stretch for several weeks (and tbh months) now. to the point where no inoculation actually sticks (and im isolating myself from most of my inoculations anyway and feel unable to stop doing it even though i know it’s self destructive). im either helplessly unbearably miserable or numbing out on video games. i just don’t feel like it’s going to get better for me and i KNOW that is factually untrue but the feeling is louder than the knowledge and it’s just utterly immobilizing. ive been sinking in quicksand for 2 years.

[nekrosmos]

.

[meimeikyu]

god sometimes i see stuff thats like nooo thats an overexaggeration of how ppl in schools are then remember ppl literally thought i killed someone when i disappeared for most of a year bcs of health issues,,

[tenitchyfingers]

still not over the end of Barry

[campingwiththecharmings]

one thing i hate about online friendships is the lack of closure you have when someone leaves.

[simmesblog]

Sage may have found someone to flirt with but forgot how sleepy she gets from a couple drinks 😅

[rocicrew]

so um remeber when i said my birthday is coming up next week and i haven’t rlly celebrated in a while, yeah that’s not gonna change this year ,,,, i have to get one of my wisdom teeth taken out and they could only do it mid next week so i won’t be able to rlly eat (bc ouch) or drink drink (bc medication) by the weekend so there goes another year 😔

[buck-yyyy]

sobs and sobs and sobs

i love her

[yongseungkim]

.

[cvnntagious]

impatient

☆ a fratboy!chris sturniolo blurb...

with a blunt in one hand and his fingers hooked under your panties with the other, chris' pace remained deliberate and unforgiving, his tip prodding at your g-spot with each stroke. he listened to you whine with satisfactory hums, loving the way your ass would bounce off his pelvis with a snapping sound. "juuss' like that, mama, you got it," he cooed, his tone emitting the slightest bit of praise when he felt you begin to fuck yourself back onto his cock.

when you'd barged into chris' room randomly, all whiny about how much you need him and babbling on about the pictures he'd postes on instagram only half an hour prior, having practically ran past all the other people hanging out in the frat house to get to him, he didn't even bother putting out his blunt when you climbed on top of him. your impatience even lead to him having to hold your panties aside while he worked your seeping pussy, the dark blue lace all soiled with your juices.

you moaned into his sheets, face smushed into them as you tugged and squeezed the fabric for dear life. his hips came to a halt, allowing you to get off on him exactly the way you liked it. with his size, you barely even had to move for his dick to bring you to the edge, but you wanted all of him— pulling him out all the way to his tip before pushing yourself back into him.

he took a long drag from the blunt, humming into it when he felt your gummy walls massaging his length. he took it from his lips, planning to allowed the smoke to really hit him, only for him to begin coughing it up with a particularly rough snap again him. "ahn... chris–!" you hissed.

"s-shit, mama, y'close?" he groaned rhetorically, knowing by your whines and whimpers that your pretty little pussy was begging to cum around him.

smirking as you nod frantically, trembling and desperate for release, he leans over you slightly to put out the blunt and set it in his rolling tray beside your guys' bodies. his grip on your underwear tightens, tugging on them as much as he could without ripping them right off of you. a firm hand comes down on your ass, then kneeding the plush skin to ease the pain as he talks through his teeth: "i'm not," he speaks bluntly, grunting a bit.

"huh?" you gasp out as his movements start up again.

he chuckles, free hand now sliding up the curve of your ass to push you further into the bed, making you arch more than you though was possible. "you can't cum 'til i do," he replies, hips snapping to meet your body, eliciting mewls and whines from you, "milk me, mama. take what's yours."

against your body's warnings, you obey his words— bouncing to fuck his cock and chase both of your guys' orgasms. the squeals and mewling moans flying from your lips have chris levitating with self-satisfaction, ego growing with each pleasured noise. "ohh mama, y'got it," he praised, his thrusts meeting your movements as he felt it getting harder and harder for him to hold back.

a few groans and grunts came from his throat, head tilting back in pure bliss. he smiled at all the tingling sensations his felt with your pussy clenching so hard around him, daring to cum without his say so, as his high only added to the pleasure. "chris please," you begged, forcing him out of his own thoughts as his head snapped down to look at your pleading face again.

"do it," he finally said, pushing one final thrust into you to fill you up to a hilt. he filled you up with a few moans of his own as you began creaming around him, completely out of breath when you felt him slowly fucking his cum into you.

°

"you know i'm faded / Heart shape and i love that." -jeremih

w/c : 656