#i just feel weird. not in a bad way though? i think?

[pochaccoups]

facetime — choi seungcheol & yoon jeonghan

pairing — choi seungcheol x yoon jeonghan x f!reader

summary — when three people in a relationship want to fuck but one of them is in a different country, facetime comes in pretty handy.

wc — 4k

warnings — nsfw content minors dni! smut, established polyamorous relationship, threesome (technically), phone sex, butt plugs, anal and vaginal fingering, oral (m and f receiving), masturbation, so much dirty talk, soft dom!seungcheol, brat tamer!seungcheol, prone bone, creampie, slight daddy kink, reader referred to as a girl, a lot of ‘cheollie’ and ‘hannie’ sorry but i think they sound cute

author’s note — umm hi can u tell i had so much fun writing this …… this will be part of a poly jeongcheol series i have in the works so pls stay tuned and enjoy !!! :>

seungcheol: just finished up the show, what are you up to?

jeonghan: busy.

Attached is a photo that’s slightly shaky and dimly lit, but Seungcheol can make out every detail of you with Jeonghan’s cock halfway down your throat. 

It takes less than a second for Seungcheol’s caller ID to pop up on Jeonghan’s phone screen, and Jeonghan doesn’t hesitate to answer. 

“Yah… You know I hate being left out,” is the first thing Seungcheol says. The sound of his deep voice makes you draw your mouth off of Jeonghan.

“Cheollie?” you ask, beaming as you snatch your boyfriend’s phone from his hands so that you can see your other boyfriend through the screen. 

“Hi, pretty,” Seungcheol says, waving. He looks hot, but that’s a perpetual characteristic of his. He hasn’t removed his makeup yet, and his hair, getting longer, is still styled from the show. “Miss me?”

“So much. We both do,” you say with a grin. You make a show of mouthing at Jeonghan’s cock for the camera, sticking out your tongue so you can slap the tip on it, swirling it around, all with a faint mischievous gleam in your eyes at the sound of one boyfriend’s whines and the other’s sulking.

“Yeah? Doesn’t really seem like you do,” Seungcheol says, laying back on a bed that’s way too soft, too cold, too far away. 

“Seungcheollie, you know how needy our girl is-ah,” Jeonghan pipes up, moaning as you wrap your lips around him and bob your head up and down. 

“I do know, and you’re not innocent either, Jeonghan. You miss getting your pretty little ass fucked, don’t you?” 

You worry Jeonghan will bust then and there from the way his cock twitches in your mouth, but fuck was Seungcheol right. It’s why you all prefer to have sex with all three of you present, because at this point having someone missing feels… weird. Not bad. Definitely not. But the absence of a third lover becomes far too apparent.

Right now, you and Jeonghan don’t have much of a choice though. Duty calls, meaning Seungcheol is touring on the other side of the world—has been for the last two weeks and will be for another two weeks. Jeonghan would be with him if it weren’t for his enlistment. Alas, you have Seungcheol’s voice to do what it does best: tell you two exactly what to do. 

“Take all of him, baby, you know you can,” he says, soft and slightly commanding in a way that makes you want to do good just for him, make him proud. And you’ve taken Seungcheol, who’s a little longer and far thicker, all the way down your throat many, many times before that swallowing Jeonghan’s entire length feels like a mere warmup. 

Pride swells through you when your two boyfriends curse above you, filling you with an eagerness to give them more. So while one of your hands holds the phone, albeit shakingly, your other hand pumps the base of Jeonghan’s cock, in rhythm with your mouth as you bob up and down. It’s wet and obscene, the way you lap up the precum that leaks from your boyfriend’s tip only to let it spill from your lips and drool all over him, all over your fingertips. 

Your eyes never break away from Seungcheol, who’s chewing on his bottom lip and staring at you with eyes that are both clouded over with desire and dark with concentration. If you know your boyfriend then he’s thinking of all the things he would do if he was in the same room as you two.

Jeonghan doesn’t expect it when one of your spit-slick fingers creeps down to his ass and traces his hole, and he squirms and cries as you prod at his opening before pushing inside. He’s taken Seungcheol many, many times, too, that your finger should feel like a warmup, but two weeks without his boyfriend’s cock stretching him out is torture, so the slide of your digit in and out is a sweet relief that he’s forgotten. 

You pull your mouth away from him, sitting up on your knees so that you can angle the camera for Seungcheol to watch as your finger dips in, all the way to your knuckle, then back out of Jeonghan’s hole. 

“He’s so whiny today, Cheollie.”

“Mm, more than usual, huh?” he replies, licking his lips, his hand reaching to his crotch to palm at it just a little. He thinks about how his fingers are twice as thick as yours, how Jeonghan would sob if it was his hands inside him. 

“He misses your fat cock,” you say, and Seungcheol feels his sanity jump straight out of his hotel window. You’ve always proven detrimental to his patience and self-control, taking years off of your poor boyfriend’s life with your bratty ways. “Right, Hannie?” you say, right as you pull your finger out of him, grinning as he squirms and curses under his breath as a reply.

You only stop fingering him because you have an idea. With the phone still in hand, you dangle yourself off the side of the king bed to open one of the bedside table drawers, grab the silver heart-shaped plug and bottle of lube, then clamber back between your boyfriend’s legs. Jeonghan watches with glistening eyes as you drizzle the plug with lube. Once it’s drenched, you flip the phone camera around, letting Seungcheol watch as you press the tapered end of the plug against Jeonghan’s hole. The cold toy makes him flinch at first, and he shudders as you circle his rim with it until he’s thoroughly smeared with the sticky liquid. 

The sound Jeonghan makes when you push the plug inside of him is pitiful, and it’s in harmony with a deep groan of approval from Seungcheol. You’re the furthest one from dominant among the three of you, and yet you have these men dangerously wrapped around your finger. Your men.

“There,” you say, content, like you’ve just painted a masterpiece—and your boyfriend’s pretty ass with a cute heart-shaped butt plug nestled inside comes pretty close. 

“That’s my girl. So thoughtful,” says Seungcheol, and his praise ignites you with a sense of accomplishment that rivals the highest of promotions. 

“Can I make him eat me out now?” you ask, because it’s Cheol who does this best; sets the pace, tells you what to do, lets you sit in the palm of his hand while he does all the thinking for the three of you. A true leader, through and through. 

“Keep sucking Hannie off, baby, just for a bit,” is his instruction. It would be easy to disobey him, yes, to disconnect the call and turn off the phone if you so pleased, but the thing about Seungcheol is that even when his voice is soft, it still commands. 

You pout only for the sake of pouting because, really, having Jeonghan’s cock in your mouth is one of your favourite pastimes. You waste no time swallowing him all the way down to his base again, only to pop right back off him just to hear a tortured moan from him. You fall back into an up and down bobbing rhythm then, steadily, lips wrapped tight around your boyfriend’s length in the way that you know won’t make him last long. 

“Jeonghannie,” Seungcheol calls out, but the man in question is too busy whining and whimpering to hear him. When he’s close his brain all but shuts off and the only thing he can do is take whatever he’s getting with pretty, pretty moans. 

“Baby, don’t let him cum yet,” Seungcheol urges you instead. 

Jeonghan nearly sobs this time when you pop your mouth off his cock, but there’s a force in Seungcheol’s voice that compels you to listen. “Yes, daddy,” you say—the cherry on top.

Seungcheol drags a hand over his face, groaning. “Fuck, you two want me dead, huh?”

“Yeah, well, you two are disgusting… and annoying,” says Jeonghan, who sounds thoroughly irritated as a cute frown knits his brows together. 

Poor, poor you, with not one but two needy, jealous boyfriends who can’t stand not being the subjects of all your affection. If it was you in Seungcheol’s position, alone on the other side of the world, you would never get this sulky. You’d be completely rational about it. Obviously.

The urge to soothe Jeonghan comes as an instinct, one that makes you crawl up from between his legs so that you can straddle his slender waist and kiss his pouting lips. He melts into you when you do, mouth moulding against yours so sweetly, his hands falling to your waist and the tips of his fingers dancing softly against your skin. The Facetime call is forgotten, much to Seungcheol’s dismay, as you drop the phone to the bed in favour of cradling Jeonghan’s cheeks in your hands so that you can kiss him harder. Your crotch, still clothed, rocks back and forth over his erection and soon you’re moaning into one another’s mouths, muffled by your tongues that are swirling together. 

Jeonghan doesn’t have half of Seungcheol’s strength to manhandle you around, so he opts to gently guide you off his lap and onto the bed until you’re underneath him. He kisses you once, twice, thrice, leaves you reeling as he moves on to pepper your neck with soft nibbles and scrapes of his teeth. He pulls away for a moment only to drag your t-shirt (one of Seungcheol’s, of course) up and over your head. 

Now that you’re less occupied with Jeonghan’s lips, you pick up the phone again and bring the camera up to your face, grinning at Seungcheol’s small pout on the screen. If you could only hop through the phone and into his lap, you would do it in a heartbeat. 

“Cheollie, wanna see your cock, please,” you say, shivering as Jeonghan mouths at one of your nipples. He flicks it with the tip of his tongue as his hands reach up to grasp your tits delicately, and you sigh when his warm, wet mouth envelops one of your hardened buds. 

“Not yet, baby, I’ll take it out when Jeonghan fucks you, okay?” 

Seungcheol chuckles fondly at your unhappy hum, so he adds, “I wanna cum with you two, yeah?”

“Okay, fine- wait, Hannie,” you whine. “My boobs.”

He peers up, already between your legs, having decided he was done giving attention to your tits. You see right through it—your boyfriend is nothing if not vengeful. 

“You’re too spoiled,” he quips, peeling your shorts and panties down your legs, exposing your drooling pussy to him. 

“And you’re used to Cheollie doing everythi-ahh!” Jeonghan cuts you off when he licks your cunt without warning, sending your eyes rolling back into your head and your hand grabbing a fistful of his now-short hair. He’s far from rough and aggressive, but it’s precisely the patient softness of his touch that leaves you keening for more. 

“Baby, can you do me a favour?” Seungcheol asks, practically cooing as he watches your eyes glaze over with pleasure.

But all you can focus on is the way that Jeonghan’s warm tongue flicks lazily over your clit as well as the grip of his fingers on your thighs. 

“Baby?” Seungcheol tries again, only a little louder. This time your eyes flick to him on the screen and you make a little affirmative noise. “Will you flip the phone screen around for me, please? I wanna watch Hannie eat your pretty pussy.”

You do as he asks, pointing the camera to give Seungcheol a view of his boyfriend between his girlfriend’s thighs. 

“Good girl,” he says, breathier now, his tone darker. It’s deliberate; malicious, you would say—his praise makes you a whiny, needy mess. His voice alone turns you into a slut and he knows that because you’d told him that, word for word. “And since I’m not there, can you play with your tits for me, baby? The way that I would do it? I know it’s not the same, but it’ll still feel good.” 

“Mhm,” you moan. You find yourself closing your eyes as you let go of Jeonghan’s hair and bring your hand to cup your own breast, to squeeze and grope at it, to tweak and tug at your nipple, all while imagining that you’re leaned against your boyfriend’s sturdy, broad body and that it’s his big, unrelenting hand cupping your tits and not your own. 

At the same time, Jeonghan eats your pussy like the fiend that he is. Unlike Seungcheol, who lacks the control to stop himself from ravaging you like an animal until your pussy is raw and puffy, Jeonghan is much more, as he is in all aspects of his life, calculated. He’ll string you along with swipes of his tongue that seem coy until he’s making passes through your folds, prodding at your dripping, awaiting entrance. He licks into your hole and sips at your arousal like it’s honey, intent on making you fall apart slowly.

“How does his mouth feel, angel? Tell him,” says Seungcheol, whose lips have gotten swollen from his relentless chewing on them.

“God, Hannie, feels so good,” you squeak, your eyes still screwed shut as if that’ll help soothe the heat that burns through your body from Jeonghan’s mouth. Your fingers keep pinching at your nipple, and then Jeonghan slips two of his fingers into your heat, sending your hips bucking against his face and leaving you whining desperately, shamelessly. 

While his mouth makes out with your cunt, Jeonghan’s fingers dip in and out of you, massaging at your most sensitive spot over and over. He finds it with practiced ease, and he knows by now exactly what kind of vigour it needs to have you crying. He’s practically petting at your insides, your walls clamping around his fingers as your moans start to grow louder.

“H-hannie, I’m close, please, right there,” you squirm as your walls attempt to suck his fingers in.

You don’t see it, but his eyes flash with something devilish. Your other boyfriend sees it, though. 

“Jeonghan, don’t even think about edging her.”

Jeonghan smirks with mischief, letting his fingers do the work as he pulls his mouth away from your pussy. 

“Let me have my fun, Seungcheollie.” 

“If I did that neither you nor her would cum at all,” is your other boyfriend’s response. 

There’s silence as Jeonghan ponders whether he should obey or disobey. All the while, you’re mere inches away from your edge, hot with frustration because it’s so close; you’re so close. You just need a little bit more. It’s not too much to ask.

“Hannie, please…”

And he can’t find it in himself to deprive you any longer, so he crooks his fingers and works them as fast as he possibly can until you’re clenching, gushing, writhing all around his hand, wailing his name as you grab at his wrist but he still won’t stop. 

“Such a good boy, huh, Jeonghannie? Making her cum so good,” comes Seungcheol’s voice, sounding more breathless with each time he speaks. “Now we’re all happy.”

It’s only once your walls have stopped spasming around his fingers that Jeonghan finally slips them out of you and pops them straight into his mouth, licking them clean of every drop of your sugary arousal. He makes sure to gaze directly into the camera as his tongue laves and swirls over each one of his digits, knowing Seungcheol’s dick is twitching at the sight.

“I haven’t cum yet though. So I’m not happy yet,” he says, dragging a finger out of his mouth with a pop.

You sit up on your elbows with your cute, blissed out features, your eyes falling to his red-hard cock. 

“Come here and fuck me, then,” you say, impatient, like he didn’t just give you an orgasm. You paw at the hem of his shirt (also Seungcheol’s) and bite your lip as he pulls it over his head, letting your hands roam over his pale torso.

“Ride me?” he asks. How predictable. If it’s not Seungcheol taking him from behind then it’s you on top of him. God forbid Yoon Jeonghan does the work.

“Actually, I have a better idea. And this way Cheollie can see us both,” you say with a grin. 

With the phone on the front-facing camera, you prop it up against the headboard and roll onto your stomach, craning your head to look at him over your shoulder. 

“Like this?” Jeonghan asks, straddling the backs of your thighs.

“Yeah,” you say, parting your legs a little, arching your back and raising your hips—presenting your soaked, messy hole to him. “Try not to get tired.”

He responds with a half-hearted smack to your ass and Cheol scoffs out a chuckle. Jeonghan slides his cock between your folds, coating it with your slick, revelling in your tiny gasps every time it catches on your entrance. You’re prepared to whine and nag at your boyfriend to hurry up, but you suppose he’s feeling just as impatient as you are because he’s pushing in before you can even speak up. You look at Seungcheol, mouth dropping as you’re stuffed full with Jeonghan’s cock until he’s buried to the hilt inside you. His hands land on either side of your elbows so that he can hover over you, reel his hips back, and fuck himself into you like that. 

In this position, Jeonghan’s length brushes right against your gummy, sensitive spot with every stroke, making you keen for more even though he’s just started. 

“Harder, Hannie,” you sigh, pushing your ass up against his hips.

Instead of listening, he drops his head to the crook of your shoulder and kisses your skin. His breath tickles your ear when he whispers to you: “ah, what’s the rush, angel?”

You turn your head to catch his gaze, to drink in the sight of his face as he takes what he needs from you; his cheeks pink, his eyes tired and full of hunger. His lips, plump and enticing, evoke an unrivalled craving within you and he reads you well, brings his mouth to yours to give you as much satiation as he can muster. 

Seungcheol sits, silent, waiting. His patience is mere embers as he watches you two, his boyfriend and his girlfriend, tangled within one another. The wet slap of Jeonghan’s balls against the back of your thighs; the smacking of your lips, teeth, and tongues. He misses it. Fuck, he could go insane. 

“Cheollie,” you whine, when Jeonghan’s lips are no longer enough. “Want you to feel good too.” 

“Yeah, okay,” he replies, abandoning all semblance of the self-control he’d displayed up until now. It’s time, anyway, he thinks. He’s held off long enough. He puts his phone down and there’s shuffling as he strips himself of his sweat-soaked outfit from the show and settles upon the bed sheets once more. 

Saliva pools from the sides of your mouth when he angles his camera to show you his hand wrapped around his thick, erect dick and God, what you’d do to have it bruising the back of your throat until you’re gagging, letting him defile you all while he coos the sweetest of praises at you. 

“Daddy, I miss your cock so bad,” you admit in a weak whimper, shivering when Jeonghan angles himself deeper inside you.

“Yeah? Miss how I’d fuck your pretty little mouth?”

“Fuck, she’s clenching so hard around me, Seungcheollie,” Jeonghan grits. “Greedy little thing.”

“I mean, it’s our fault one cock’s not enough to make her happy anymore,” says Seungcheol, sighing with relief as he thumbs at his leaking tip, squeezing his fist around it, reminiscent of the way that you and Jeonghan like to tease him.

“Like I said,” says Jeonghan as he pushes two of his fingers between your parted lips. “Spoiled.”

You moan around them, staring straight into the camera as you suck on them, staring at Seungcheol, who starts to pump his hand up and down his cock. He wants to shut his eyes and pretend it’s your hand, or Jeonghan’s hand, or one of your tight, warm holes, but he can’t take his eyes off of his phone screen no matter how hard he wants to, and, well, he doesn’t want to.

He jerks himself off to the same rhythm that Jeonghan’s hips grind into yours. Seungcheol likes things a little faster, usually, more rough, but it’s Jeonghan who’s inside you right now, not him, so he matches his boyfriend’s lazy but not too slow pace, one that’s just enough to give you a gradual stimulation. 

There’s something about the whole thing—being fucked on camera, being teased with Seungcheol’s cock when you can’t have it—it has you way more excited than you expected. Way more turned on than you expected. It shows in the floods of arousal that drip from your pussy and dampen yours and Jeonghan’s thighs, in the way you’re whinier and more sensitive than usual.

Jeonghan and Seungcheol’s own noises don’t help. In fact they spur you on, coax you closer to your edge, urge the heat in your belly to grow. When Seungcheol isn’t giving deep, rasped curses, he’s letting out pretty, breathy, borderline whimpering moans. Jeonghan’s sounds are as angelic as he is. His voice is a holy choir in your ear, heavenly and soft as he gasps with exertion and pleasure; as he does things to you that any God would frown upon.

Jeonghan, too, is more sensitive. With the plug constantly brushing at his prostate, he can’t help but screw his eyes shut and pretend it’s his big, buff boyfriend fucking his girth into him. It makes his thrusts grow raggedy, like he’s more heavy. His body weight presses into you as his arms start to ache just a little. He’s impossibly deep in your guts like this and it feels so fucking good that your brain starts to melt. 

Seungcheol recognises the look in your eye—absent, like you’re starting to tap out and letting yourself become consumed by bliss.

“Is she getting close, angel?” he questions, punctuating it with a moan, the slick glide of his hand up and down his cock like music in your ears.

Jeonghan hums affirmatively. “Pretty pussy’s choking me,” he says, his voice cracking, his composure with it. He tries to put more vigour in his thrusts, more determination. The sooner you cum, the sooner he cums. 

“Cum for Jeonghannie, baby,” Seungcheol urges softly. 

“Cum for me,” Jeonghan echoes. You don’t stand a chance.

The heat inside you coils up, then erupts. Jeonghan fucks you through your climax as you tremble beneath him, crying his name and clawing at the sheets below you. 

“There it is, my good girl,” Seungcheol coos, tightening his grip on his cock as he tugs at it harshly as though it could ever replicate the feeling of your warm walls clamping down on him as you cum. 

“Ah, fuck,” Jeonghan gasps, dropping his head to your shoulder, cock twitching. His next request is a broken, pathetic moan. “Ch-cheollie, cum with me.”

Jeonghan stills inside you, whimpering softly with every rope of cum that he spills inside you, letting you milk him of every last drop. At the same time, Seungcheol gives a resounding groan as he brings himself to his own release, cum splattering over his toned stomach. 

There’s a moment of silence, or, rather, nothing but a harmony of laboured breaths as the three of you come down from your orgasms. You give a noise of protest as Jeonghan suddenly rolls off of you, but his stamina is always drained after sex—especially when he’s doing the work. You shiver, both from the emptiness in your cunt and the cold air that hits you now that you no longer have your boyfriend’s body as a shield from it. 

“Seungcheollie’s gonna wanna see your cum leak out of me, you know,” you say. 

“You know me so well, baby,” is Seungcheol’s reply. 

Jeonghan rolls his eyes. He makes no effort to move from his spot, opting to stretch his arm above his head and pat around until he finds the phone. He sits up next to you, points the camera between your legs as he grips one of your ass cheeks and spreads you apart. 

There’s a screenshot sound as white drools from your spent hole.

“Seungcheol!” you shriek. “You pervert.”

“Coups-ya, send that to me.”

thank you for reading! reblogs and feedback are highly appreciated <3

tags — @svtiddiess @ylangelegy @simpxxstan @caibeauchicfashion

[cartersblogabtnothing]

i’m sure we’ve all read at least one or two “peter parker in gotham” fanfics. they’re a personal favorite, especially when they’re done well. and i do get why peter is always in gotham, but…

…why not put one of the batkids in peter’s new york? i think it’d be interesting.

my personal favorite is tim drake, but i do think any of the batkids would be absolute comedic gold. here’s why:

1)

dick would’ve 100% “fallen” into some portal during a fight and ended up in new york. at first he thought it was just that, the portal teleported him into new york. whatever. that’s like a regular tuesday for him.

but then he saw some news program (“The Daily Bugle”) talking about some… Spider-man guy that dick’s never seen! never heard of! who the fuck was this guy and where is dick!?

he momentarily freaks the fuck out before giving himself a mission; find out where the fuck he is and then get back home. easy enough. he’s been stranded before. it should be easy for him to get back home.

at least he thinks so, until he bumps into the aforementioned Spider-man guy, who is surprisingly friendly despite the strange way they move. guess the spider thing was fr.

they bond over acrobatics while peter is attempting to figure out how to build a teleporter (he figures it out quicker than expected and spends far too much time styling it)

2)

jason was on a mission with the outlaws, and one thing led to another and now he and the rest of his team had been teleported to different locations.

he had assumed that bullshit ray gun was some dollar general version of the big stuff until he walks head first into a humongous spiderweb that sticks to his helmet.

jason fucking hates spiders.

he freaks out (duh) and yanks his helmet off and stumbles away, staring at the way it just… hangs there… and suddenly he knew for a fact he wasn’t supposed to be there.

he looks around for a while after that, helmet-less and confused as all fuck. he thinks distantly that maybe he could just restart here. no joker, no batman, no nightwing, no responsibilities. he could make it work.

on his walk, he comes across a mugging. he attempts to get in there, of course, but he’s completely outgunned by some soft-looking fuck in red spandex.

red spandex! what the fuck!

the red-spandex person cleans the mugging up swiftly, and then they turn around to see jason there. they freeze, their mask scrunching up.

jason tries to shoot at them, but his hands get webbed to the wall before he could even reach into his pants.

he’s mildly impressed.

3)

tim is completely whelmed when he just… disappears on his walk back to the manor after school. there’s no portal, no laser beam, no spell… he just… trips once and then falls through the sidewalk. it was so fucking weird.

he’s caught off guard as he’s spit back up from the other side, coughing and heaving breath after breath into his lungs as he takes in his surroundings. he’s in some bad smelling alleyway, and he could feel at least three other people near him.

he’s in a loud, busy city with tall buildings and aggressive crowds. it’s too bright to be Gotham and too gloomy to be Metropolis.

where is he?

he stands shakily, brushing himself off before looking around again. more focused this time, though. he focuses on his location.

he turns to see a homeless man staring, and before he could even open his mouth, the man screams before hissing at him and running the opposite way.

what the fuck?

he tosses his hands in the air before getting cut off by a snort, and he whips around to see a lean, thin, soft-looking person in red and blue spandex. their face is covered by a mask, but even then their mask is so animated that tim feels immediately impressed.

“you scared jimmy.” the person says simply, tilting their head.

“you scared me.” tim responds, tilting his head slightly to mirror them. they laugh, their white eyes narrowing.

“you’re not from around here,” the person says slowly, leaning forward slightly. “let me guess… jersey?”

“huh, how’d you know?” tim snorts, shaking his head.

“accent.” the person shrugs.

the two bond quickly, over everything and nothing at the same time; and they simultaneously figure out that tim is in an alternate dimension and they work together to figure out how to get him home.

by the time tim returns to gotham, he’s picked up more of peter’s spider-like attributes than he’d ever like to admit.

4)

damian doesn’t want to admit that he went head first into a villain’s trap, but… he did.

in his defense, his father did nothing to stop him from doing it. truly, it’s his father’s fault. not his.

he blinks awake to find himself in a puddle, and theres cold rainwater falling onto him and soaking into his suit. it’s uncomfortable, cold, and he feels like curling into a ball and hiding.

but he can’t. he can tell he isn’t in gotham. what if he was somewhere unsafe? he needed to stay vigilant and aware.

he sits up, and immediately feels eyes on him. he looks around, paranoid and on guard.

before he can really understand what’s happening, he sees a person dressed in red spandex hop off what looks like a human sized spider web, landing on their feet with perfect, practiced elegance.

“you’re too young to be dressed like that,” the person begins as they walk closer. “too young to be what you are.”

damian scoffs and stands slowly, hiding a wince as he leans on his left foot. something’s sprained.

“hardly.” damian shakes his head, and the person tilts theirs in response.

“i had a feeling, but i had hoped i was wrong.” the person says softly before walking closer.

the last thing damian remembers before waking up in a warm bed was a warm hand grabbing his arm gently.

the person in red spandex reveals themselves, and they talk. for a while. damian ends up really liking them, especially after they tell damian all about the spider that bit them.

he almost doesn’t want to leave.

5)

while shadow traveling (like in pjo?), duke goes a little too far. he knows he should’ve gone back, but he’s never gone this far and he was so curious it ached.

so he kept going until he walked out the other side, into a very busy alleyway. it smelled of garbage and weed, which didn’t necessarily bother duke but it did tickle his nose slightly.

he decided to figure out where he was first, and then worry about getting back. if he found out a way to get from one timeline to another, then bruce would be extremely grateful to have duke’s abilities on his side.

right?

duke could only hope so.

he walks around for a while, ending up on a very busy sidewalk. he sighs and steps next to a hot dog cart, to which the man stares at him strangely before shrugging and preparing a hot dog. duke goes to refuse, but hears… something in the distance.

he didn’t have time to react before the hot dog cart’s owner held the hot dog out to the street, and a person dressed in red spandex swung past and snatched it up. then, a few seconds later, a five dollar bill was… webbed to the side of the hot dog cart.

duke stared in awe, his eyes wide as he watches the scene. he immediately searches for a library, and immediately begins looking up who this person in red is.

does he forget that he isn’t dressed like a normal civilian half way through? yes. does he fix that? no.

he tracks spider-man down pretty easily, and asks them a million questions all at the same time, to which his mouth gets webbed for. spider-man snorts and answers every single one of his questions.

duke feels so heard it hurts his heart.

he shows spider-man how he did it, bids them farewell after letting spider-man take a picture and several notes of duke’s powers.

duke goes back to gotham feeling light and warm, a smile on his face.

6)

cassandra woke up on a rooftop, feeling sick and tired. she assumed it was some sort of alternate dimensional travel, considering she had been in a space ship beforehand and now she wasn’t.

she uses context clues as well.

the loud bustling streets, the tall but modern buildings, the laughing, the music — none of it is gotham. she knew that very well, but she was still rather confused.

if she wasn’t in space, if she wasn’t in gotham, where was she?

she lets out a silent grunt before slowly sitting, and then standing up. everything hurt. she guessed her spaceship had crashed into some sort of… cosmic ray or portal and she fell out of it. made the most sense.

she looks around slowly, taking in her surroundings like she was taught. she sighs softly when she turns up empty handed, back at square one.

one thing she does notice is the obvious eyes on her. the person isn’t trying to hide, which means she probably in their terf. that isn’t good. not good at all.

cassandra barely turns her head before she feels something pulling at her wrist. looking down, she finds her wrist being tugged by a synthetic spiderweb. it was sticky, silky, and had far too much pull to it.

she twists her arm and pulls on the webs, and then the person comes forward with a heavy step. shiny red and blue spandex fits this person’s body like a glove, and the mask they wear is far too animated to be authentic. must be a function.

the two fight, and as they do cassandra watches the person’s spider-like tendencies. they move with suck fluidity that she feels inferior for the first time in a long time. she’s left in awe, almost.

eventually, she forfeits. she knows when she’s about to lose a fight, when it’s better to stop and give up then die fighting. even if this spider person doesn’t seem hostile, just protective.

“i’m not from here.” she states simply as she’s allowed to stand.

“i know.” the person responds, and cassandra feels more at ease than she did beforehand.

the person - peter takes care of her during her time in new york. gives her a bed, hot food, and even a fake identity for the time being. it works, and eventually she’s back home.

sometimes she tries to mimic peter’s fighting style, but without his abilities, she comes up short.

but the memories are warm and fuzzy and she likes to dream about it.

[wendichester]

Hello! Could I perhaps request the winchester of your choice (whoever you feel fits this situation best) x reader with an established relationship, where maybe it's an anniversary so he wants to make something special for you, like a special dinner in the bunker, the bedroom filled with candles and a bouquet of flowers, that sort of thing, because for once there isn't a case

EXCEPT: you haven't left the bunker all day, there's no reason to! You three finished a case the day before so you took this as a resting day since there wasn't any other case found, so! The brothers have to find a way to get one to keep you out till the evening, while the other rushes to get everything set up

I hope this isn't too detailed/unclear?? Tysm anyway if you write this!! I love your blog a lot <3

⋆𐙚 ₊ ° ⊹ ♡ anniversary surprise,

summary. dean wants to do something special for your anniversary

pairing. dean winchester x reader

wordcount. 963

notes. though i would also see sam doing something like this, it just screamed like dean behaviour. he's the softess little thing to me ‹𝟹

The bunker is unusually quiet for once—a rare luxury in the hunting life. After wrapping up a tough case yesterday, you've taken full advantage of the downtime. Still in your pyjamas, you've spent the day curled up on the couch with a book, refusing to even glance at your laptop.

Sam, however, hasn't been able to sit still. He keeps pacing the bunker, glancing at his phone like he's expecting bad news. It's distracting enough that you close your book and call him out.

"You trynna dig a hole in the ground or something, Sam? What's wrong?"

He freezes mid-step, looking at you like a deer caught in headlights. "What? Nothing! I'm fine."

You squint at him, unconvinced. “Sam, if you’re trying to avoid telling me about a case, just spit it out. I’m not leaving this bunker today unless something’s on fire.”

He stammers for a moment, clearly scrambling for an excuse. Then, his eyes light up like he's just had an idea. Oh, boy. "Uh, there's this event in town. A... a book signing. By an author I like. I thought it might be interesting, but I, uh, don't wanna go alone."

The confession catches you off guard. "A book signing?"

"Yeah," he says quickly, nodding like it's the most logical thing in the world.

You blink, momentarily caught off guard. Sam Winchester, shy about attending a book event? It doesn't quite add up, but you decide to let it slide.

You glance toward Dean, who's pretending to be engulfed in his phone and beer, but is clearly eavesdropping. He doesn't even look up, clearly uninterested.

"Alright, Sam," you say with a sigh. "I'll go with you."

Relief washes over his face, making the situation even more weird. "Great! Thanks."

The book signing ends up being more enjoyable than you expected. Sam is in his element, geeking out over the author’s latest release and chatting animatedly with other fans. You find yourself wandering through the bookstore, skimming through titles and enjoying the relaxed atmosphere.

Afterward, you grab coffee at a nearby café, the conversation flowing easily as you and Sam talk about everything and nothing. It’s a rare, peaceful moment—one you don’t take for granted.

By the time you return to the bunker, the sun has long since set, and the air carries a cool, crisp chill. Sam walks ahead, fishing in his pocket for the keys.

“Shoot,” he says suddenly, patting his jacket. “I think I left something in the Impala.”

You shrug, already halfway to the door. “Alright. I’ll meet you inside.”

The moment you step through the door, you stop in your tracks.

Rose petals are scattered on the floor, forming a delicate path that leads toward the kitchen. Soft, flickering candlelight spills into the hallway, and the faint scent of your favorite meal wafts through the air.

“Dean?” you call out, your voice trembling slightly.

“Over here,” he replies, his voice warm and inviting.

You follow the trail, your heart pounding in your chest. When you step into the kitchen, you’re met with a sight that takes your breath away.

The table is covered with a white cloth, set with actual plates and silverware instead of the usual mismatched collection. Candles are arranged in the center, their golden light casting a romantic glow over the room. Your favourite store-bought meal sits neatly plated, steam rising in the air.

Dean is leaning casually against the counter, a sheepish grin tugging at his lips. He’s wearing a button-up shirt instead of his usual flannel, the effort not lost on you.

“Happy anniversary, sweetheart,” he says softly.

Your stomach drops as guilt washes over you. You completely forgot.

“Dean,” you whisper, your eyes welling up. “I… I didn’t—”

“Hey,” he interrupts, pushing off the counter and walking toward you. He cups your face gently in his hands, his thumbs brushing against your cheeks. “It’s okay. I know you’ve been busy. This is my gift to you.”

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes as you stare up at him, his green eyes filled with nothing but love and understanding. “What did I do to deserve you?”

He smiles, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “I’m the lucky one to have you.”

You bite your lip, emotion threatening to overwhelm you, but Dean tugs you toward the table before it can. “Come on. Dinner’s getting cold.”

The meal is perfect, just like everything Dean does when he puts his mind to it. Between bites, you and Dean fall into easy conversation, laughter punctuating the air as you recount memories from the past year. The stress of the world melts away, leaving only the two of you in your little bubble of happiness.

After dinner, Dean takes your hand and leads you down the hallway. When he opens the door to your bedroom, your jaw drops.

The room is softly lit with more candles, their gentle glow highlighting a small table set up in the corner. A rich chocolate cake sits in the center, accompanied by a bottle of champagne and two glasses. The bed looks impossibly inviting, piled high with plush pillows and fresh sheets.

“You really outdid yourself,” you murmur, turning to him with wide eyes.

He shrugs, but the pleased grin on his face betrays his pride. “Only the best for my girl.”

Your heart swells as you step closer, wrapping your arms around his neck. “I love you, you know that?”

“I love you too,” he says, leaning down to kiss you.

The rest of the night is spent wrapped in Dean’s love and care, the perfect celebration of the life you’ve built together. For once, the world outside doesn’t matter—all that does is the warmth of his arms and the steady beat of his heart.

want be part of the taglist.ᐣ ⋆.˚ ★— @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing ⋆ @deans-daydream ⋆ @ariasong11 ⋆ @ambiguous-avery ⋆ @krabog ⋆ @itsdearapril ⋆ @nymphet-quenn ⋆ @bluemerakis ⋆ @titsout4jackles ⋆ @lyarr24 ⋆ @hauntedrose555 ⋆ @chevroletdean ⋆ @dulcescorderitas

[cheapshrimpysheep]

Hiii!! is it okay if I request a comfort(?) scenario/headcanons with Vil, Idia, Malleus and Lilia where a female protagonist feels self-conscious about having stretch marks and/or cellulite, thanks (Sorry if it's not spelled well, English is not my native language)

COMMENTS: So... even though I myself am a woman, I genuinely never saw stretch marks or cellulite as something bad or ugly, and I still don't. So maybe making the characters share the same vision as me would be accurate? The only exception to complete indifference is Vil, but not in the way you might be thinking.

Btw, I didn't see any point in writing this in a context other than an already advanced relationship given the topic. Fortunately, the 4 characters are 18 years or older so it doesn't end up being... you know, too weird.

I explain at the end why I couldn't write anything for Malleus or Lilia. But despite that, I hope you and all like what I managed to write. ❤️

CHARACTERS: Vil Schoenheit / Idia Shroud

TAGS: Fluff; Fem!Reader; Comfort; In a Relationship; Suggestive(?)

WORD COUNT: An average of 580 words per character

CONTEXT: I don't think it would make sense for two people to have this kind of intimate conversation outside of a romantic or even sexual relationship. So in that situation, he and you would be in a relationship.

This was an insecurity of yours from the beginning. After all, your boyfriend was none other than Vil Schoenheit. It would be worrying enough if he were a normal model, but he's not only a super model but one of the biggest in all of Twisted Wonderland.

He had already noticed that since you started dating you seemed more worried and less confident about your appearance and that was when he said to you:

“I am the one who needs to be perfect, not you. If I wanted to date a model I could do it, but my standards in romantic relationships are others. Different from some of my colleagues in this field. I will always help you to further improve your image if you wish and feel comfortable with it. Please don't see this as me wanting you to change your appearance, but as an attempt to make you as beautiful on the outside as you are on the inside.” He pauses for a second. “However, for some reason, there's something that bothers me about the possibility of making you start living the same lifestyle as me.”

But he would only get the answer to why that bothered him later.

“The truth is: you are my escape. I don't feel the pressure to be perfect with you because... you know I'm not and yet you look at me with more admiration than anyone else. You are my escape from the superficial and futile parts of my professional life. When you live in these types of environments, you start to lose track of what really matters and what really does you good. Thinking about you being swallowed up by this... and losing your genuine smile... because of me... I can't allow it! Please know that no opinion about your appearance matters other than your own. And it wasn't just that that made me fall in love.”

This may have made you feel more comfortable and confident about your appearance again, but as the relationship became more serious and you became more intimate, eventually your problem with stretch marks and cellulite began to affect your mood again.

At home, Vil had massage sessions from time to time not only to help him relax but also for other healthy effects it had on his body. He thought that now that he was dating you, maybe it would be interesting for him to buy massage products and for you to start having these sessions with each other.

“You deserve a massage probably even more than I do.” He tells you, referring to the hardships you go through with Grim and the others.

And that's when he realizes from your hesitation that something about your appearance has bothered you again. He asks you to tell him and that you can trust him. After all, if you couldn't, what kind of boyfriend would he be? And you end up talking about your stretch marks and cellulite.

“I see.” He says understandingly. “I've never had them myself, but I've met many women in the beauty industry who talk about it to each other. Not to mention the advertisements for products for it. Do you remember what I told you when we first started dating and you felt less confident about your appearance? I am the one who needs to be perfect, not you. Furthermore, from what I understand, these marks are usually found on areas around the stomach, hips, breasts, and thighs.” He looks at you seductively. “You don't really think I would have any kind of criticism if you gave me the honor of seeing these parts of your body, do you? Why don't you let me give you that massage? I'll show you what I truly find beautiful about you.”

At first you didn't even think about it. It was only when the relationship started to get more serious and you started to sleep together from time to time that you started to worry.

Especially when Idia started having less of a problem walking around you shirtless. And giving hints about how he would like to see you wearing his shirts, without pants.

One day he says he wants to acknowledge the elephant in the room, but instead of asking why you hide your body so much, he asks if you still don't consider him worthy of seeing his girlfriend comfortably sexy.

“You never hid the fact that you like to see me shirtless.” He says while playing some game on the computer. “I also want to see you like that. Not necessarily shirtless, that's another level, but like, you know I don't like to embody the confident handsome guy who likes to walk around with little clothing on." His hair starts to turn hot pink.” But... I like how you look at me when I do. And what you say. Which I never understood ‘cause I don't even have good physics. But you do! You would be that character that every player simps for.” He sinks into his chair. “But I understand, getting that kind of look from me is disgusting...”

You may have your insecurities, but he has them too. And finally you feel the need and the comfort enough to reveal to him that that isn’t the problem, that you would also like him to find you hot as you find him and that the problem is your marks.

“What marks? Like scars? Don't tell me you have cool battle scars, like doesn't that make a person even sexier?”

You say you're not talking about scars, but stretch marks and cellulite.

“... Yah... sorry, I think I rolled a natural 1 in intelligence for this. What was that again?”

You say they are marks, irregularities and dimples in the skin and that he can search them on the internet. He does that.

“It says that these are natural things that don't do any harm. But they can impact self-image.” He researches a little more. “Wait! Are you trying to tell me that you find these strips and irregularities ugly enough to the point that you have to hide them? THIS?” He smiles mockingly “Oh no! How horrible! Your skin looks like... skin! What a tragedy!”

He will be very happy if you can laugh with him.

“As if I would even notice that. It says here that these marks are usually found on areas around the stomach, hips, breasts, and thighs. Do you really think that if I saw these parts of your body it would be little stripes and dimples that would catch my attention?” The pink in his hair becomes more intense. “I may be a shut-in but don't lump me in with those worms who define their standards based on adult videos. I can assure you that's not what you'll have to worry about if you take your clothes off in front of me.”

He finally looks at you with a seductive look and smiles confidently when he sees that you are flustered.

I really really really tried to imagine scenarios with Malleus or Lilia, but I couldn't think of anything very meaningful.

Malleus wouldn't understand the problem even if you tried to explain it to him because... it doesn't make sense to him. They're just marks. He also has marks, like, on his forehead. Is there something wrong with this?

And Lilia would just laugh for you thinking this is a problem and just tell you to forget about it.

They wouldn't understand, because it wouldn't make any difference to them at all. And that's it.

With Vil and Idia I was able to think of something because they are, like, from this generation, and because one is in the beauty industry and the other is, probably, chronically online, they can see where your insecurity comes from. But for someone like Malleus or Lilia, this type of insecurity has no basis whatsoever. I really don't know what to write with them.

Sorry. 🥺

If you dropped in here out of the blue and want to read more from me, you can find it in my pinned post: INDEX

[songbirdseung]

simply jaded / sim jaeyun

going into the new year single again was not gonna be on your bingo card anymore. the problem was that no other guy could satisfy you nor treat you like your best friend did. so maybe, why not date him instead?

going into the new year single again was not something you had planned for. after a string of disappointing dates and relationships that fizzled out faster than fireworks, you were fed up. no one seemed to measure up, no one could treat you the way you wanted, the way you deserved. except, maybe, your best friend.

the thought had crossed your mind more times than you’d like to admit. jake had always been there for you—kind, funny, supportive. he knew you inside and out, better than anyone else. so why not give it a shot? maybe dating your best friend wasn’t such a crazy idea after all.

with a mix of nerves and determination, you grabbed your phone and sent him a text. it was short, direct, and maybe a little impulsive: “why don’t we just date each other?”

you barely had time to process your own boldness when your bedroom door flew open, and there stood jake, slightly out of breath and looking thoroughly baffled.

"are you stupid or just that desperate?" he blurted out, his eyebrows raised in disbelief.

you couldn’t help but laugh at his reaction. he wasn’t angry, just visibly confused—and maybe a little disgusted at the sudden proposition. "oh c'mon," you said, sitting up straighter. "you make it sound like i'm a horrible person to go out with."

"well, you kind of are," he shot back, crossing his arms. "with how indecisive and bossy—hey, don't even think about throwing that pillow," he warned, cutting himself off as you grabbed one from your bed.

you rolled your eyes but put the pillow down. "you're acting like you're repulsed by the idea of dating me."

jake scoffed, though there was no malice in it. "and if i am? will you drop the idea?"

"tell me what's so bad about us dating?" you challenged, crossing your arms now, mirroring his stance.

he sighed, ruffling his hair in that way he always did when he was thinking. "it’s not that it’s bad," he admitted, his tone softening a little. "it’s just... weird. we've been best friends for so long. what if it ruins everything?"

"or," you countered, leaning forward slightly, "what if it makes everything better?"

he paused at that, the room growing quiet as he considered your words. "you’re really serious about this, aren’t you?" he finally said, his voice quieter, more thoughtful.

"i am," you nodded. "look, jake, we already know each other better than anyone else. we trust each other, we have fun together. isn’t that what people want in a relationship?"

"yeah, but... what if we screw it up?" his voice was laced with genuine concern, and it tugged at your heart.

"then we deal with it. but i’d rather take the chance than keep wondering 'what if.' wouldn’t you?"

he let out a long breath, his shoulders relaxing a bit. "you always have to make things complicated, don’t you?"

you smirked. "you love it."

"yeah, yeah," he muttered, but there was a small smile playing on his lips now. "fine. but if this goes south, i’m blaming you."

"deal," you grinned.

he shook his head, still looking a bit amused and bewildered. "guess we're doing this, huh?"

"guess we are," you said, feeling a strange mix of excitement and nervousness.

jake sat down next to you on the bed, bumping his shoulder against yours. "well, if i’m going to be your boyfriend now, does that mean i get to boss you around for once?"

you laughed, shoving him playfully. "don’t push your luck, sim."

he chuckled, leaning back on his hands. "this is going to be interesting."

"yeah," you agreed, smiling. "but i think it’s going to be worth it."

and just like that, the new year suddenly didn’t seem so daunting anymore.

the first date came quicker than expected. jake insisted on planning everything, wanting to make it special. after all, this wasn’t just any date—it was the first date, a big step from best friends to something more.

when he picked you up, he was noticeably different. instead of his usual teasing grin, he had a nervous smile. he even opened the car door for you, which immediately made you suspicious.

"wow, look at you being all gentlemanly," you teased as you slid into the seat.

"well, i thought i'd make an effort," he replied, scratching the back of his neck as he closed the door and walked around to the driver’s side.

the restaurant he chose was cozy and intimate, a little different from the casual places you usually went to together. jake pulled out your chair for you, then sat down across from you, trying to maintain a composed and charming demeanor. it was almost too much.

"okay, who are you, and what have you done with my best friend?" you joked, raising an eyebrow at him.

"very funny," he muttered, but you could see the corners of his mouth twitching as he tried to suppress a smile.

as the evening went on, it was clear that jake was struggling. he kept catching himself before saying something sarcastic or teasing, his usual go-to moves. instead, he attempted to be more romantic, which only made things more awkward. like when he tried to compliment you but stumbled over his words.

"you look... um, really... uh, nice tonight," he said, his face turning a little red.

you couldn’t help but burst into laughter, covering your mouth with your hand. "jake, seriously? 'nice'? that’s the best you’ve got?"

"hey, give me a break," he groaned, leaning back in his chair. "this whole romantic thing is harder than it looks."

"just be yourself," you encouraged, still chuckling. "i liked you better when you were teasing me about my terrible taste in movies."

he grinned, some of the tension easing from his shoulders. "so you do admit your movie taste is terrible."

"don’t push it," you warned playfully, narrowing your eyes.

the rest of the date became much more relaxed after that. jake let go of the awkward attempt to be overly romantic and instead fell back into his usual rhythm—teasing, joking, and making you laugh until your sides hurt. it felt right, natural, like slipping into a comfortable old sweater.

as you left the restaurant, walking side by side, he reached for your hand, lacing his fingers with yours. "okay, maybe i overdid it with the whole gentleman act," he admitted, glancing at you.

"just a bit," you teased, squeezing his hand. "but it was sweet. thanks for trying."

he stopped walking, turning to face you. "i’ll get the hang of this boyfriend thing," he said, his tone more serious now. "just... bear with me?"

"you’re doing fine," you assured him, smiling softly. "we’ll figure it out together."

"yeah," he nodded, a small smile playing on his lips. "together."

and with that, you continued walking, this was the beginning of something new, and you were both ready for whatever came next—together.

[mimipolo]

nam-gyu's reaction to reader having nipple piercings ?? 😋 (I love that man sm 😼)

Nam-gyu x reader

|Slightly suggestive

|I love making him down bad dude

He'd be completely obsessed with them, like instead of biting at his nails he's just pulling at them without a thought in mind, they're now his new outlet. Recommends you to try different peircings on and goes out of his way to buy them for you. Expect a showcase of you trying each one, internally you feel like you've been turned into a fidget board.

Unironically gets upset when you decide to wear a bra because what's the point of them anymore if he can't see them 24/7??

Shamelessly stares at your chest as you speak he just thinks they're made for you, he hasn't been fully listening to you for the past fifteen minutes and only grins when you push his chest to make him focus.

It's even worse now because now his icey hands aren't also running up your stomach but your tits too, he honestly couldn't be happier though, insistent he has to prod and pull at them to support their health or something.

When he first found out you had them it was by complete accident, you wore a thinner bra that day and that was all, but it was enough to make them catch his eye. If he's not with you he tries his hardest to keep a straight face but he's immediately folding as he tries to laugh off his flustered state as you give him a weird look. If you're together he literally does a double take and immediately moves to touch them but just ends up gesturing towards your chest hissing "When the hell did you get those..." The evilest, plotting smirk pulling at his lips as he finally gives into the urge and pinches one of your peircings.

Been transfixed ever since and it will probably always be this way, you've given up hope of trying to pry his hands off you. Honestly you should've known better as he was clingy to begin with, but somehow it managed to get worse...

You're reflecting on whether or not to keep the peircings in as he's lying on your chest and pressing his tongue flat against the bar and rolling it against the surface, it was an upgrade from him literally sucking them through your shirt, his fingers tracing the shape of your waist. Apparently unbothered by the metallic taste.

(Would beg you to ride him so he could see them up close and personal, genuinely disappointed when you say no.)

If you can't tell I know nothing about nipple peircings so I hope this ok 🫡

[thisuserisgonesorry]

1,, im not a teenager . might be young but i have a pretty good grasp on adulthood atp , and i’m not the only person that thinks this specific take; ive asked a lot of mutuals/friends who are (young,,) adults and agree w/ me and many people in rbs agree so like .. bringing my age into this is so left field cos . idk . weird thing 2 say

2 in my experience from living in a very “redneck” (lack of a better term) area (though not america, so there could be a difference), ive met 20-25 year olds who look and act exactly like daryl in s1 because teenagers in redneck areas just look like that. thats where my estimate came from, due to my own experiences

3,, norman reedus literally just looks young in everything he plays . you cant deny that he has a bit of a baby face and doesnt ALWAYS look his age . (but also celebrity men do look like that cos they dont just start rotting away the second they hit 23 because blue collar / minimum wage jobs suck) and never did i say there was a problem w/ him being 40 , just that it didnt make sense in my mind,,, nd actors can play characters that are a different age than them. norman being 40 ≠ daryl having to be 40

4,, he wasnt embarrassed until around season 3-4 iirc , closer to when he was around more people and less isolated , closer to merles death , more so around when he found out carol would go to that community home to get away from ed and then more around beths whole arc (iirc? im a bit aways from s3 rn,,)

nd considering 25+ is around when the frontal lobe developed. yeah. he would act like an idiot in s1. like all young adults do. and he would helplessly follow his brother around for validation considering his childhood, and he’d do whatever he wanted. he would be a terrible drunk, with no job. young adults do that. especially ones w/ mental health / bad childhood

then he develops into a person who was willing to learn to deal with his trauma when around season 4 when (in hc) he’d be like 27 at the earliest (?) because we have to remember that we skip all of loris pregnancy and then the first year (?) of judiths life. making him on the closer side to 30 around the time the prison, when his character starts developing.

(and i never said 25 was the solid age, just that hes “like 25”, meaning im happy to account s1 daryl as 26,27,28, whatever, just that hes under 30 in s1 in my mind)

5 i agree that him being older plays a part in his story but i dont think being 25 suddenly makes him a little baby that makes his development void. his frontal lobe developed. that is a valid subtextual reason for him to mature. but that isnt the only thing that made him reflect and want to cope with his trauma. merles frontal lobe developed and he never tried to do what daryl did - therefor the age thing doesn’t exactly diminish his story or else merle wouldve changed before the outbreak, but he didnt, because some people dont. some people reach frontal lobe age and stay the same. its not “he just grew up” because then merle would have too, but he did grow up, and realised following merle was stupid. but he wouldnt have reached that outcome if there werent other factors so it can easily be both

6 i never said 40 looks old or that theres a problem w it, but how is he older than rick? than most of the other people there? being older than rick feels like it makes no sense (although rick didnt grow up like daryl did and they had carl young so blab yeah theres reasons) and merle being 35+ does make some sense though id somewhat agree 35 is young for merle. m not saying that ppl start decomposing when they hit 30 but god forbid i hc someone as not 40

+ trauma physically ages people so even if daryl did look the same age or older than rick, then it would still be plausible that hes younger. we see trauma age characters in this show. its not hard to assume it happened to him outside of the outbreak too

prob formatted this like a mess but ,, m tired

n e way other people in the rb say that they think daryl is different ages to all of them (varying from 20-40) and as i said in those rbs its interesting that no one can really “agree” on what age he should be cos hes an enigma like that and i think it suits him,, like we all can agree on certain things about certain character cos its a unanimous vibe but then his unanimous vibe is that no one truly knows him??? subtext of it all .

anyway /nm for all of this . im just a little guy . i respect ur opinion cos i love my pookie and i really do love that everyone interprets his story so differently ,,,, i just like talking about it

idgaf im sick of not saying it. s1 daryl dixon is not fucking 40 bro. hes like 25. there is no way in fucking hell.

[stupidlittlespirit]

Ford getting sick and you have to take care of him. hes so stubborn, I bet he refuses to accept that he's sick and even once he does he thinks it won't interfere with his work or anything anyways. minutes later he's passed out at his desk. poor thing. drag him to bed and help him through the fever dreams and unsavory symptoms. doctor, he needs cuddles, stat!

I like to think that once he's returned from the portal, he's got an exceptionally developed immune system. I mention it in Spores (with the death cap thing) and I do think he'd have picked up so many foreign germs that he just kind of becomes super resilient to bugs and stuff in his home dimension, to a certain extent.

BUT, there's nothing funnier to me than imagining him believing this 1000% and never taking precautions, then catching the most regular ass flu and being devastated by it. Like, picture War of the Worlds: all these crazy aliens who are super developed end up dying out because they catch fucking H1N1 LMAOOOOOO

He gets the first twinges of the flu (headaches, soreness etc) and assumes it's just being old/typical chronic pain/because he's been overworking, and so he just ignores it. It's no big deal.

Except, the next day, he wakes up feeling absolutely rotten. Head throbbing, body aching, feeling like he's moving through molasses, sweaty, snotty, just generally disgusting.

Everyone can see that he's poorly, except for Ford. He starts losing his voice because he refuses to shut up and rest his throat, and if he takes the advice then he has to acknowledge that he's unwell. So he refuses. He just goes on in the way he usually does, over explaining things and lecturing until it goes completely. Nothing more than a squeak.

He'll keep working, though. He's just got to power through it, he won't back down! He's in the lab wondering why he's got double vision when he tries to concentrate on his samples and he ends up getting mad at himself for not being able to focus, so he retires to his study in the hopes that maybe he can get some shitty paperwork done.

Which is where, as you say, you find him a few hours later, slumped over his desk, passed the fuck out and drooling on his papers.

You're loathe to move him because he never sleeps this soundly, but he's going to totally fuck up his back if he stays hunched over like that, so you have to very carefully wake him up and gently (but firmly) convince him that he has to go to bed for his own good. I expect his willpower to resist at that point would be very low and so it wouldn't take much.

So you guide him into his bed and fetch him tea and soup and cold medicine, and tend to his needs like the perfect nurse. Maybe he asks you to bring some books to bed because he thinks he'll be bored, but because he's too exhausted to even sit upright, you offer to read them to him until he passes out again.

And I definitely think he'd end up falling asleep on you. He won't outright be vulnerable and ask for a cuddle but he'll allude to it heavily, and you'll pick up what he's putting down because at this point, you've gotten used to his weird communication issues. So you prop yourself up next to him in bed and he snuggles up close.

I do think Ford's a big guy, though, so he'd pin you with his dead weight and you wouldn't be able to move without disturbing him.

Thankfully, he doesn't have any nightmares. I think usually he would but instead of the typical fever dreams most people get when they're suffering a bad flu, Ford gets the reverse: just a dead, black sleep. It ends up being quite pleasant for him and he conks out each night for like 14 hours straight for the first time in like 30 years.

He'd be soooo utterly pathetic and needy; can't do anything for himself and even needs help to be bathed when the flu peaks because he's so weak..... He totally groans and complains non stop, bless him.

When he gets back to normal though, he's totally revitalised and energetic from all the rest and TLC. It's like he's a young man again, raring to go and bouncing off the walls ("I should get sick more often, this is wonderful!").

And then a few days later, when you start sneezing and aching, Ford has to do all the same things for you.... In between several fruitless attempts to synthesize a cure for the common cold just for you. (He fails every time, of course, but he tries his best).

[sleekervae]

Flickers | the projectionist (johnny) x reader

Masterlist

A/N: had this idea knocking around in my head for a few days. And while still not clear on his real name in the movie, I'm going with Johnny for simplicity sake.

Pairing: the projectionist (johnny) x fem!reader

Summary: late night at the cinema and a salacious book has poor johnny in a bind for his colleague.

Warnings: erotic writing, heavy smut, oral, penetration, nudity

Word Count: 4,436

Johnny first met Sophie on the tail end of a smoky September evening, the air thick with the scent of roasted peanuts from the vendor outside the theater. She was leaning against the wall near the alley, cigarette perched between her fingers, looking every bit like she belonged in one of those French pictures he sometimes screened after hours. Her boss—a producer Johnny had worked with before—had sent her ahead to fetch some reels, but it was clear from the way she moved, slow and deliberate, that Sophie wasn’t the type to rush.

She was all sharp cheekbones and sharper wit, her dark hair pinned back haphazardly as though she’d stopped caring halfway through the task. When she introduced herself, her tone was low and indifferent, like she wasn’t used to people looking twice at her. Johnny had glanced down at her shoes—simple flats, scuffed at the edges—and wondered if she realized how much attention her quiet presence commanded.

At first, they only spoke in passing, exchanging a few words while Sophie handled errands for her boss. But over time, she lingered. She’d stay after picking up reels or dropping off schedules, watching him from the doorway as he adjusted the projector.

“I didn’t think anyone still cared about this old junk,” she remarked once, arms crossed, her voice carrying a trace of amusement.

Johnny looked up from splicing a reel, the dim light catching on her pale skin. “Well, someone’s gotta make sure it runs smooth. Besides, this junk’s how I pay rent.”

She laughed—a low, throaty sound—and it hit him harder than he expected.

It wasn’t long before she started coming around on her own time, sitting in the empty theater while he threaded film for the midnight show. She’d sit near the back, legs crossed, watching the flickering images with an intensity that made him uneasy in the best way. One night, she waited until the credits rolled to ask him:

“You ever think about what’s not on the screen? The stuff they won’t show?”

It was an odd question, but Sophie was full of those. Her curiosity was sharp and relentless, poking at ideas most people shied away from. Johnny didn’t know what to say, so she filled the silence herself, telling him about the scripts she was working on.

“They’re not normal,” she admitted, the word slipping out like a taunt. “Producers don’t like ‘em. Too weird. Too… honest.”

She wouldn’t let him read them at first, claiming they weren’t ready. But she couldn’t resist teasing him with snippets. A line of dialogue here, a provocative idea there. The more she shared, the more Johnny’s imagination took off. Her writing was raw, full of heat and longing that had nothing to do with love and everything to do with desire.

It wasn’t just her words that got under his skin. It was the way she said them—leaning close, her voice barely above a whisper, like she was sharing a secret too dangerous for anyone else to hear. Her eyes would linger on him, searching for a reaction, and he’d have to fight the urge to shift under her gaze.

Johnny wasn’t sure when he started picturing her in the scenarios she described, but once the idea took root, it spread fast. He’d catch himself watching her hands as she gestured, wondering what they’d feel like on his skin. He started noticing the curve of her lips when she spoke, the slight rasp in her voice that made everything she said sound like a proposition.

He told himself it was just curiosity—admiration for her creativity, maybe—but the truth sat heavier in his chest. Johnny was down bad for Sophie, the way she embraced the messy, carnal parts of human nature without apology. She made him feel like a character in one of her stories, teetering on the edge of something raw and thrilling.

And maybe, just maybe, he wanted to see how far she’d let him fall.

It was one of those late nights where the air in the projection room felt heavy, the low hum of the machines lulling them into an easy rhythm. Sophie had perched herself in the chair in the corner, legs crossed, cigarette forgotten between her fingers.

“You really want to read it?” she asked, her voice a little too casual.

Johnny didn’t look up from the reel he was inspecting, though his hands faltered for half a beat. “Been asking you for weeks, haven’t I?”

Sophie smirked, but there was something sharper underneath it, like she was testing him. She reached into her bag and pulled out a neatly folded stack of pages, bound with a frayed ribbon.

“Fine. But don’t blame me if it messes with your head,” she said, tossing it onto the counter.

He wiped his hands on his trousers before picking it up, the weight of her work feeling heavier than it should’ve. The title scrawled across the top in her loopy handwriting read Flickers.

Johnny picked the script off the counter, his fingers brushing the ribbon binding it together. The room felt warmer now, Sophie’s proximity a heavy presence that made it harder to focus. He flipped through the pages until he landed on a scene near the middle—words catching his eye like fireflies in the dark.

He cleared his throat, half for himself and half to test the waters. “Mind if I…”

Sophie raised a brow, but there was a softness to her smirk. “Go ahead... If you dare.”

The challenge in her voice spurred him on, and he began to read.

“'Paul's hands traced the curves of her body, firm and possessive. His voice was a husky whisper in her ear as he demanded, "Tell me how much you want me." Lucille gasped, her body responding eagerly, guiding his hands to where she needed him most.'

“'His grip tightened around her as he felt her body molding to his touch, her warmth enveloping him. His tongue darted out to taste her skin, and she shivered beneath him in response. She arched her back, pushing herself closer to him as he traced patterns over her stomach and sides with his fingers. The softness of her skin sent shockwaves of desire through him, and he growled low in his throat. His hands found their way up to cup her breasts, kneading them gently before pulling on her nipples through the fabric of her shirt. Lucille threw her head back with a soft moan, the sound echoing in the room. Her scent was intoxicating—a mix of sweet perfume and primal need.”

Johnny paused, his voice trailing off as he glanced up. Sophie had turned her face away, her dark lashes casting shadows against her cheeks. But she wasn’t as indifferent as she pretended to be—he caught the faintest curve of her lips, a smile threatening to give her away.

“Keep going,” she said softly, her tone lacking the teasing edge it usually carried.

Johnny swallowed, taking a seat in the chair beside her, “You sure?”

Her eyes flicked to his, holding his gaze for just a moment too long. “I’m sure.”

He returned to the page, his voice lower now, threading through the quiet tension between them.

“‘You like watching me unravel,’ Paul murmured, his hands tightening on her waist. ‘Does it make you feel powerful?’

“She smiled—a wicked, knowing smile that sent a shiver down his spine. ‘It makes me feel alive.’

“With one swift motion, Paul pulled back Lucille's bustier, revealing supple curves that seemed endless in the dim light. He ran his hands along the smooth expanse of skin, tracing patterns that made her gasp and squirm beneath him. His lips followed suit, kissing and nipping along her collarbone and down towards her breasts. They stood tall and proud under his admiring gaze, begging for attention. With a soft sigh, he bent down to capture one nipple in his mouth, sucking gently at first before increasing the pressure. Lucille cried out, her fingers tangling in his hair as she arched her back off the bed.”

Johnny stopped again, unable to ignore the way Sophie shifted closer to him, her knee brushing against his thigh. “This is… something else,” he murmured, not realizing he’d said it out loud.

Sophie finally turned to him, her cheeks flushed but her smile unshaken. “You like it?”

He let out a low laugh, setting the script down but keeping his eyes on her. “I think you’re trying to get me in trouble.”

She bit her lip, that wicked, knowing smile from the page mirrored on her face now. “Or maybe I just know what I want,” she said, her voice quiet but sure, “Keep going,” she urged.

The room suddenly felt claustrophobic as the scene unfold. His heart raced as Paul buried himself between Lucille's legs, read how she moaned and screamed for him, their encounter brimming with unbridled desire. Every word and gesture built to a tantalizing climax, sending Johnny's mind reeling with fantasies. But it wasn't Paul or Lucille anymore; it was him and Sophie. Her seductive smirk and intense gaze held him spellbound, igniting a fire within him that he could not resist.

“You write like this all the time?” he asked, his voice rougher than he intended.

“Only when I feel inspired,” Sophie replied, standing now. She stepped closer, her movements deliberate, as though testing just how far she could push him. “What do you think?”

“I think…” He set the pages down, forcing himself to meet her gaze. “I think you know exactly what you’re doing.”

Her lips curled into a grin. “Do I?”

The silence between them thickened, charged with all the things Johnny wasn’t saying. The way her scripts had lodged themselves in his brain, filling the quiet moments with flashes of heat. The way she seemed to know, without him ever admitting it, how badly he wanted her.

Sophie closed the distance between them, stopping just short of touching him. “If you’re too shy to finish, I can always act it out for you,” she teased, her voice barely above a whisper.

Johnny’s breath hitched. He couldn’t tell if she was joking, but the way her eyes lingered on his lips told him she wasn’t.

“Don’t start something you can’t finish,” he warned, though his voice lacked conviction.

Sophie smirked, leaning in until her mouth was inches from his. “Who says I can’t?”

And that was it—whatever thin thread of control Johnny had been clinging to snapped. He closed the gap, his hands gripping her waist as their mouths collided. She tasted like smoke and something sweeter, her body pressing into his as though daring him to take more.

The pages of her script fluttered to the floor, forgotten, as Johnny pulled her into his lap, her legs falling on either side of him. Sophie’s fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, her breath hitching against his lips. She didn’t hold back—her movements were confident, commanding, like she’d been waiting for this moment as much as he had.

For Johnny, it wasn’t just about the heat of the moment. It was the way Sophie unraveled him, her words and presence stripping him bare until there was nothing left but want. She made him feel like he was part of her story, and for once, he didn’t care if it had a happy ending.

The room was awash with raw desire and urgency as Johnny's hands fumbled to undo the intricate clasps of Sophie's bustier, the fabric falling away to reveal the soft curve of her skin. Sophie's nails grazed down his chest, leaving a trail of fire in their wake, as she leaned in to capture his lips hungrily. The sound of fabric tearing filled the air as Johnny tore off her dress in a rush, his movements desperate and primal.

Sophie gasped against his mouth, arching into his touch as he explored every inch of her exposed skin. Her hands were everywhere at once, tugging at his tie and unbuttoning his shirt with a fervor that matched his own. The air crackled with electricity between them, passion igniting like a wildfire that threatened to consume them whole.

Their kiss deepened, becoming a symphony of need and longing that echoed through the room. Johnny's hands roamed over Sophie's body, memorizing every curve and

dip, every smooth plane and luscious valley that lay beneath the surface. He traced her spine with reverence, his fingers dancing down the small of her back and around to cup her hip, pulling her against him in a desperate plea for contact.

Sophie whimpered into his mouth, her own hands finding their way beneath his shirt, tracing the muscular lines of his abdomen as she felt the heat radiating off of him. The fire between them was building, growing in intensity until it threatened to consume them both in its fervor. She couldn't remember ever feeling this way before – so alive, so consumed by a need that seemed to pulse through her very veins.

And then Johnny's lips were on her neck, trailing kisses down to where her pulse raced wildly beneath the surface. And despite herself, Sophie's knees began to weaken. His teeth gently nipped at the tender skin of her shoulder, sending shivers of desire coursing through her veins. She could feel the heat from his body seeping into hers, warming her to her very core. And as much as she tried to fight it, it was impossible to deny the sheer power that he held over her in this moment.

The room was spinning with a mix of lust and adrenaline, the two of them lost in a whirlwind of passion that threatened to consume them both. Johnny's breath was hot against her skin, his lips trailing kisses down her neck and across her collarbone until he finally reached the delicate curve of her breasts.

She gasped as he took one in his mouth, sucking gently on the taut nipple while running his hands down over her hips and towards the sway of her backside. Sophie moaned softly into his hair, her hands fisting in his shirt as she arched her back, the pleasure coursing through her. This was beyond anything she'd ever experienced, anything she could write—a fire burning bright within her that only he could fan into flames.

As his lips moved from one breast to the other, Sophie's breath became ragged, her body trembling with need. Her fingers tightened in his hair, pulling him closer still. She felt like she was dancing on the edge of something dangerous and exhilarating, and she was powerless to resist it.

Johnny's hands trailed down her back, tracing the curve of her hips before sliding beneath her, lifting her onto the chair. She let out a soft gasp as he settled her onto the wooden frame, his strong arms supporting her weight. The room was filled with a heavy silence punctuated only by their ragged breathing and the sound of fabric rustling as they tore at each other's clothes.

With an unspoken demand, Johnny lifted her gently and placed her on the small wooden table in the corner of the room. Her breath hitched as she realized how exposed she was, how vulnerable she felt. But in that moment, she didn't want to be anywhere else. She wanted him to take her, to claim her with a passion and intensity that was like nothing she'd ever known.

Johnny pulled back just enough to meet her gaze, his hands firm but tender as they settled on her thighs. “Hold on,” he murmured, his voice thick with restraint.

Sophie blinked, her lips parted in protest, but he silenced her with a smirk that promised he wasn’t going far. He strode to the projection room door, turning the lock with a decisive click that echoed through the space.

“No interruptions,” he said, more to himself than her, before his eyes flicked back to her.

Sophie was still perched on the table, her legs slightly apart, the hem of her skirt riding dangerously high. She looked at him with a mix of confidence and vulnerability, her breath shallow as he crossed the room again.

“And here — I thought you changed your mind,” she teased, though her voice wavered slightly.

Johnny’s grin deepened, his eyes dark and intent as he stepped closer. His hands settled on her waist, drawing her toward the edge of the table with an easy confidence. “Couldn’t have that,” he murmured, his voice low and gravelly. “Not when you look at me like that.”

He leaned in, his lips brushing the corner of her mouth, his words a whispered promise against her skin. “Not when I’ve been dying to know how far you’ll let me go.”

Her gasp turned into a moan as his hands slid down, tracing the curve of her hips before tugging her closer. Sophie gripped the edge of the table, her knuckles white, as Johnny’s mouth moved to her neck, his stubble rough against her soft skin.

“Johnny…” she whispered, her voice breathless and pleading.

“Shh,” he murmured, his lips trailing lower. “You don’t want anyone hearing us, do you?”

He continued, his touch feather-light as he traced the delicate line of her stomach, her skin quivering beneath his fingers. Sophie bit her lip, her eyes closing as he marveled at the way her body arched towards him.

As she felt his fingers slide under the hem of her undergarments, she caught her breath in a sharp gasp. He looked up at her from where he knelt, his eyes dark with desire and a hint of fear. "Are you sure?" he asked, his voice barely audible over the pounding of their hearts.

Sophie nodded, an array of emotions playing across her face as she met his gaze. "Yes," she murmured, her voice trembling with a mix of anticipation and fear. She wanted this; she needed this.

Johnny's eyes locked onto hers for a moment longer before they flicked lower, the heat of desire still smouldering in their depth. He took a shuddering breath, his hands steady as he pulled her underwear down, revealing the most intimate part of her. For a moment, he simply looked, drinking in the sight of her before him.

Sophie's heart threatened to burst from her chest, the sight of Johnny looking at her like that making her feel powerful and delicate all at once. She wanted to reach out and touch him, to pull him closer and reassure him that she was alright. But she also craved the touch of his skin against hers, the warmth of his body enveloping hers in passion's embrace.

With a deep inhale, Johnny let his fingers brush against the sensitive skin before him. Sophie let out a soft moan, her eyes fluttering shut as waves of pleasure washed over her. His touch was gentle yet firm, as if he were caressing a delicate flower with utmost care. She felt herself growing warmer, her body trembling with anticipation.

Johnny's eyes met hers, the intensity of his gaze making her heart flutter. He leaned in closer, his breath warm against her skin as he placed soft kisses along her inner thigh. Sophie let out a shaky sigh, her hands gripping the edge of the table tightly as she felt the world around her fade away.

There was something magical about this moment, something that she knew would stay with her for eternity. Johnny's experience and passion were intertwined with her own desires, creating a symphony of touch and emotion. His hands traced delicate patterns on her skin, sending shivers down her spine and causing a fire to ignite within her core.

As his lips brushed against her folds, Sophie's breath hitched. The room was filled with the sounds of pleasure and need, of their bodies speaking volumes without a single word being spoken. She could feel Johnny's warmth at her entrance, the anticipation of what was to come making her tremble with excitement.

Johnny then descended upon Sophie's slick, wet pussy like a starved animal. His tongue delved into her folds, tasting her sweet nectar, as his lips wrapped around her clit and sucked gently. Sophie's back arched out as a moan escaped her lips. Her fingers threaded through Johnny's hair, pulling him closer as he devoured her.

His tongue darted in and out of her pussy, fucking her with it like a little cock. He teased her entrance, tasting her sweet juices before plunging deeper. Sophie's hips bucked as she ground herself against his face, desperate for more. Her moans grew louder as her pleasure built, her breath hitching with every flick of Johnny's tongue against her clit.

Her legs trembled as she felt her orgasm building. Johnny's skilled tongue worked her into a frenzy, his fingers digging into her thighs as he held her in place. She could feel herself on the edge, ready to tumble over into pure ecstasy. With one final flick of his tongue, Sophie came undone.

Her orgasm tore through her like a tidal wave. Sophie's eyes rolled back into her head as she cried out in pleasure. Johnny continued to lick and suck at her pussy, drawing out every last shiver and shudder of her orgasm. When Sophie finally came down from her high, Johnny looked up at her with a smug smile on his face.

"Good girl," he said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "You taste so fucking sweet."

Sophie could only blush and pant in response, still reeling from the most intense orgasm of her life. Johnny's mouth on her pussy had been filthy and depraved, but she couldn't get enough. She knew she'd be begging for more in no time.

With a smile that promised more, Johnny stood and pulled his pants down, his impressive erection bobbing in front of them. Sophie smiled up at him, her heart hammering in her chest. She reached out to him, her fingers tracing the length of his cock.

"Take me," she whispered, her voice full of desire. "I’m all yours, Johnny."

Johnny positioned himself at Sophie's entrance and slowly pushed inside. She gasped at the sensation of him filling her up, stretching her tight hole until she was overflowing with him. He began to move, his body slamming into hers with a rhythm that matched their hearts' desires.

Sophie's eyes fluttered closed as she felt Johnny's cock pound against her insides. She met every stroke with a moan or a whimper, her nails digging into his shoulders as she held onto him for dear life. The room was filled with the sounds of their bodies colliding—skin slapping against skin, breaths becoming ragged gasps for air.

The air in the room was thick, their bodies entwined in a rhythm that left no room for restraint. Johnny's movements were deliberate yet teasing, each thrust pulling a gasp from Sophie's lips. His mouth found her ear, his breath hot and unrelenting as he whispered.

"Is this how you pictured it?" he murmured, his tone laced with a wicked edge. "When you wrote those words—was it me you imagined, Sophie?"

Her hands clutched at his shoulders, nails digging into his skin as she tried to find balance amidst the chaos he was unleashing on her. She couldn’t answer, couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe beyond the sensation of him inside her.

"You’ve got a filthy imagination," Johnny continued, his voice dripping with mock admonishment, though his thrusts deepened with every word. "I read every line, you know. Every single detail. Do you squirm when you write it? Did you get this wet just thinking about it?"

Sophie’s moan was all the response he needed, her head falling back as she clung to him, desperate for more. Her body betrayed her, arching into his touch, meeting every movement with equal fervor.

He chuckled, low and rough, his teeth grazing her neck. "Thought so. You’re squeezing me like you never want me to stop." His hand slid to her thigh, lifting it higher to anchor her against him. "So tell me, Sophie—am I better than your story?"

Her breath hitched, and she forced herself to meet his gaze, her cheeks flushed with heat. “Y-you’re better,” she managed, though her voice was barely a whisper, “So fucking better.”

"That’s what I thought," Johnny growled, his lips crashing against hers as he drove them both closer to the edge. Sophie arched her back as he reached between them to rub circles on her clit with his thumb.

"Come for me again," he commanded, nibbling at her ear while still teasing her clit. With a cry, Sophie obeyed, her body shuddering with pleasure. Her walls clenched around him, milking his cock as he continued to move inside her.

Never had she felt so alive, so desired. The air was thick with the scent of sweat and sex as their bodies moved as one, lost in the haze of desire and passion. Johnny's lips found hers once more, their tongues tangling in a messy dance of lust and love.

He pulled out at the last moment, his come splattering against her swollen clit. She cried out in ecstasy as he filled her up again, painting her insides with his release. And then they collapsed together in a heap on the table, their breathing ragged and heavy as they came down from their high.

Sophie couldn't believe it—she'd never felt anything like this before. This raw, unrestrained passion that burned bright between them. As she looked into Johnny's eyes, she knew that whatever words she’d written couldn’t truly capture the essence of their connection. Not like this.

Their bodies, slick with sweat and desire, lay entwined, hearts pounding in sync with the fading echoes of their passionate embrace. As their breaths slowly returned to normal, Sophie traced her fingers through the damp hair on Johnny's chest, marveling at the man before her. He was more than just a character in her story; he was real, and he had brought her words to life in a way she never thought possible.

Johnny turned his head towards her hand and captured it in his, bringing it to his lips for a gentle kiss. "That was... incredible," he whispered, his eyes gleaming with unshed tears of overwhelming emotion. "You truly are a wordsmith, Sophie."

She smiled, the corners of her lips turning up in a knowing grin. "I can't take all the credit. You helped bring the idea to life."

He chuckled softly and brushed a strand of hair from her face. "Well then, let's write another chapter, shall we?"

[bunni-v1]

Something that's been on my mind for so long is lighter/harumasa x chubby! Reader, coming from someone chubby I hate how my body doesn't fit multiple outfits or my rolls whenever I sit down. But oh my goodness it's been on my mind o(〃＾▽＾〃)o

🍓Every time a chubby bitch (affectionate) feels insecure a fairy dies. Not to be weird but I fucking love chubby people, they're so fucking hot, I will burn down all of society for them. These r short btw, sorry. I personally have had the opposite issue weight-wise my whole life, so I didn't wanna pretend like I knew what you go through lol.

Lighter Lorenz

-Lighter prefers his partner to have more meat on their bones, I'm 100% sure. (Hoyoverse told me). Having more of you to hold and love would never be a bad thing, and it irritates him when people insinuate their partners being bigger is a bad thing.

-He doesn't really leave room for you to feel insecure about yourself, because he's so very in love with all of you. If you even utter a negative word about yourself he's looking at you with this adorable pouty glare, getting ready to kiss you stupid so you'll shut up.

-He's great for your self-esteem because he makes you feel so amazing and pretty. He peppers you with kisses, especially over parts of your skin you find particularly ugly. He will shower you with love until you also love yourself as much as he does.

-If you're worried about being too heavy for him to hold or anything, that's not a problem either. Lighter is strong, and easily lifts you up regardless of how heavy you are. You weigh nothing to him, honestly, and it's not even a challenge.

-It's not just him, though. The girls also love you, and they won't let you feel bad about the way your body looks. Lighter comes with your own personal hype squad attached, it seems.

-Help the stupid soul that makes you feel insecure. Lighter is like your valiant Knight in Leather Armor. If someone has an issue with you, they have an issue with him, and he's happy to prove that to them if need be.

Harumasa Asaba

-Harumasa is, how do I put this... weight blind? He's just not the kind of guy to really give that much of a shit about little things like that. Life is too short to be picky about the person you fall in love with, and he honestly wouldn't want you to change anything for him anyway.

-Chubby, skinny, tall, short, whatever, it doesn't matter that much to him. You are you, that's all that matters right? Well, if you're feeling bad about yourself, then it matters a little bit. He doesn't want you thinking he doesn't care about your feelings.

-Always, always assures you that you look so good in everything -- and equally, he's always willing to prove that he thinks you look good. He can't promise the clothes will survive, but if it'll make you feel better the clothes can be nobly sacrificed.

-And, yeah, he uses the "You're more comfortable to cuddle," argument on you all the time. It's true, though. You are very comfortable to lay on and sleep with. The soft squish of your warm tummy is the perfect resting spot after a long day of work.

-If someone's bothering you or making you feel bad, he's the type to come over and flip it around on them. He's very good at finding people's insecurities, after all. If they want to make you feel bad, they should know what it feels like too! It's only fair, right?

[timeanemoia]

@/addictedantler is NOT safe to be around minors

Hi!im mostly a lurker but like. enoughs enough. i understand this may not be well recieved but i am so afraid this person will end up genuinely harming a minor if everything is allowed to be covered up. i couldn't live with myself if i didn't say anything. unfortunately a lot was lost when the initial sideblog was deleted, things that would make my points more apparent. but i went digging to the best of my ability and came out of it genuinely crying

a while ago to my knowledge some minor on twitter called out user and scar artist @/addictedantler for a variety of things on his side nsft blog. in response they got sent some nasty things which is besides the point but bears mentioning. now personally i dont think any minor should be the one to be doing that, its not healthy especially when they then get harassed by grown adults. and you might think, oh its just erotica, not so bad whats the deal? and i agree! theres really no issue with that kind of art even rpf, it doesnt matter.

the issue here is the other content matter of the blog and how @/addictedantler is responding. he is lying saying its some other artist that he is safe, it wasnt his blog guys! now, not only is it a blatant lie for reasons i will display later but i find it especially disturbing given what he posted on his now deleted blog and what he continues to post on the remade blog. a certain liking for minors. and in labeling himself safe, covering this up and pushing it away he protects his reputation. he makes himself seem trustworthy. gives him easy access to the many, many minors in this fandom. it worries me a great deal.

i will add screenshots below the cutoff. while there's nothing of anything in the way of uncensored nsft art (just heavily suggestive cropped) there are still text posts and mentions of upsetting subject matter so if you are sensitive to: SA, sxualization of minors, and mentions of inc3st - please steer clear.

im not going to hold your hand though this thread i trust you understand but here are some key points. note the absolutely identical styles, down to how the eye is highlighted. antler can claim all he wants this is a different artist but anyone with two eyes can see otherwise. also! two instances of the exact same pictures of scar being posted on one blog then drawn on the other, sure you could argue coincidence but paired with the style its hardly a possibility. (specifically 2014 scar and mcc). also note the references of scar and tubbo for an underage grooming inc3st au that was talked about a lot on the deleted blog iirc. thats all just look at these i guess. i didnt feel the need to go through and screenshot every disgusting thing there because its unnecessary and i didnt want to have to look at it! you can go to the blog yourself if you feel the need. weird censoring/cropping is because tumblr sucks!

thanks for your time and keep an eye on this person. dont trust him.

[mind-murder-palace]

I’ve asked a few people about this already and while it’s not urgent Id really like an answer to soothe my doubts./gen

I have undiagnosed auDHD and presumably BPD

nonetheless I just needed to give context, I sometimes have these ‘people’ in my head. We chat and overall mostly get along, there’s only four of us including me, we’re kind of like separate parts of me and they’re all the ages I would’ve been that way.

it’s hard to explain but for example

I have one (nicknamed him meanie just to do it) he’s absolutely wrecked, I mean seriously he’s the one that’ll take over and purge even if I haven’t eaten or something. Basically he’s just super traumatized with religion and abuse plus he has really bad disordered eating habits, worse than my normal ones, and all that.

he’s eleven and that was me at eleven, wrecked, hurt, and just trying to feel better.

all of them are a piece of me from some age even if their interests evolve to new ones I didn’t have back then or something it’s still me at eleven, eight, or four. (Also one of them is a girl and I’m FTM so it weirds me out a little bit to think she is a part of me, like girl are you aware you’re in a dudes body? Yeah? Ok then)

sometimes they aren’t there and we’re all welded together again, it’s more often that they aren’t there but when they are we function the way systems have been described to me

does this mean I’m like faking or something? Is this even being a system?- I’m really confused, I support all systems but I don’t know what I am/gen confusion

I don't think it means you're faking! Systems go quiet or feel blurry more often than not. Though you could also be a median system since what you described sounds similar to that. I don't entirely know, you know yourself best 🫡

[averyfuckingtiredyounglady]

Shattered

pairing: hyunjin x afab!reader

synopsis: You hadn’t meant to become his crutch. He hadn’t meant to become yours. But somewhere along the way, the lines blurred, and the late-night hookups turned into something more. Something that neither of you could admit out loud.

genre: smut, angst, psychological horror, [hidden bonus]

word count: 7.5k

warnings: twist? main plot element is a surprise, mature themes, detailed sex scenes, ambiguous ending, y/n is down bad

a/n: aaayyee. the long awaited spooktober fic in january no less! this was a huge challenge for me, i wanted to take this in a direction that is completely unnatural for me, that plus the concept is what made this take so long to finish. this was really hard to write. that being said this is fucking weird. this is not going to be a lot of people's cup of tea i don't think. i personally havent seen any fics like this (and i read a lot) which is why i wrote it. I would hope someone could write something like this even better than i could maybe lol. But yeah please enjoy

_

“What?”

When you looked up at him half of his face was hidden in darkness, one half illuminated by the moonlight coming through the window and the other shaded. You could still make out the expression on his face, the frown of his brows, the glossiness of his eyes, his gaze set firmly on you.

“Are you really okay with how things are right now?

“What do you mean?” You set your phone down, matching his posture. You looked at Hyunjin, cocking your head to the side inquisitively.

He exhaled, letting out a strained sigh as he leaned down resting his head against his clasped hands before he spoke again.

“I don’t think this is going to work anymore. This isn’t good for me. I can’t pretend like I just want to come here to fuck and hang out and go home.. like.. like I don’t care about you. Like we don’t care about eachother… more than this.”

He lets his words fall from his mouth hurriedly, quick enough that he doesnt stop himself.

You don’t know what really brought this on. Why does he want to talk about this right now? What did you say? Was it something you did?

You’ve been aware that Hyunjin had feelings for you, though he tried not to show it, it was obvious. You just wouldn’t acknowledge it. Why should you? What good would that really do?

You sit across from Hyunjin, and you can all but see it, his heart, pulsing, rhythmically in his hand, gushing blood all over your living room floor.

You take a deep breath, feeling the light sting in your lungs before you exhale. You avoid his eyes, staring somewhere at his chest, eyes unfocused.

“You don’t really have a choice.” You let out. Your words hanging in the air like damp clothes on a line. Hyunjin sniffed at this, eyes searching around the room, the way he mustve been searching inside himself for the correct words to say to you.

You unfold your legs, leaning over to reach out a comforting hand to him, setting it on his thigh reassuringly, as this was all you could do.

“I don’t like it all that much either. I don’t. But, what am I to do? This is what works for us right now.” You squeeze his leg tighter, as you squeeze your next sentence out of your chest. “I can’t go through that again. Not right now. You understand?”

It’s not like you had to explain what you meant. How you felt. As he knew well, from firsthand experience what heartbreak could do to a person. What it did to him, but it didnt stop how his chest throbbed now as you rejected him. It didnt stop the way his body tensed up, staving the urge to reach out and hold you, as youd expressed discomfort in that.

So, he didn’t... hold you... he didnt do anything. Instead, Hyunjin collected his things and left your apartment, his mind clouded by thoughts of you that would stay with him that night.

You sat for a moment, clammed up on the floor, heart pricked with sharp shards of emotion that stirred a physical ache in your chest. The feeling was heavy, almost suffocating. It was a kind of pain that wasn’t just emotional—it felt tangible, a pressure that seemed to press in from all sides, making it hard to breathe.

For a few moments, you stayed there, paralyzed by the weight of it all. Slowly, silently, you lifted yourself from the floor, steadying yourself against the edge of the coffee table. Each movement was careful, as if any sudden shift might destroy the delicate balance you were holding together.

As you turned toward your bedroom, you bumped into the table, your water glass tumbling over before you could react, shattering as it hit the floor.

Freezing for a moment, you stared at the fractured pieces scattered across the floor. Your reflection appeared in the jagged shards—split into fragmented pieces, your face warped and out of place.

“Shit,” you muttered, crouching down to pick up the broken pieces. The sharp edges of the glass caught the light as you gingerly gathered them in your hands. You couldn't shake the odd feeling that the image, fractured and distorted, mirrored something deeper inside you.

You woke up with an unfamiliar heat under your skin. When your eyes focused, you stared up at the ceiling, an orange glow spread across the tiles, sunlight creeping through a nearby window. “This isnt my bedroom…Its hot in here. I’m so thirsty.” You lay there breathing as each new thought vying for your attention made its way to the front of the queue. You sat up slowly in bed, limbs feeling oddly heavy. You feel the absence of any blankets. “This is not my bed either” “i know i was in my own bed last night” you recognize this is hyunjins place though you hadnt been many times.

And you remember the conversation you two had. The way he left, the way youd hurt him again.

“Where is Hyunjin?”

Then, you catch sight of the mirror.

You feel a scream crawling up your throat

Hyunjin opens his eyes to pitch darkness. The air feels thick, too close around him, and when he sits up, the sudden lightness of his limbs makes his head spin. Where the fuck is the lights? He staggers out of bed, getting caught in piles of blankets.

It takes a moment for the full impact to hit him. He stares down at the body he’s in—your body—and his breath catches in his throat. His hands—no, your hands—move instinctively to his chest, and the soft weight of your body feels completely alien. His skin tingles with discomfort, every movement too light, too foreign.

He nearly falls rushing to the bathroom, heart rattling his chest as his eyes meet yours in the mirror, but it’s not you, it’s him. He feels a pull from the floor trying to yank him down, like he’s about to pass out.

This can’t be happening.

He presses his hands to his face, trying to ground himself, but the sensation of your soft skin under his palms only makes everything worse. It’s like being trapped in a body that doesn’t belong to him—a body he knows too well but never thought he’d experience this way.

His phone—no, your phone—buzzes on the counter, pulling him out of his spiral. He grabs it, fumbling with the unfamiliar interface until he sees the notification.

It’s a message from you.

You arrive at your apartment before you’re ready to face him—or rather, face yourself. The walk over had been surreal, every step heavier than usual, every movement feeling slightly off. The world itself seemed wrong, like everything was tilted just a little to the side. People had looked at you—at Hyunjin’s body—without noticing anything unusual, but inside, you were unraveling.

Now, standing in front of your apartment door, your heart pounds in your chest. The weight of it feels strange, like even your heartbeat is foreign. You hesitate before knocking, staring down at your—his—hands, trying to remind yourself that none of this is real. It can’t be.

Finally, the door swings open, and you’re face to face with yourself.

For a second, neither of you says anything. It’s like looking in a mirror, but worse—because it’s not a reflection. It’s him. Hyunjin, standing in your skin, his expression tense and uncomfortable, like he’s just as disoriented by seeing you as you are by seeing him.

“This is insane,” he mutters, stepping aside to let you in. Hearing your own voice come from his mouth makes you flinch, your stomach twisting painfully.

“You think?” you reply, your voice—his voice—sounding too sharp, too loud in the small space.

You walk into         the apartment, your movements awkward and stiff, trying to figure out how to exist in a body that isn’t yours. Everything feels wrong, from the way the muscles in your legs tighten when you walk to the way your hands rest at your sides. You’ve been in this body for less than a day, and you already feel like you’re trapped in someone else’s life.

Hyunjin stands in the doorway, arms crossed over his—your—chest, watching you carefully. He shifts his weight, clearly uncomfortable, as if he’s unsure what to do with his hands or how to hold his face.. There’s a moment of shared awkwardness, a realization that neither of you knows how to handle this.

You give a slight nod in his direction, a small grin tugging at the corners of your mouth as you take in the sight of your now-clothed body. “You dressed me?” you ask, amusement lacing your voice.

Hyunjin glances down at the baggy shirt draped over your figure—his shirt. “I mean… was I not supposed to?” he mumbles, crossing his arms again. “It only felt right…”

Looking down at yourself—his body—you swallow, the weight of it all settling heavily over you. “It feels… heavy,” you admit, your voice quieter now, thoughtful. “Like I’m too big for this space.”

Hyunjin nods, rubbing the back of his neck, a gesture that looks strange on you, “I know. It’s weird. Everything feels too... light.” He grimaces. “Like I’m fragile.”

“How do you deal with this?” Hyunjin suddenly asked, his voice quiet but pointed.

You blinked, frowning slightly. “Deal with what?”

“This,” Hyunjin said, gesturing vaguely to his—your—body. “The way everything feels so... tight. Like there’s always this knot in my chest. It’s exhausting.”

You stared at him for a moment, your heart sinking at his words. Of course, you knew that feeling—knew it all too well. That constant weight on your chest, the ever-present tension that never seemed to go away. You’d been living with it for so long that it had become a part of you, something you barely even noticed anymore.

But hearing Hyunjin describe it, feeling it through your body, made it hit differently. He could feel what you’d been feeling all this time, and the realization left you reeling.

“It’s always been like that,” you admitted softly, your voice barely above a whisper. “I guess I just... got used to it.”

Hyunjin turned his head to look at you, his eyes—your eyes—softening in a way you hadn’t expected. “You shouldn’t have to be used to it.”

His words hit like a punch to the gut, and you found yourself swallowing hard, trying to push down the rising wave of emotions. He was right, of course. You shouldn’t have had to carry that weight alone, but you had. For so long. And you didn’t know how to let it go.

“I don’t know any other way,” you confessed, your voice thick with emotion. Your eyes stay fixed to the floor, the tiles blurring as tears flood into your vision. You don’t let them fall. You tighten your fists as to not let them spill out.

For a moment, the silence between you stretched out,

“I get it,” he said quietly. “I’ve been carrying my own shit too. And I didn’t realize just how much it was weighing me down until now.”

You looked at him, really looked at him, and for the first time, you saw it—the exhaustion in your own face, the way your shoulders sagged under the weight of everything you’d been carrying. It was strange, seeing yourself from the outside like this, but it also made you realize just how much Hyunjin had been holding back too.

“This sucks,” you said softly. “But It’s no way we could have avoided this… considering how fucked up we were.” You wiped your eyes, a hint of smile appearing. “God. I fucking hate crying.”

Hyunjin nodded, “Yeah. And im an ugly crier so...” He allowed himself to let out a small chuckle.

There was a long pause, the kind that usually felt uncomfortable but now felt… necessary. Like you were both finally starting to understand each other, finally starting to see what you’d been avoiding for so long.

“I’m sorry,” Hyunjin said suddenly, his voice quiet but sincere. “For… everything. For not being honest with you. For not seeing you, really seeing you, before all of this.”

You felt a lump rise in your throat at his words. You hadn’t expected an apology but hearing it now—hearing it from your own voice, no less—made your chest tighten with emotion.

“I’m sorry too,” you whispered. “For pushing you away. For pretending this was just… casual. When it wasn’t.”

Hyunjin’s eyes met yours, and for a moment, there was no need for words. The understanding that passed between you was enough. You were both broken in your own ways, both carrying the weight of past relationships and unspoken emotions, but now—finally—you were starting to share that weight with each other.

And it felt like a small, tentative step toward healing.

The morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a soft glow across the room. The sense of unreality lingered in the air as you sat across from each other, still coming to terms with the strange new reality of being in each other’s bodies.

Hyunjin—your body sprawled on the couch—stared up at the ceiling, idly tapping his fingers against his leg. It was a movement so familiar, yet now it felt unsettling.

You sat on the edge of the armchair, elbows resting on your knees as you tried to process everything. There had to be a way to switch back, but as the realization that you might be stuck like this, at least for a little while longer, sank in, your skin crawled.

The rest of the day was spent in a strange, quiet rhythm. You’d both come to terms with the fact that you were stuck in each other’s bodies for the time being, and though it was still unsettling, the initial panic had subsided. Now, there was an unspoken agreement to figure things out together, to navigate this bizarre situation one step at a time.

There were awkward moments, of course. Simple tasks like eating breakfast or getting dressed were strange, and you both kept stumbling over the unfamiliar movements of each other’s bodies. But there were also moments of quiet understanding, where you could feel the growing connection between you.

At one point, you caught Hyunjin staring at his reflection in the bathroom mirror, his—your—hand resting against the sink as he studied his face. He didn’t say anything when you passed by—the quiet contemplation, the way his fingers traced the curve of his cheek—made you feel like he was seeing something in you he hadn’t before.

He was learning you, just as you were learning him.

And though the situation was still bizarre, there was a strange comfort in that. A sense of closeness you hadn’t expected, but now that it was there, you couldn’t imagine going back.

Your eyes flick to Hyunjin laying on the couch. The arm of the sofa cradling his head and his -your- hair purposefully laid over it. You’ve seen your body a thousand times before, but never like this. Never from the outside, with someone else inhabiting it. It feels... strange. And unsettling. And a little too intimate.

Hyunjin shifts, watching you from the corner of his eye. his gaze trailing over you—your hands, your face. There’s something in the way he’s looking at you now, something you can’t quite place.

“I don’t know how you do this,” he says softly, almost to himself. “How you live in this body.”

“I could say the same about yours,” you reply, your voice low, your throat tight and you can feel the weight of Hyunjin’s body pressing down on you, heavy and unfamiliar.

You move to sit next to him, taking a small space on the edge of the couch. Hyunjin’s eyes meet yours again. There’s a sense of unfamiliarity and heightened awareness that thickens the air, and you know you both can feel it. It urges you closer to him—closer to yourself.

Before you can stop yourself, you reach out, your hand—Hyunjin’s hand—brushing lightly against his—your—knee. It’s a simple touch, barely anything, but the feeling of it—of his skin under your hand—makes you want to touch him more.

The moment stretches, heavy with anticipation, and neither of you moves. You can feel your pulse in your throat, in your chest, everywhere, and suddenly, the distance between you feels too far...

Your eyes trace the lines of your body, the way Hyunjin is sitting in it—his posture so different from yours, his movements more restrained, almost hesitant. It feels strange to see yourself like this, to see him in you. And even stranger to feel the pull in your chest that comes with that realization.

Hyunjin’s eyes flick up to yours, and something shifts in the room. It’s subtle, barely noticeable, but you feel it—like a current passing between you. The air feels charged now, thick with something unspoken but undeniable.

“I can’t get used to this,” he murmurs, his voice softer now, almost hesitant. He’s still looking at you—at his own face—like he’s trying to make sense of it, like maybe the answers are buried somewhere in your skin.

You swallow hard, your pulse thudding in your ears. “I don’t think we’re supposed to,” you reply, your voice low, rough around the edges. “But here we are.”

Hyunjin lets out a slow breath, his gaze dropping to where your fingers had brushed against his skin. There’s a tension in the way he moves, a kind of restraint, like he’s holding something back. And for a moment, you wonder what it would feel like to stop holding back. To stop pretending this isn’t happening, that there isn’t something pulling you together, drawing you closer.

The couch feels too small now, too confined. Your body—his body—feels too big for the space, and your skin feels too tight. Every breath feels like it’s pressing up against something just out of reach. You shift, turning slightly toward him, your knee brushing his—your—leg in the process.

Hyunjin doesn’t pull away this time. He just looks at you, his eyes—your eyes—searching yours. And in that moment, you realize that you’re both feeling it—that strange pull, that raw, unspoken need for connection, for understanding.

You’ve always been good at pushing things down, at keeping your emotions locked up tight, but right now, with Hyunjin sitting there in your body, the lines are blurring. It’s like you can feel the weight of his confusion, his frustration, and maybe something more.

“I wonder if...” Hyunjin starts, but his voice trails off. He doesn’t finish the thought. He doesn’t have to. You know exactly what he’s thinking because you’re thinking it too.

Before you can second-guess yourself, before you can let the confusion or fear settle in, you lean in. Your hand moves almost on instinct, reaching for him—reaching for yourself, really—and it’s not gentle, but it’s not forceful either. Just a touch. Just enough to bridge the gap that’s been widening between you.

Your fingers trace the line of your jaw—his jaw, now—and you feel the smoothness of the skin beneath your fingertips. It’s surreal, touching yourself like this, feeling the angles and shapes you’ve only ever seen in the mirror. But it’s more than that. It’s the way Hyunjin looks at you while you do it. He looks out of it, like he has a million thoughts running through his head and he’s chasing after each one.

The tension that’s been simmering between you both finally boils over.

Hyunjin’s hand comes up, wrapping around your wrist—not to pull you away, but to hold you there and he leans in, pressing his lips against yours. They’re smooth and pillowy soft, your lips. As you kiss him back, eyes instinctively closing, you take in the smell of him, of his hair, and his skin. The smell of yourself.

You slip your tongue into his mouth, and you can feel his grip tighten on your wrist, his body tensing as he kisses back and a small sound escapes him, muffled by the kiss.

It feels different. But it’s something you can’t quite name, something that feels both terrifying and exhilarating. The way your lips move against each other, the way Hyunjin’s body presses against yours—it’s all so familiar and yet completely foreign.

You’re kissing yourself, and yet it’s him. It’s Hyunjin.

And it’s you.

 Your hands begin to roam, exploring the contours of his body with a kind of urgency that surprises you. Hyunjin responds in kind, his fingers sliding down your spine, his breath hot against your skin.

Hyunjin's hands grip the back of your neck, pulling you closer, as though you could somehow fuse together, body and mind. His lips, moving against yours with a desperation you’ve never felt before, sending a faint tingling throughout your body.

It’s overwhelming—feeling your own body from the outside, feeling how soft your skin is, how responsive it is to every touch. And the strength of your body—Hyunjin’s body—surprises you. It’s like you’re discovering him all over again, but from the inside out.

You pull back for just a second, breathless, your forehead resting against his. Your breath mingles with his, both of you breathing hard, and when you look into his eyes—your eyes—the confusion is still there, but it’s mingled with something else now. Something you’re both too afraid to say out loud.

“Are we really doing this?” Hyunjin murmurs, his voice low, uncertain.

You don’t answer with words. Instead, you kiss him again—harder this time, with all the urgency of the moment flooding into it. There’s no stopping now.

 Without speaking, you both start peeling off clothes, the movements frantic, unsteady, like you can’t get out of your clothes fast enough. It’s surreal, watching your own body undress in front of you, seeing it from a perspective you never thought you’d have.

When Hyunjin’s body—your body—is finally bare in front of you, you openly stare at him for a beat too long and he tries to cover up with his hands. His shyness, though completely absurd, is still endearing. You’ve seen yourself naked countless times, but this is different. This is him in a different form. In a way, it doesn’t even seem like you anymore.

You close the distance between you, the feeling of his body on yours sinks into your skin, and spreads through every one of your nerves- Warm. Hyunjin lets out a soft sound, almost like a sigh, and you can feel the tension in his body, the way his hands grip your arms, holding on like he’s afraid to let go.

“Is this okay?” he asks softly, pulling back just enough to meet your gaze. His eyes dark with desire, but theres a softness there too, a tenderness that makes your chest tighten.

“I’m okay with it,” you whisper, your voice shaky but certain. “I want this. I want you.”

Your hand drifts down, tracing the outline of your cock through your pants, the weight of it in your palm heavy and warm. The feeling sends a rush of heat through you—different from anything you’ve felt before. Hyunjin’s breath hitches, and you can see the flush in his cheeks, the way his body tenses under your touch.

“I wonder how it feels…” you whisper, your voice thick with desire, “to be inside myself.”

Hyunjin’s eyes flicker with something—curiosity, maybe, or something darker. “I want to know, too.”

Before you can overthink it, you’re pulling him down, your lips sliding against his in a messy kiss —your body responding to the familiar and unfamiliar all at once. 

You could feel your own skin from the outside now, the sensation of it under your fingers unfamiliar but fascinating. The texture was soft, smoother than you’d ever noticed before, and for the first time, you realized how delicate you actually felt in Hyunjin’s hands. as he moved closer you could smell your own scent wafting from your skin—it was all-consuming. The scent of your own body, the taste of your lips when you kissed, the softness of your skin—it was intoxicating.

“I don’t even know what to do,” Hyunjin admitted quietly, his voice—your voice—tinged with uncertainty. “I mean, this is your body. I don’t want to…”

“You’re me right now,” you interrupted, your heart racing. “And I’m you. So… I think we just… feel.”

Your hand glides down his chest, tracing the curve of your own body and feeling how it responds to the touch. Hyunjin shudders as your hand brushes against the swell of his—your—breasts. The roughness of your hands against the softness there makes you pause, swallowing hard before continuing.

The sensation is strange—your breasts, which have always been a natural part of you, now feel unfamiliar, foreign, and yet deeply intimate. Your fingers trail over your skin with a mix of awe and confusion, exploring every curve with a renewed sense of wonder.

“I never knew… I never figured that—”

“You felt so good?” Hyunjin finishes for you, his voice soft but tinged with amazement. His hands mirror yours as he caresses himself—your body—with reverence, his touch tender as if learning you anew. “Yeah. It amazes me too.”

Hyunjin’s hand moves lower, tentative but curious, your eyes follow them. His fingers trace the soft skin of his thighs -a delicate dance between curiosity and intimacy. They slide between his legs, and you notice him take a deep breath.

 “I’m wet.”

The words tumble out of him before he can stop them, —a fact spoken aloud to make it feel real.

it’s not that he didn’t expect this. Of course he did. It’s natural, inevitable. But knowing something in theory and feeling it are two entirely different things. And now, with the heat pooling between his thighs, the slickness against his skin, he’s finally experiencing it—fully, tangibly.

As Hyunjin’s fingers linger between his legs, you can’t help but feel a magnetic pull, an urge to close the distance. The sight of him—of you—so vulnerable, so immersed, stirs something deep within you. Your hand moves almost instinctively, reaching out, your curiosity stronger than any doubt.

Your fingertips brush lightly against his wrist, as if asking rather than taking. He glances at you, his breath hitching, and for a moment the two of you are caught in a quiet understanding. His hand doesn’t pull away.

Encouraged, your fingers settle just above his, not guiding, not interfering, but simply being there. Sharing the space, the sensation, the moment. His breath comes slower now, his movements steady, and you feel the warmth radiating from his skin through yours.

And then you feel it.

The slow, building pressure in your body. It starts as a tightness in your lower abdomen, an unfamiliar sensation that makes your breath hitch. You can feel your own skin heating up, the muscles in your groin tightening as something else builds inside of you.

The feeling of an erection.

The sensation of your own arousal was unlike anything you’d ever experienced. The feeling of your cock hardening, the way your balls tightened with anticipation—it was both exhilarating and overwhelming. You had no control over the way your body responded, but at the same time, it felt natural, like something primal was taking over.

Hyunjin’s hands roamed over your body—his body—You could feel every muscle, every shift of skin under his touch, and it only made you crave more. He knew exactly how to touch you, how to make you melt under his fingers, because he knew you. He knew your body in a way no one else could, because for the first time, he had felt what you felt.

You bit your lip as you slid your hand under the waistband, freeing his erection. The feeling of Hyunjin’s dick in your hand—your own now—was almost too much to process. It was hot, heavy, the skin smooth and velvety beneath your palm, and the sensation of it pulsing in your grip

“It’s so… hard,” you whispered, your hand moving slowly, stroking along the length of his cock. You’d never felt anything like it before, the sheer rawness of it, the pressure of arousal building in your gut in a way that was completely unfamiliar.

“This feels…” Hyunjin’s voice—your voice—breaks the silence, as his hands move over your chest, tracing the lines of muscle there. “So different. So intense.”

You smirk, leaning down to press your lips against his neck, feeling the way his pulse races beneath your touch. “You have no idea.”

You decide to take the lead, guiding him to his back as you press kisses along his chest,

Your hands slide lower, grazing the inside of his thighs, and the sensation sends a rush of heat straight through you. more desperate, more eager to explore every inch of him. You pause, glancing up at him and see him staring at you, eyes lidded, but hesitant to close.

You can see the tension in Hyunjin’s face, the way he’s trying to process everything, but he’s too far gone now, too caught up in the overwhelming sensations. His hands grip your shoulders, pulling you closer and when you settle between his legs, you hesitate for a moment feeling your dick twitch at the slightest contact.

You reach for Hyunjin’s hands again, holding them tightly as your eyes meet his. His eyes are tracking your every move, and his eyebrows have worn a crease between them since you started. “Are you scared?” you whisper, voice soft yet steady.

Hyunjin lets out a quiet breath, his cheeks flushed as he glances away, gently pulling his hands from yours to hide his face. "You're even treating me like... like a girl," he says, his voice trailing off, almost embarrassed.

A small smile pulls at your lips. “In a way, aren’t we both… sort of like virgins right now?” You give him a gentle, reassuring squeeze. “Neither of us really knows what this feels like.”

He finally looks back at you, his gaze settling between your bodies for a moment before meeting your eyes again. “I know you won’t hurt me,” he murmurs, almost to himself. “I never hurt you.”

The weight of his words presses into your chest, and though you know he believes them, you’re aware that it’s not entirely true. Pain and pleasure had often existed in the same space between you, something he’s about to experience, perhaps for the first time.

You guide his hands back to your body, encouraging him to explore each sensation, to feel every part of himself as if it’s brand new. He lets out a shaky breath, his touch growing more confident and as your eyes meet, he reaches down grab your cock, languidly stroking it, jerking you off with a touch that is familiar yet entirely new.

You buck your hips into him, seeing the way he twists his hands around the shaft. It feels so fucking good already. The sight of it—your cock, hard and throbbing—makes you dizzy.  The need is overwhelming, and you don’t have time for hesitation.

Sliding your hands slowly up his thighs, you press his legs apart, the vulnerability and trust in his gaze fuel your every move.  You lean in, pressing gentle kisses down his neck, your lips barely brushing his skin, lingering, allowing him to adjust to each sensation. Your fingers trail along the delicate skin inside his thighs, inching closer before you reach his core. As your fingers press and rub circles over his clit, his hand falters, grip tightening around you as he gasps at the sensation. You feel him tremble beneath your touch, his arousal evident as your fingers slide lower, gathering wetness, slick and warm, and spreading it over him.

The look in Hyunjin’s eyes, in your eyes, is not like looking at your reflection. It’s like looking at a stranger. The disconnect catches you off guard but you know it’s him, and all you want is to make him feel good. Give him everything you know he needs right now.

You don’t mean to be rough, but there’s no gentleness in your movements either. Hyunjin’s body feels invincible, and the weight of it presses into Hyunjin’s—your—softer frame. You grip his wrists, holding him down as you straddle him, and you can’t help but notice how small his body feels under yours.

“You’re so fucking soft,” you mutter, almost to yourself, your hands running over his thighs, squeezing them as you press his legs apart, giving yourself the space to move. You’ve never felt your own skin from the outside, never appreciated just how warm and slick you get when aroused.

Hyunjin shifts beneath you, “I don’t know if I—” he starts, but you cut him off by positioning yourself between his legs, your cock heavy in your hand. You look down at your own body spread open and waiting. Your hands tremble slightly as you grip your cock, guiding it to his entrance.

But then Hyunjin’s hand pushes gently against your chest. “Wait.”

You pause, the sudden halt almost painful with how wound up you feel. “What?”

He hesitates, his eyes flicking down between your bodies. “You’re… not used to being a guy. Shouldn’t we—”

You know what he’s about to say, and before he can finish, you cut him off, the words coming out blunter than you intend. “I’m not using one.”

Hyunjin blinks up at you, your own face looking surprised and maybe a little alarmed. “Hell no. I don’t want any chance of you getting me—” he stumbles over the words, his voice rising in disbelief, “I mean, you—pregnant.”

The absurdity of the situation hangs in the air between you for a split second, but neither of you laughs. The tension between you is too high, the heat too intense, and you can tell he’s serious.

You click your tongue, the weight of the moment settling between you, then reach over to grab a condom from the side table. As you roll it on, there’s a brief pause, both of you staring at each other in this strange, disorienting exchange—like you’re both trying to process the line you’re about to cross, or maybe the ones you’ve already crossed.

This is something entirely new.

As you push inside, both of you cry out. Hyunjin tenses completely — the feeling of your cock stretching and filling him—is overwhelming. The tightness, the heat, the way your body clenches around you as you sink deeper inside. More than that, he’s wet, incredibly wet,. You begin to think that whatever the situation your body will always welcome his.

Hyunjin lets out a breathless moan, his hands gripping the back of the couch as his hips arch toward you, urging you to move. “Oh my god,” he breathes, his voice trembling as you begin to thrust into him, slow and steady.

You groan as you bottom out, the slickness of your folds making every movement feel smoother, more intense. The sensation of your cock sliding in and out of him—out of yourself—is unlike anything you could have imagined. The friction, the heat, the way his body—your body—responds to your every thrust. This is what keeps him coming back,

“Hyunjin,” you groan, your hands gripping his hips as you build a steady pace, feeling the pleasure build inside you. “It’s so tight.”

Hyunjin doesn’t give much of a response, though he is anything but quiet, clutching onto you for dear life. “Hyunjin?” You still for a moment, “are you okay?”

“Yes. Just don’t stop”

Hyunjin’s mind is reeling, but his body is burning with need, and he wants nothing more than to lose himself in the moment --- to shut his brain off completely. As you press him further into the couch, folding his legs up, he squeezes his eyes shut, wrapping his arms around you and hugging your body closer. He tries to picture you—the way you usually look, the way you touch him gently, the way you fit against him. That would make this easier, he thinks, if he can just pretend it’s you, like normal, things will feel familiar again.

. Every movement, every brush of your cock against his walls sends waves of pleasure crashing through both of you, the unfamiliar sensations heightening everything.

 In your possession, his dick feels like a loaded weapon—dangerous, powerful, and utterly out of his contol.  The weight of your body—his body—pinning him down, and every time he tries to picture your usual self above him, all he can feel is the undeniable presence of a man.

You push deeper, and Hyunjin can’t stop the sharp gasp that escapes his lips. The stretch is intense, it even hurts a little, but his body responds anyway, betraying him, heat pooling low in his stomach as you hit a spot that makes his legs weak.

“Fuck, I—” His words break off as you thrust harder, your grip tightening on his hips. He can’t finish the thought, can’t admit to himself what is really going through his mind.

He hates how good it feels. He hates that he can’t stop his body from reacting, cant stop the moans spilling from his lips, can’t stop the way his hips move to meet yours with every thrust.

“I can’t—” he tries again, his breath catching as your hips snap against his. He bites his lip, trying to suppress the noises escaping him, trying to hold on to some shred of control. But its slipping away, fast.

“You can’t what?” you mutter, your voice rough, “What’s wrong?”

He wants to hate it. Wants to stop. But he can’t.

You can tell Hyunjin is on the brink of losing it, the way his body—your body—trembled beneath you, his hands gripping the couch as he tried to hold on to something familiar. But there wasn’t anything familiar about this for him. He was in your body now, and you had all the power.

“I don’t…” Hyunjin swallowed hard, trying to get the words out, but they stuck in his throat. His voice sounded strained, like he was trying to hold onto something that was slipping away. “I can’t… it doesn’t feel like me.”

You paused, your hips stilling for a moment as you looked down at him—at yourself. He could see the confusion on your face, but there was something darker there too, something satisfied in the way your lips curled into a small, almost amused smirk.

“It’s not,” you say, your voice quiet, yet clear, “Not right now.”

You push your hands behind his back, slowly bringing him into your arms and pressing his body against yours. Hyunjin realizes then that he is being carried. You pad toward your bedroom in short awkward steps, “Hold on. I got you.” And he does,

 “Why are you carrying me?”

“Because I can.” You stand him up on the floor and turn him around to face the mirror, “Here. Look.”

In the reflection, you can see yourselves, your body, his, and the rest of your bedroom.

.                       You lean in closer, your breath hot against his ear. “See? It’s us,”. You murmur, your hands sliding down to grip his hips, pulling him closer.

It takes Hyunjin a moment to understand what you mean. It’s us. Looking in the mirror like this, it almost feels normal. Like you both are in the right body. You bend him over the bed, allowing him to still see the scene in the mirror. “And this is better than the sofa.”

The expression you’re wearing on his face makes him a little uneasy. So, he puts all his focus onto yours, the real you. Before he realizes it, you’re pulling him back on your dick again. He jolts at the sudden movement, his body curling up off the bed. Have you always been this…rough? Does it just feel different now? Why does he like it so much?

He lets out a choked sound, pressing his face into the sheets. This new angle lets you move deeeep inside, you can feel your eyes rolling into the back of your head. You’re throbbing inside of him, and you know he can feel it.

You hold him by the throat pulling him up to face the mirror, so he can see how good he looks when he’s fucking you, and how good he looks being fucked.

“You like that?” you groan as you rut into him faster, feeling his body clench tight around you. All he can do is nod. “I knew you would.”

 Nobody likes the sound of their own voice, but you don’t want to shut up right now. Letting the sound of Hyunjins voice ring through your head. Every word and every moan that comes to you escaping passed your lips. Why not go all out?

You take each of his wrists, pulling them behind his back, lifting him up off the bed, giving him a full view of your body in the mirror, but he can barely keep his head up, hair falling in front of his face, and when you start to stuff your cock inside him again, your tits bounce up and down with your thrusts. You watch as Hyunjin’s dick disappears inside your pussy, again and again. The sight brings you close to cumming, but you control yourself.

You take in a sharp breath, slowing your pace, allowing yourself to feel the slow drag of your cock against the walls of your cunt, watching Hyunjin through lidded eyes, his reactions make you want to give him more, impossibly more. Dying to see how good you can make him feel.

You put a leg up on the bed, pulling his ass back against your dick. Your hands slide up his back, grabbing him by the neck, and the other hand grabbing a handful of hair. You’re thinking maybe he’ll like that as much as you do and how loud he’s getting confirms it for you.

You push your cock in completely, feeling his pussy clench around you, needing friction, but you still inside him, “You take dick pretty well.” You say before you pull out leaving in just the tip, just before you slam back in suddenly. You continue fucking him in long, deep strokes, your personal favorite.

“Tha-ts no-ot fu- uhah ahhh..” Hyunjin tries to speak through your hard thrusts but fails.

“I’m not being funny,” you grin, taking his jaw and turning it towards you, taking his lips for filthy kiss, sliding your tongue into his open mouth, swirling them around each other. It’s not long before you’re trying to kiss but only panting into each other’s mouths closer and closer to cumming.

You wrap your arms around him in a tight hug, caging his smaller frame inside your arms. Fucking him harder, not any faster, just harder and deeper. Fucking him until you feel him stiffen up below you, feeling his hands clutching at your arms trying to ground himself. You keep driving your cock into him until it sounds like he’s crying.

“Don’t stop. Don’t stop. Don’t sto-,” Hyunjin let out a choked sound, his head falling back as he came, his body convulsing beneath you as the orgasm tore through him. He wasn’t in control anymore—hadn’t been for a while. His body had already given in, and now his mind was catching up.

You could feel it too—the pressure building fast as you thrust deeper, pushing him through his orgasm. You tighten your hold around him, following close behind, the release hitting you hard as you cum inside him, your body trembling with the intensity of it all.

For a moment, the world stops, it takes you both a while to come down, your bodies collapsing together in a tangled mess. The air feels thick, heavy with everything that has just happened, and when you finally pull out, the silence between you is deafening.

Hyunjin doesn’t say anything. He lays there, staring up at the ceiling, his chest still heaving as he tries to catch his breath. You can see the conflict in his eyes—the way he is struggling to process it all. He wants to feel that this is just another hookup with you, but it isn’t. Not this time.

El FIN

second author's note: 🎵 i am yooouuu. I see me in youuu 🎶 i included like page break lines to show time skip but they didnt work when i pasted it in womp womp. look guys a bitch did her best. i tried to give yall the cute little pictures all the other hoes on here do. and i told yall it was weird. theres a lot of issues but writing this turned my brain into sloppy joe mix but if you made it to the end i appreciate youuuu soooo muuuchh. omg i feel like i fucked this up so bad anyway mwah mwah. Now go fuck yourself! Wink wink

[sunnysidesevenup]

Rambling about Che’nya/Idia/Ali because I don’t talk about them enough </3 I still don’t have a ship name for them 😔

- Che’nya and Ali were fast friends since they met in first year, and started dating in their second year! They were initially both nervous to bring up being poly to each other and then it was basically the Spider-Man meme lmao. As long as they communicate they’re both fine if they date other people!

- Ali is super forward in basically any relationship—friendship OR romance—so yeah she would totally just see Idia, go “oh he looks like one of my fav book characters” and then immediately ask him out. She’s not particularly shy about asking people out on dates—that’s how you get to know people, right?

- Che’nya was initially just gonna cheer him on but then he saw Idia and was like, wait actually…. so he went too lmao 😭

(neither of them just EXPECT other people to date both of them, they’re both just really forward so they might as well ask him out and see what happens.)

- Idia thinks they’re playing a prank on him of course. And yet somehow they weasel his number out of him. And add him to a group chat. And then are texting him every day? And encouraging him to go on rants about things he likes? And consistently flirting with him? ….this must be a VERY long joke.

- Ali rambles about her interests so often and with no hesitation and Che’nya still seems happy with him (even when it sounds like complete nonsense), so Idia then feels a bit less scared to do so to.

- Che’nya is good at video games! Sort of. He’s good at the technical aspects of them, although he sometimes gets bored while playing.

- Ali is NOT good at video games but loves the story heavy ones.

- together they make the worst backseat gamers ever. ESPECIALLY IF THE GAME HAS MULTIPLE ROUTES.

- Idia believes only Ali is interested in dating him at first and that Che’nya is just sort of taking pity on him and being supportive of his partner. At one point Ali has to cancel last minute but the two of them are already there, so Idia is like: “well, should we… leave?” to which Che’nya looks at him in absolute horror.

- “WE’VE BEEN DATING THIS WHOLE TIME TOO??” “YES??”

- the wonderland pair constantly hype Idia up to like. an insane degree. They WILL forcibly raise his self esteem, it WILL happen.

- Ali gets into cosplay because of Idia, which is… exceptionally bad for his heart lol. Stop dressing like his favorite characters!!! He’ll die!!

- Che’nya understands both Ali’s weird riddle-like way of speaking AND Idia’s geek internet speak, meaning he is the only translator for them sometimes. However, no one can translate for Che’nya, so he gets to maintain his “reputation of nonsense” (his words)

- sleepovers are the best dates for these three, except when to actually go to bed. near impossible.

- they argue about who to date in otome games constantly. Ali actually got so upset once that she didn’t speak to them for like a week because Che’nya and Idia outvoted them 😭

- Ali is the tallest! Che’nya is the shortest lol.

- they steal each other’s clothes all the time. Idia only does so on accident, though—usually he only wears Che’nya’s because Ali’s are too recognizable.

- Ali will randomly prefer to be called Alistair some days. Idia likes to call this their “mysterious full title”

- they are all very dumb and cute together and I love them anshgshsh okay that’s all for now <3

[sicksorrows]

dont get annoyed at me, sorry in advanced

would it be too crazy to say this about nanami? hes fictional anyway so it wouldn’t matter. but as much as I say this, yeah I do want him to fuck the living shit out of me until I pass out.

I want him to show me off so bad to the point he literally makes a pornhub page and posts the both of us fucking in every fucking position possible and doing every kinky thing possible. id let him rail me as my wrists are chained up on the bed frame and im gagged (or blindfolded) with his tie as he fucks me so well. I need him to cum inside me, continuously until I end up almost pregnant with just his cum and he has to shove his fingers back inside me to pull out everything. as much as I hate the thought of period sex I wouldn't mind trying it out just with nanami. I wish I could give him head while hes in a work meeting and he has to refrain himself from making too much noise while talking. I wish he could cheat on me and fuck another girl in front of me so I could just get mad at him. I wish I could peg him. I wish he would let people watch us fuck. I wish he could fuck into my mouth until I remember each vein and how long and thick it is, (hard and soft). same goes for his cum, I wish he would load a nut into my mouth until I remember the exact taste. I wish he would jerk off in front of me everyday so I can watch his rough large hands wrap around his cock so perfectly, as he strokes up and down faster and faster while staring into my eyes with his flushed face. I wish he would let me ride his nose every day and let me ride him every day, until he memorizes the rhythm and he fucks me in the same movement. I wish he could kidnap me and trap me in his place forever, id develop Stockholm syndrome if it meant staying with nanami. I wish he stalk me like a creepy man and take secret pictures of me, framing them all over his room and jerking off to them every night. I wish he could eat me out every night and drink up all of me, I want to disintegrate in his arms and make sure im left with my soul-less body with him and he has to keep it as a memory, caging up my remains and keeping it by his side until he dies, and we die together. I wish he could fuck me in semi public areas to the point we almost get caught. I wish he could slit my wrists and fuck the cuts. I wish he could love me to the point im all he needs. I wish he could fuck me in the small bathroom In an airplane and only telling me we have a few minutes before they call everyone back to their seats, I wish we could drink all night and get severely drunk to the point of almost getting alcohol poisoning but we still have time to fuck. I wish we could have sex in the ocean as he dunks my head towards the deep end letting all the sea animals see us, I wish he could watch me fuck myself. I wish he could fuck me with his weapon, I wish he could use ratio on me.

he could chain me up and blindfold me with his tie, but yet, thats still not enough. I need more. Ive never been a sex addict in my life and or never had sex before, so of course I sound like a loser virgin with no logic in sex but this man makes it seem so UGHHHHH. my biggest hc is that hes an experimentalist and he will try ANYTHING AND EVERYTHING no matter what. this part may be weird but I kinda want him to abuse me.. I dont even know where to let this out but I know as bad as it sounds I actually wouldn't be mind thrown across the room, pushed, slapped, punched, anything physical I wouldn't mind. I honestly would let him leave bruises on me and mark me as his any way he wants (ofc my statement wasn't a healthy option though) but still!!!!! fucking hell I feel the things I say aren't enough and im just repeating myself a bunch of times without actually thinking of anything new to say but I swear theres so much I wish to say but I can't seem to word it properly. anyway this obsession has gone way too insane if I see other people mention nanami and say that hes their man, my mood immediately changes, like this is MY MAN. MY MANNNNN MINE MINE MINE MINEEEE we are literally soulmates and everything!!!!! this is probably the second or third fictional man ive self shipped myself with because I genuinely love him so much and I dont think this obsession will go away in the next two or so years but telling people I know about this obsession is such a struggle mainly cause they think im a weird gooner or that I sound dumb so I only ever told my close friends who actually watch jjk and they dont get me at all :( sighs nanami is so adorable I want to squish him and hug him and throw him across the world until he comes crawling back to me cause GOD as im writing this im listening to music and everything reminds me of him, I can't handle this I wish to have a read man who can act like nanami and come to my life because im so close to manifesting nanami to come to me. I can't even handle this obsession enough I dont know why but I want him to be my everything I need every person in my life to be replaced with nanami. my doctor, dentist, teacher, friend, LITERALLY ANYTHING!!!!!!! ugh those fuckign biceps pleas ehe can choke me with them and id literally beg, BEG, for moreeee I need more, I need everything, and I need Nanami.

[houseofwolvess]

sorry for the rapid fire rambling posts y'all. i don't know what's up rn but something's up