#Either hearing about it or experiencing it yourself

[seokminfilm]

"better half" ── lee seokmin

🤍 pairing, lee seokmin x reader

🤍 warnings, non idol-au, college au, short, photography major seokmin, graphic design major reader (neither majors are really focused on), fluff, classmates/friends to lovers, confession, kissing, lots of giggling and laughing (reader and seokmin are both so soft and shy around each other they don't know what to do)

🤍 summary, your confession to lee seokmin, photography major did not go the way you were planning it to.

🤍 author's note, this was requested by dawn (@realmofclouds) like a month ago....😭 when i got this request i was slowly entering a writer's block and then got out of it and forgot about the request for a while 🧍sigh hopefully this goes the way i want it...i rewrote this fic like 12 times when i was in writer's block sdjdjskfkdjfs

🤍 now playing, dream (seventeen)

🤍 word count, 900 | for @kstrucknet, @maestro-net

"what, you never did that as a child? you never kidnapped ladybugs and tried to get them to marry each other?" you ask with a laugh, and seokmin shakes his head, slightly bewildered as he flushes.

"i was scared of most bugs when i was a child, so probably not," the laughter that erupts from both of you fills the whole study hall, and you're convinced that half of the student body can hear that you two aren't doing the project you were assigned to complete.

you and the photography major class were paired together for a graphic design project, and lee seokmin was chosen as your partner. the two of you had talked many times before but never had a full conversation until now.

seokmin was a great student and doubled as a great partner and even better talking buddy, and the two of you had grown close over the months. he was like your best friend now, hanging out with you and helping you out when needed. you don't know where'd you be without him.

the two of you sat on the floor in one of the study rooms as you finished up the final draft of the design. the warm spring sun was filtering in through the windows, and you could feel the warmth on your hands as you worked on your laptop.

seokmin looked illuminated by the sunlight, smile radiant and laughter contagious as his dark eyes watched you with intent. seokmin had worn a button-up today, light blue fabric soaking up the warm light.

you had found yourself looking at him more and more as the months went on, and you couldn't answer the question of whether you had a crush on him or not. your friends had caught onto the way you talked about him, and you couldn't bring yourself to deny it anymore, either. maybe you did like lee seokmin.

"hey, i'm really glad we've talked over these few months." seokmin says randomly, and you lock eyes with him, warm blush on your cheeks as you smile.

"oh, um─me too! this whole project has been an experience for me, but i'm glad you were the one i experienced it all with." you nod, unable to stop smiling at the way seokmin's grinning at you.

a brief but comfortable silence stretches between the both of you, and you hold each other's gaze, unable to look away. seokmin's dark eyes are so warm as he looks at you, and you feel your face heat up, unable to stop the words from tumbling from your lips.

"seokmin, do you know why i was asking you all of those random questions earlier?" you say, and seokmin's eyebrows crease slightly, shaking his head as he tilts his head.

"i just thought you were being nice or trying to make conversation. i like talking to you, so i went along with them, even if they were a little...." seokmin trails off, smiling nervously at you as you flush an even darker red, nodding.

"random and weird, yeah." you laugh lightly, and seokmin chuckles along with you, watching you with curious eyes.

you sigh, taking a step back from the situation at hand before you take a deep breath and wet your lips. "i was asking you all of those questions because i like you."

seokmin falls silent, and you watch his face, studying his expression. his eyes are widened as if he's in disbelief about something. before you know it, a small smile is spreading across his pretty features, and he chuckles softly, taking your hand in his in a high-five-like gesture as he winks at you.

"well, i really like you, so─we're even." seokmin nods, and you can't help but grin from ear to ear, still slightly in disbelief that you had even confessed to him. "really?"

"really." seokmin says softly, and now, you notice how close the two of you had gotten to each other. your laptop had been moved moments ago, and you two now sit in front of each other, eyes on each other's figure as seokmin's eyes trail to your lips first.

"is it okay if i...." seokmin trails off, the tips of his ears turning red as you nod eagerly, letting him cup your cheek as you smile softly.

"yeah, it's okay. please do," you whisper, and seokmin does just that, placing his lips on yours in a quick moment. it's quiet, but you're sure that you can hear your heart beating a mile a minute. you let seokmin lead, letting him softly mold his lips to yours in a way that leaves your cheeks burning.

once you pull away, both of you are red, and seokmin's hands are still interlocked with yours, smiling at you as he studies your face.

"this was not how i wanted this to go." you giggle nervously, head dropping down as seokmin chuckles. he lifts your chin up to him, grinning from ear to ear as he consoles you with his touch.

"you had a whole plan for this?" seokmin asks innocently, and you nod, laughing nervously. "keyword there being 'planned'." you sigh, and seokmin smiles, face radiating joy as he giggles.

"i don't care how this came about. i'm just happy it happened, you know?" seokmin questions, and you nod, kissing his lips softly as you lock eyes with him.

"yeah. i'm happy it happened too."

[multiversefanfics]

Touch Starved

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader Warning: nothing but fluff Summary: Dean is touched starved, he needs you to keep him grounded. Word Count: 644

Dean Winchester — The man, the myth, the legend, the big scary hunter that wasn’t afraid of anything. Except losing you.

Dean loved being touch by you, even more than him touching you. Both sexually and romantically, this big, strong, man was a softie at heart. He hunted the worst or the worst yet the only thing that could make him fall apart was you.

Sure, Dean faced many many losses, but none of that matter when it came to you, you showed him love and kindness that he’s never experienced before, in the beginning he felt as though he didn’t deserve it, he still sometimes feels like that.

You’re the one that brings him back down to earth, the only one that could make him forget all about the turmoil that just occurred hours ago. Dean definitely wasn’t one to share either, so when Sam had all your attention one night during some lore research, he walked around the bunker library huffing and puffing until you finally asked him what was wrong.

“You’re giving Sammy all your attention, while i’m over here alone, withering away to nothing.” You rolled your eyes and continued to flip through the book Dean had enough, he wanted to cuddle, he wanted kissed, he wanted you to rub his back in that special way that he likes, he couldn’t take it anymore.

He slammed the book shut and picked you up, throwing you over his shoulder. You let out a yelp and smacked his butt, you looked up at Sam throwing him an apologetic look, he understood Dean was relentless.

“Dean! We have work to do.” He didn’t care, he wanted you all to himself, the lore can wait.

“Sorry, sweetheart, but I’m in need of some cuddles and. kisses.” He continued up the stairs to your shared room.

There was nothing you could do but lay on his shoulder patiently waiting for him to put you down, there was no use fighting it or trying to negotiate a deal, he was dead set on cuddling.

When the two of you finally reached the room, he pulled the blanket back and laid you on the bed, you shot him a glare as he crawled in bed beside you. You admit, he was very persuasive when he really wanted something.

He nuzzled his way into your arms, causing a giggle to leave your lips. “You’re really needy today.” He nodded against your chest, pulling you closer to him.

You loved when Dean got like this, it showed you that he truly needed you, even when he was angry or just in an all around bad mood, you were always there for him. He left soft kisses along your jawline, as you ran your fingertips up and down his spine, he shivered at your touch but ultimately relaxed under it as well.

“Y’know, you are the best thing that has ever happened to me, sweetheart.” Hearing him say those words made your heart flutter, you knew he was telling the truth too.

Dean wasn’t one to talk about his feelings, not even with Sam, but when it came to you, the words came out like vomit, half the time he didn’t even know he was saying them until he looks at you and you're staring back at him, adoringly.

He felt safe with you, he knew you wouldn’t make fun of him for feeling the way that he did, maybe a little playful teasing when he was super mushy, but you loved him regardless and he knew that.

You started to rub his back in that special way that he liked and only you knew how to do. His breath got slower and light snores began to escape his lips, you smiled softly and allowed yourself to relax, falling asleep along with him.

Everything was perfect and you couldn’t be happier.

A/N: This came out of nowhere and was written in less than 20 minutes, I hope you guys like this if you want to be tagged in future fics comment here or send me a message. Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated. 🥰

Main Masterlist - Dean Winchester Masterlist

Taglist: @iwudbutnah @littlesoulshine @miss-marmalade

[justabigassnerd]

In Another Life pt. 6

Pairing - Jackson Genrette x reader (Kook!JJ AU)

Word Count - 3,310

Series Warnings - swearing, smoking, angst, fluff, violence, weapons, blood, injuries, death, canon divergence (it's an AU innit?), drugs, alcohol, verbal & physical abuse

Summary - In another life, JJ Maybank was known by the name Jackson Genrette. The son of Larissa Genrette and grandson of Wes Genrette, making him the sole heir of Goat Island. Instead of being associated with surfing and smoking. Jackson was associated with the country club and yachts. Yet despite his unending wealth and Kook status, Jackson found himself intrigued by the adventures of the Pogues and found himself dragged along on an adventure he never could’ve anticipated.

In Another Life masterlist

In Another Life playlist

A/N - another week another part. not much to say about this other than that lol. as per y'all, please send in requests, feedback, and enjoy!!!

“What’s the ‘oh my god’ for? What did you find?” You question quickly, moving closer to the small hole and peeking through as if you could see what Kiara found.

Wordlessly, Kiara hands the envelope through the hole to John B, both you and Pope watching as it’s handed over before you move to help Kiara climb out of the mausoleum.

“That’s not gold.” Pope points out, with a slight disappointment in his voice.

“Holy shit. This is from my dad.” John B says, showing you how it had ‘for Bird’ written across the front of the envelope boldly for everyone to see. As you all process the discovery, you hear the rumble of an engine and you all turn to see a pair of headlights approaching you all.

“We gotta move. Those are the guys who robbed your house.” You say quickly to John B, all of you scrambling to hide behind the stone monument, desperately trying to turn your flashlights off.

“y/n, are you sure it’s them?” Kiara asks as you stick your head out from behind the mausoleum, squinting against the light to figure out if it’s really the same men or not.

“Whoever they are, they have guns and they don’t look friendly.” You say quickly, tucking yourself back against the monument.

“Screw it.” Kiara then whispers, turning her flashlight back on and making a break for the gate with you and the others following hot on her heels, all of you desperately trying to clamber over the large metal gate before diving into the Twinkie to drive away.

“Holy shit that was insane!” You exclaim as John B drives away from the cemetery, all of you recovering from the adrenaline rush you just experienced.

“How did those guys even find us?” Kiara questions, turning back to look at you as you shrug.

“These guys must be serious about this shit to be tracking us down.” You reply, leaning your head back against the wall, sighing heavily as your heartbeat begins to slow down. John B drives you all back to the Chateau, all of you heading into the house immediately to watch John B find out the contents of the envelope. You all watch as John B opens the envelope, extracting a piece of paper and unfolding it, revealing a map.

“Holy shit.” John B mutters, all of you studying the map intently.

“X marks the spot,” Pope says, pointing out the clearly marked cross on the map.

“There’s something else in here.” John B says, clearly feeling something else in the envelope while tracing his finger across the map. He pulls the envelope out from underneath the map and extracts a small machine.

“What is that?” You mumble aloud, eyebrows furrowing as you inspect the item.

“It’s a tape recorder, dumbass,” Kiara says, making you lightly flip her off in response as John B presses play on the recorder.

“Dear Bird.”

“Bird?” You question.

“It’s what my dad used to call me.” John B replies.

“I hate to say, ‘I told you so,’ but I told you so. And you doubted your old man. I suspect that as of this moment you’re filled with guilt and self-loathing over our last fight, but don’t kill yourself just yet, kid. I didn’t expect to find the Merchant either. You were probably right to call me out. I wasn’t exactly Father of the Decade. What could I say, kid? I could smell the barn. And hopefully, we’re listenin’ to this in our brand new sugar shack down in Costa Rica, livin’ off passive investments and pulling on permits. If not, and you find this for less than optimal reasons, well, that’s what the map is for. There she is, the wreck of the Merchant. If somethin’ happens to me, finish what I started. Go for the gold, kid. I love you, Bird, even if I didn’t always act like it. I’ll see you on the other side.”

You all listen to the tape in absolute silence, taking in every word Big John said. You were shocked at some of the things he said. Without warning, John B gets up from where he was sitting, stumbling over to the doorframe and clinging to it as sobs rack his body. You and Pope watched as Kiara went over to comfort John B, hugging him from behind as he sobbed.

“He found the Merchant.” You say in a quiet whisper, your eyes fixed on the map and the ‘x’ that marked where the wreck was located. You had heard bits and pieces about Big John’s search for the Royal Merchant and its gold, but you never believed he could’ve found it. Once John B’s sobs had slowed, you crossed to him tentatively, resting a hand on his shoulder.

“Hey man, let’s go sit out on the docks. Get some fresh air and have some beers. If you’re lucky I might even let you have a blunt.” You offer quietly, squeezing his shoulder as he nods, lifting a hand to wipe his tears. You and the others head out into the cool night air, making your way down to the dock. The four of you sit under the stars for a few minutes, listening to Kiara plucking at her ukulele while sipping beers.

“So how much gold sank in the Merchant?” You question, glancing over at Pope.

“About four hundred mill,” Pope responds as you let out a low whistle at the total.

“Wow. So, we’re splitting this evenly, right?” You say, glancing around at the others as you get nods of approval from them all.

“What are you going to do with your one hundred mill, Pope?” Kiara asks, all eyes falling onto Pope as he thinks quietly.

“Pay for college in advance. And, also textbooks, they’re expensive.” Pope says, satisfied with his own answer.

“What about you, Kie?” You then ask, glancing across at Kiara.

“Yeah, what does a socialist do when she’s rich?” Pope teases, making Kiara scoff lightly.

“I just wanna make a double album. About OBX, the Pogues. The way ‘Catch a Fire’ is about Kingston. Record it at Marley Studio, Peter Tosh producing.”

“Peter Tosh is-”

“Peter Tosh is dead. I know. The spirit of Peter Tosh will never die.” Kiara explains, a shy smile on her face as she confesses what she’d do with her share of the gold money.

“I think I know what I’m gonna do. I’m gonna get one of those big ass houses over on Figure Eight and go full Kook.” You say, lifting your beer to your lips and taking a sip.

“You’re gonna go full Kook?” Pope asks incredulously, looking at you as you shrug.

“Yeah, why not? I’m gonna have a shit ton of cash that I need to do something with.” You say, proud of your answer. While part of you wanted to use your share of the money on a nice house for yourself, part of you also wanted to buy a house on Figure Eight to earn respect from the rest of the island. To prove to yourself and others that you were more than just a Pogue.

“What about you, JB?” Pope then asks, all of you turning to look over at John B who remains silent for a moment and then smiling over at you.

“To going full Kook.” John B says, holding up his drink up in cheers.

“To going full Kook.” You all respond, cheersing your cans as you all grin. The four of you continue to chat for a while before you notice the time.

“I’m gonna head home. Don’t want my folks getting pissed that I’ve been gone too long.” You say, hopping off the wooden railing and bidding your friends goodbye with a salute as you make your way back across the dock and walk home.

Once again, you were unsurprised to find the house empty and void of life. You trudge upstairs to your room, changing into pyjamas and lying on your bed. You take some time rolling new blunts and lounging in your room. You never had much to do without your friends around. It was like your entire life was on standby when you didn’t have your friends with you. You lived your life for your friends and if it were up to you, you’d live in a big house with your friends for the rest of your life. Eventually, it grows late and you decide to go to bed, wanting the next day to begin so you can focus on finding the gold.

You wake up the next morning to the sound of someone knocking on your door. You sit up quickly, your heart pounding as you listen for who could be on the other side of the door.

“Yo, y/n. You in there?” You let out a small sigh of relief at the sound of John B’s voice, relaxing when you realised it wasn’t your parents on the other side of the door.

“What are you doing here?” You ask, watching as John B sticks his head in the door, grinning.

“We still don’t have any power, but we need to look at where the Merchant sunk.” John B says as you rub at your eyes.

“Okay? What do you need me for?” You question, stretching and standing up from your bed as John B leans against the doorframe.

“One, you’re my best friend and we’re in this together. Two, you work at the country club and they have computers.” John B explains, making you scoff lightly as you shake your head.

“You want to get into the country club… to use the computers?” You question skeptically.

“Yes. Figure Eight has power and they have all those fancy computers at the country club. You can get us in, right?” John B asks as you sigh softly, contemplating your next move.

“I guess I can…” you mumble, folding your arms across your chest.

“Yes! Thank you! You’re awesome!” John B says excitedly, pulling you into a hug as you reciprocate the embrace.

“Tell me something I don’t know.” You smirk, patting John B on the back before pulling away.

“Now get out, I need to get ready.” You say with a laugh, gently shoving John B out of the door.

“Okay, okay. I’ll be outside in the Twinkie with the others.” John B says with a nod, rushing off as you shut the door behind him so you could get changed.

Once you’re ready for the day, you grab your blunts and your cheap lighter, still clueless as to where your other lighter is before grabbing your work pass to make sure you can get into where you need to. As you go to leave, your hand resting on the door handle, you let out a sigh, glancing over your shoulder. You silently debate what you should do for a moment before crossing to your bed, crouching down and grabbing the gun from where you had squirrelled it away, shoving it into the waistband of your shorts before heading down to join the others.

“Did y’all miss me?” You say enthusiastically, climbing into the passenger seat of the Twinkie, and greeting your friends.

“Took your time, girl,” Kiara says with a laugh, exchanging a fistbump with you before settling in the back of the Twinkie. You and the other chat about the plan as John B drives to the country club, making sure everyone is on the same page. When you arrive at the country club, you instruct John B on where to park, knowing the best way to get in.

“We’ll go in through the kitchens, I know the best way to get to the computers.” You say, grabbing your pass and putting it around your neck just in case you get stopped.

“Good, we’ll follow your lead.” John B says with a nod.

“And, I’m prepared this time.” You gloat, pulling your gun out of your waistband and checking it over.

“Are you serious?” Pope exclaims, leaning over your shoulder, his eyes wide as he stares at the gun.

“y/n, you cannot bring that into the country club. I will actually throw it into the ocean if you do.” Kiara says, making you roll your eyes.

“So you get mad at me for not having the gun yesterday and you’re mad at me today for having the gun? Damn, tough crowd.” You mutter, tucking the gun under the seat with a grumble.

“Let’s just go.” John B urges, opening the door and climbing out of the Twinkie with you and the others following suit.

“This way. We’ll cut through the kitchens.” You say, directing your friends towards the back door to the kitchens, leading them through the bustling kitchens you were familiar with.

“Hey guys!” You greet the other employees enthusiastically, snatching some fries off a plate as someone tries to swat your hand away.

“Come on y/n.” You’re scolded lightly by one of the cooks who couldn’t help but laugh, familiar with your antics.

“This way.” You then say, returning your attention to your friends, exiting the kitchens and sneaking your way to where you knew the computers were, quickly ushering them in while people’s backs were turned.

“Hurry, hurry.” John B urges, pushing Pope towards the computer and digging in his pocket for the map before placing it on the table alongside the keyboard so Pope could enter the coordinates into the computer.

“Boom, continental shelf right there.” John B says, studying the pin on the map and its surrounding area closely.

“If it’s off the deep end it’s not going to be much of a treasure hunt, is it?” Pope says, zooming in on the map as you all lean in closer.

“Come on.” You whisper, willing the site to move faster as you hear people walking around outside the room.

“Shit, it’s on the high side. It’s only nine hundred feet.” John B says.

“That’s not too deep.” You say.

“Is that doable?” Kiara asks, looking at you.

“It’s totally doable.” You reply with a confident nod.

“Have you got a personal submarine or something we don’t know about?” Pope questions.

“Yeah, how do you know this will work?” John B asks.

“The salvage yard. They have a drone that can drop up to a thousand feet and it’s got a three-sixty camera. They use it for deep dives which is what we need.” You explain, looking at each of your friends.

“Can your dad even get hold of that?” John B questions, looking at you sceptically.

“Well, he got his ass fired. My dad’s not exactly a star employee in any job. But the drone’s there, and I know it’s in the impound yard out the back.” You say confidently.

“How much did you say was on the Royal Merchant again?” Kiara asks, looking over at John B.

“Four hundred million.” John B replies.

“Four hundred million dollars?” Kiara replies, echoing John B’s words as Pope shoots up from his seat to blockade the door with his body.

“Absolutely not,” Pope says defiantly.

“Pope. Move.” Kiara says, easily pushing him aside and opening the door as the rest of you follow behind her.

“Can’t we do anything legal for money?” You hear Pope ask as you all head out to the Twinkie, climbing into the vehicle and driving in the direction of the salvage yard as Pope continues to fret about the legality of it all.

“Look, Pope, we’re not stealing it. We’re just borrowing it.” John B says, trying to keep Pope calm enough to go through with the plan while you take one of the blunts you had made from your pockets, preparing to light it before Pope snatches it from your mouth.

“Keep the signal clear.” He says, flicking the blunt to the other side of the Twinkie as you roll your eyes.

“Pope, come on, it’s just one blunt I’m not that much of a lightweight.” You say, vaguely aware of the Twinkie slowing to a stop so Kiara could get out to act as the distraction.

“I don’t care. I’m not risking it when you’re the one telling us how to find this thing.” Pope retorts as the rest of you get out of the Twinkie, walking the rest of the short distance to the salvage yard to watch Kiara from a distance. Kiara knew just what to do to distract the guard and you couldn’t help but smile pridefully.

“So, how’s it going with Kie?” You question quietly, glancing over at John B.

“Yeah, she totally rejected me the other night.” John B replies.

“Damn, I could’ve sworn she was into you.” You reply with a shake of the head, wondering how you had misinterpreted everything.

“Maybe she’s into someone else?” Pope asks, all of you watching Kiara carefully. The moment the security guard turned around, you all bolted, using the parked cars for coverage as you ran for the gate that was slowly closing. You make it to the locked door that you knew had the drone inside and instantly grab the lock, trying your best to remember the combination.

“Have you got the right numbers?” John B questions as you rattle the lock, clearly not getting the combination right.

“I might not have the right numbers. Shit, I’m sorry.” You say apologetically, frantically racking your brain for any other combinations before you hear barking, turning around to see a guard dog barking at you.

“That’s a cougar.” John B says, both you and him bolting in separate directions while Pope remains rooted in place.

“Pope!” You call out to your friend, noticing that he hasn’t moved. Knowing you couldn’t just leave Pope alone, you notice an old handkerchief sitting on the nearby workbench and grab it quickly, waving it around.

“Look, I got a toy, this way boy!” You call over to the dog, immediately regretting your action when the dog decides to chase you. You bolt away with the dog hot on your heels as he barks. Spotting a boat, you hurriedly climb up the ladder and duck down, hiding and hoping the dog will grow bored and leave you alone.

“Whoever’s up there you better come out! I’m not messing around.” You hear the security guard warn, and you squeeze your eyes shut knowing there’s no way out of this situation you’ve found yourself in.

“Bobby, hey don’t shoot, it’s me, y/n. You know, Ben’s kid?” You say, sticking your hands up and showing yourself to the familiar guard who lowered his gun quickly, shushing his dog.

“y/n, what are you doing here? Your old man doesn’t work here anymore.” Bobby asks, tucking his gun away as you nod, preparing yourself to put your acting skills to good use.

“I know. I know. My dad told me he thought someone stole his blowtorch, he can’t find it at home. He told me I had to find it or… he’d hurt me again. I’m so sorry.” You explain, forcing tears to your eyes as you lie to Bobby, sniffling to make your lie more convincing.

“Okay, well I’ll keep an eye out for it, but you have to leave now. Come down.” Bobby gestures for you to come down and you obey, continuing to cry as you make your way down the ladder.

“I know. I’m sorry. I’ll tell him I couldn’t find it or something.” You mutter apologetically.

“Get home safe, kid,” Bobby says softly, sending you on your way. As you walk away, your back now facing Bobby, you wipe at your eyes as a grin covers your face.

“Sucker.” You mutter to yourself as you walk away, satisfied that you got away with it before going in search of your friends in the hopes someone got the drone.

taglist (comment or ask to be added)

@imsiriuslyreal @marleymarleymarleymarley @sarahmaybank @bee-43 @aceofspades190

[practically-joking-blog]

i don’t even know what to do anymore. this was my “new”fixation, one that i wasn’t familiar with and one i would get close to. i loved impractical jokers.

just in case anyone reads this and is unfamiliar, joe had allegations released earlier this week. now, screenshots of murr speaking inappropriately to a minor have come out. you can find them here.

it’s heartbreaking. not only to see a funny celebrity you like do something weird, but to think that they were speaking inappropriately to teenage girls. to think that girls my age have experienced this, and that these men i looked up to have played into these animalistic behaviors! i have my own (slightly far feministic and radical) thoughts and opinions on this—but i do know one thing: i didn’t know them. i can’t say i’m surprised.

at the end of the day, the impractical jokers are four grown men i don’t know. you don’t know them either. to say “he wouldn’t do that” or “he doesn’t seem like that” is not only false, but extremely hurtful to the millions of teenagers and children (especially female/fem presenting ones) who have experienced any form of sexual harassment.

before you express an opinion about this, ask yourself—what if this was me? my sister? my brother? my mom? remove your bias from these men who you don’t know, and think about it. and really, these are just the girls who’ve come out and said something. imagine if there are girls they’ve taken advantage of that don’t have the access to speak out.

it’s hurtful to hear. it’s jarring. especially if you’ve used your words to write beautiful stories about these men or used your talent to make drawings or collages of them. god forbid spending your money on them.

i will be posting less of this show. i love the people i’ve met in this community, i admire the artists and the writers who’ve worked to make this space. saying that, i want everyone who reads this to know one thing. don’t let this disregard your talent. find something new, create something new.

my heart and outmost condolences go out to all of these young girls who have been taken advantage of by men who brought them joy. i love everyone very much. take care impractical jokers friends.

[electricmaimer]

"i dont care if people who havent read the books get spoiled for the show" <- words of a person i now want to bite and yell at

[javierduffy]

Well... after putting it off for 2 days I finally did Horsemen Apocalypses :(

Gods. This game is all about missed chances and could-have-beens. Not a single character is unscathed. Even those that make it out alive only have bittersweet endings. I hate it here (affectionate)

2 days … you’re so brave …. one time, i dropped rdr2 for an entire year specifically to avoid horsemen, apocalypses LMFAO it was when my hyperfixation for the game started up again this time that i had no choice but to do it so i could keep playing 💔

my condolences either way, i think it’s my least favourite mission of the whole game. it makes me nauseous to think about, nonetheless play.

i think red dead redemption 2 is about love, but grief is love with nowhere to go, and this game has such a beautiful, gut wrenching way of exploring that via young, essentially plot-irrelevant characters and their subsequent demises (regarding the “could-have-beens”). i don’t know if i agree that it’s about missed chances, though … in a way, i see what you mean … but to me, i think the vdl’s lived their way, and died their ways, but at the root of it all, it was love that saved them for so, so long. most of them didn’t belong anywhere else, and before dutch went crazy and led them awry, a lot of them were genuinely not too poorly off when they ended up following him (see people like javier, lenny, tilly, reverend, etc. people who literally would have died (or worse) otherwise. also, i am a truther that dutch genuinely had all of their best interests at heart prior to micah, despite his preexisting ego. it was simply his ego that ended up being their downfall.). they rode hard and they died for it, but they did it for love, and as … unsatisfactory as nearly everyone’s endings are, i don’t think all that loving was in vain. it saved john, abigail, and jack- and arthur, too, in it’s own way. it saved tilly and trelawny as well. for them, literally. everyone else, it saved every day that they rode their rough lives, because it gave them something to live for.

you’re absolutely right though that no one left unscathed, and that most of their endings are almost nothing but bittersweet. rockstar has hatred in their heart and believes that sharing is caring 💔 i would love a dlc where everyone makes it out and is happy and peeling mangos in tahiti or something or other but i know in my heart that it wouldn’t even feel right 💔 i, too, hate it here 💔💔💔

regarding kieran, he is absolutely wasted potential in a meta sense LOL rockstar did genuinely waste him, i feel like. we already know that he was meant for more, and who knows how much more that was, but he of all characters i believe was almost completely wasted, in the end. which sucks !!!!! i could spin a tale about how he was saved by love every day prior to his death as well (which is true. especially because he is explicitly noted to be particularly gentle, meaning he loved the hardest out of all of the men in the gang, in a way. love, for kieran duffy, is an indestructible part of his being. despite it all, it’s his bleeding heart that keeps him living, even in the most miserable of circumstances.) but since he literally was involved in a ton of scrapped material, i will bitch and moan quite readily about the expanse of his “missed chances”. i’ll spare you, though. just know … i understand … i get it ….. truly, i do …..

[catmask]

tbh when i hear some people talk about 'breaking cycles of abuse', it becomes clear pretty quickly who has come to understand that phrase to mean 'since i was a victim of abuse/neglect by my parents/caretaker/s i will do everything to be nothing like them' and that is all. its not a completely flawed way of thinking either - something that hurt you would very likely hurt someone else; through empathy we learn to understand not to hurt others the way we were hurt too.

but what 'breaking cycles' looks like is more complicated than just not being your parents/caretakers - it's about recognizing how the things that happened to you changed you and how you can heal so you don't hurt someone else in turn. the survival skills you learned in an unhealthy enviroment often translate to poor if not unhealthy interpersonal skills in an enviroment where things ARE safe.

its a difficult pill to swallow for a lot of survivors of abuse (trust me, i know) because we have a tendency to simply want our pain to be recognized. by painting yourself as "absolutely nothing like my abuser" you can abstain from recognizing your own harmful tendencies and live comfortably in the role of victim hood for the rest of your life. it can be tempting to do this especially when so many people will do their best to deny what you experienced - almost like leaning into a stuck door that just won't budge.

the problem with this is if you never recognize that being mistreated made it so you LACK a lot of what other people learned from a loving enviroment, you can hurt people pretty badly even when doing your best just not to replicate what your parents/caretakers got wrong.

this also hurts for victims because, when it comes down to it - it's not FAIR. you were hurt for no reason, and most of us will never hear an apology or even admittance from the person who did it - so why do YOU have to change? why do YOU, the person hurt unjustly, have to put in the work?

and i mean. that's what breaking a cycle is. it means pushing against what's fair and comfortable deliberately so that you can stop something that's been repeating. it's work. its not just recognition of pain, it's the purposeful healing and treatment of it. but thats scary, and it's not fun, so a lot of people fall right back into it. its a lot easier said than done.

[buttercuparry]

I know I sound like a broken record by now: repeating the same things others have said before but I think banality of it all is the point of my post. The fact that I have nothing new to say– not about the genocide in Gaza, not about the dwindling attention of allies, is HORRIFYING. 

It has been 11 months of a genocide that the UN calls “war on children”. Malnutrition, diseases, lack of suitable medical care have caused Gazan children to lose their childhood; to lose their lives entirely!  

There is no hope left for a future unmarked of pain and my friend Siraj Abudayeh ( @siraj2024 ) , who is father to three sons describes it as a “feeling of oppression”.  He laments that his children have been forced away from their schools, hopes and dreams  by colonizers and where before there were ambitions to excel in either studies or sports, all they know now is helplessness, fear and anger. 

Siraj has told me how his children- Abed, Muhammad and Amir have confessed to their father about how they have begun to  feel guilty for surviving at all now ; after having lost so many of their friends to the genocide they are experiencing survivor's guilt and it breaks my heart to hear that. Abed, the eldest son, is ONLY ELEVEN!!  Can you imagine an eleven year old feeling guilty because he has managed to survive while his friends haven't ? And what kind of survival it is– Half starving, drinking unclean water, forced into tents where sand mites pester him throughout the day?

I am not sure what happened or why the engagement with fundraisers has dropped so drastically lately but there is nothing more atrocious, more horrible than apathy when children are suffering.  It is so strange that we can quote James Baldwin so easily and yet have failed to understand what he meant when he said,

"The children are always ours, every single one of them, all over the globe; ...whoever is incapable of recognizing this may be incapable of morality. ”

We have the power that is not afforded to Gazans and therefore it is on us to be attentive no matter how repetitive these posts feel. It is ridiculous and dehumanizing that during a genocide one has to worry about making a post original enough to maintain attention. And yes I know that we won't be able to stop the horrifying banality of Israel’s evil in a day but WE CAN help provide FIVE families that are dependent on this fundraiser with a lifeline during times such as these.  

Please we have managed to get this far after struggling for so long, it cannot be that we will fail Siraj when he is so close to the end goal of 82k !!

So DONATE AND BOOST. Find it in yourself to not just reblog but circulate the fundraiser among your colleagues, friends and family. Share it in your whatsapp chats and discord servers. Share it on every other platform that you may have a reach on.

Currently at $72,987 CAD of the short term goal of 75k. We have 2k left to raise by tomorrow. 

Vetting at 219

[aomiiine]

somnophilia, sexting, creampie

older bf! zayne who takes care of your needs, day and night, without fail. Working overtime at the hospital doesn’t stop him either. He’s using every opportunity to check his phone, searching for your name on his notifs. And when he does, he opens it to see an attachment. It was a photo, of his pillow squished between your bare thighs, skirt hiked up just enough to see the blooming wet patch of your cum on the cover.

older bf! zayne who sends quick texts asking you were able to take good care of yourself in his absence. Except, he knew damn well you were frustrated beyond belief. Struggling to replicate the feeling of his thick calloused fingers rubbing your clit in slow, caring circles with your own or his pillow. He could imagine it, really. You laid on his bed, hair sprawled on the pillows with your legs taking up his spacious bed, toes curling on the sheets as you played with your messy pussy, unable to sleep without your loving, more experienced boyfriend taking care of you.

older bf! zayne who hums in amusement at your reply to his message, words mostly misspelled, no doubt holding your phone with one hand. He teases you further, fingers flying across the screen to spell out a brief yet blunt text saying ‘you shouldn’t bother me at work, dove. You know how noticeable my boners are.’

older bf! zayne knew the mere mention of his cock would send you into a frenzy, getting you to form a mental image of his bare, heavy dick being pumped by his fist lazily before he plunged it into your tiny cunt. And he absolutely loved it—knowing you’d only add yet another digit into your pussy that cried for his girth to stretch you open.

older bf! zayne who’d come back home past midnight to see you passed out on the bed, nightgown bunched up above your midriff, exposing your drenched panties that hung low enpugh to give him a glimpse of your pussy. Just one look at you in the dark of his bedroom was enough to rile him up more than he already was after getting off his phone. Now, he knew he had to take care of you. He wouldn’t ever dream of leaving his girl unsatisfied no matter how long he left you hanging.

older bf! zayne who’d scoop you knees under his hands, pushing your legs up to your gently heaving chest, belt and zipper left open to let his pants hang low, cock standing at attention. He didn’t have to do much with the thin fabric of your panties, merely tucking it to the side enough for his bulbous tip to delve past your folds to notch into your entrance. He tries so hard not to force it all in with one swift thrust, willing his entire body to restrain his flexing muscles as he held your legs in place.

older bf! zayne who’d bottom in and out of you so fucking good, his fat cock nestling deep into your fluttering pussy with needy throbs that would lull you back to sleep. He’d shush you back to sleep softly, voice tight yet soothing still even as he worked to satisfy both of your needs. He’d hiss curses underneath his breath, mumbling and cooing tender praises into the dead of the night, hoping your slumbered self could hear him in your dreams.

older bf! zayne who’d pick up the pace when he feels himself getting dangerously, the coil in the pit of his stomach tightening with each slap of his balls against your plump ass. You weren’t far off either and he could tell—hands prying up for the covers of the pillows beneath your head, balling up to fists with needy mewls leaving your parted lips, your brows knitting into a look or pure ecstasy—the same look you’d have whenever you’re about to cum too, he notes.

older bf! zayne who plunges his spurting cock deep inside your spasming cunt when he cums, jets of thick hot semen spraying your womb white. Your whines grew louder, strands of your hair sticking to your sweat sheened skin. He’d stay still even when his orgasm fades, thrusting shallowly to prolong your pleasure—and hear the lewd squelches of the mess your cum made on his cock, the nest of hair below his pelvis glistening with your nectar.

older bf! zayne who pulls out slow, careful to not wake you up from your resuming slumber. He’d put your legs back down, getting off the bed while tucking his dirty cock back into his pants half-heartedly, not bothering to zip himself up. He’d walk over to the wardrobe, picking one of your clean panties to slip back up your legs, making sure it’s cups your dripping cunt snugly, not wanting a single drop of his cum to ooze out of you in your sleep.

[luvmanifesting]

You’re still wasting time..

10 minutes ago you could’ve had everything you desired, 3 hours ago you could’ve had everything you desired, 1 week ago you could’ve had everything you desired, 2 seconds ago you could’ve had everything you desired, just after reading this you could’ve had everything you desired.

2024 is almost over and you’re heavily procrastinating for what?

fear?

laziness?

not able to make up your mind on what you want?

waiting for the 3D to confirm?

wanting someone to manifest for you?

whatever it is stop it. because you’re literally withholding yourself from experiencing all the fun things you always dreamed of doing since you were a baby/child with childlike wonder. nobody’s coming to save you, you either dust yourself off and accept the fact you’re god, or you get left behind. some of you are incredibly helpless atp, “i just can’t do anything right!!!” and thats your assumption so now everything you do just isn’t “right”

all you guys do is ask the same questions over and over expecting some sort of new answer, do you want us to pity you..? cry for you? we’re DEFINITELY not inducing pure consciousness for you if thats the case :D.. every time you guys hear about a new method that gives you instant results you immediately put it on the pedestal (STOPPPPPPPPP OMFG) you’re supposed to be the only one on the pedestal 😓 you are too old to be crying over something that’s supposed to be simple and fun, you have all the info you need and yet you over complicate it still. its so easy to cry and complain but its so hard for you to just step forward and acknowledge the power you have? LOA DEFINES ALL LOGIC MANIFESTATION DEFINES ALL LOGIC.

time doesn’t exist

yes you can manifest anything

take this “void state” bs off the pedestal

stop crying

stop saying “oh this success story will give me so much motivation”

if you wanted something badly then you wouldn’t complain and you would do what you have to do to obviously get it right? the thing is you don’t get your desires, because they were always yours from the damn beginning, stop wasting all this fucking time.

[reality-shitting]

General realizations ab shifting that helped me

The void is not a realm or a place- it is YOU. You ARE the Void. The Void is solely the awareness of being, fully.

You are not ONE being. Think of the consciousness in you as being interconnected with all other infinite versions of you. These interconnections converge into your full consciousness, the true YOU. It's almost Eldritch to think about.

Something I'm just now thinking of, perhaps this means the subconscious is all other versions of you- you're separated and cut off from experiencing the entirety of being, but that entirety is still there, guiding you from behind the scenes.

No matter what the assumption, "I am" is true. I am kind, as my actions and thoughts show, but I'm also cruel and cold-hearted, as may be the perception of another. I think I'm funny, but someone else may think I'm cheesy- therefore, I am both. And this also goes for the personas of myself in other realities. I am everything. Simultaneously, this also means I am Nothing. I simply am.

To add to the points above, I believe this "Eldritch" conglomerate is what we call the Void state, and would explain why every manifestation happens instantly once we reach this state. Think of it like accessing the files in an infinite data base- all you need to do is find the files you're looking for and download them.

As much as people will try to stress things like "you need to let go" or realizing that shifting is easy, you won't truly be able to understand what they're saying until you experience it.

All things exist at once and every inconceivably small action creates a new reality. As small as "this single cell from 7000 years ago died .000000001 seconds prematurely", and smaller.

Shifting IS easy- in the same way that gleeking or stretching is easy. Some people are able to do it on command or go further than others with no training whatsoever. Others may do it accidentally and sporadically. This does not mean the latter are unable to do these things at will, but they simply need a bit of help learning to do it on command.

Question stressing you out? "But what about this plot hole?", "How does XYZ work??", "What will happen back in my OR???"- STOP. No need to stress yourself over that, this by itself I feel cost me years on my journey. Everything will work out. It doesn't matter how, but it will, and it will either even itself out or be in your favor. Don't even think about those things. Relax.

Another one that held me back MASSIVELY. Struggling to visualize your DR? "I know it has THIS SPECIFIC TABLE in this SPECIFIC place and everything has to be perfect"! No. Your visualization does Not need to be perfect. Nor does it have to be "accurate", really. Once you just let your mind wander and let your subconscious make up it's own layout, it'll help you slip in much more easily. I put so much pressure on myself to make sure I was visualizing my specific reality, and it became so much easier when I just trusted myself to build it up from my subconscious instead of "forcing" a look

They say once it's in the 4D (imagination), it's already real. That's why you're encouraged to embody, think, act, feel as your DR self. Like playing pretend as a kid, you'll be so focused on your imagination, you don't even realize you're in your OR. If you don't shift through that alone, it certainly helps make you feel far more connected. This is also why I came up with the Furina method (although I suppose it's debatable if I really "came up" with it)

Methods/Advice are like pants. Some are too itchy, some are too tight, some you like the feel of but there's just some small flaw. When you find what you were missing, what you needed to hear, it'll be a perfect fit.

[iniquitousyearning]

SLYTHERINSLUT0’S RIDDLEMAS

dec 10th. tom riddle — oral sex, experienced!tom.

RIDDLEMAS MASTERLIST. I 2024

summary: your ex couldn’t make you orgasm, so you were certain you were broken. tom shows you just how wrong you are.

warnings: 18+, SMUTTT MDNI, tom riddle can eat me aliv—sorry who tf said that?, tom riddle is such a realist; he sees a problem and he finds a solution, tom is a munch, praise kink, oral f!receiving, experienced tom, hufflepuff!reader.

Months pass, and your project remains the only thing Tom ever prioritizes when it's you asking.

Progress is slow—slow because you're usually far too busy talking to actually focus—yet, he always stays. He listens, even when the things you say should bore him, even when they mean nothing at all. He sits there—giving you hardly the barest scraps of himself in return as you fill the space between you with everything that crosses your mind.

Things he'd never waste a second hearing from anyone else.

And tonight, to no-one's surprise, you're doing it again—rambling on about nothing and everything all at once. You've got this way of talking���weaving tangents into something almost poetic, and usually, he lets it fade into the background as he works. You're saying something about the differences between the seasons, or maybe it's just some other kind of sentimental nonsense—at this point, he's not entirely sure.

It's easy to tune out. He tells himself he's not really listening.

Until—

"Actually, I guess I should clarify that—it's all hypothetical. I don't date," he doesn't know what you said before this, but he's certainly intrigued by it now. "And really, it has nothing to do with like, self esteem or anything, I'm just broken. Best to save someone the trouble."

That stops him cold. It's not so much the declaration that you don't date—he could have guessed that himself—but more so the way you've just called yourself broken.

It's not a word he's ever heard you use before.

"What do you mean, broken?" He asks, the question coming out far more blunt than he probably intended.

It just seems so out of character for you—you've always been an optimist, far too annoyingly positive to speak of anything this way. He blinks when you freeze, and blinks again when a moment of self consciousness seems to pass over your face—and he notes how that's a first for you, too.

"Broken...as in, uh, not normal," your eyes flit down to your lap, tracing the wood beneath where you're seated on the floor in his dorm. "My ex made that very clear in his assessment of me."

The mention of an ex is something he'd been anticipating—you're in your twenties, after all—but it's the idea that your ex is the source of you calling yourself broken, that he can't quite swallow.

"You're 'broken' because of one ex?" He says, and he can't stop how derisive and skeptical his voice sounds. He doesn't care to try. "I'm not following."

"I'm what you'd call, damaged goods, I think," you murmur, and there's an almost self-deprecating smirk on your face. He can't help but think how he's never seen that look on you, either. "I've got a slew of unhealthy baggage that comes along with me. You know, childhood traumas, abandonment issues, daddy issues—"

He snorts at that—daddy issues—and your head snaps up, smirk deepening despite yourself.

"Don't snort at my daddy issues," you huff, and there's a familiar annoyance in your voice that puts him at ease. "They're valid and real."

"I'm not denying their validity," he counters, his own smirk beginning to surface. "But daddy issues? Come on. You're not some tired cliché ripped out of a teenage romance novel. I refuse to accept your declaration of brokenness until you give me factual reasoning."

You laugh at that—alive and genuine—and for a moment, he's reminded of why he even tolerates you in his space at all.

"Fine," you cross your arms over your chest. "What do you want to know then?"

He makes a low, contemplative sound at that—because there's a million questions that come to mind with the words damaged goods—and after a moment, he settles on the one that falls out first.

"What is it, precisely, that makes you broken?"

You sigh, a bit theatrically—he knows you're just putting on a show and he wants to laugh at you for it—but he reigns that in, for now, while you figure out how you're going to respond to that.

The truth is, you don't know how to tell him the real reason you're broken—the part that has nothing to do with the laundry list of emotional baggage you could rattle off with ease. It's something...different.

Something more physical.

"I don't know, okay?" You're getting defensive. You're not sure why but you are. "Just—forget I said anything. We have this assignment to—"

"You dodging the question tells me it's more than just psychological," he cuts you off, leaning back into the couch. The way he's looking at you makes it clear—there's no way he's letting this go. "You getting defensive tells me you're embarrassed by it."

You sigh again, leaning back on your palms to mirror his body language, though it doesn't feel half as natural on you as it does on him.

"And you, being an insufferable arse, is telling me I never should have mentioned it in the first place."

His smirk at that makes you want to glare at him.

"Stop dodging," he says. "You brought it up. You don't get to take it back."

It's a challenge—the gleam in his eyes is practically screaming so. You're not sure why the sight of it makes something low in your stomach clench, and you're even less sure of why you want to tell him something like this—something you haven't told anyone else—not friends, certainly not family.

Whatever the reasoning, you can feel yourself relent.

"Maybe," you pause, the look on his face makes you second guess yourself. "...maybe I don't want to tell you because I'm afraid you'll look at me differently." You glance down at your lap, fingers twitching against the yellow pleats of your skirt before finally meeting his eyes again. "And I kind of like the way you look at me now."

Something like curiosity passes over his expression at that—but it's quickly hidden by the type of skepticism that tells you he still doesn't believe you're being serious.

"You're overthinking it," he replies, unmoving. "Whatever it is you think you're going to tell me, I'm not going to look at you differently. You're still you—no filter, unabashedly verbal—"

"Too verbal. Too positive, too loud," you finish his sentence for him—because you know that's how he thinks of you. "Too annoyingly optimistic. Far too hufflepuff for your cold snake skin. I know."

"Exactly," he says, tongue running over his bottom lip in attempt to quell his smirk. "So I reiterate. There's nothing you could tell me that would change that."

"Fine," you relent, giving in begrudgingly because you know there's no other option. "But don't say I didn't warn you."

He just lifts a hand at that, as if to say; whatever you think it is, I can handle it. The action makes you suck a breath into your lungs, trapping it there.

"You're right," you say after a long exhale. "I have a slew of psychological bullshit that would take the span of a year for me to fully go over in one sitting—but, I'm fine with it. That's...that's not the thing that made me call myself broken."

He says nothing, just makes a motion with his eyes for you to keep going.

"It's, uhm...physical." You whisper, and your brain is moving too much and too fast and you're not even completely sure how to say it without sounding insane. "And...I don't know, I just...I can't orgasm. No matter what. I just can't—it's frustrating and embarrassing and it's the reason my ex ended things."

There's a silence that follows, and he knows if it were anyone else, they'd probably find a way to comfort you. Reassure you. Tom, however, isn't anyone else—

"You're joking," he says, and his tone is incredulous again.

A self-depreciating laugh leaves your lips involuntarily, the sound of it making you almost want to cringe.

"Would it be less embarrassing if I was?"

He's still just watching you, dissecting your words as if waiting for you to crack a smile and confess this was all some stupid joke—and the vulnerability of it aches like a stab to the gut.

"This is the reason you think you're broken?" Is what he goes with when he finally realizes you're being serious. "Because you haven’t orgasmed?"

The bluntness of it makes you flush, makes you wish you could sink into the floor. "I know it's not normal, okay—"

"It's not an abnormality, either," he asserts, with casualty. "You might just have a disconnect."

You blink, caught off guard—not just by his choice of words, but by how matter-of-fact he sounds, like this isn't the mortifying confession it feels like.

"A disconnect?"

"A disconnect," he repeats, looking you over, something clinical slipping into his eyes. "Between mind and body. And considering how loud your thoughts are—"

"Hey—" you snap, suddenly feeling a bit indignant, but he just continues on.

"—it's not surprising that you can't get out of your own head."

You open your mouth to argue, to tell him he's not a therapist, so what the hell does he know? But the certainty in his expression makes you pause. He doesn't look patronizing or condescending, just...assured. Like he knows exactly what he's talking about.

You hesitate, lips parting, a protest forming on your tongue. Before you can say anything, though, he raises a hand to stop you.

"Come here," he says, standing up from the couch.

You blink, trying to decipher what the hell he's implying—because if anything, the last thing that's going to make you less paranoid about intimacy is proximity.

"What?"

He just looks at you, making a motion with two fingers, beckoning you to stand.

"Don't ask questions. Just come here."

It's an order, and it makes your spine tingle in a way that's definitely not comfortable—but you get up from the floor, and move closer to him anyway, closing the distance between you with only a few steps until you're close enough to him that you can practically feel the heat that seems to come off him in waves.

It's weird—he's suddenly too much all at once—you're so much more aware of him being in front of you than you think you've ever been before and it does not help that he's just looking at you—as if studying you—blinking only once as he raises those same two fingers to your neck, resting them against the pulse point at your throat.

Your entire body tenses. His touch is far more gentle than you ever imagined it being, something disarming that makes your pulse beat faster against his fingers as a result—and because this is Tom, with all his smug and certainty—he gives you a look that tells you he can feel it before he slides his fingers up to rest on your forehead.

You scowl at the motion, but he clicks his tongue, the sound as condescending as it is amused.

"I told you, you're an overthinker." He murmurs, eyes dipping to your lips. "Too much noise."

You want to refute that—mostly because you're not overthinking, you can't be—he's just so unequivocally overwhelming—

"I'm not—"

You start, but he moves his fingers from your forehead and places them against your lips—

"Quiet." He scolds, and that makes something low in your stomach clench. "Your body knows what to do. You're just letting your thoughts get in the way."

You long to protest again, just for the sake of defiance—but then his fingers are against your collarbone, and that motion in your stomach becomes a bit more of a squirm—

"Your body is trying to tell you something," he whispers, watching each little hitch in your breath. "But you're too busy talking over it to hear what it's saying."

You realize—with a sort of horror that's laced with something a little more uncomfortable—that he's right. Your body is trying to say something. It's communicating through the unsteady force of your breaths, through the clench of your fists against your skirt—

Of course, he notices. He's noticing far too much.

"Relax," he murmurs, and now he's trailing those same two fingers in an unhurried path down your shoulder. You suddenly regret every decision that led to you wearing a T-shirt. "I'm not going to bite you."

Something about the way he says it makes you wish he wasn't quite so convincing—the familiar banter you long for gone with the sharp exhale that comes out of your mouth as his fingers encircle your wrist—

"Your pulse is racing," he says casually, far too casually for how much effort it's taking you not to scream. "Does that seem broken to you?"

Gods—you want to respond—you really, really do— but your thoughts flatline when you realize his touch has shifted. He's no longer just holding your wrist; he's guiding your hands to rest against his chest, and—

"There you go," he whispers, and the tone of it tells you he knows exactly what it is he's doing to you. "See? Your body's doing exactly what it's meant to do. You—" his fingers trail up your arms, and his voice gets lower. "—are not broken."

You swallow hard, acutely aware of your hands on his chest and the way your palms are clammy against the fabric of his shirt. He's shifting you now, deliberately crowding you, and it's only when you feel the edge of the couch press against the back of your calves that you realize—perhaps a second too late—exactly what it is he's doing.

You stumble back onto the leather, and he follows—crushing his lips to yours.

You gasp, startled, because despite everything you truly hadn't seen this coming. The kiss is messy, clumsy, and his hand finds the nape of your neck, tugging at your hair with just enough force to make it sting. And inevitably, when you gasp again, he takes it as an invitation to work his tongue into your mouth, other hand slipping under your shirt—trailing up your stomach.

You're trembling now, and he makes a low sound at the realization. Your brain is racing to catch up, and the irony of this isn't lost on you—he'd just claimed you weren't broken, but he might as well be destroying you himself.

He parts from your lips only to trail his own across your jaw—

"You're shaking," he murmurs with a smirk against your throat—as if he's taking immense pleasure in the fact—you hate how smug it makes him sound. "Do you want me to stop?"

You want to tell him he's being a bastard, but then his lips press to that spot on your neck—the one that makes your breath hitch and your pulse stutter—and you find yourself whimpering at the sensation.

"No," you breathe, and you'd be embarrassed by the pleading tone in your voice if you weren't so lost in the moment. "Don't stop."

He makes another low, satisfied noise at that.

"Good," he whispers. "No thinking. Just feel."

You swallow—throat dry. It's unfair how easily he's dismantling you with nothing but his mouth and hands. Unfair how he's leaving you breathless and unraveling while somehow making you feel seen in a way you can't explain, even with your eyes shut.

"Tom," you find yourself whimpering, and you aren't even sure what you're asking for—you just know you want more as his lips trail lower—as his fingers work to tug down your skirt. "Gods."

"Shh. Feel me," he murmurs, almost possessively, his lips brushing lower, grazing over your stomach, then your pelvis. "Let your body do the talking."

You've got your hands tangled in his hair before you even know what you're doing, and you hate the fact that you're pretty sure you'd melt into a puddle if he weren't holding you together.

"I feel you," you whimper as he kisses lower. "You're all I feel."

He makes another low sound at that, and you just know it's the response of ‘yeah, that’s right’—but then he's between your legs, panties shifted out of the way, and the first sweep of his tongue against your clit makes all coherent thought shift to static.

"Oh! God," you gasp, the word barely escaping before dissolving into a whimper when he does something with his tongue that makes your vision blur. "Tom—oh, fuck."

He just makes that smug, satisfied noise against you again before his tongue swirls over your clit and you find yourself almost cursing whatever deity made him so good at this, because it's not fair how quickly he reduced you to a whimpering, shaking mess beneath him and—

"Don't stop," you find yourself babbling, digging your nails into his scalp and knowing you look like a goddamn wreck as he makes a meal out of you—tongue lapping up your slick and swirling your clit before sealing his lips around it and forcing your back off the leather beneath it. "Please, don't stop, please—"

It's all you can manage to say. Your thighs are shaking now, and you're sure he's got you dripping all over his face with how soaked you are. He knows you're falling apart and he just keeps going— your brain ceasing function in favour of just focusing on how fucking close you are—how close you are to something you've never felt before in your life—and you're not even sure what you're begging for anymore but it's incoherent and loud—

"I need—" you whimper, your hands tightening in his hair, pulling just enough to make him groan against you. You don't know what you're asking for, but you know he has it. "I need—I need—“

"Let go," he murmurs against you, the roughness in it vibrating up into your belly. "I dare you."

There's still a little bit of you functioning on autopilot, just enough to tell you that when he murmurs those words—vibrations rattling up your cunt and into your chest—you're completely done for.

It’s merely a few seconds later that your high reaches its peak and he just keeps lapping as you shake apart beneath him with an intensity you've never felt before in your life—orgasm shredding you apart at the seams. Your thighs clamp around his face, your eyes squeezed shut, ears ringing so loud you barely register his low, muttered praises: "good girl," "so good," "there you go."

You’re fairly positive your legs will never be able to support you again when you finally come back down, feeling entirely like jelly as he pulls back, tongue flicking over his lips to clean off whatever's left of you.

And without thinking, you grab him and pull him up, crashing your lips against his in a messy, desperate kiss. He tastes like you, like him, like something you can't quite describe—and it makes everything feel intense and unbearably real all at once.

He gives you a moment, as if letting you recover, just languidly kissing you back—and you have to be honest with yourself and admit that this kind of makes you want to scream.

"A disconnect," he smirks against your mouth, the tone still smug. You manage a weak smack to his shoulder, though it does nothing to wipe the satisfaction off his face. "Still sure you're broken?"

You hate that he's right. Hate that he's managed to pull a reaction from you that you didn't think was possible. But as you sit there, shaky and spent, you know you can't deny the truth: no, you're not broken.

"Not broken." You whisper back. "You will be though, if you don't stop smirking at me like that."

[theambitiouswoman]

How to heal your nervous system after a lifetime of abandonment

If you’ve only ever experienced abandonment—whether emotional or physical—your nervous system has likely been in survival mode for most of your life. This means your body and mind have adapted to expect instability, making safety feel unfamiliar and uncomfortable. Healing isn’t just about “thinking positively” or “moving on” but about rewiring your nervous system to feel safe in connection, in stillness & within yourself

When abandonment becomes a pattern, your body learns to stay hyper vigilant, always scanning for signs that people will leave. It will emotionally shut down to avoid further pain. You will attach yourself quickly to people because you are scared that if you don't, you will lose them. You will feel unsafe in healthy relationships and sabotage them

This isn’t a mindset issue—it’s a nervous system issue. Your body is conditioned to see abandonment as inevitable, which is why true healing must happen on a physiological level

So to take control, you have to teach your body that safety exists (even if you don't believe it). And since you probably don't know why that is, you have to start small

I have spoken about these things before, but I am going to explain what they actually do, so that you see that even though they seem silly and pointless, they are very important. You thinking everything has to be a struggle and difficult is just you thinking from a place of survival

Grounding exercises - Grounding actually engages your sense to bring you back to the present moment and help reduce anxiety. Walking barefoot, holding something warm, or pressing your feet into the floor sends signals to your brain that you are physically here and safe. It activates the prefrontal cortex (the rational part of your brain) and quiets the amygdala (the fear center) helping you feel more in control

Weighted blankets- Trigger the release of serotonin (the "feel-good" neurotransmitter) and reduces cortisol (the stress hormone). Deep pressure mimics the calming effect of a hug, which lowers heart rate and blood pressure. It helps regulate the autonomic nervous system, shifting you from fight or flight mode to a state of rest and relaxation

Breathing exercises - They activate the parasympathetic nervous system (PNS), which counteracts stress and signals safety to the brain. Inhaling for 4 seconds, holding for 4 and exhaling for 6 stimulates the vagus nerve, which lowers cortisol and increases feelings of calm. Longer exhales specifically slow your heart rate, reinforcing a sense of control and relaxation

These small habits may feel insignificant at first, but over time, they help retrain your brain and body to recognize safety—not as something foreign, but as your new normal

Abandonment leaves deep emotional wounds, often from childhood. If no one ever soothed you, you must learn to soothe yourself

Affirmations for safety: Instead of just saying “I am worthy”, try “I am safe in this moment” or “I do not have to earn love”

Inner child work: Imagine speaking to your younger self. What would they need to hear? Start telling yourself those things daily

If you’ve only known unpredictable or inconsistent love, you may chase people or push them away before they can leave. Start practicing security within yourself first by keeping small promises to yourself. Surrounding yourself with emotionally safe people, even if it's just online or even books at first. Something that feels SAFE to you

Your nervous system might be wired to assume people will leave, so you either cling or detach first. Instead, start training yourself to trust in small ways by watching for people who are consistent, emotionally available and respect your boundaries. You are taking back control by paying attention to their actions and deciding if you want them in your life. When something feels safe, let it last as long as it should, don't sabotage it just because you are expecting the worst. You are worthy of good connections

Teach your nervous system that love doesn’t have to be earned. That you don’t have to fight for people who are meant to stay. You are not broken—you are healing

[nanaslutt]

Ok so I was thinking about soul swap (??) With gojo. Gojo doing🫣 stuff to his body in which readers soul is from readers body. Or can have reader doing stuff with her body..hope u understand kinda high rn. 😵‍💫😵‍💫

Body swap with Gojo

contains: fem reader, masturbation (m&f), reader & Gojo’s perspectives, perv!gojo & reader, multiple orgasms, “first orgasm” (experienced as the opposite sex), dirty talk, teasing, mutual pining

MDNI

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ

"Gojo this is fucking serious!" You yelled, still getting caught off guard when Satoru's voice could be heard in your ears even though you were the one talking. "Okay okayy, I'll text Ijichi to come to get us, relax your little head." He responded in your voice. This whole thing was so fucked up. The two of you were fighting some curse together-- Gojo had no real reason to be there but he insisted on it for "safety reasons" (he was bored). You had gotten hit once by the curse right before you finished it off, and nothing strange had happened until Gojo came up to you and laid his hand on your shoulder to make sure you were alright, and that's when it happened—the soul swap.

Gojo pulled out his phone and held it out in front of himself, waiting for the face ID to scan him in. The man that currently resided in your body shook the device, frustrated. "Oh, this fuckin'..." He gave up, typing in his password as the device buzzed again and again, refusing to let him in. His antics made you giggle, turning your head to the side you sniffed to conceal any laughter he might pick up before you went back to watching him call for help.

"Ijichi? Heyyy, little problem~" Your higher-pitched voice reverberated through his speaker, no doubt confusing the poor overworked man on the other end. "Why do I have Gojo's phone? Funny you ask.." Gojo went on to pace around the area, throwing your hands up in the air as he explained the situation to Ijichi. You took the opportunity to look down at your temporary body, running your hands down the sides of Gojo's massive coat, which actually fit him. You felt the hardness underneath his clothes, pouting your bottom lip out in surprise, you figured Gojo would be fit, but you never knew for certain.

You had been a teacher at Jujutsu High for as long as he had, and the two of you had gotten quite close—which is why you didn't put up a fight when he insisted on coming on this mission with you, now you were starting to regret your decision. "Checkin' out my body while I was callin' for help? Perv~" Gojo teased, blocking your body off in a cross with his arms dramatically as he spoke. "Don't flatter yourself Satoru, you had something on your jacket." You lied through your teeth.

"It feels weird to hear my own voice chastise myself.." He pouts, placing a hand on his hip. "Yeah, well it doesn't feel great to see you flaunting around in my body either." You respond, holding a dejected look on Satoru's features that he probably has never made in his life. "Oh? you don't like me inside you?" He teased, covering his mouth as he giggled mischievously. "Please don't say gross things in my voice," you responded, rolling your eyes as you started to make your way out of the run-down building so Ijichi could see the two of you from the street.

"You're so serious~" He teased, using your shorter legs to run up to you and wrap himself around your arm, leaning your head against his arm as the two of you walked. "Also why did you not tell me you had to pee so bad." He said, making you choke on your own spit as you stopped in your pursuit of the road. "You are not under any circumstances going to piss while you're in my body." You emphasized, making a point to look into his eyes when you spoke.

"Why? Don't want me to see your cunt? heh." He laughed, once again using his filthy mouth to defile your voice. "What do you think Satoru?" You said, deadpanning at him. "Ahh~ you make my face look so scary~" He teased, curling your body up to his own arm once more as the two of you pushed forth towards society once more.

Once Ijichi's car, and the anxious man himself, came into view, you pushed the body that was clinging too tightly to your arm off of you. "Are you two alright?" He asked, coming up to your body. "Oh, Ijichi ~ you're such a caring man~ why don't you-" "That Gojo Ijichi, don't forget.' You reminded, looking blankly down at the dark-haired man, who had started to blush at your words. After an apology from the nervous man, and a quick slap to your body's shoulder that made Gojo whine through his laugh, the two of you got into the car.

The drive had started off with more shenanigans from Gojo in your body, trying to fluster Ijichi, which you quickly shut down by slapping Gojo's large hand over your own mouth. After that though, the drive started to quiet down, the three of you falling into a comfortable silence save for the radio playing some generic song in the background to fill the void. You noticed Gojo had started to bounce his leg in your body, peeking out the corner of your eye you saw your head was tipped back on the headrest, your eyes were squeezed shut, and your lip was pulled between your teeth; you looked like you were in pain.

"Gojo." You whispered, making him drop his chin and look at you, before he smiled through the uncomfortably, "I wasn't lying about needing to-" You quickly cut him off, waving his hands in front of you, "I know, I know." You said, before heaving out a sigh, "This fucking suuuuck." You drawled, letting your own head tip back agaisnt the headrest as you heard your own voice giggle at your unfortunate situation.

—

"Satoru hurry!" You yelled, tapping your foot anxiously on the ground as you stood in front of the bathroom door with your arms crossed, waiting for Gojo to finish his business. "Don't rush me! It's hard to pee with a blindfold on you know." He sighed, your voice coming through the door muffled. You had tied Gojo's own pitch-black blindfold over his eyes before you let him go into the bathroom, making sure he couldn't see a thing. You wanted him to leave to door open so you could make sure he really didn't peek, but then you put yourself in his shoes and realized you wouldn't want Gojo to watch while you were.. so you abandoned that thought.

Right before you were about to yell at the man for taking too long again, he opened the door, the blindfold off of your eyes and in your hands. Your face tunred beat red, your jaw dropped and your lungs filled with profanities and curses, ready to spill but- "I took it off to wash my hands captain stick-up-her-ass, relax~" He said, giving you a smug look before he pushed past you and started walking down the hallway. You bit your tongue as you watched your body move down the hall, "Where are you going?" You asked, placing your hands on his hips.

"Well~ I was hoping you could show me to your room because.." He held your hands out in front of him before he gestured to your body, which was covered in dirt, debris, curse blood, you name it. You could feel a headache start to come on, rubbing your fingers against his temple you sighed, realizing he was going to have to take a shower. You followed in his footsteps down the hall as you passed him, leading him to your room. "Thank you~" He cooed, a pep in his step as he followed behind you.

Once you reached your room you gripped your hand on the top of the door as he slipped under your arm and made his way into your room. You were caught off guard for a second, you knew Gojo was big, but you never really realized your size difference until now. Feeling yourself grow hot in the face you quickly snapped yourself out of it as you followed him into your room.

"Ahhhhh~" Gojo moaned in your voice, plopping him and his filthy body down on your pristine sheets. "You have two seconds to get off my bed before I use your own technique to kill you." You said with his deep voice, making him sigh as he reluctantly dropped his legs back down onto the floor and dragged his body off the sheets, standing as he crossed his arms at you. "Im tireddd, you seriously need to work on your stamina." He said, rubbing your thighs with your hands, "This body is exhausted, I feel like I'm going to collapse." He complained.

You ignored his comments as you dug through your drawer, trying to find something sufficient for him to change into. You settled on a pair of shorts and a baggy t-shirt, collecting them under your arm you threw them in his direction, the man skillfully catching them in his hands. "You don't have anything a little sexier?" He said, holding up the ragged band tee in front of him while he tucked the shorts under his arms. "Please." You begged, your eye twitching when you turned to look at him.

"You should probably.." You froze, your face heating up at the words you haven't even spoken yet. "Stop making me look so bashful, it's unbecoming." He said, a face of displeasing spreading itself on your futures. "God- Fuck, please just go take a shower and don't.. don't- don't be weird!" You sputtered, throwing your hands in the air in defeat before you opened the door and stepped aside so he could leave your bedroom and head for the shower rooms. "Yes ma'am~" He cooed, looking up at you through your lashes at you while he walked past you and started down the hallway.

Once he was out of view, you shut your door behind yourself as you slid down the wood dramatically, burring your face in Gojo's massive hands as you tried not to think too hard about what he might see, or what he was going to do with your body.

--

Gojo locked the door to the shower rooms behind him, screw anyone else that needed to wash up he needed to be alone right now. Your pleas and begs to not look at your body too long or be weird with yourself getting thrown out the window when your frame came into view in the full-length mirror that was in the bathroom before the shower stalls. He whistled at what he saw, turning himself around he looked over your shoulder and stared at your ass through the mirror.

Gojo was having the time of his life checking out his new temporary body. He was astonished at how pretty you still managed to look with messed up hair and ruined clothes. He stared intently at your body as he turned back around and started unzipping your jacket slowly, biting his lip when your body clad in a tight black t-shirt came into view. "Fuck, this is insane." Gojo laughed to himself, feeling a familiar yet unfamiliar warmth blossom in your stomach.

He let the jacket drop to the floor before he crossed his arms over your body and gripped the bottom of your shirt as he slowly dragged the fabric up and over your head, a shaky breath escaping your lips when he saw your bare flesh, the top half of your figure only being clad in a bra. "She'll never know." He giggled to himself before he turned around again, slipping your fingers under the hem of your pants he slowly and seductively slid them down your body, the heat in his stomach growing when your pantyclad pussy came into view as he kicked the pants to the side.

"Who knew all I had to do to get you naked was to do it myself." He said, watching himself in the mirror. Fuck, your voice was turning him on. He might be the one in control of your body right now, but the soul residing inside was still Gojo Satoru, the man who got hard watching you stretch your arms over your head before you spared. He turned around and reached his hand behind his back to unclasp your bra, biting his lip and smiling when he felt your tits fall freely in the air.

"Fuck." He wined in your voice, making your body grow wet as he slid the garment off your body and let it join the pile that had built up on the floor. He brought your hands up to your breasts as squished them together, kneading the soft mounds in his hands, pinching your nipples, jiggling them around, he touched and manipulated them in all the ways he could thing, all while he giggled at his own ministrations. "Now to see this cunt~"

--

Back in your room, you were still on the floor, your head had left the confines of your hands as it rested against the door with your eyes shut. You were going over in your head the way you looked from his point of view; how much smaller than him you were, the height difference, his deep voice, how warm his body was, how- what the fuck was that? You swore you felt something twitch in his pants. You dropped your gaze hesitantly to his lap and noticed a large tent was poking up right where his crotch was.

You had got to be joking. While fantasizing in his body, you had accidentally riled yourself up to the point you were sporting a boner? This was unreal. How did it go away? How long would it take? Oh god, why was his pervy body so sensitive? You did notice the familiar warmth in your lower regions, only in this body, instead of almost feeling your arousal throughout your whole body, you felt it more focused on his crotch.

You bit your lip, shutting your eyes as you tipped your head back against the door again. You couldn't stop your mind from wandering back to all the little things you noticed while being in his body, you wanted to stop you really did, you could not be like Gojo, you were not a perv, you were not a hypocrite.. but one look couldn't hurt anything right? Gojo would likely be in the bathroom for a while, he would never know if you just looked at it, right?

With a heavy sigh, you stood up and walked up to your full-length mirror, unzipping his jacket quickly and throwing it on your bed you lifted his shirt up on his body and stared at his insane physique. His abs seemed to glow under the light in your room, and the indents and muscles on his frame seemed to go on forever. How did he manage to stay so fit when he was constantly eating all those sweets? Men..

The bulge his body was sporting in his slacks made the whole view look so much more erotic, you bit your lip, your breath picking up the more you shamelessly gazed at his body in the mirror. You lifted his shirt more to get a view of his rock-hard pecs, a shaky breath leaving his lungs at his long and toned torso completely unobstructed by clothes to your eyes. You had already come this far.. looking a little more wouldn't hurt right? It's not like you were going to touch anything and besides! Gojo was absolutely doing the exact same thing right now.

Although the thought of Gojo checking out your body the way you were doing to him right now made your face heat up, you once again felt that same twitching under his pants. "Ugh, fucking quit that!" You chastised his dick, your face scrunching up in annoyance as you spoke to it.

You slipped his fingers under his waistband, you slid the fabric down lower- his v-line became more visible to you, lower- a white happy trail was exposed, lower- the base of his cock was unveiled as you could now see it throb under your gaze. You slid his pants down to about his mid-thighs, biting your lip as a shaky moan left his lips, making you feel dizzy at the erotic sound. His cock dripped a thick drop of pre onto the floor beneath you as you watched it hang freely in the room, twitching in the air.

He was so big it almost made you mad, realizing at that moment his cockiness and confidence not only came from his good looks and impressive talent but also from his massive cock. You dropped to his knees, perching yourself on them as you pulled up his shirt and bit the fabric between your teeth, letting yourself have a full view of his body. "Fuck." You moaned, the sound coming out muffled from the fabric tucked between your teeth as you let his warm hands come up to caress his body.

You felt every indent and ridge his body had to offer as you smoothed his massive hands over his body. Any guild you might've felt earlier being washed away at the unreal sight in front of you. The throbbing in his crotch was becoming unbearable the longer you worked yourself up. You tried to stop your hands from dropping any lower, you really did, but when you felt the way his hand wrapped around his cock, the relief, the pleasure, you had no regrets.

--

Gojo sat on the floor of the shower with a slack jaw as he watched your small fingers piston in and out of your tight cunt, moaning and whining at how warm and wet you felt around your fingers. "S-Satoru, Satoru-" He moaned in your voice, getting himself off on hearing your voice moan out his name. "Fuck- this feels so fucking good-" He whined, tipping his head bak agaisnt the shower wall.

He thought fingering himself would feel uncomfortable, but he was sorely mistaken. Your body was made for taking things inside your tight little cunt, the feeling of pleasure immediately washing over his body from just sliding his fingers inside your cunt. He had already cum twice from fingering your body and rubbing your fingers over your sensitive clit, he just couldn't get enough. He had no idea how long he had been in there for, but the water was still running hot so it couldn't have been that long.

"Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me, yesyesyes-" He moaned in your voice, wanting to get the most out of this experience while he could, he didn't know if he would ever get to be this up close and personal with your body again after all. He tweaked your nipples in his fingers, biting your lip as loud moans echoed off the walls of the bathroom, his hips humping into your fingers as he felt himself approach another orgasm.

"Soooooo fucked- heh- S-so fucked up" He groaned, your voice raising in pitch as he fought the urge to keep your legs apart, moaning out his name once more when he came. Your body curled in on itself as he continued fucking his fingers in and out of your cunt, working himself through the orgasm. "A-ahhh ngh- fuck-" He wined, pulling his fingers from your walls as your legs snapped shut, and your cunt clenched around nothing. The friction your thighs brought on your sensitive cunt as you came down from your orgasm felt heavenly.

Your body relaxed under the pelting water droplets hit his body, your gasps filling the bathroom as he tried to catch his breath. Gojo couldn't help but think how much better it felt to come as a woman, he felt like his whole soul left his body each time he came, the electricity that zapped through his whole body and made his mind cloudy was a feeling that could not be beat. He almost started mourning the curse you had killed, he wanted to experience this all the time.

With a sigh he pulled himself off of the floor, standing on shaky legs as he shut off the water and giggled to himself as he took the towel down from the side of the shower. "Fuck, it feels a little sore down there.. hope she doesn't notice, heh." And with that, the white-haired man started to dry off your hair and dress your body back up in the nice clean clothes you had given him.

--

"Fuck- fuck- o-ohmygod" You rapidly stroked your hand over his cock while you stared at Gojo's body in the mirror. It was a weird feeling, being aroused by this body while you had full control over it, but the fucked up situation almost made it more exciting. Gojo's balls felt so heavy and warm under your palm as you massaged in between your fingers. His back arched in the mirror every time you ran your hand over the sensitive tip of his dick.

It had taken you a minute to get used to the feeling and to find the right rhythm, but once you did, you were going fucking insane. You don't know how Gojo had lived his whole life with such a sensitive cock, every time you stroked over his length his body jerked and twitched, pre cum dripped from his dick, and his breath hitched, it was a mess. His needy whines and deep groanes you had occasionally let slip was driving your arousal up the walls, the way his abs clenched under your ministrations, and the feeling of his cock twitching when the stimulation got too much; you were feeling drunk.

"Right fucking- there- yess~" You groaned in his voice, stroking his cock slower but rougher as you squeezed your fist tightly around him. You wished you could fuck someone while you were in his body. If his hand felt this good, could you imagine how a mouth felt around it? Or a pussy? An ass? The possibilities and fantasies you were painting in your head were making his balls tighten, a familiar feeling coiling itself in the pit of his stomach.

"Shit, think I'm gonna cum." You vocalized, wanting to hear his voice, as the effect it had on you was embarrassing. You might be incapable of saying the filthy shit Gojo says on a daily basis, but you were sure as hell good at moaning and vocalizing your pleasure when something felt good. You wanted to hear how his voice sounded when it moaned out your name, but the embarrassment was too much, just thinking about it made you blush.

Your breath picked up as you thrust his hips to meet your strokes, both losing rhythm as you brought his body closer and closer to orgasm. "A-ahhh- fuck its coming its- fu-fuck-" You groaned, watching with a slacked jaw as long ropes of cum spurted out of his dick. Some of the ropes coated his hand and eased the slide on his cock as you stroked him through his orgasm, some being shot out onto the mirror in front of you, making the whole scene look pornographic.

His orgasm felt different from the ones you were used to, but it felt just as good. The heat was stronger in the pit of your stomach, and his cock was ten times as sensitive as your clit usually was right when you came. You felt different afterward too, a wave of shame and realization flooded over you when you realized what you had just done. "Ughhhh.." You groaned, being able to blame the unreasonable hornieness on this new body of yours as you washed the shame from your head, using a nearby towel from the other night to wipe off your dirtied mirror and his sensitive cock.

You winced and sucked a breath in through your teeth at the oversensitivity you felt while you wiped off his softening cock; silently curing him as it was still massive when it was flaccid. As soon as you tucked his cock back into his pants and straightened his apearance back up, you heard a knock on your door that nearly sent your soul flying out of your body.

"Let me innn, it's cold out here~" You heard your voice whine from the other side of the door. You took a deep breath before you walked over to the door and pulled it open, being faced with a damp-haired you. "Why do I look like shit? My face is so red." Gojo complained, walking past you as he dumped your clothes in your hamper before he walked over to your mirror to fix up your still-wet hair.

"Just got hot," You brushed off his remark. "How was your shower?" You asked, avoiding eye contact as you watched him fix your hair in the mirror. "Ohh you know~ Hot." He giggled. You rolled your eyes at his words, dismissing him as you plopped his heavy body on your bed and stared at the ceiling.

"I need to get my body back." You mumbled under your breath, making him look over to you from his place in front of the mirror, "What was that?" He asked, making you bite your lip between your teeth as you sighed heavily, replaying the last couple minutes over and over in your head. "Oh, nothing." You replied, biting the inside of your cheek.

part 2 :)

[sellenite]

cherry blossoms 01 pairing: virgin!Choso x fem!reader contents: phone sex, mutual masturbation (f! and m!), JOI (m! receiving), Choso's first orgasm, praise kink (but in the softest way possible), friends to lovers, soft-smut word count: 1.9K MDNI | 18+

virgin!Choso who met you shortly after he met Yuji. He was wary of most people, but he thought your eyes were kind and pretty, and your voice was soothing and soft as you introduced yourself to him. He blushed when you asked him what his name was and he told you, still a little nervous. And then you smiled up at him, so sweet and bright, and told him yours and he swore it became his new favorite word.

virgin!Choso who started spending more time with you, because you made him feel safe. He was used to violence, used to being treated like a weapon by the people who had claimed to be his “allies.” But everything felt different with you. You helped teach him about the world, helped him to understand himself. You were patient and gentle, warm sunlight on the cold, barren existence that had been his life for so many years prior.

virgin!Choso who liked hearing you laugh more than anything. Sometimes he would make you laugh on accident, sometimes on purpose, but he didn’t really care either way. He liked watching the way your eyes creased at the corners, sometimes the tip of your nose. He liked when he made you laugh really hard too, when little tears would roll down your cheeks and the sounds of your giggles would be cut off by your panting. He made you laugh really hard today when he so innocently asked about something he had heard Yuji say to Megumi:

“Yuji was talking about something called ‘sloppy toppy’… Do you know where you get that from?”

You swore you were going to die of asphyxiation from the way your body convulsed and curled in on itself. Choso didn’t understand what was so funny, but he smiled as you wiped tears from your eyes.

virgin!Choso whose eyebrows knitted together intensely when you told him what “sloppy toppy” meant. He understood the basics of sex (as in he knew that it was how humans reproduced), but he had never experienced the desire for it or feelings of lust. But this new vocabulary word had introduced so many questions he had never considered before; how sex could just be for pleasure, how many different ways you could have it, what it felt like... The blush on your cheeks darkened as his questions turned more intimate, letting his genuine curiosity guide him.

“The first and most important thing about having sex is that you feel safe with the person you’re having it with,” you explained to him after a while of answering his questions.

“Safe like how I feel with you?” Choso asked you softly, looking into your eyes with his deep purple ones. You felt your breath catch in your throat, your cheeks blushing pink. You nodded softly, but gently changed the subject.

virgin!Choso who couldn’t help but go home that night and think about everything you had taught him. He thought of your pretty eyes as you explained everything to him in your soothing voice. He thought of the way your soft lips looked when you smiled or how they glistened when you wet them with your tongue. He laid in bed and felt an unfamiliar pressure in his pants, almost as if he was in pain. He shifted around, trying to get the feeling to go away but it felt like all he could focus on was his dick. He lifted up the waistband of his sweatpants to look at himself, seeing his cock resting stiffly against his stomach, swelling up as fluid leaked from the tip of it. He groaned low in his throat, suddenly wishing you were there with him in his room. He wanted you to be there to help him; to explain in your soft, sweet voice what was happening to him, why his cock was so hard and why it was dripping so much.

virgin!Choso who called you because he just couldn’t take it anymore and he didn’t know what to do.

“Choso? Everything okay?” You asked him in your sweet voice, slightly concerned because it was almost 1:00 AM at this point and he usually didn't call you this late.

He swallowed a lump in his throat as he held the phone up to his ear with one hand, the other pushing the waistband of his sweatpants down to free his throbbing cock. He groaned at the feeling of the fabric brushing against his sensitive balls as he shifted them down.

“It’s so hard right now and it keeps leaking… I don’t know what to do,” Choso’s deep voice whined over the phone.

“It’s-? Ohhh…” You felt your breath catch in your throat as his words sank in, sitting up in your bed as you heard his needy tone. You bit into your lip, feeling a steady ache between your thighs building at the sound of his voice alone. You took a deep breath as you collected yourself the best you could.

“Umm, well… Sometimes the best way to make it go away is to make yourself cum,” you explained softly, feeling an odd mix of embarrassment and arousal at the same time. Choso was your friend, and he was calling you so innocently about his problem, he probably didn’t even realize how erotic it was.

virgin!Choso who did in fact realize how erotic it was when hearing your soft voice on the other end of the line made his cock twitch.

“I don’t know how…” Choso groaned softly in response to your suggestion, watching the fluid leak from the tip of his aching cock and drip onto the bottom of his stomach.

You squeezed your eyes shut at the sound of his voice, simultaneously tensing your thighs together as your own need grew rapidly. You bit your lip as your next response bounced around in your head for a few moments before you answered.

“I could… Tell you how… If you want,” you offered softly, your voice like a sweet whisper in Choso’s ear. Choso nodded quickly as his hand gripped onto his phone a little harder.

“Please,” he said softly, and it took everything in your power to not moan at how hot his husky voice sounded when he was so desperate for you.

virgin!Choso whose phone was now on speaker as you guided him through how to touch himself. He wrapped his large palm around his girth, groaning in pleasure as you told him to use the leaky fluid from his tip to slide his hand down his length. He listened obediently, his breath shaky as he followed the rhythm of your voice, telling him to slide his hand down… up… down… up… down… up…

He couldn’t help but let out a soft whimper as your voice controlled his every movement, feeling his hips twitching, jerking up into his hand instinctively. The sounds were so erotic: his whimpers through the phone; the soft, wet sounds you could hear coming from the movement of his palm over his skin. You were trying so hard not to touch yourself, your thighs squeezing together impossibly tight as you bit into your lip to suppress the urge to moan back in response to his whiny breaths.

“Squeeze your fist a little tighter when you get to your tip, Choso… Does that feel good?” You asked him, your own breathing getting a little heavy from trying to remain composed.

“Yes… Yes… Feels so good,” Choso whimpered as he fisted his cock on the other end of the line. You let out a soft moan of your own. You didn’t even remember moving your pillow, but there it was, in between your legs as you humped your aching, panty-clad pussy into it.

virgin!Choso who heard your soft moan and he almost came on the spot, his breath stuttering as he heard your angelic voice sound so lewd.

“D-do that again… Please,” he begged softly, increasing the pace of his hand as his hips thrusted up into the tight grip of his fist. His head was tilted back into his pillow, eyes almost closed, his lids so heavy from pleasure. You could envision all of it now as your own eyes squeezed shut, grinding into your pillow a little harder so the seam of the casing rubbed against your swollen clit. You heard the wet sounds of his fist sliding up and down his shaft and you moaned a little louder as you rubbed your clit into the pillow.

Choso whimpered as he heard your moans through the phone. He could feel a coiling pleasure building in his lower body quickly now, every thrust into his fist making him feel even more desperate. The sounds he was making were breathy and frantic as he braced against the dizzying pressure of the newfound sensations. His body was acting on pure instinct, pushing himself rapidly towards an unknown edge.

He whimpered your name out and you knew he was close. Your own arousal only increased as you imagined it was him you were humping so desperately as he whined beneath you. Your fingers slipped into your panties, sliding into your soaking hole as you rocked against them, moaning loudly as you felt your own climax building.

“K-keep stroking your cock for me, Cho… Want you to cum nice and hard for me, okay?” Your voice was breathless and punctuated by your own soft moans as you heard Choso groaning and whimpering in agreement as he loudly fucked into his fist. His back arched as he thrusted his swollen cock up into his palm, wishing it were your hand, your mouth, or the space between your thighs that he now realized he was longing to see.

virgin!Choso who sobbed your name out as he came into his fist, fucking up into his hand as ropes of his warm cum shot out of his swollen cock and fell back onto his hand, his abdomen, his thighs... His balls were so heavy—his thick cock twitching with every spurt that released from his slit—and his hips jerked up as he painted his body with his seed. He whimpered as it kept coming, his head thrown back and eyes squeezed shut as he panted and moaned loudly. You could hear him whine louder from the other end of the phone, as you brought yourself closer and closer to your own climax.

“So good, Choso… You did so good,” you praised him breathlessly, your own body leaning forward as you moaned into the phone. You rolled your hips furiously into the pillow, bolstered by his desperate whimpers as you came around your fingers. You whined for him now too, riding out your own high as Choso’s breathing slowly returned to normal on the other side of the phone.

virgin!Choso who broke the silence first.

“Did you… Did you cum too?” He asked breathlessly, plump lips parted slightly as he stared up at his ceiling, eyes still half-lidded as he came down from the high of his first orgasm.

You swallowed as your body relaxed into your bed, pillow still trapped between your thighs.

“Um yeah, I did,” you laughed a little nervously. The reality of what just occurred between the two of you was sinking in now that you both had climaxed. There was some silence on both ends as you both breathed heavily.

“Good,” Choso said softly, smiling up at his ceiling. “Maybe next time… We could do it together?”

virgin!Choso who would not be a virgin for much longer after that night!

PSA: thank you so much for reading <3

[bunnis-monsters]

Devoted

Yandere!Knight Elf x Princess!Reader

Bunni’s Monstertober

Oct 15th

Oct 14

Oct 16

summary: your knight is having scandalous thoughts about you…

warnings: dirty thoughts, nudity

Devoted.

It’s what every knight was, devoted to those they protected, devoting their bodies, hearts, and souls to the royal family and their safety.

But for your knight… it was more than that.

He had spent years wandering the earth, despising human kind for the slaughter of his brethren. To him, humans were selfish and cruel creatures that cared not for nature or other beings, only for their own personal gain.

That was… until he met you.

He had been starving to death, an intentional choice on his behalf. The world had rejected him, taken away all of his loved ones and left him to be all alone, with no one to share his long life with.

When a carriage passed by the tree he leaned against, the place he had picked for his final rest, he hadn’t been expecting a woman to jump out and run in his direction, lifting his chin and pouring cool water down his parched, dry throat.

“Gods, you’re skin and bones. Are you alright..? No, of course you aren’t…”

Within moments, you were flanked by several men in armor, men he would later come to know as royal knights.

“Princess, please return to the carriage. It is not wise to interact with… beings such as himself.”

You shot the knight a look and he quickly backed down. “If I were to ignore a dying man when I am able to help, who am I to call myself a princess of the people?”

The elf attempted to pull his head away, but was both too weak… and too mesmerized by your beauty to do anything but let you feed and nurture him as he was taken back to the palace.

Over the next few days, he was taken care of thoroughly by the palace staff, his every need tended to.

He found out by listening in to the maids outside his room that you had ordered all of the palace to take care of him as if he were royalty himself.

You quickly scolded anyone that dared to even play with idea of discriminating against him due to him being an elf. It was… refreshing, and he felt strange hearing a human speak of him as if he were a person.

As he recovered, you visited him as much as your duties allowed, chatting with him and making sure he was being treated well.

He felt strange when he started looking forward to your visits, even wanting to recover faster so he could stay by your side at all times.

And he was able to achieve his dream by moving up the ranks as a knight, eventually becoming your personal guard. It wasn’t easy, the training was grueling and he was mistreated for being an elf…

But a year later he kneeled before you as your personal knight. He put the work on and climbed the ranks… all for you.

It didn’t take long for him to gain your trust. After all, you were a kind and fair princess. You didn’t judge him for being an elf, something he had never experienced before. He was your knight, and you believed in his strength.

And when he took over protecting you, he started to get a bit… greedy.

He didn’t like that other people got to see and touch you. They were filthy humans who only wanted to use and abuse you.

Even the maids helping you dress and bathe would coo soft compliments, saying how they adored their princess and wanted nothing more than to see you happy.

But he heard what they’d say in the hallways. He would hear their hateful words and gossip. They hated you for being royal, for having a better life than them,

They didn’t know you like he did.

Slowly, he began gathering evidence against each maid and butler, every single body guard and knight that attended you was either fired or executed.

No one should be able to be so close to you… no one but him.

It was late one night when he first saw your bare body. You were bathing, him standing by the door, facing it to guard you.

Having been pampered your entire life, you didn’t exactly know how to properly bathe yourself. Now that all your maids had been fired, you didn’t know what to do with yourself.

“C-could you… help me?”

The tips of his elf ears turned pink when he turned to see you leaning against the edge of the tub, your soft breast squished by the cool surface.

The mere sight of your plump form bare in front of him was enough to have his cock straining against his pants.

“Of course, my princess…”

He sat down on the edge of the bath, slowly easing the shampoo into your hair. After that was your body, and he steeled himself before moving forward.

Moving the washcloth against your soft flesh felt almost sinful. You were his princess, and yet he was touching forbidden territory. Although he tried his best to avert his eyes, he ended up catching sight of your pretty, fat pussy.

It looked so soft, and he could almost picture how cute you’d look all stretched out on his cock. How you’d moan for him to be gentle, burying your face into his neck.

He’d comply, giving you the tender lovemaking you deserved…

After your bath, he had to tuck you into bed before leaving the room to deal with his throbbing erection.

His princess… how he wanted to keep you pure and innocent… but his desires were overwhelming.

Perhaps he could use his elven beauty to woo you and take you away… after all, he could never have you while under that kingdom’s law.

Soon, you would be his…

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