#to obsessively building this without eating or sleeping

[astrolook]

💗Venus in the 12 Houses - Love, Marriage, Desires, and Red Flags Revealed💗

Note: These are all my personal observations and patterns I've noticed over the years. Take what resonates with you more and leave the rest. Lemme know in the comments if it hits home!

There are general interpretations. The signs on the house can make things different. Look at your Western chart!

Venus in 1st - crushes hit hard and fast, fantasizes off the smallest detail, addicted to being wanted, loves touch and attention, needs compliments to feel alive, sex is passionate and ego-driven, mirror sex, teasing, being watched, dominant but gets turned on by someone who takes control, wants it rough but romantic, flirty even when not trying, love language is touch and constant attention, gets bored if it’s too quiet or routine, chases chaos, confuses lust with love, pulls away when not admired, overthinks if not being noticed, takes care of themselves by dressing hot, posting selfies, shopping, changing their hair or look, hides sadness by turning up the charm, isolates when it really gets bad, won’t admit they’re spiraling, still needs to feel wanted even when numb.

Venus in 2nd - slow burn attraction, crushes build over time, wants safety before sex, needs to feel stable to open up, fantasizes about long-term partners not flings, sensual over sexual, big on physical comfort and routine in bed, loves touch, food, cuddling, cozy sex vibes, neck kisses, earthy and slow, love language is quality time and gifts, sex has to feel earned, doesn’t rush into anything, loyal but possessive, confuses comfort with love, stays too long in dead situations ("dead bedroom"), jealousy hides under chill energy, needs control to feel secure, takes care of themselves by eating something good, shopping, staying in bed, numbs out with comfort habits, avoids talking when low, isolates but still wants to feel cared for without asking.

Venus in 3rd - crush starts in the mind, turned on by voice, texts, banter, flirty and clever, fast talker fast lover, fantasizes about late-night convos turning into sex, loves sexting, curious and experimental in bed, love language is words and constant communication, can talk someone into bed or out of love, gets obsessive with overthinking, mind games, emotional detachment masked as charm, gets turned off if partner isn’t mentally stimulating, sex can feel empty if connection lacks depth, when low they spiral mentally, overthink everything, plays it cool but breaks down alone, tries to distract with social media or hookup energy, sending nudes, hard time sitting with emotions, uses words to deflect feeling.

Venus in 4th - soft crushes that sneak up, feels everything but doesn’t say much, drawn to people who feel like home, emotional connection before sexual, touchy but private, into secret love affairs or deep soul-level sex, love language is nurturing and silent care, fantasizes about being protected and emotionally understood, needs to feel safe to open up sexually, sex is intimate, slow, sacred, emotionally unavailable but expects you to read their mind, holds on to past lovers, avoids confrontation, shuts down when overwhelmed, when low they disappear, sleep a lot, rewatch comfort shows, isolate but still crave someone checking in, too much in their head to ask for what they need.

Venus in 5th - falls for people who make them laugh, shows off when they like someone, flirts like it’s second nature, big into playful teasing, sends thirst traps for attention, wants sex to feel fun and wild, obsessed with being desired, fantasizes about being irresistible, likes when someone’s a little obsessed with them, love language is compliments, showing off together, constant attention, gets dramatic when they feel ignored, picks fights just to feel something, jealous if you look too happy without them, acts super confident when sad, flirts harder when they’re down, celeb crushes, jokes through feelings, needs attention like air eve when they say they don't want.

Venus in 6th - crush starts slow, catches feelings from daily convos, notices your habits, flirts by being helpful, lowkey obsessed with consistency, sex is steady, focused, quietly intense, needs trust to open up, fantasizes about someone showing up every day for them, love language is acts of service, small helpful gestures, doing things without being asked, attracted to routines, stability, and loyalty, over-gives to feel needed, gets stuck in people-pleasing, hides hurt by staying busy, shuts down when drained, acts fine but quietly pulls away, zones out into work or chores when depressed, struggles to ask for love directly, wants to be chosen without having to say it.

Venus in 7th - crushes feel like romantic daydreams, wants a partner not a fling, flirts by being graceful, composed, knows how to pull people in with quiet charm, sex is soft but deep, wants balance and emotional connection, fantasizes about being chosen fully, love language is loyalty, quality time, mutual effort, loves being in sync with someone, obsessed with "the one" energy, avoids conflict to keep the peace, can settle just to not be alone, overthinks everything in silence, shuts down when things get unfair, goes cold when hurt, acts distant but still wants closeness, isolates when sad but checks your socials, self-soothes with routines, soft music, and staying emotionally guarded.

Venus in 8th - crushes feel like obsession, can’t stop thinking about them, picks up on hidden vibes fast, drawn to intense people, flirts through eye contact and emotional depth, sex is emotional, consuming, wants to fully merge, fantasizes about secret love, taboo, power play, love language is emotional loyalty, deep talks, full vulnerability, needs to feel like it’s all or nothing, jealous, controlling, tests people without saying why, creates drama to feel secure, stuck in past betrayals, overthinks every interaction, when low they spiral in silence, disappears to process, won't leave even though it's toxic, sexually frustrated, abstinence, plays it cool but feels everything too much, numbs out with fantasies or sex, craves intensity even when it hurts.

Venus in 9th - crushes hit fast and ends fast, falls for people who feel different or exciting, loves foreign accents and deep convos, flirts through humor, big ideas, eye contact, sex is spontaneous, wild, full of movement, fantasizes about road trip hookups, long-distance lovers, teacher-student energy, love language is freedom, sharing knowledge, exploring together, gets turned on by minds and new experiences, red flag: runs when things get too real, says they want love but craves escape, romanticizes unavailable people, talks a lot but avoids emotional depth, when low they disappear, book trips, change everything, chase distractions, attracted to exotic places or people, pretend they’re fine by staying busy, needs space but secretly wants to be missed.

Venus in 10th - crushes on successful people, older partners, boss vibes, celeb struck, drawn to people with money or status, flirts through achievements, style, showing off wins, sex is intense, dominant, about control and slow tension, can be super sexual or fully abstinent if it doesn’t feel “worth it,” fantasizes about secret hookups with powerful people, being worshipped behind closed doors, love language is consistency, financial support, public respect, wants to be admired and shown off, into sugar baby/sugar daddy dynamics, uses love to climb ladders, may marry for money or image, mixes love with ambition, needs validation to feel loved, when low they shut down emotionally, obsess in silence, chase work over love, secretly wants someone who sees past the image but still spoils them.

Venus in 11th - crushes on friends first, celeb crushes, online obsessions, loves brains over looks, flirts through sarcasm, memes, long convos, sex is experimental, mental, needs a strong connection first or else it feels empty, fantasizes about futuristic love, forbidden hookups, secret relationships, love language is shared interests, inside jokes, late-night talks, drawn to detached, mysterious types, emotionally unavailable, ghosts then watches your stories/status, acts chill but overthinks everything, lies to avoid confrontation, confuses flirting with friendship, when low they detach fully, scroll endlessly, disappear into daydreams, pretend they’re too “logical” for love but want to be chosen without asking.

Venus in 12th - secret admirer energy, hidden feelings, loves people they can’t have, crushes feel like fate, drawn to artists, addicts, loners, or people who seem broken, flirts without realizing it, emotionally seductive, soft touches, dreamy eyes, sex is emotional escapism, loves dim lights, silence, and emotional closeness, fantasizes about being rescued, soulmate sex, karmic lovers, dramatic love stories, love language is intuition, emotional sacrifice, being there even when unasked, gives without expecting much back, gets stuck in secret or toxic love, self-abandons, falls for unavailable types on repeat, confused between love and fantasy, ignores red flags to protect the dream, when low they isolate, over-romanticize pain, disappear into fantasies, live in old memories, lack of self-care when depressed, inexperienced, cry over what never even happened, wants love to feel like a movie but forgets to live it.

🌙💬 For readings, check out my pinned post for pricing and more info 💫💸

[whokilledsamara]

Homicipher pregnancy hc? Especially Mr. Crawling and Mr. Scarlettella pls they're my fav 😭😭 (SFW/NSFW). Ty for all the food, love youuuu.

HOMICIPHER N/SFW PREGNANCY HC

a list of pregnancy hcs for each of the homicipher boys that are ABLE to get you pregnant.

warnings || afab reader, smut, pregnancy kink, soft sex, cunnilingus, rough sex, boob sucking {breast milk}, mention of children in a NON sexual way/completely unrelated to smut

{an: YESS i have a similar request i will also post, love you too!!}

MR. CRAWLING

SFW

at first, he would have absolutely no idea what that is. a mini you? inside of you? very confusing. after a while of explaining though, he definitely will be over the moon! "Small, Us? Happy!"

his favorite activity would be laying his head on your stomach, while you play with his hair. he definitely wants to listen to the baby noises.

the poor man will have no idea what to do, but he definitely will try his best. just ask him for anything, and he will immediately find it for you.

while he usually is crawling, he makes an exception whenever you need– for instance if you are having trouble walking, he will pick you up and carry you. all that crawling builds upper muscles!

he is more territorial, and will growl at the other residents.

he doesn't want you to leave your shared room, and usually will convince you to stay there while he does what he needs to do.

he's definitely a girl dad. he would be happy either way, but a little girl would probably be easier for him to handle— calmness wise.

he doesn't remember his human years, but he always wanted to be a father.

NSFW

will constantly ask to eat you out. he doesn't need anything in return, he just wants to see you happy and enjoying yourself.

could be in between your legs for hours on end– anything for his love. he will come up every now and then, to pepper kisses on your tummy.

if you wish to have penetrative sex with him, he of course will. it will be soft and sensual as usual, and usually in the spooning position.

would never reject you. ever. no matter what it is you want from him.

is definitely the type to have a breeding kink– and knowing you are pregnant with his offspring makes him really happy.

holds his hand on your stomach while he humps into you, his large hand covering almost all of it.

his face will contort into confusion when milk floods his mouth the moment he sucks your nipple. not because its gross to him– he enjoys it actually, but its confusing because that never happened before.

MR. SCARLETELLA

SFW

honestly, the fact that you even accepted him makes him deathly obsessed with you, but you being pregnant with HIS child makes it all the more.

his body will tremble and his face will be flushed while he holds you, desperately holding on to your smaller frame as if afraid to let you go.

he will carry you if asked, but his preferred method would be teleporting you. he does it slower than normal because if he did it fast like he does without you, it would cause motion sickness.

he loves you– obviously. he constantly reminds you. but even when you sleep, he doesn't stop whispering it to you and your unborn baby.

he doesn't always watch you when you need to sleep, but once he finds out you are pregnant its a constant thing. he has to make sure his beloved is safe, along with your child.

you would think he would know he is creepy, which makes it more funny as he stands behind you glaring daggers at whoever you are talking to. almost like a guard dog.

by now, he stopped asking for your name. it might slip every now and then, but a lot less frequently.

NSFW

much like Mr. Crawling, he is usually on his knees, eating you out. whether you prefer to stand or sit, he holds your thighs open and goes to town on your lower region.

he has nice, long, slender fingers– easily reaching those spots inside of you. he will praise how good you are for him and how much he loves you.

he doesn't have a breeding kink, but he never would pull out– hence your pregnancy.

for penetrating sex, he would have you either in the air or on your back- whatever you prefer.

if he finds out you are insecure, he will pleasure you to the point your brain is numb.

he doesn't understand why you get angry, even when you explain it is just pregnancy hormones, but he does enjoy you taking your anger out on him in any way you prefer. definitely has a pain kink.

no matter how many times you tell him you are too heavy, he wants you to sit on his face. he could care less that you have added weight due to the pregnancy– if anything, it makes it better for him

MR. SILVAIR

SFW

of course he knows what pregnancy is, he is a doctor after all– but he definitely didn't think it was possible with a ghost and a human.

he is astonished, but more importantly extremely curious. he definitely will research every part of you– including the baby once it is born. in a safe way of course.

he would definitely get more touchy. usually, he is not a very touchy man other than experimenting, but once he learns of your pregnancy his touches become way more frequent. you are the parent of his child after all.

doesn't have the correct feelings on being a "dad" but would be exceptionally well at it. just subtract the human things from it and he would be wonderful.

he would be very curious on how the baby would come out. would it be half human half ghost? fully human? fully ghost? definitely something he ponders for the whole 9 months.

the type of guy to inspect your breast milk. most likely examine it very closely– finding it fascinating.

would rarely carry you, but also wouldn't be objective of it.

NSFW

as said previously, he had no idea it would even be possible to impregnate you, therefore he had no problem cumming inside. he saw no reason to pull out since you wouldn't get pregnant– or so he thought.

sex would become more frequent. some of the time because he was actually horny, but mostly due to his natural curiosity.

fingers you more frequently than going down on you, so he can watch your facial expressions as he brings you to the edge.

his position would be you sitting on his operating table while he slides into you, a simple and effective position.

will run and rub his hand on your stomach, breasts, or anywhere really.

will be extra careful with anything sex or other related. doesn't want to hurt you at all– even if that means he can't experiment.

he is slightly more possessive, even if he suppresses it. normally he isn't very controlling and allows you to do as pleased, but when you are pregnant, he finds it almost as marking.

MR. CHOPPED {w/ body}

SFW

from the bat, he is more animalistic when he gets his body. he is still how he used to be, but more aloof.

pregnancy is a wild thing for him. he never expected it– but he definitely is excited.

he cuddles with you non-stop. very much enjoys listening to your heartbeat.

funny enough, he will cut his nails for you. usually they are long and sharp, but he doesn't want to hurt you or the baby.

walks with and follows you everywhere, and is literally a guard dog.

will have his face shoved in your neck and arms around you when you talk with people, as to remind them who you belong to.

NSFW

kisses you while he ruts into you, holds you up as well.

he tries to go soft when he fucks you, but sometimes he gets too hurried. he isn't used to having a body.

will eat you out like a starving animal. all up in there for hours. his hands hold open your thighs until you are whining for him to stop.

he usually keeps you on your back, so you aren't putting weight on the baby.

he will definitely whine a lot, moaning about how happy he is to breed you, etc.

MR. HOOD

SFW

top ten girl dad. he's so cute.

doesn't express love, so that is the only negative. would and has died many times for you and your child though.

he holds you inside of his coat, keeping you close to him as you walk through the halls. will absolutely under no circumstances allow danger near you.

the residents are usually not afraid of him due to his calm and non-hostile nature, but fear slowly creeps into people at his suddenly hostile nature.

he is slightly bummed that he can't kiss you, because he has no face, but he opts to hold you as close as possible.

when the child is born, he carries it inside of his cloak or on his shoulders.

his ghostly hands will run along your stomach and up your arms, sometimes giving you light massages when he can.

NSFW

doesn't have a problem with you being pregnant at all, but it still is surprising for both the fact that he is a ghost and also only has tentacles, not a physical penis.

his main source of pleasure for both of you when you are pregnant is his tentacles, but he also uses his fingers from time to time. he has even let you hump his thigh when you wanted.

he can't have you in the usual position with you on all fours, as to not damage your stomach, so he keeps you sitting while he gets to work.

if you wish, he also will allow you to be on top. your weight wont affect him at all.

sex with him is ALWAYS soft. even without you being pregnant. he is a really calm guy, not aggressive in any way unless absolutely necessary.

carries you in the bridal position often.

MR. GAP

SFW

originally when you told him, he didn't say anything. he just stared at you before disappearing. what you thought was anger, was actually him just going to Mr. Silvair to ask what that meant.

even with his questions answered, he was relatively nonchalant about it. not much else he could do honestly.

you did notice slight changes in his demeanor though. small things like hissing at people through the cracks in the walls, or not allowing you to leave his location.

tied to that, he often kept you near him at all times. usually you would be stuck to his side or under his arm, but it didn't matter to him.

he was always sassy, but tended to be much calmer while you were pregnant. he even stayed when you would cry from pain/hormones.

he became gentler with you, not tossing or snatching you like he would previously.

you would be given many little gifts he would find, either without you knowing or just blatantly giving it to you.

he would do many experimental touches, both confused and curious. he liked your breasts though, of course.

NSFW

wall sex. constantly. almost every opportunity he had, he would bend you against the wall and rail you.

very rarely would he be soft, but if you asked him to he would slow down.

his hand never left your stomach, sometimes having both on it in your bent over position.

he finds your pregnancy hot. he likes how your stomach grows, breasts enlarge, and hips grow wider. big turn on for him.

he also enjoys eating your cunt from behind, also in the bent over position. if you are up for it, he will eat your ass too. likes the view of your pregnant stomach and breasts hanging slightly.

fingering would be just as rough as usual with him. still very very good though, he hits all the right places.

he's weird, he would absolutely squeeze your breast hard and watch milk squirt from it. even when you tell him its gross, he laughs and does it again.

kisses also become more frequent, both lips and stomach.

MR. MACHETE

SFW

dude does not care at all, just shrugs and walks away.

when you catch up to him again and explain it to him, he smirks and goes "More, Fight?" meaning he wants to fight the kid too.

you would have to slap his arm and tell him no, only for him to shrug again. "Disappointed."

when realization hits him, it definitely makes him groan. he doesn't want to have to take care of a kid, but he still wont leave you. he isn't THAT bad.

eventually he would warm up to it, going softer on you and not attempting to fight you as often.

will begrudgingly carry you around, even though you didn't ask him to. he will try to tell you its not because he cares, but you know better.

the type of guy to throw his machete at someone for looking at you wrong.

he does enjoy wrapping you in his arms, like a small toy.

much like Mr. Hood, when the baby is born and grows to an actual child, he will carry it on his shoulders and be genuinely friendly.

NSFW

you're gonna be sore for days. pregnant or not, he doesn't change his pace. he keeps you on top of him while he is sitting, and bounces you up and down like a doll.

easily manhandles you, the extra weight doing absolutely nothing for him.

will also hold your stomach up while he pounds you from behind.

will tease you by saying things like "Going to, Make, Two" just to piss you off.

he doesn't go down on you often. not because he doesn't want to, but because of his sharp teeth. it doesn't affect him either way though.

he has rough and calloused fingers, perfect for fingering you, rough as always even during your pregnancy.

again, doesn't care that you are pregnant and will still mark you.

also the kind of guy to get off on squeezing breast milk out of you. even when you slap his hands away.

very much enjoys a boob job with your enlarged chest, and will cum all over your face from it.

thank u for reading, ily all 🥺

{ made by @whokilledsamara }

[ariaxco]

stop rushing: slow glow ups last longer ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ 🩰

everybody’s obsessed with overnight transformations. 30 days to a new body. one week to “that girl.” glow up in a weekend.

it’s cute — until you realize quick glow ups usually burn out just as fast.

real glow ups? they take time. they’re not dramatic montages with perfect playlists. they’re slow, boring, invisible at first. and they’re the ones that actually last.

here’s the truth: it’s not about changing your whole life in a week. it’s about changing tiny things consistently until your life doesn’t look the same anymore.

no crash diets. no fake confidence bursts. no temporary motivation highs.

we’re not here for a “new you in 30 days” — we’re here for a permanent upgrade.

the slow glow up looks like:

showing up for your 6 a.m. workout even when you’d rather sleep.

reading instead of doomscrolling.

eating one healthy meal a day without making it a whole event.

choosing to rest without guilt because you know you’re building a life, not a highlight reel.

it’s building habits so quietly no one notices until they can’t ignore the results anymore.

stop rushing. slow glow ups are silent, patient, and rooted. they're the kind that can’t be undone by one bad week or a little failure.

you don’t need to glow up fast. you need to glow up forever.🌷

[peachesofteal]

Like Real People Do previous + masterlist + AO3 Simon Riley/female reader - hospital au CW: none

Riley is pouting.

She wriggles in her seat, hands on her hips, nose turned up in the air. “I don’t like carrots.”

“Okay well, that’s too bad because they’re part of your dinner.” You don’t have the finesse of a parent. You’re not a mother, there’s no natural instinct, and there’s certainly not a guidebook.

But you’re trying, even if it’s not enough. It’s all you can do, try for her, do it for her.

“I don’t want them.” You sigh.

“Riley, please. Come on, you have to eat vegetables.”

“Says who?” This girl is going to be the end of you.

“Says me, okay? I’m in charge.” You always thought ‘you’re not getting up from this table until you’re done x y or z’ was stupid, but now, it’s making a lot of sense. She scowls at the carrots, but spears one with a fork. “I cooked them in brown sugar, they can’t be that bad.” Even if they were good, she wouldn’t admit it now, but after the first few bites, she eventually finishes all but one straggler.

“Can we watch a movie before bed?” You shake your head and try to cut off the guilt that’s already building from having to deny her.

“You have time for a shower and maybe a few pages of your book.”

“Why?!” She stomps her feet and you pinch the bridge of your nose.

“Riley, we went riding after school, and that takes up those extra two hours you have between dinner and bed. Right?” She huffs. Crosses her arms and then-

“You’re mean.” She doesn’t understand and you don’t hold it against her, but it still stings.

“I know,” you sigh, defeated. “Now up you go.”

You don’t wish your dead sister and her husband ill will, but sometimes, you do curse them for very good reasons.

One those reasons is the fact that they sunk Tess’s earnings into buying a horse farm with too much land, used all of their savings to help finance building a house from scratch and a new barn and now…

You’re paying a mortgage you can’t keep up with.

You stare at your phone, the open banking app. You wait to stress out over money after Riley goes to bed as a rule. She’s a kid, she’s been through enough, she doesn’t need more… anything. Stress, worry, fear. That’s for you to handle, and at the end of every month, when the payment is due, you feel like a ticking time bomb. Checking your accounts obsessively, adding up numbers again and again, going to sleep and waking up thinking about it.

It’s exhausting, but what are you supposed to do?

Sorry Riley, we have to sell the house you grew up in, all the horses, and your mom’s legacy. Let’s go live in a two bedroom apartment?

Yeah, no.

“Daisy?”

“What?” Ava is blinking at you from across the table and Olivia is frowning.

“We asked you what you thought? About the new job?”

“Oh. Sorry I wasn’t paying attention.” Too busy doing math. “It’s fine. I’m getting used to it. It was a steep learning curve at first, you know? The babies are so little.” They exchange a look. “What?”

“Have you talked to Doctor Riley?”

“I mean, yeah? He’s basically in charge of the unit, so…”

“No. Have you talked to him.” Ava emphasizes, and you sigh.

“No. I haven’t figured out a way to bring it up, and he only recently stopped laying into me all the time. It’s not like I planned this I… I’m trying to figure it out.” Olivia nods thoughtfully, and points her fork at you.

“Maybe you should let it slip during pillow talk.”

“What?!” Ava’s eyes go as round as the moon, and Olivia snickers.

“Doctor Riley has a thing for Daisy.”

“No he doesn’t, she’s full of shit, and lower your voice, Liv. Jesus.” Gossip spreads like wildfire in a hospital. She shrugs.

“He stares at her all the time-”

“He’s just intense-”

“And she saw him naked-”

“Just without a shirt on-”

“Oh my god.” Ava laughs. “You like him.”

“No, I do not.”

“Uh huh. Look at you. You’re getting flustered and you never get flustered.” She’s cackling now, head tipped back, and you have an urge to punch her in the throat. “I don’t blame you. The older man thing is hot.”

“Oh my god, it’s not an older man thing and I-”

“It would be okay, you know.” Olivia interrupts quietly, “if you did. What happened-”

“Well I don’t so it doesn’t matter.” Her focus shifts, attention turning towards something behind you, and the tension in your spine releases.

“Paul Revere.” She coughs into her hand, and as you freeze, Ava perks up.

“It’s just dad and Doctor MacTavish.” Ava has called John dad since he dressed her down in a hallway one time and punctuated his lecture with ‘I’m not mad at you Ava, I’m disappointed.’ She waves. “Hi dad!” He shakes his head from across the cafeteria, mirth shining in his blue eyes, and she sighs.

“I don’t care what you say. The older man thing is hot.”

“Excuse me?” The woman startles at the sound of your voice. “Can I help you?”

“Oh I’m Samantha.” Okay? And what the fuck are you doing at Ellie’s crib? And why is your hand in there?

“Is there something I can help you with Samantha? Take your hand out of the crib, please.” You edge closer. She’s right at the rail, looking down at Ellie, your patient, your baby for all intents and purposes, with a small, sad smile on her face. Panic flares in your blood.

“How is she doing?” She does remove her hand, thank god, because if she hadn’t you don’t know what you would have done. Twisted her fingers until they broke, maybe.

“Who are you?” She blinks, and you look her over, checking for a visitor pass or an ID badge of any kind. When you don’t see one, your hackles raise even higher. “This is a secure floor, how did you get in here? And where is your mask?”

“Oh I’m her aunt. Her dad let me in.” You look around for the father, Seth, to find he’s nowhere in sight. There’s no way for you to verify this woman is who she says she is, and this is your baby. You’re not taking any chances.

“Okay. I’m going to have to ask you to leave.” Her laugh is quiet and awkward as she gives you a weird look.

“I’m staying here until he gets back. He asked me to.” Your stomach ties itself into a knot. This woman could be anyone, she could be sick, she could be a baby-napper for all you know. She hasn’t been checked in, she doesn’t know any of the protocols. She could touch something. Pull something. Disconnect something. She had her god damn hand in the crib, and who knows if she washed it or what she was doing.

“That’s fine, but you’re not wearing any identification and you haven’t checked in so you’re not supposed to be in here.” It’s a struggle to keep your voice even keeled, and you have to press your nails into your palm to keep your hand from shaking.

“This is my niece,” she snaps, “I can be here if I want to be.”

“No actually,” you reach past her towards the wall and slam one of the buttons. “You cannot.” She goes from irritated to angry when security appears at the sliding glass doors but before your shoulders can drop from their position beneath your ears, you see him. Your ghost. Doctor Riley.

He’s a step behind Henry, a scowl already pulling at his lips. Great.

“What’s going on?”

“What’s going on is I was trying to tell this woman I’m Ellie’s aunt, but she freaked out and got aggressive with me.” Anger licks up your spine.

“I’m not some woman, I’m her nurse. I’m responsible for her, and this woman is not supposed to be in here.” Your heart rate is climbing. You don’t know why this situation is digging under your skin, but it’s escalating, you’re escalating. “She hasn’t been checked in, she has no ID and says Ellie’s dad let her in. She doesn’t have a mask and she hasn’t been screened for upper respiratory or fever, and she had her hand in the crib. She could have been touching her without washing her hands, she could have been touching her lines or…” you trail off. Isa is watching from her patient’s crib across the room with a thumbs up, and Key is at her side, smiling. Proudly. You take a deep breath. “She needs to leave. Now.” Your pulse is pounding under your jaw like you’ve just run a marathon. You look to Henry for back up, and he’s swift with it.

“I’m sorry ma’am, but Daisy is right. You can’t be in here.” Her eyebrows shoot into her forehead.

“This is ridiculous. I’m family!” She’s still ranting as he ushers her out, yelling about getting you fired, but it feels inconsequential. Your responsibility is to Ellie, not some stranger who claims to be family. You don’t care.

But you are shaking.

“Daisy.” Doctor Riley’s voice is that gentle tone, the one that’s smoothed out around the edges and endlessly patient. “Take a breath.”

“I’m sorry, I-”

“Take a breath.” You suck in a short burst, but he shakes his head. “Slowly.” He takes stock of Ellie’s monitors before looking down at where she sleeps. “You have nothing to apologize for. Your patient is vulnerable and cannot advocate for or protect herself, so she needs you to do it for her. It’s your job to take care of her and that’s what you did.” You nod, horrified at the lump starting to grow in your throat. What is happening to you? Where is your control? Your chest rattles with an exhale, and his eyes find yours. “You kept her safe.” Riley flashes through your mind. Safe. Healthy. Happy. The lump in the back of your throat grows bigger, and you look away immediately. “Are you okay?”

“Yes.” You croak. One syllable, because you’re afraid your voice might break on two.

You take a breath. You hold it. The world disappears for a moment as your lungs start to burn and you refocus, repair these cracks, this loss of control, and when you reemerge, when you release your air, everything is fine again. Normal.

Except Doctor Riley is studying you, and after a deep breath of his own, he frowns and walks away.

[imhaechanshoe]

Ahn suho NSFW alphabet

A = Aftercare

Suho is excellent at aftercare. He’ll clean you up gently, hold you close, rub circles into your back, and softly ask if anything hurt or felt too good to handle. He might even laugh shyly when he sees you’re still dazed, then kiss your forehead and make you something to eat.

B = Body Part (Favorite)

He’s obsessed with your neck and shoulders. Whether it’s tracing veins with his tongue or biting softly where your neck meets your collarbone, he likes seeing you flinch in pleasure. He’s also a fan of your eyes, watching them flutter or lock onto his when things get heated.

C = Cum

Suho prefers to finish inside, especially if you’re in a relationship. He’s respectful and always asks, but something about the intimacy of it—how close it makes you—drives him wild. If you’re not doing that, then he’ll gladly finish all over your stomach or back, panting as he kisses your spine.

D = Dirty Talk

He’s more of a groaner than a talker, but when he does talk, it’s low, rough, and honest. Expect whispered praises like “You’re so tight,” “You feel like heaven,” or “You’re mine.” Occasionally, he’ll surprise you by swearing when he’s close—it’s always sexy.

E = Experience

He’s not wildly experienced but he learns fast. Suho is the type to pay close attention to your reactions and repeat the things that make your legs tremble. He’s not cocky, but he’s confident—and he’s really good with his hands.

F = Favorite Position

He loves missionary, especially when he can look into your eyes, lace your fingers together, and grind deep. But if he’s feeling rough or jealous, he’ll pull you into doggy, gripping your hips like he owns you. He’s also a fan of sitting positions—like in his lap—so he can hold you tight.

G = Groaning

He’s vocal but not loud. He growls and groans close to your ear, especially when he’s fighting to stay in control. If you moan his name, he’ll moan yours back without hesitation.

H = Hair

Suho keeps it trimmed but not bare. He doesn’t care much about grooming unless you’re watching him. Then he gets shy about it. He finds it hot if you tug his hair during foreplay.

I = Intimacy

High. Suho is incredibly intimate—his touches are slow, deliberate, and filled with emotion. If he’s sleeping with you, it’s not casual. He’ll kiss you like he’s starving, and hold you like he’s afraid you’ll vanish.

J = Jacking Off

He doesn’t do it often, but when he does, it’s always with you in mind. If he’s been away or had a fight with you, he’ll get off thinking about your mouth, your moans, or how you say his name when you come. He’ll always look a little guilty afterward.

K = Kinks

• Possessiveness: Not controlling, but he likes knowing he’s the only one who gets to see you like that.

• Marking: Hickeys, scratches, bite marks—he wants reminders of where he’s been.

• Praise: He lives for making you feel good and hearing you say how much you love it.

• Power dynamics: Slight dominance, especially when he’s angry or jealous.

L = Location

He’s a bit cautious about public places but won’t say no to a hidden alley or a locked classroom. His favorite place is somewhere warm and private, like your bed—or his, when he gets brave enough to ask you to stay the night.

M = Morning Sex

He loves waking up next to you and pulling you in before either of you speaks. It’s slow, warm, and tender—more about the closeness than the rush. You’ll end up tangled in sheets and kissed senseless.

N = Nudes

He rarely sends any unless you really beg, but if you do, they’re tasteful, sweaty gym selfies or shirtless mirror pics. He adores getting them from you though—he’ll bite his lip and save them in a locked folder.

O = Oral

He gives amazing head. He goes slow, builds you up, and watches your face the entire time. He’ll hum against your skin and won’t stop until you’re shaking. Receiving? He gets shy at first, but once he realizes how good your mouth feels, he loses control fast.

P = Pace

Suho’s pace depends on the mood. He’s usually slow, deep, and rhythmic—but if you beg or provoke him, he can get brutal. Either way, he knows how to build tension and take you apart piece by piece.

Q = Quickies

Yes, especially if emotions are running high. After a fight, in a bathroom, or before class—he’s into it if the tension’s been building. Expect intense, rushed kisses and hands that don’t want to let go.

R = Risk

Medium. He’s not reckless, but if he’s feeling emotional or needy, he’ll take risks. He once kissed you breathless in a stairwell and had his hand under your shirt before he even realized where you were.

S = Stamina

High. Suho’s got the stamina of someone who works out constantly. He can go for multiple rounds if you’re up for it, but he’ll always make sure you finish first.

T = Toys

He’s open to experimenting but prefers using his hands and mouth. If you ever brought toys into the bedroom, he’d use them on you like a pro, especially if it turns you on.

U = Unusual Place

Once in the back room of the convenience store after hours. He was tense from a fight and you calmed him down with kisses that turned into something more. He never forgot it.

V = Volume

He’s a low moaner, full of breathy grunts and soft growls. He only gets loud when he’s close or if you hit a particularly good spot.

W = Wild Card

If he really trusts you, Suho will let his walls down completely—whimpering, clinging, and begging softly in your ear. He may act tough outside, but in bed, he can be emotionally raw in the most beautiful way.

X = X-Ray (What’s Under the Clothes)

Lean but muscular. He’s not bulky, but he’s defined—especially his arms and abs. You can tell he trains constantly. There are faint scars on his knuckles and torso from fights, but they only make him more irresistible.

Y = Yearning

Off the charts. Suho aches for you when you’re not around. He won’t always say it, but you can feel it in the way he touches you—like every second is borrowed time.

Z = Zzz (Sleep)

After sex, he crashes hard. His arm always ends up around you, holding you close like a shield. He sleeps best with his face buried in your neck and your scent on his skin.

[chimielie]

"Isn't it a little much?" You pause your step on your way into the elevator, blinking at your coworker. Rinne, a pretty girl with light eyes and a perpetual hand on her hip, smiles at you as she pushes past, her lips stretching over her teeth. "I saw Rin-kun's Instagram."

Her casual reference to your boyfriend takes you aback. You didn't know they were so close.

"Ha, I'm sure," you say. "He likes posting a lot, doesn't he?" Rintarō fancies himself a photographer. Mostly, he takes mirror selfies and turns the exposure down very low. He sends you three a day minimum. You, trapped in a cubicle, are only able to sneak away to the bathroom to reciprocate once on average.

"He has a great eye for aesthetics," she nods. "His feed is very satisfying. You're lucky to have him."

"Eh," you shrug. For some reason, she emits a noise something like a whistling kettle.

"So mean!" She shakes her head. You snort. Rintarō gets annoyed with people who are too nice. He thinks they leave a bad taste in his mouth, like eating sugar before bed without brushing your teeth. "You force him to put you in his bio and then act ungrateful? Someone else might come and take him from you."

"What?" you say. The elevator dings, signifying that you've reached the lobby. "He's, like, super whipped."

The doors slide open and you step through, turning when you notice that she hasn't followed. She's hanging out in the elevator, her mouth open like you said something shocking. You wonder momentarily if you had—but shouldn't partners be obsessed with each other?

You forget about it as soon as you see him. Rintarō's bangs are falling into his eyes as he leans over the receptionist's desk, looking ridiculously large as he braces his forearms on the low white marble counter to bend to her level. You quicken your step and he whirls around just before you can make contact, scooping you up and sighing happily as you throw your arms around his neck.

Rinne is almost out the door of the building. You shout a goodbye after her, but she must not hear you, because she doesn't respond.

"Did you have a good day?" Rintarō asks as you bow goodbye to the receptionist.

"No," you say. "You didn't replace the toilet paper after you used up the last roll and it ruined everything."

It's not until you're back home, lying comfortably with your head on him so his heartbeat is there, loud and clear and strong in your ear, that you remember.

"Hey," you say, taking the hand holding yours up to your mouth and biting lightly, lower teeth on the pulse point. You can hear his heartbeat kick up, which makes you grin. "What's your Instagram bio?"

He laughs, a quiet chuff that makes you feel like you've stepped into the sun from an air conditioned building. How lucky you are, to love this man in a language all your own.

"Who told you about that?"

"One of the girls at work asked," you say. "I had no idea you and Rinne were friends."

"Who?" He squints. "I don't know anyone with that name. The annoying one from the last holiday function?"

You swat at him but don't correct him. "Yeah. She said you have a satisfying feed."

He rolls his eyes, his mouth still kicked up in a smile so you can see his sharp right canine. Unfairly attractive, your man is.

"I like that you don't give a shit about pissing on your territory, you know that?"

You frown.

"Gross! What're you even talking about?"

He doesn't answer, infuriatingly. He just types something in and hands you his phone.

His bio reads: sunarin: my girlfriend is cooler.

Your account is tagged, but you rarely use Instagram and you don't even have the app, so you rely on him to hunt down all the good reels and help you stalk people from high school and whatever else you might need it for. It's sweet. His feed is nice enough, you think, not half as good as the album of pictures of his sleeping face that rotate as your lockscreen.

"No wonder people think I'm some kind of crazy girlfriend," you say, handing the phone back to him. He sets it aside and puts his hand on your back, warm and solid. "You're making me enemies at work."

"Aren't you gonna say I'm sweet?" He goads.

"For stating facts? It's not out of the goodness of your heart," you poke him. "It's just true."

[deadsetobsessions]

Danny Fenton is so damn sick of rich fruit loops. It’s worse now, since he’s one of them.

It’s not Vlad that he’s with, thank the Ancients, but Danny isn’t sure that this is better.

Because he’s Timothy Drake, a baby, and he’s been reincarnated after the Ancient of Reincarnation accidentally drank too much wine.

He’s going to kick their ass so hard when he gets back.

Danny huffs. He rolls over, ignoring the silent manor. Sure, he’s read the comics. Sure, he laughed and imagined being adopted by Batman- come on, Danny had black hair and blue eyes even back then, he was totally adoption bait- when his parents gave him reason to lose trust in their love. But that’s it, that’s all he thought it was. A day dream, a wish for a universe that didn’t exist.

Danny hadn’t understood the reality of the whole Infinite Realms thing, a place he was now the King of. Batman? Real. Danny? Reincarnated. Hotel? Trivago.

Like, this wasn’t what he meant, dammit.

And now he’s stuck as Timothy Drake, and Ancients, he was starting to see parallels.

——

Danny tried photography. He really did. He wanted to at least stick to the source material. But that’s not who he is. Even with the shiny new brain that memorized, catalogued, and put together clues at the snap of his fingers, but Danny’s never been one to take photos. It’s a respectable art, for sure, but Danny preferred to live in the moment instead of capturing it to remember forever. It’s just-

He watched the Graysons fall. He watched Dick Grayson turn into Robin. And Danny can’t and won’t ever betray his Obsession like that, ever again. He can’t let Jason die for his “story” to begin. That’s not how Danny works.

He’s there to protect.

Danny hasn’t ever been just Tim. Danny was also Tim and the Ghost King without a haunt. But now? Gotham is his haunt. He, in lieu of an actual city spirit, is Gotham. He’s also a Drake. And Drakes were meant to hoard.

Batman and Robin? They are his.

He claimed them, as a Drake. But that claim is weak. So he claimed them as their city, and that is a claim that will never be able to be challenged.

Danny’ll be damned before he allows some lanky starved clown beat the life out of one of his Robins. So, for the first time in his nine years on this planet, Tim-Danny goes ghost and flies.

“Who- who. Are you?” Robin slurred from his place in Danny’s hold. He is broken, yes. But not dead. Danny infuses some of his vitality, his ecto, into Jason’s injuries to help them heal.

“Gotham.” Danny replied, layering his ghostly voice with those of the city.

“Goth’m?”

“Gotham. Sleep, little bird. Your city has got you.”

When Robin, Jason, settled with a sense of trust that tugs at Danny’s core, Danny carried him to Batman, whose eyes were wild and manic. He glared menacingly at the green and white ghost in front of him, who was holding his broken and beaten son-

Well, it’d be menacing if Danny hadn’t watched him eat bricks and mortar, crashing into a building while using his grappling gun.

“You-”

“I am Gotham.” Danny cut him off. Despite his wary nature and natural paranoia, Batman settled at his city’s gaze rested on him. Danny knew that Batman recognized his city. Batman’s head bowed, but his eyes stayed on Robin. “You were supposed to take care of Robin.”

“I- I know.” And that voice was all Bruce Wayne the Dad instead of Batman the Vigilante. Danny gently placed Robin in Batman’s arms, taking in the tremors as he held his son close.

“Go back, Bruce. And make sure Jason knows how much you love him.”

He laughed as Bruce whipped his head upwards. “I am your city. You are mine as much as I am yours. I’ve known of you before you were born.”

Technically? Not untrue. But Bruce will chalk it up to weird magic shit. It’s not like it’s a secret that Gotham’s kind of curse. Besides, this way, Danny will be able to help out more often. And Bruce won’t be able to connect Tim Drake to the “Spirit of Gotham.”

“Return, my knight. This is not your city. I can not protect you as well as I can in Gotham.”

“Thank you… Gotham.”

Danny sighed. He wondered when he’ll have to field questions from a John Constantine. He’s pretty sure Bruce will call in magical help, even if it was his own city he was investigating.

Batman’s lucky Danny liked him enough to allow it.

[catssluvr]

dating nerdy/loser natalie scatorccio <3

⭑.ᐟ Straight up just obsessed with your existence, Nat’s blindly in love with you and would do anything to make you happy - probably loves you tons more than playing video games and that’s a compliment.

⭑.ᐟ Makes you watch all of her favorite movies, not so subtly looking over to catch your reactions to her favorite parts and also yapping about little details that no one else notices.

⭑.ᐟ Takes the gameboy she bought on second hand everywhere with her, pulling out in public whenever she’s on a line or even at school when she’s bored. She plays the games you find most interesting so you’re also entertained.

⭑.ᐟ Drags you to the arcade and makes you play the duo games with her, then plays the other ones while you sit close to her eating some snacks she got from a vending machine.

⭑.ᐟ Tank tops and pajama checkered pants are her go to outfit - not that you could ever complain. Also likes graphic tees with a long sleeved under them and sometimes the infamous leather jacket she wears just for you.

⭑.ᐟ Absolutely tears up whenever you give her flowers or anything of the sort, mostly just overwhelmed with how nice she thinks you are to her.

“Baby, are you crying?”

“What- no! I just had hot cheetos and they were extra spicy.” Meanwhile pouting with trembling lips.

⭑.ᐟ Talking of pouting, it’s probably Nat’s top one reaction to you being mad at her. She’d never make you feel anger towards her on purpose so most of all it makes her panic right there. Tries to solve it as quickly as possible because all she wants is to see your frown dissolve into a sweet smile so she can finally hug your bones out.

⭑.ᐟ Loves to sleep in and will not let go of you until she’s fully ready to get up, nuzzling into your neck and practically whining when you make move to take off the covers.

⭑.ᐟ The biggest cuddle bug and particularly adores being the little spoon. Have her lay her head on your chest while playing with her hair and she’ll be purring like a cat in seconds.

⭑.ᐟ Is an absolute tease who wants your attention 24/7, will pinch your cheeks and arms until you finally look at her.

⭑.ᐟ This girl gets the zoomies randomly, giggling about stupid things and jumping on top of you to tickle your life out and cover your pretty face in wet & very sloppy pecks.

⭑.ᐟ Never having to be scared of her cheating cause realistically she’s a big loser who can barely talk to a girl without stuttering and wears shirts that say ‘i love my gf’ every other day.

⭑.ᐟ Is so freaking clumsy, keeps on hitting her toes on wall corners and breaking cups because she trips on literal air. It’s all worth it for her though because she gets to have you as her personal nurse, putting a band aid over where she’s hurt before placing a kiss over it.

⭑.ᐟ Paints your nails while you tell her about the latest gossip going on, listening attentively and gasping dramatically when she thinks something is particularly shocking.

“He did what!? :0”

⭑.ᐟ Genuinely leaves hickeys on you sometimes without even noticing. She’ll be kissing your neck without any second intentions and before she can stop herself there will be a whole bruise on it.

⭑.ᐟ Has a lego collection with spaceships from star wars and some geeky video games. Gets sooo giddy when you buy her new ones and prepares a whole date night for you to build it with her.

⭑.ᐟ When you’re sitting together in class she draws silly doodles on your notebook, making very bad drawings of both of you holding hands with hearts around you.

“Look, that’s us :)”

⭑.ᐟ Sometimes gets a bit insecure and doesn’t understand what you see in her, it’s hard to believe you actually love her for who she is. But once you call her over when you’re with your friends in public and literally show her off she knows there was never a reason to doubt it.

[ghwostcult]

Hobbies

Paring: Max Verstappen x reader Summary: Max gets bord while on race breaks, and decides to pick up new hobbies. Some are better than others

You’d been dating Max for almost a year now, and it had been great. From lazy morning sleep-ins to late-night dinner dates, you loved all of it. But your favorite parts of the year weren’t the planned outings or romantic getaways. They were the random little things Max did.

Take last week, for example. You’d come home from a long day at work, carrying a bag of McDonald's. You knew Max wasn’t supposed to be eating that kind of food because of his diet.

Not that either of you cared, as long as his nutritionist didn’t find out. It had become a quiet, monthly tradition between the two of you. But when you walked through the door expecting to see your boyfriend, you were instead greeted by a massive toy car racetrack taking over the living room. Max was sitting in the middle of it, commentating like it was the next Formula 1 Grand Prix.

“Who’s winning?” you asked, like it was the most normal thing in the world. And for the two of you, it was. These little moments were some of your most treasured memories. No matter how long you’d been together, you were always discovering these small, weird, wonderful things about each other.

You were used to coming home and finding Max mid-obsession. There was the week he became addicted to building flat packs. You gained three shelves, a chest of drawers, and six bookshelves from that phase. All of which remained mostly empty since neither of you owned enough stuff to fill them.

But this week had taken a turn you never expected.

With a rare week off from racing, Max had decided to try his hand at crocheting. He was not as good as he thought.

The first thing he made was supposed to be a blanket. And, to be fair, it looked like a blanket. If that blanket had been through fifty years of wear and tear. Still, you didn’t say a word. You just smiled and congratulated him because of the way he looked at you. Like a kid proudly showing off a school project. Someone else could break the news to him. Not you.

Today, though, had rendered you completely speechless.

You walked in, once again holding a bag of greasy food you had both been craving. Max met you at the door with his hands out, and you passed the bag to him without a thought. You kicked off your shoes and removed your jacket. But when you walked into the living room, you stopped.

The couch. It was rainbow. A couch cover, clearly crocheted, had been draped over the whole thing like a technicolor explosion.

“You’re insane,” you whispered, staring directly at it.

Max glanced at you, then back at the couch. “I prefer creative, but whatever works for you.”

He sat down proudly on the rainbow monstrosity, patting the spot next to him and placing the bag of food on the coffee table. You shook your head but joined him anyway.

Immediately, he pulled you into his side. Your body fit against his perfectly. A familiar comfort settled between you without needing a single word. A random movie played in the background as you took your first bite of food.

“You really need a new hobby,” you mumbled through a mouthful of burger.

Max nodded slowly, his eyes full of amusement. “Yeah. I’m thinking ceramics.” He looked down at you with a soft smile. His eyes were filled with nothing but love. <3

[mochieekittenz]

Hold Me After

cw: p*ssy eating, (not so) dry humping, thighf*cking

character(s): caleb x f!reader (smut)

aaaaand before we begin! thank you so much for all the love on my last Sylus post — your comments, reblogs, and general interactions absolutely made my week. You guys are insane in the best way, and I adore you for it!! <3 It makes me genuinely so happy seeing people enjoying my work because I try to put my everything in it

THIS FIC is brought to you by my sleep deprivation and the ghost of my dignity. Warning! This is 90% my Caleb obsession and 10% me desperately trying to keep up. I take no refunds. Proceed with caution and enjoy! :>

──★ ˙

𝓘t was summer — Last year of highschool

The school year was practically over. Graduation was just a few weeks away, and for the first time in ages, the idea of “what comes next” didn’t make your stomach twist with anxiety — it actually excited you. You were done with the routine, the crowded hallways, same questions, same answers. There was something thrilling about the thought of stepping into the world on your own terms.

You’d always dreamed of that moment. Of being your own person, following your own rhythm. It should’ve been exciting. You were ready for it — or at least you told yourself that.

But the truth was, independence didn’t always feel like freedom. It felt like silence, sometimes. Like boredom. Like being left behind.

It also meant change. Real change.

Especially when it came to Caleb

You used to see him every day. He was your partner in crime. A best friend, someone with you didn’t have to pretend anything. You knew each other too well for that. You shared the same roof, same stories, the same stupid inside jokes that could only build after years of proximity.

He’d tease you, you’d mock him, you’d steal food off each other’s plates, pinch eachother, even argue at some times. The unstoppable bickering between you two was a no stranger.

It was simple like that

But now? Now everything felt…grown-up. Fragile. Like if you said the wrong thing, you’d ruin the balance.

He’d started college — aviation. He was chasing clouds while you were stuck finishing essays and pretending high school still mattered. And Caleb changed — not drastically, but in little ways that stung. He spoke differently now, carried himself with a quiet kind of confidence. He was sharper. More thoughtful. His voice deeper, his face leaner. There was still the same warmth when he smiled at you, still the same teasing edge — but something else, too. Something you couldn’t name without feeling stupid for noticing.

He was visiting you and grandma as much as he could, when he wasn't heavy with his responsibilities, like now — early June when holidays were almost there. When the sense of nostalgia filled the air and made everything rush back to you.

However — Today the house was still. Caleb had been out all day, catching up with old friends he hadn't seen since winter. Dinner was long over. Grandma had gone to bed early with one of her crime novels. You were laying on your bed, freshly showered and still warm from the steam, your hair damp against the back of your neck. The heat had lingered even after sunset, turning your small room into a suffocating bubble of humid air and sticky skin. An old fan clattered weakly at the foot of your bed, doing more noise than good.

It was too hot to think. Too hot to sleep. You lay on your stomach, chin propped on the pillow, staring at your phone screen and scrolling through the same posts, fingers moving out of habit more than interest. Pictures. Videos. Nothing new. You were bored out of your mind.

That restless kind of bored that made your skin feel too tight. That kind of bored that made you itch for something, anything to feel.

You sighed heavily and locked your phone, you let it rest on your chest, staring up at the ceiling in the darkness. It was so hot. It was so fucking hot.

It felt ridiculous. But your body wouldn’t settle, no matter how many positions you tried, no matter how many apps you opened and closed again.

There was nothing to do

There was no one to talk to

And you couldn’t stop thinking about Caleb

Not in that way. Not…like that.

At least, that’s what you told yourself.

But he’d been so different lately. Distant, quieter. Still kind, still Caleb — you caught him looking at you sometimes. Not in a way that you could call out. Just…a second too long. A flick of the eyes when you weren’t wearing a bra under your tank top, or you were wearing something shorter. You never wanted to admit it to yourself, you never let such thoughts even cross your mind — You felt bad about it.

But on the other hand.

You weren’t stupid

You noticed the way his eyes flicked away the instant you met his gaze, like he was caught but unwilling to admit it. That brief pause, that half-smile that never quite reached his eyes. It made your heart both race and ache, all at once.

Your legs shifted, thighs pressing together. You exhaled slowly through your nose. Your hand moved to rest on your abdomen, fingers mindlessly fumbling with a string of your sleep shorts.

It was dumb

But you can still feel it — the way he looked at you, those barely-there glances that never failed to set that weird sensation in your stomach. It made your skin tingle in the worst way possible. Your heartbeat quickens just at the thought of it, a slow, taunting ache blossoming inside you.

Without really thinking, your fingers twitch at your waistband. Your hand drifts, almost hypnotically, sliding underneath the soft fabric of your shorts.

Not because of him. Of course not. He was just a passing thought.

A shiver runs up your spine as your fingers press gently against your underwear. The touch is light at first, a delicate tease as your fingertips trace the smoothness of your panties. You feel the faint heat beneath, a warmth you hadn’t fully acknowledged until this very moment. It makes every nerve in you ignite.

With an heavy exhale you begin to circle your fingers. Your touch slow at first, barely there. Just enough to make your body tense, to make your hips lift slightly into your own hand. Your other hand gripped the sheets. Your breath stuttering. The world outside faded, leaving only the uneven rhythm of your breath and the gentle rise and fall of your chest.

Your mind drifts again, tangled in fantasies of what those looks might mean — what might possibly happen if you dared to meet his gaze and hold it.

And you imagine his voice.

Low

Breathy

Over your ear

Saying your name the way he doesn’t.

Just a passing thought. Yeah

You press harder, your fingers finding that perfect spot over your underwear, that little bump covered by the fabric, rubbing in gentle, measured circles. The friction — the pressure — it’s not enough, but it’s a good start.

You know this won’t take long

Not when your body already knows what it’s chasing. Not when you’ve been carrying this heat all day, pretending it wasn’t there.

You bite your lip, trying to keep quiet, a soft sigh escapes. Your legs part a little wider, giving your fingers more room to move, pressing harder, faster.

Your whole body is flushed, caught in that delicious, desperate chase. You catch the inside of your cheek with your teeth. And just as your thighs started to tremble—

...

Click

The door swings open

Caleb.

You freeze

"Hey pipsqueak, I've—" you can swear that his face just went through at least 15 emotions, all at once.

....

"Shit...Sorry—"

You lay wide eyed. Heart hammering. Hand still buried under your shorts, caught in motion.

He wasn’t supposed to be here. He didn't knock — because he never had to knock — and now there he is — Caleb. Standing in the doorway, just like he’s always done, comfortable, casual — except this time, he had seen everything.

In one frantic motion, you yanked the sheets over your hips, sitting upright so fast your head spun.

“Jesus—Caleb, knock—!” you blurted out, voice breaking somewhere between anger and panic.

He had seen.

“I—fuck,” he stammered, eyes darting to the floor, but he didn’t step back, didn’t shut the door.

“I didn’t know — I thought you—"

“Y-you were supposed to be out—" you muttered, your voice strangled.

“I was. But I left my charger in your room,” he whispered, voice low and ragged. “Didn’t think…”

....

Your skin prickled. Your heart wouldn’t slow down, no matter how hard you tried.

“…didn’t think I’d walk in on you doing that.”

You swallowed hard, chest heaving.

“W-Well—congrats. You did. So—"

He still stood there, caught like he’d stepped into a dream he wasn’t sure was real. His gaze raked over you—slowly, like it hurt to look and hurt more to stop.

You both stared at each other, locked in the kind of silence that stretches forever. He didn’t move. Didn’t leave. And for the first time, you saw something in his expression that wasn’t brotherly at all.

Something else flickered there — a shift you didn’t know what to do with.

His gaze was too steady. It made your stomach clench. You saw the way he shifted his weight, the way his hands curled and uncurled at his sides. You were both hovering on the edge of something irreversible.

“Were you...gonna finish?” His voice was quieter now, lower. Not teasing. Not mocking. Just… raw.

What. The. Fuck

"Wha-...C-Caleb, what are you—"

“You were gonna finish, right?” he asked again. “When I walked in?”

The way he said it — not teasing, not cocky. Just…careful. Wanting. So painfully full of restraint it almost hurt.

Your eyes were like two red coals, Caleb never saw such desperation on your face, he really did done something to you. As if this insane desire was matching up to his own - long suppressed one.

“I wasn’t—”

“Don’t lie.”

You looked at him and you didn’t even knew what to say anymore.

He ran a hand through his hair. He was flushed — from frustration. Confusion. Something messier.

You swallowed, your face turned crimson by now.

“Caleb—”

“Please...Tell me what you were thinking about.”

You shook your head, your eyes dropping to the floor.

“Tell me,” he said again, quieter.

“I… I don’t…”

"Please. I need to know." he groaned as if he was going through some kind of pain

You couldn't find your voice at this moment.

Caleb took a nervous second of look back, then clicked the door shut gently, the sound barely audible. He paused, motionless, as if weighing his next move. Then, with slow, deliberate steps, he approached the bed and crouched beside it.

“Did I ever cross a line with you pipsqueak?” he asked. “Ever made you uncomfortable?”

“I...No.” you shook your head.

“Then tell me the truth.”

You bit your lip, eyes cast down.

“Were you thinking about me?”

You were silent, but the corner of your eye twitched. That was everything he had to know.

And he breathed out like if you had just knocked the air from his chest.

Caleb's heart raced, pounding against his ribs like a drum. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. He couldn't believe what he was witnessing. You, touching yourself, thinking about him? It was everything he had ever fantasized about and more. But it was also so, so wrong.

He swallowed hard, trying to push down the dark, depraved thoughts that flooded his mind. He couldn't think about you like that.

“…Shit. Please don't do this to me." he exhaled heavily.

His voice was low, like it barely made it out of his throat. Like he regretted the question even as he asked it.

You didn’t know where to look. You couldn’t meet his eyes. Your thighs squeezed together and it only made it worse.

He knew he should put a stop to this conversation right now, should push you away and pretend he had never heard your confession. But he couldn't bring himself to do it. He couldn't bring himself to deny you, to deny himself the chance to be close to you in a way he had always secretly dreamed of.

He was too fucking selfish, too consumed by his own dark desires to do what was right.

“I was trying so hard not to be a sick fuck. So hard.” his face was washed with something you've never seen before. His hand moved out, intertwining his fingers with yours. He swallowed. Hard. His eyes flicked up to your face.

"I'm trying to be good , pipsqueak...I really am. But I don’t know what the fuck we are anymore.” he muttered. ”And do you?”

Your fingers curled tighter around his as you were watching how your hands connected.

“I…” your voice came out small. “I don’t know.”

Caleb exhaled through his nose, eyes shutting like he was trying to keep something inside from spilling out. But it was already too late for that.

“I keep thinking it’s just a phase,” he said. “That I’ll get over it. That it’ll pass.”

His eyes met yours, and they were haunted. Desperate.

“But then you look at me like that. All wide-eyed. Like you’re scared of me. Like...you don't know me? Or worse — like you’re curious.”

Your eyelashes fluttered, your eyes taking in every inch of expressions that were washing over his face at this very moment.

“I hate myself for it. For all of it.” he continued

“I’m not...—proud of what I thought,” he admitted. “Of what I felt. Of the things I imagined when I was alone.” you could swear that his eyes were freaking glossed as he rambled.

"Caleb..."

“I'm so sorry pips. But...I just— I don’t think I can play pretend to be your good proper brother anymore. It's driving me batshit crazy. I’ve been swallowing it down for so long. Every glance. Every goddamn brush of your skin against mine. And it’s—it’s eating me alive.”

He stared at you like he needed you to hate him. Or need him back.

“I don’t want to be this guy,” he said. “I really fucking don’t…”

He moved closer, forehead pressing against the edge of the mattress like it physically hurt to hold back.

“If you tell me to leave, I swear to God I will. I’ll walk out that door and never bring this up again.” his voice came out a muffled desperation.

“But if there’s even a part of you… that feels this too…Then please. Let me stop pretending.”

You felt your throat tighten, the words caught somewhere between fear and fire.

“I…I thought I was crazy.”

He stilled. Moving his face up to look at you.

“I thought...it was just me,” you whispered. “The looks. The way my stomach would flip when you’d come into my room—” you felt your eyes starting to sting, you bit your lip to prevent your emotions from showing. Caleb was watching your face silently.

“I...I hated it. Hated...how wrong it felt. How wrong I felt. But you were always so calm. So normal. Like it didn’t even cross your mind. And I figured it was just me being…sick.”

“No,” he said instantly. “God, no, baby—”

“I know,” you whispered. “Now I know.”

Your fingers curled around his.

He was silent, his eyes bright as all the stars brought together. His lips were parted slightly, as If he couldn't believe his own ears. He swallowed and exhaled through his nose, rising slightly on his knees.

"Can I...Can I kiss you?—"

“Yes.” your response came faster than you could think. You thought about it. Fuck you thought about it so many times, even if you wouldn't admit it to yourself.

His breath shuddered. He leaned in slowly, as if he was giving you every second to back out. But he never found any hesitation.

He closed the distance. His lips brushed yours like he was testing the idea of a kiss, not taking it. Feather-light, his breath trembling over your plushy lips.

You made a small, aching sound in the back of your throat — not even a word. Just need.

And that was it.

He pressed his lips against yours. He kissed you, this time real. His hand curled into the sheets near your hip, still not daring to touch your skin, but his mouth moved over yours like he was starving for it. Like kissing you was a sin and a salvation all at once. You whimpered against him, your lips parting, and he groaned into your mouth like the sound had been ripped straight from his chest.

Your hand reached up blindly, curling into the front of his shirt, pulling him closer with a breathless little noise you couldn’t hold back. That was all it took for him to lose the last of his control.

He deepened the kiss — not harsh, but needy, hungry in a way that felt like it had been building for years. And you kissed him back — shy, nervous, a pure instinct.

As if driven by some quiet courage you didn’t know you had, your free hand found his wrist. You squeezed it gently.

He pulled away to catch his breath, his eyes flicked open, searching yours — surprised but not pulling away.

Slowly, hesitantly, you guided his hand downward, until his palm rested against your inner thigh. You held his hand there for a heartbeat, your heart hammering in your chest like a drum. And then, with a trembling breath, you guided it further.

Right between your legs.

Caleb froze for a second — his breath caught in his throat. But he didn’t pull away. Instead, he looked at you with something fierce and tender all at once.

“Are you sure?” he whispered, voice rough and barely controlled.

You nodded, cheeks flushing hotter than before.

He shuddered and leaned back towards you. He started to plant soft kisses over your jaw, sliding down to your neck. He nuzzled his nose into your collarbone, letting out a shaky breath as he let his fingers fumble underneath your sleep shorts.

His breath caught — sharp and audible — and for a second, his whole body visibly shuddered.

“Holy—…” he whispered, voice cracking in his throat.

His fingers pressed gently against the dampness soaking through the thin cotton, like he couldn’t believe what he was feeling. You squirmed, your face twisting slightly as you felt his fingertips grazing your panties.

“You’re—” He stopped, swallowing hard. “Fuck, you're soaked..”

He pulled back just enough to look at you, his face flushed, lips parted, chest rising like he couldn’t catch his breath.

“You got like this… just from touching yourself?” he asked, eyes searching yours, stunned and wrecked.

You nodded, shy but unable to lie.

His fingers kept moving slowly over the soaked fabric, each drag making you twitch beneath him. It was maddening — warm, steady pressure just shy of what you needed, and you couldn’t stop the quiet, aching sounds spilling from your throat.

Caleb was staring at your face like he was watching something sacred. His jaw was tight, eyes wild, and his lips hovered just inches from yours — close enough that you could feel every shaky breath.

You whimpered, hand fisting the sheets beside you.— like the sound was dragged out of your chest without permission. Your eyebrows pulled together.

His breath caught again — like every sound you made hit him straight in the chest.

“You’re already shaking,” he murmured, voice rough. “And I haven’t even touched you properly yet.”

Your breath shook — a sharp, broken sound that made his whole body jolt.

“I can feel you through them,” he rasped, fingers teasing along the edges of your panties. “You’re so wet I could probably taste it through the fucking fabric.”

You squirmed. His mouth found your ear, he kissed it slowly, reverently, as his thumb dragged down the soaked center of your underwear once more — slower this time.

“I’m...trying to go slow,” he murmured against your earlobe, words hot and wet against your skin. “Trying not to scare you. But, fuck, pipsqueak…”

He groaned, soft and strangled, his hand pausing again.

“You feel like this and expect me to be normal?”

You shifted, thighs twitching around his wrist, and his fingers twitched in response — a helpless reflex.

“God, pips… I’m so hard right now.”

He swallowed hard, eyes dark and desperate.

“I swear, it’s like my cock’s about to burst.”

He leaned downwards. His lips found the corner of your mouth, moving down to jaw, then your neck — slow, open-mouthed kisses dragging down every inch of your skin. You whimpered uncontrollably.

“You have to be quiet,” he murmured, barely above a whisper, “Because if Gran' hears, we’re both fucked.”

Caleb’s hand massaged you for a moment longer, trembling with every touch — before he slowly pulled back, his eyes dark and searching. His fingers hooked under the hem of your shorts, sliding them slowly down you.

You swallowed hard, cheeks flushing even more, caught between embarrassment and want

“I hate that you couldn’t finish… because I walked in. I’m gonna make it up to you,” he vowed, voice desperate but soft. “I promise.”

“I want to do this right,” he whispered, voice low, rough with need. “I want to make sure you feel everything — all of it.”

Caleb stripped your shorts off with practiced ease, the fabric pooling at your ankles. He dropped to his knees beside the bed again, hands firm as they slid beneath you, pulling your hips to the edge with a quiet hunger. His breath hitched, eyes locked on the darkened center of your underwear, his pupils wide with want. He wetted his lips slowly, gaze flicking up to meet yours — a silent question, or maybe...just maybe — a promise. He leaned in.

His mouth found you through the damp fabric, a low hum escaping him immediately as he kissed you there. His nose grazed against you as he breathed in, savoring the scent of your arousal. You gasped softly, hips jerking upward in response, and his eyes didn’t leave yours for a second — dark, burning, and full of intention.

”H-Hah...Caleb—" you whined out

He lingered there, lips pressing to the soaked fabric as if testing your patience — or his own. He exhaled a shaky breath, then slowly, deliberately, let the tip of his tongue drag along the dampness, tasting you through the thin barrier. His hands gripped your hips tighter as he let out a low sound of approval, the vibrations humming against you.

His mouth moved with purpose now — no longer tentative, but hungry, sure of the effect he had on you. His tongue traced slow, deliberate circles, then flicked with precision, alternating rhythm and pressure in a way that made your thighs tense around him.

Your face twisted with that kind of pleasure — that you didn't even knew could exist - until now of course.

“You don’t know what you do to me,” he murmured into you, his voice breaking on the edge of awe. “You taste so sweet… I need—” his breath caught, “—I need to make you cum…"

And with agonizing slowness, he hooked his fingers under the edge of your underwear, his fingers tracing the lacy frill that was already soaked by your arousal. He lifted his eyes to yours once again — a silent pause, waiting for your permission, your surrender. When he saw it, he pushed the fabric aside, baring you to his heated gaze.

"Gods—You're so...pretty, pipsqueak."

He took his time, as if memorizing every detail, before leaning in again. This time, there was no hesitation. His tongue met you fully — wet and hot — It made your hips jerk up harshly, your hand flew to cover your mouth. Fuck and the whine he made...was pure need. Each drag of his tongue was hurried, worshipful, drawing a gasp from your nose as your body arched into his mouth. You couldn't blame him, he waited for so long after all. He held you there, pinned by the weight of his hunger, devouring every reaction with his mouth, his breath, his eyes.

You shivered like you've never did before. A bead of sweat rolled down your back. Your fingers found his hair, threading through the soft strands, pulling instinctively as your hips arched toward his mouth. He responded with a low growl, gripping your thighs tighter, holding you open, guiding you exactly how he wanted you — nowhere to run, nothing to do but feel.

His lips sealed around your clit. Tongue closed around the delicate bud, flicking and teasing with maddening precision, the tip of his tongue blessing it with kitten licks, sending shockwaves of fire straight to your core.

"C-Caleb, I-I can't—" you whimpered over your hand.

“I wanted to get my hands on you...for so long...” he stammered, then sucked — hard. His lips locked tight around your clit like he was trying to drink the years of longing straight from your body.

”I...I just wanted to do this to you...” his fingers stroked your thighs, tender but desperate, like he couldn’t decide whether to hold you or worship you.

“You don’t get it,” he gasped against your heat. “You don’t fucking get it. I’ll ruin myself for this. For you. I’ll tear myself apart. I’ll fall on my knees, I’ll beg, I’ll fucking crawl. I'll do anything you ask me for—"

He whined like a damn puppy. It was cute — in it's own way, but so fucking sick and twisted at the same time.

“Can’t believe you’ve been walkin’ around with this between your legs…and I couldn’t touch it,” he whispered raggedly, kissing your inner thighs, his voice cracking like he was close to crying. “All those nights thinking about it. Thinking about you—how you’d taste. How you’d sound.”

He groaned like it hurt to say it, to feel it, to taste it. His fingers trembled slightly as he spread your folds open, almost like he was afraid you’d disappear if he wasn’t careful. He pressed his tongue flat against you and dragged it up with aching precision, then locked eyes with you again, pupils blown wide.

You try to hold back, to stay quiet, but the tight, uncontrollable squeeze inside you betrays your will. Your hole contracts reflexively — even though there’s nothing inside, it clenches around empty air, like it’s already craving him, already hungry for the fullness you know only he can give. Your hips buck upwards sharply, and he pulls you by your hips even harder.

“Shit...please. Please just...use my...—Use my face.”

You swear you could feel your eyes almost rolling back your skull. A single tear rolled down your cheek — From the immaculate pleasure you couldn't comprehend. Your body shuddered, hips jerking instinctively as he devoured you, tongue pressing harder, driving you closer to the edge. You grind into his mouth, desperate, needy, gone — and he doesn’t stop. He won’t stop. He’s slurping you up through the edge, into it, past it — until your vision whites out and your body forgets how to do anything but come, violently, endlessly, wrecked on his tongue.

As soon as you whine out into your clasped over your mouth hand — you feel him stiffen. A strangled cry — half a whine, half a gasp — ripped from Caleb’s throat. His whole body tensed like he’d been shocked, a sharp ache crossing his face.

“Fuck—” he gasped, pulling back slightly, breathing heavy, a flush spreading across his cheeks.

You froze, heart pounding, eyes wide.

”C-Caleb? What's...What's wrong?" you breathed out harshly, still struggling to compose yourself.

Before you could ask more, he shook his head, swallowing hard, voice hoarse and embarrassed. “I… I just… came,” he gasps out, breath ragged.

Came from freaking watching you come. Fucked.

A flush rises to your cheeks, a mix of surprise and something tender swelling inside you. You didn’t expect this vulnerability, this raw honesty from him. It makes your heart skip, even as your body aches, still pulsing from the way he touched you.

“Caleb…” you whisper, voice soft but steady.

“I-I'm okay,” he whispered, voice trembling. He reached up to brush your sweat drenched bangs from your forehead.

“Fuck, it never happened to me before” Caleb huffed as if he couldn't believe himself. He swallowed hard, biting his lip as if to hold back something fierce. He pushed himself up and leaned over to press a kiss to your temple.

“I’m sorry, baby,” he whispered, voice rough but tender. “I didn’t mean for that to happen now. I just… I need you. Need you so much.” His hands trembled slightly as he reached for your panties. He gently pulled them back into place, like he was protecting you — even though inside he was burning up with need. You furrowed your eyebrows in question.

“I don’t deserve to touch you bare—not yet.” he explained. Then, without breaking eye contact, he slid his hand down to the front of his pants and freed himself.

You saw him — like really saw him for the first time. Your breath hitched. That was this moment, a flicker of time when everything else fades away. His cock was still hard and pulsing, it was something you’d imagined a thousand times, but nothing could prepare you for the reality of it.

Your eyes traced every line, every vein, the way it throbbed with need. The heavines of his arousal was suffocating. You felt a flush creeping up your neck, your heart pounding as a mixture of excitement, nervousness, and something almost like awe washed over you. It was bigger than you expected, powerful and alive, and seeing it like that—so close, so exposed—made your skin tingle all over.

For a heartbeat, his confident, desperate facade cracked, and a flicker of fear passed through his gaze. Were you scared? Did he push too hard, too fast? There was a flicker of worry in his eyes, like the intensity of your stare unsettled him more than you realized. “If you’re… if you’re scared, I get it. I just—”

“No,” you breathed, voice shaky but sure. “I’m not scared.”

He still didn’t move. His hands hovered, frozen in the space between reaching and retreating. You saw how tightly his jaw was clenched, the way his brows pulled together like he was bracing for rejection.

“I’ve just… never seen one in real life before,” you said quietly, eyes flicking down, then back up to meet his. Your cheeks burned. “And it’s… bigger than I thought.”

Silence.

Caleb’s entire body tensed like you’d hit him with something physical. His jaw dropped a little. His eyes went wide — stunned — and then something deep, guttural escaped his chest, like the sound was ripped from him. “Jesus Christ,” he whispered, voice breaking as his hand flew up to cover his mouth, like he was physically trying to hold back whatever that did to him.

You could see it — the way his stomach tightened, the way his cock twitched, visibly, painfully. His knees almost buckled.

"I'm gonna lose it..." he groaned.

He moved slowly, but with purpose — stepping back into your space, his hands curling tight around your thighs. He didn’t rush. Instead, he pressed himself against you—through the thin fabric of your panties—his desperate need to feel you flooding every inch of his body. The thick, hot head of his cock found the damp center of your panties, and you both sucked in a breath at the same time.

"A-Ahh—...Caleb–" you hitched sharply.

He let out a deep, broken groan as he rocked his hips forward — slowly, like he was trying to savor every millimeter of friction. The tip of his cock dragged along your soaked fabric, sliding right through the heat of your folds. He hissed, forehead falling against your shoulder, like the sensation alone had him unraveling again. His hand moved down to his own cock, fingers wrapping around the thick shaft, stroking hard and steady while he pressed himself into you.

“Your clit… fuck, it’s right here,” he whispered breathlessly, dragging the tip of his cock over the wettest spot he could find through the fabric.

You whimpered. He whimpered too, his control fraying with every slow stroke. Your body reacted instinctively, thrusting forward as if desperate to chase that burning touch, though you didn’t even understand how just panty-rubbing could fuck with your head this hard.

You couldn’t handle it. The urge to reach out, to pull him closer, to feel him pressed against you in a way that wasn’t just teasing, was unbearable. You let out a soft moan, your hands twitching, craving contact.

Caleb caught it immediately. Of course he did. He was watching your face more than anything in this world. It was always like that. Even when you two were still kids. He always wanted to catch every emotion, to know if you were scared, shy, uncomfortable — It became a habit of his own. Without hesitation, he shifted, moving over you until he was hovering, chest pressing down on yours gently, his heavy breaths mingling with yours.

He kissed you fiercely, lips claiming yours in a hunger that matched the ache between your thighs. His hands slid down to your legs, wrapping around your thighs with a gentle grip.

“Squeeze your thighs for me,” he murmured against your lips, voice thick with desperate need.

You looked at him strangely for a moment but without thinking about it for too long — you pressed your thighs together. And Caleb not wasting his time, guided himself between your legs — Slowly, carefully.

You saw his cock sliding out from between your thighs, looking straight at you, making your breath hitch. Your eyes flicked up at him as your teeth tortured your lower lip. He held your eyes as he began to thrust—not inside you, but between your thighs, grinding firm and steady. The fabric of your panties stretched and slickened under the pressure.

Caleb groaned deep in his throat. His hands roamed your body, holding at your hips as he continued to thrust between your thighs, hips rolling in needy circles, desperate for every inch of your warmth. His mouth claimed yours again, kissing fiercely, tongue exploring with a desperate hunger that matched the relentless grinding below.

“Gods—...you're so soft here pipsqueak..." he muttered over your lips as he pulled away to rest his sweaty forehead over yours.

You whined a little bit, trying to keep your noises mindful. Your eyes were locked down on your closed thighs. The sight of his hardness vanishing and reappearing between your plushy flesh was making your head spin.

"S-Squeeze them tighter..." he choked out, your eyes flicked up to his face, watching it closely.

You clenched your thighs harder, grinding up a bit to help his cock catch onto your clothed folds better. And when you did that — the look on his face was absolutely everything. His face scrunched in pleasure, eyebrows drew up together, he looked as if he was about to cry — at least.

It was that easy for you to make him lose his mind.

”Shiiiit...Just like that—Good girl.” the nickname made something ugly churn in your stomach. He used to call you that earlier. Many times. Like when you got a good grade on your test, or when you achieved something he knew you could do. But now? It was an entirely different thing — and it made you mewl.

”You're making so much noise pips, you're some kind of pervert?...” he chuckled softly, even though his breath was ragged and he was clutching his self control tightly.

"S-Shut up..." you squirmed, your hand pushing at his shoulder.

”Don't get your panties in a twist pipsqueak...I always knew you liked when I called you that — You used to be fishing for my praise, y'know?...”

"I-I wasn't—"

"You were. No need to hide it pips...I think it was cute — it still is, if you ask me..." he snorted softly, laughing through his nose.

Then he groaned, his hips speeding up in it's moves. Your sweaty thighs slapping together.

"Ah...Fuck...” he hissed, taking a shaky inhale.

”You know, pipsqueak...I think, that you've always liked my attention on you.”

His hand sank down, to press himself better over your underwear as he fucked your thighs. You whined, and he smiled. Fucker.

”When you were younger you always found your way to have my eyes on you. You were pinching me, biting, kicking, stealing my stuff, showing off...” he huffed, his eyes closing as he tried to keep himself at the bay.

”But now when you got older, you understood some things...You know what I mean, yeah?"

You squirmed as the head of his cock firmly rubbed over your center with each thrust.

"N-No—"

”You know.”

He leaned down to your ear, placing a hot kiss over it.

”When you started to understand how to rile me up in a much better way — Like...You stopped wearing a bra whenever I was around. Those teasing touches when we would watch a movie together. When you—Ah...Shit—When you would tickle me because you knew I wouldn't put my hands on you anymore....You can tell yourself that you didn't know what you were doing, but deep down you know you wanted me to notice. You're not stupid, and i'm not stupid either.”

”Caleb—” a shiver rippled down your spine as he murmured into your ear. Not only from how close he was, but because of how right he was. You were losing it fairly.

”You're not going to shy away now, are you?” he scoffed, his hips slapped foward, making noise. He let out a shaky moan.

"Fuck i'm so close already..." he muttered over your earlobe, your fingers tightened on his shoulder, your eyebrows drawing together, overwhelmed from the friction. He moved his thumb to press his tip strictly over you.

"Y-You feel, too good...I can— Feel...How wet you are...It's doing things to me that you won't understand.”

You let our a shaky breath and moved to wrap your arms around him. You needed him close in this moment, heart to heart. Your thighs started to tremble as he rubbed against you, that similar ache blooming deep inside you once more, it was all purely for him, only for him.

"Gonna cum baby?..." he caught onto it immediately, his efforts doubled.

You choked down a moan and nodded, your back arching subtly as you bucked up to meet his delicious movements.

"H-Hah...You gonna cum with me, okay?..." he breathed over your skin. Everything was becoming dizzy so fast. Your eyes closing, all of your senses heightened.

You felt — Everything

Starting from the way his ragged breath shook over your ear, how your slick with sweat bodies slid against eachother as if they were meant to be together, the squelching noises you two were creating, the subtle slaps that eachoed through the walls of your suffocating room when he pressed close. It was so much. It was beautiful, because it was you and him, just like it should always be.

You begin to feel a knot after knot, tying down in your abdomen. Your thighs clamp instinctively, you grip tighter around Caleb as if holding onto the very source of your rising pleasure. The friction builds relentlessly, a delicious torment that tightens your belly and curls your toes. You can feel the muscles deep inside your pussy, contracting and relaxing in an involuntary rhythm — trembling with the power of what’s coming.

Your breath hitches and stutters, uneven and quick, like you’re struggling to catch the air that keeps slipping away. Caleb's hands clutch at your hips, fingers digging into your skin as if trying to hold you close forever. His jaw clenches tight, muscles taut as he fights to keep himself together, but the heat is overwhelming��too intense to control. He breathes deeply against your lips, his eyes squeezed shut.

”Cum for me...P-Please cum for me..." he whines, his face contorting. He's almost there. And so are you.

Just as the wild surge of pleasure begins to shatter your control, your breath catching in ragged gasps, Caleb moves with urgent purpose — he closes the distance, his lips crashing over yours in a fierce, searing kiss that shuts down any cry before it can escape.

And there it is.

You squeeze your eyes shut, Caleb swallowing every single of your moan, and so you are his. Your whole vision went blank as your thighs shook off the stimulation. Pure bliss washing over your body.

You feel the wave of his own orgasm wash over him—hot, intense, overwhelming. His body shakes and his hips stutter — his essence spurting out over the place where you meet, a testament to the fire you’ve ignited together. He elongates the kiss before pulling back from your lips to catch his breath.

The silence afterward feels sacred. Caleb is still above you, but there’s no urgency now. His body is trembling, his chest still heaving, but his hands… his hands are soft. Careful. Like he’s afraid you might disappear if he doesn’t keep holding on.

And he kisses you. Once on your temple. Then your cheek. The corner of your lips. Reverent, unhurried. His touch glides from your hips to your stomach, slowing with each stroke, like he’s trying to calm your body and his at the same time.

“A-Are you okay?” he whispers finally, voice still hoarse with what just happened, but gentler

You don’t answer right away. Just a small nod, soft, but there’s that tiny smile — faint, tender, a little dazed — And it makes his heart melt.

Without a word, he reached over and pulled the hem of his shirt up, tugging it off of him, careful not to disturb you. The fabric was soft against your skin as he pressed it lightly against your lower stomach, where a few stray marks of his release still glistened. His touch was delicate, almost hesitant, as if afraid to break the fragile quiet between you.

”I'm sorry i've made a mess...” he muttered

You shook your head to reassure him. ”We are even.”

He raised his eyes to you and a bashful smile blossomed on his face. He gently swiped the fabric across your skin, wiping away every trace with a tenderness that made your heart squeeze. It wasn’t just about cleaning—there was a sacredness in the way he cared for you, in how he always cared for you.

“I got you,” he whispered, voice thick with emotion.

You felt the weight of those three words, how much they meant for you, coming from him — gentle and devoted.

He discarded his dirty shirt somewhere on the floor without a care in the world. He reached beneath you, sliding his hands to the edges of your underwear. His fingers trembled just slightly as he carefully pulled them down your legs, his gaze never leaving your face. You feel no shame here, only a profound tenderness as he helps you shed the last remnants of the night’s intensity. He folded them neatly and set them aside — mentally noting to wash them tommorow. Then leaned down to kiss the soft curve of your hip, his lips warm and soothing against your skin.

He moved up, letting himself slump beside you. Intertwining your hands together — As if he has to know you're here, that you're not just a speck of his imagination. His thumb moved slowly over the back of your soft hand, he pulled it up to press a gentle kiss over your knuckles.

Your breathing slows in unison. The chaos of earlier melts into a soft hum beneath your skin. You don’t speak for a long moment, because there’s no pressure to fill the silence. It’s the kind of quiet that only comes when you’re held by someone who sees you—truly sees you—and stays anyway.

Eventually, Caleb lets out a quiet laugh.

“What?” you murmur, turning your head to look at his side profile.

“I don’t know,” he says, exhaling slowly. “I just… I feel like I waited forever for this. And now that it happened, I keep thinking I’ll wake up. Like maybe I fell asleep on the couch while you were ignoring me and now I’m dreaming the whole damn thing.”

You shift, lifting your chin slightly to meet his eyes. “You’re not dreaming, Caleb.”

He smiles, and it’s soft. His thumb traced the line of your knuckles. “If I was, though, I think I’d want to stay asleep.”

You nudge him playfully with your forehead. “That’s so corny.”

“Mm. You like it.”

You roll your eyes, but you can’t stop smiling either.

He leans in and kisses you again—not hungrily this time, but with a tenderness that makes your chest ache. His lips move slow, reverent, and he pulls away just to whisper, “You look like a mess right now.”

You wrinkle your nose. “Caleb, you meanie.”

He chuckles, pressing a kiss to your cheek. You smile and nuzzle yourself into his lips. With a small, content sigh, he slid his arm around you, tugging you gently closer until there’s no space left between you. You feel his heartbeat thrumming against your back, steady and strong, and it grounds you deeper than any words ever could.

”Can you stay in my room for tonight?” you hummed softly.

”I wasn't exactly planning on leaving, y'know” he murmured quietly, amusement tugging at his voice

”Good.” you smiled to yourself

You both sink deeper into the bed, the softness of the sheets a gentle cradle beneath you. His cheek rests against the top of your head, his breath tickling your hair, his heartbeat a lullaby only you can hear. Your eyelids grow heavy, and a calmness unlike anything you’ve felt before settles over you.

You've never felt more at peace than you did now.

Just before sleep can pull you two under, Caleb’s arms tighten just a little, holding you closer as if to reassure you that he's here.

”I love you.”

That little whisper was everything you ever ached to hear. You didn't realize it until this very moment.

...

”I love you too.”

And in that shared silence, wrapped together in warmth, you both drifted gently into dreams. In his arms, you feel safe. Loved. Whole.

...

And now?

Now the change you were so scared of — turned out to not be bad at all.

Now It felt — Like home.

[zazaiafe2]

The power of sensory immersion for shifting

1) Why is sensory immersion so powerful?

Your brain doesn't really distinguish between an imagined and a real sensory experience

When you engage your senses (sight, sound, touch, smell...), you create .almost real signals.

This activates deep neural networks of immersion and facilitates letting go.

-> Sensory immersion helps to blur the line between CR and DR.

2) Do NOT force visualization

-> "I can't visualize" -> It's not a problem

Many shifters have noticed:

The more you FORCE the images, the more the analytical mind stays active.

The goal: let the sensations come naturally.

You don't need to perfectly "see" everything. You can:

- Feel-> Emotions, sensations.

- Hear -> Sounds from your DR.

- Imagine textures-> Your DR bed.

- Create ambiances.

3) Sensory profiles are different

We don't all have the same dominant sense. Find your strength:

- Olfactory : Imagined smells (perfume, rain, food)

- Auditory : Music from your DR, background sounds (cafes, forest, city, rain…)

- Visual: Blurred decors, dominant colors, symbols, your DR room

- Tactile: Skin sensations (wind, sheets, fabrics…)

- Gustatory: Taste of what you eat there

-> Identify which senses are easiest to invoke for you. Start with them.

For example, you can listen to this ambient sound if you shift to Hogwarts.

4) Scientific help, the role of the Default Mode Network

Your brain has a network that calms down when you immerse yourself sensorially.

This reduces internal dialogue and the "critical mind" that often blocks you.

-> The less your mind analyzes, the more your unconscious takes over, and ego identification decreases.

5) How to let images and sounds come without forcing

1) Breathe slowly .

2) Allow yourself to be blurry.

3) Start with small simple scenes.

4) Observe rather than actively create.

5) Don't look for "perfection", just try to "feel".

-> The more you let go, the more details come by themselves.

You can do a short meditation beforehand to relax and help you be in the present moment.

6) The importance of ASC (Altered States of Consciousness)

Immersion is facilitated in ASC (hypnagogic state, deep relaxation, light trance, it's not mandatory but seems to make things easier).

You can:

- Practice before sleep.

-Do gentle meditation .

- Use appropriate binaural sounds .

-> The altered state allows the analytical mind to disconnect and facilitates fusion with your DR.

Just after meditation you can put a subliminal or alpha waves for example

Julia method link

There are even subliminals that mix theta wave, affirmations and Sound atmosphere.

7) Practical examples according to your profile and what you prefer

- Auditory: Playlist of your DR during preparation

- Visual: Very simple scenes (just a dominant color at first, then an object where you are, and a room if you can)

- Tactile: Feel the sheet of your DR bed, the warmth of the sun, the texture of your DR pajamas

- Gustatory: Imagine tasting your DR breakfast

- Emotional: Feel the emotions you will have in your DR

-> The more you rely on YOUR strong channel, the more stable immersion becomes.

Examples of what people who shift on command can use

8) Do not try to control when the shift happens

-> Sensory immersion is a springboard.

The shift often triggers when you are immersed without trying to control the moment.

- Have fun "visiting" before "leaving."

- Release tension about the result.

- Obsession with the result blocks(Or at least decrease the chances); curiosity opens.

Even if you have trouble visualizing, you can rely on other things or your other senses.

9) What we learn from those who shift on command

Many report that this kind of non-forced immersion is key.

It's a balance:

->Sensory engagement + letting go = smoother shift.

Conclusion :Sensory immersion: a powerful tool, accessible to all.

No matter your profile.

You don't need to "visualize perfectly" .

You only need to play with your senses, let the experience build gently.

Remember: your brain is made for this.

[jareaufiles]

TASTE OF APOLOGY • o.benson

PAIRING: olivia benson x female reader

PREMISE: An argument between you and Olivia finally cracks open everything you’ve both been too afraid to say. The fight turns physical, then filthy, as anger melts into desperate, possessive sex across the apartment — where bruises, sweat, and breathless apologies tangle together in the aftermath.

WARNINGS: intense arguing, emotionally messy established relationship, mutual possessiveness, angry filthy make-up sex, hair pulling, breast play (biting, sucking, squeezing), nipple play, wet/messy oral (reader giving), face-sitting implied, clit sucking, rough fingering (reader and Olivia receiving), filthy dirty talk, pussy worship with detailed pussy descriptions (wetness, swollen folds, slick sounds), orgasm denial and overstimulation (Olivia receiving), choking (light hand at throat), cum-eating (reader tasting Olivia), aggressive pussy grinding (mutual), intense orgasm descriptions (both), messy aftercare (sleeping without cleaning up), naked cuddling under a blanket, post-sex soft apologies, mutual obsession, emotional vulnerability, and explicit, sensory-rich erotic prose (sweat, hair sticking, background noises, scent, taste, lighting detail).

WORD COUNT: 4.5K

A/N: this was requested, sorry for taking so long to post it!

masterlists

The apartment felt like it had shrunk in on itself, the air thick and oppressive, every sound echoing louder than it should have. The low hum of the fridge was a constant, the occasional crackle of the street outside leaking in through the cracked window, but all of it faded into the background under the sharp, aching tension that pulsed between you and Olivia.

It had been building for weeks, one of those slow, festering fractures you both pretended wasn’t there until it splintered straight through the middle of you.

And tonight, it snapped.

“You don’t even see me anymore,” you bit out, your voice tight and raw, your throat thick with unshed tears and rage. “You come home and you barely look at me. You act like I’m just… here.”

Olivia’s jaw flexed, those dark, tired eyes narrowing. She looked so goddamn good when she was angry, hair slightly disheveled, the silver streak catching in the dim kitchen light, cheeks flushed, that mouth you knew so well set in a sharp, tense line. It should’ve made you nervous. It made you wet instead.

She took a step forward, her voice low and rough, laced with something like disbelief. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

The way her voice dipped, that gravelly sharpness — it punched straight through your chest and settled low in your belly, your cunt clenching around nothing, wetness blooming slick and sudden between your legs. It was fucked up.

You hated her a little for it. But your nipples tightened, aching beneath the thin fabric of your shirt, and you knew she’d notice. You wanted her to.

“You don’t even try,” you snapped, trying to stay angry while your body betrayed you, your thighs pressing together as your breasts heaved with each shaky breath.

You knew the way your nipples strained against your top, soft peaks pressing visibly against the clingy fabric, and you didn’t miss the flicker in Olivia’s gaze when it dropped to your chest for a split second.

“Are you fucking kidding me right now?” she hissed, her voice cracking, her hands balling into fists at her sides. She stepped closer, the heat of her body pressing into your space, her presence overwhelming.

And God, she smelled good; soap and leather and the trace of her perfume that clung to her skin. You felt your pussy throb again, slick growing between your folds, a slow ache you couldn’t ignore.

It made your next words come out weaker than you wanted, your voice breaking. “You won’t let me in. Not about Noah. Not about how scared you’ve been. You just… you keep shutting me out.”

The thing in her expression faltered. The anger cracked for a moment, something raw and wounded bleeding through, but then it hardened again. “Because every time I let someone in, they fucking leave.”

It gutted you. The pain in her voice. The exhaustion. And the way her chest rose and fell sharply, her lips slightly parted, flushed from arguing — it made your cunt clench again, sticky heat spilling down your thighs. You hated yourself for it, for the way your body wanted her while your heart felt like it was splintering.

And you saw it. Saw the exact second Olivia realized what was happening. Her gaze flicked down again, catching the hard peaks of your nipples through your shirt, the way your chest trembled with each breath. Her nostrils flared, her brow furrowing, eyes dropping lower as she stepped even closer, her thigh brushing yours.

“You’re wet,” she rasped, voice low, disbelieving, filthy. “You’re fucking soaked right now.”

The humiliation and arousal tangled inside you, your cheeks burning, but you didn’t deny it. You let your mouth tip into a shaky, defiant grin. “Yeah,” you whispered, voice soft, a little ruined. “I get wet when you’re like this. When you’re pissed. When you look at me like you wanna ruin me.”

A groan punched out of her throat, low and rough, and before you could blink, Olivia was on you, grabbing the front of your shirt, yanking you in. The kiss was brutal, teeth clashing, tongues fighting, both of you breathing hard through your noses. Her lips were slightly chapped, scraping yours, but it made you moan, made your cunt throb, your slick flooding your panties.

Your nipples dragged against her chest, the thin fabric of your top catching on them, sending sharp sparks of pleasure straight to your core.

You whimpered into her mouth, and she swallowed it, her hands moving to your hips, dragging you against her, the heat of her thigh pressing right between your legs. The pressure made you keen, your cunt aching, throbbing for her fingers.

She broke the kiss, panting against your lips. “Fucking filthy girl,” she muttered, voice wrecked. “Argue with me all goddamn night just so I’ll bend you over.”

You gasped, and before you could snap back, she spun you, pinning you to the cold countertop. The shock of the chilled stone against your thighs made you shiver, but then her hand was between your legs, pushing past the waistband of your shorts and panties, and none of it mattered anymore.

Your pussy was soaked, slick and hot and swollen, lips puffy, folds slippery with arousal. Olivia groaned when her fingers slid through it, the wet sound obscene in the quiet kitchen.

“Jesus Christ,” she hissed, voice rough with disbelief and lust. “Fucking dripping.”

You whimpered, clinging to the counter, your body rocking toward her touch. When she pushed two fingers inside you without warning, you sobbed, your cunt clenching down so tight she grunted, her palm cupping your mound.

“So fucking tight,” she muttered, and there was awe in her voice now, a dark, possessive edge. “Like this pussy was made for me.”

Your head dropped forward, gasping as she started to fuck you with those thick, calloused fingers, curling them just right, her thumb finding your clit and grinding in messy, perfect circles. The wet sounds were constant, slick and filthy, your juices coating her hand, your cunt gushing around her fingers.

Your voice was a desperate, cracked moan. “Olivia… fuck… I’m gonna...”

“I know, baby,” she murmured against your ear, her lips brushing your skin. “Cum for me. I wanna feel this pretty pussy clench on my fingers.”

It was too much. The fight, the fury, the unbearable need. You came hard, sobbing her name, your orgasm ripping through you, cunt spasming around her fingers, wetness gushing out of you in thick, sticky waves.

Your legs trembled, and she held you there, fucking you through it, drawing out every last pulse of pleasure until you were sobbing, limp against the counter.

When she finally pulled her fingers out, they glistened in the low light, coated in your cum. She brought them to your lips, voice low and dark. “Open.”

You did. Wrapped your lips around them, tasting yourself, moaning softly as your tongue cleaned them, licking the mess of your orgasm from her skin. The look in her eyes? wrecked and possessive, like she was barely holding it together, made your cunt throb all over again.

“Good girl,” she rasped, pulling you into another filthy, desperate kiss.

The room smelled like sweat, sex, your slick. The distant hum of traffic, the sharp scent of the wine you’d both ignored, the cool air through the window — none of it mattered. All you could feel was her.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered against your lips. “I’ll do better.”

“Then don’t stop,” you breathed, dragging her hand back down. “Fuck me properly, Liv.”

And the look she gave you promised she would.

The fight didn’t stop when you kissed her again. It just changed form; your mouths clashing, tongues pushing, teeth scraping, still half-growling at each other between gasping breaths. Olivia’s hands tugged at the hem of your shirt, and you didn’t hesitate, pulling it up and over your head, baring your breasts to the cool air and her hungry gaze.

Your nipples were already stiff, aching from the friction of your shirt and the rush of adrenaline, and her eyes darkened as they dragged over your chest.

“Fucking knew you liked this,” she muttered, voice low and wrecked, grabbing your tits, squeezing them hard enough to make you moan. “Get off on us fighting like fucking animals.”

You gasped, arching into her touch even as your hand shot out to tug at her shirt, yanking it over her head. Olivia’s hair tumbled loose, dark waves streaked with silver, and the sight of her bare breasts — full, heavy, her dusky nipples already peaked and waiting — made your mouth water.

“I wouldn’t have to fight if you actually talked to me,” you shot back, breathless, catching one of her nipples between your teeth and biting, making her gasp, her head tipping back.

Her fingers tangled in your hair, pulling hard enough to sting as you sucked her nipple into your mouth, your tongue flicking over the tight bud, lips closing around it. You loved the weight of her in your mouth, the way she tasted, salt and sweat, skin warmed by anger and need.

“You gonna shut up and take this cocky little attitude out on my pussy, or you gonna keep running your mouth?” she growled, yanking your head back by your hair to meet your eyes.

Your smirk was filthy. “Both.”

And then you were clawing at each other’s pants, shoving them down, panties ripped halfway off in the frenzy of it. Her nails scratched your hips as she pushed your shorts and underwear down in one go, exposing your soaked, puffy cunt, and you swore you felt her pulse jump against you when she caught sight of it.

“Fucking look at you,” she rasped, cupping your pussy in her palm, fingers sliding through your slick. “Dripping down your fucking thighs, baby.”

“Take yours off,” you demanded, voice rough, yanking her jeans down until they hit her knees, dragging her soaked black panties with them. You didn’t wait, your mouth on her breast again, biting the other nipple while your hand slipped between her thighs.

Olivia’s pussy was gorgeous. Slick folds, pink and swollen, glistening with her arousal. The little hood of her clit peeking out, her inner lips plump and soft, slick coating the tender flesh.

Her thighs were strong, firm but still soft enough to sink your nails into, and when you slid two fingers through her folds, she moaned low and filthy, her head dropping back.

“Yeah? Gonna take care of me now, princess?” she taunted, even as her hips jerked into your touch.

You grinned against her skin. “On the fucking floor.”

You shoved her down, both of you half-laughing, half-snapping at each other as you tangled together on the cold tile, the kitchen light throwing soft, golden shadows over your flushed, naked bodies.

Olivia fought you for it, pulling your hair, biting your lip hard enough to draw blood as she rolled you under her for a second, your tits pressed together, your cunts slick against each other’s thighs.

“You don’t fucking own me,” she spat, panting, hair falling into her face, strands sticking to the sweat on her cheeks.

“Then stop acting like you don’t want me to,” you shot back, flipping her onto her back with a rough shove, straddling her hips. You grabbed both her wrists and pinned them to the floor, your cunt grinding down against her belly, the contact sharp and perfect.

Her eyes burned into you, chest heaving, lips swollen, her thighs spreading for you on instinct.

“I fucking hate you,” she whispered, voice trembling.

You kissed her like it was the last thing you’d ever do. Desperate, messy, claiming. Your teeth scraped her lower lip, tongues tangling, your bodies moving against each other in frantic, uncoordinated need.

Then you slid down her body, kissing your way over her ribs, her stomach, leaving bites in your wake, Olivia cursing and tugging at your hair every time you marked her skin.

When you reached her pussy, she was soaked — slick glistening, folds so swollen and puffy you could see her pulse throbbing in her clit. Her scent was heady, sharp, pure Olivia. You spread her open with your fingers, groaning at the sight of her.

“Fucking perfect,” you whispered, and then your mouth was on her, sucking her clit between your lips.

Olivia’s reaction was instant — a sharp gasp, her thighs clamping around your head, trembling as you circled your tongue over the swollen nub.

Her thighs were firm and soft at the same time, skin hot and damp against your cheeks, and you loved the way they tightened, how she tried to suffocate you with them.

You slid two fingers into her cunt, tight and soaked, walls clenching around you, and she let out a broken moan that made your cunt throb. You fucked her slow at first, curling your fingers to hit that sweet, spongy spot, your tongue never letting up on her clit.

“Fucking… god… don’t stop,” she panted, hips lifting off the floor.

You didn’t. You sucked harder, fingers pumping faster, scissoring inside her. Her cunt made the filthiest wet sounds, slick gushing around your hand. Her thighs trembled, her muscles tightening, and then she came with a ragged cry, her whole body tensing, her pussy spasming around your fingers, soaking them in fresh, hot slick.

You didn’t stop until she was begging, pulling your hair to get you off her clit, her breath coming in ragged gasps.

When you finally lifted your head, her thighs glistened with her slick and your spit, her pussy twitching. You kissed your way up her body, and before she could recover, you scooped her up, carrying her bridal style out of the kitchen.

“Not done,” you whispered against her ear, your voice wrecked, filthy. “I’m gonna fuck you in every goddamn room in this house.”

And Olivia didn’t argue. She just clung to you, breathing hard, her fingers digging into your skin like she wanted to crawl inside you.

You barely made it to the living room. Olivia was still breathless, her chest rising and falling fast against yours as you carried her out of the kitchen, both of you slick with sweat, flushed, hair a mess.

The apartment lights were low, the city glow bleeding in through the window, throwing soft, shifting shadows across the floor. You stumbled the last few steps and tumbled onto the couch together in a tangled, naked heap of limbs and laughter.

The sound surprised you both. That first breathless giggle as you landed, her body half on top of yours, both of you sticky and panting and wrecked. Then it cracked open into real laughter — yours higher, breathy and giddy, Olivia’s rough and low, that throaty rasp that always made your stomach flip.

“You realize,” you teased, brushing sweaty strands of hair from her face, “this was supposed to be angry sex. Like… emotionally irresponsible, messy, break-the-furniture kind of shit.”

Olivia snorted, grinning down at you, her swollen lips tugging into a crooked smile. “Yeah, well, you started being cute,” she muttered, leaning in to kiss you, the taste of her still heavy on your tongue.

The kiss was slower this time, but no less intense. Lips bruised, teeth tugging, tongues gliding together in lazy, possessive strokes. You could feel the way her body fit against yours, skin flushed and hot, her breasts heavy against your chest.

Every slide of your nipples brushing sent sharp sparks of pleasure down to your already aching cunt, still wet, still throbbing from everything that came before.

Olivia shifted her weight, her hand sliding down to grip your thigh, spreading your legs wider as she straddled your lap. You gasped at the feel of her heat against your belly, her slick still smearing your skin, her cunt glistening as she rocked her hips forward just enough to make you both moan.

“Fuck, you’re so wet,” she breathed against your mouth, her voice a filthy rasp.

You grinned, biting her bottom lip. “So are you, Benson.”

Without needing to say more, both of you reached down, guiding your hips, lining yourselves up. The first contact made you both hiss, the slick, hot slide of her pussy lips against yours, swollen and slippery, the friction already perfect.

You both gasped again as you aligned, your clits brushing, folds pressing tight, wet heat blooming between you.

“Oh my God,” you whispered, voice cracking, head tipping back against the cushion.

“Jesus fuck,” Olivia groaned, her brow furrowed, hips starting to roll, slow and filthy.

The grind of your pussies together was obscene. Wet, slick sounds filled the room with every movement, your bodies sticky with sweat and arousal.

The friction was everything, the sharp, aching drag of your clits bumping, the messy slide of her folds against yours, how every tiny adjustment of your hips made your stomach clench and your cunt pulse.

You couldn’t stop moaning, soft, broken sounds spilling from your lips, your fingers digging into Olivia’s hips as she rode you, her pace quickening. Her breasts bounced with every grind, nipples dark and stiff, catching against yours with every roll of her body.

“Look at you,” you gasped, watching her face twist with pleasure, her hair sticking to her cheeks. “Fucking perfect, Liv.”

Her eyes snapped open, wild and desperate, her mouth dropping open in a gasp. “Gonna… fuck, baby… gonna cum.”

“Me too,” you moaned, bucking your hips up to meet hers, the friction sharper, faster.

You both chased it together, hips rocking, slick bodies sliding, sweat-slick thighs shaking. The couch creaked beneath you, the air thick with sex and heat, the scent of your mingled arousal hanging heavy in the room.

When it hit, it hit both of you together — a sharp, sudden burst of pleasure that made Olivia cry out, her thighs clamping around you, her cunt pulsing, slick gushing between you. Your own orgasm followed, a high, ragged moan tearing from your throat, your body arching, clit throbbing as you came with her.

The wet, messy sound of it, your cum smearing, your bodies trembling was pure filth. You clung to each other through it, hips stuttering, kissing again, sloppy and breathless, tasting sweat and sex and tears.

When the aftershocks faded, Olivia collapsed against you, both of you panting, bodies a tangle of shaking limbs and overheated skin.

“Next room?” you murmured against her damp hair, still breathless, grinning like an idiot.

She laughed, low and wrecked, biting your shoulder. “You’re a fucking menace.”

You grinned wider. “Your menace.”

Your grin was wicked, sharp and knowing as you said it — “Your menace.” — the words barely a rasp against Olivia’s flushed, damp skin. And before she could get some smartass response out, you thrust two fingers inside her cunt without warning.

The slick, hot give of her pussy took you in instantly, still so soaked from grinding against you that it made a filthy, obscene squelch as your fingers sank deep. Olivia’s whole body jolted against you, her back arching as she let out a sharp, surprised groan.

“F–fuck,” she hissed, her voice breaking, the sound caught somewhere between pain and pleasure, her hips twitching as you immediately started fucking her with those same two fingers. “Jesus—baby, sensitive...”

“Don’t care,” you whispered against her ear, your lips brushing the shell of it, your free hand sliding up to wrap loosely around her throat. Not enough to cut off her breath, just enough for her to feel the weight of your possessiveness there, your palm slick with sweat where it rested against the rapid pulse under her skin.

The noise she made was fucking sinful. A high, broken moan that cracked halfway through, her whole body shuddering in your lap. Her pussy clenched tight around your fingers, still impossibly wet, the lewd, wet sounds of her slick coating your hand filling the thick, humid air of the living room. Every thrust of your fingers punched another soft, wet squelch into the space between you, the couch creaking in protest beneath your bodies.

Both of you were a mess — your hair sticking to your neck, damp strands clinging to your cheeks, the salt-slick sheen of sweat making your skin slide against hers. Your nipples dragged against each other with every rock of her hips, hard and aching, sending sharp jolts of pleasure through your chest every time your tits brushed.

You felt her starting to fall apart again, her thighs trembling, her face contorting as she bit her lip, her eyes fluttering shut. “Fuck, baby, I—I can’t—”

“Yes, you can,” you murmured, pressing a kiss to her jaw, biting lightly. “You’re gonna cum for me again. Gonna make a mess all over my hand, Liv.”

The filthy promise sent another ripple through her, her cunt clenching harder around your fingers, her hips stuttering.

The sounds of it were unreal — the slick, wet slide of your fingers inside her, her breathless moans, the needy whimpers spilling from her throat every time your thumb grazed her clit. Your hand stayed steady at her throat, your palm feeling the frantic pound of her pulse.

When she came, it was sharp and messy, her whole body jerking against you, her cunt spasming around your fingers in tight, desperate pulses.

A wrecked, guttural moan tore from her throat, her head dropping back against your shoulder as her thighs clamped around your wrist, trapping your hand inside her.

“Fuckinggod, yes—” she sobbed, her whole body shivering as the aftershocks rolled through her, slick coating your fingers, your hand soaked to the wrist.

You eased your fingers out slowly, slick glistening on your skin, the scent of her all over you. Without a word, you brought them to your mouth and sucked them clean, your tongue wrapping around them, moaning softly at the taste of her. Salty and sharp, heavy with sex and sweat.

Olivia watched through heavy, dazed eyes, her lips parted, her chest still heaving, strands of damp hair sticking to her flushed cheeks.

Neither of you spoke for a long minute, just breathing together, tangled up and sticky on the couch.

Then, quietly, Olivia shifted, burying her face against your neck, her voice rough and wrecked. “I’m sorry,” she murmured, her words muffled against your skin. “I didn’t mean to push you away. I… I didn’t know how else to be.”

You exhaled, your hand threading through her hair, holding her tight, your cheek pressed to the crown of her head. “I’m sorry too,” you whispered, throat tight. “For shutting down. For picking a fight when all I wanted was to hear you say you needed me.”

Her arms circled your waist, clutching you to her like she was terrified of letting go. You reached down, grabbed the nearest throw blanket, soft and a little scratchy against your over-sensitive skin and draped it over both of you.

Neither of you made any move to clean up. Your thighs were still sticky, your cunt still aching, both of you a mess of sweat and come and bruised lips, but none of it mattered.

You pulled her closer, wrapping yourself around her from behind, the big spoon, her bare back pressed to your chest, legs tangled.

“Mine,” you murmured against her hair.

She squeezed your hand where it rested on her stomach. “Yours.”

The room had gone quiet except for the sound of your breathing, slow and uneven as you both came down from everything. The city still murmured outside the window, the occasional car, a distant siren, the hush of late-night traffic rolling over wet asphalt.

The air between you hung heavy with sweat and sex, your skin still tacky where it pressed against Olivia’s back. You didn’t move, didn’t want to. The warmth of her, the soft weight of her body curled into yours under the scratchy old blanket, felt too good. Too necessary.

Your hand slid lazily up from her stomach, fingertips tracing the slope of her ribcage, the rise and fall of her chest finally steadying. Her skin was hot beneath your palm, a thin sheen of sweat still clinging to her. You pressed a kiss to the damp crown of her head, lips lingering there like a promise.

“I don’t wanna fight like that again,” you whispered, your voice raspy and raw, but there was no heat in it now. Just exhaustion and the ache of everything unsaid.

Olivia hummed, her fingers curling loosely around yours where they rested against her stomach. “Me neither,” she murmured, voice thick and wrecked, her words slurring a little with sleep.

She tilted her head back enough to glance up at you, eyes heavy-lidded, strands of dark hair clinging to her damp cheeks. “I just… I’m not good at this shit. At letting people… see me messy.”

“You don’t have to be good at it,” you murmured, nose brushing the curve of her ear, your voice soft and steady. “You just have to be here. With me. Let me be in it with you.”

She let out a shuddering breath, her whole body melting a little more into yours, like your words knocked something loose inside her chest. You felt it in the way her hand tightened around yours, her thumb stroking the back of your knuckles in slow, sleepy circles.

“I keep thinking… if I let myself need you, it’ll make it worse when you leave,” she confessed, voice barely more than a whisper now.

Your heart cracked open a little at the sound of it. That quiet, terrified honesty. You pressed another kiss to her hair, tucking your chin against the top of her head.

“I’m not fucking leaving, Liv,” you whispered, your words sinking into her skin. “You’re stuck with me now.”

A tiny, huffing laugh shook her shoulders. “You’re a pain in my ass, you know that?”

“Yeah,” you grinned against her hair, holding her a little tighter. “You love it.”

She made a soft, noncommittal noise, but the small smile tugging at the corner of her mouth betrayed her.

The quiet stretched out again, and you felt her breathing slow, her body going heavy with sleep in your arms. You stayed like that, tracing lazy circles on her stomach, the stickiness of your bodies ignored, the scent of sex lingering thick in the air. The blanket tangled around your legs, the couch cushions slightly damp beneath you.

Before she drifted off, Olivia mumbled, voice half-slurred and almost childlike in its honesty, “I’ll try. Promise.”

You kissed the side of her neck, closing your eyes. “Me too.”

And with that, the last of the fight bled out of the room. The tension, the sharp words, the bruising fuck — all of it settling into something quieter. Messy and imperfect, but alive. Still tethered.

The night hummed around you as you finally let sleep take you both, tangled together on the couch, naked under the threadbare blanket, a little wrecked, a little raw, but still holding on.

[dollyswishingwell]

Hiii do u think u could write about a chubby mc by any chance like maybe similar to your works with the lingerie and pampering? Thank you so much!!!

ᯓ★ˎˊ˗ Fluffy

𝒲𝒾𝓈𝒽 𝑔𝓇𝒶𝓃𝓉𝑒𝒹 𝒻𝑜𝓇 ˙⋆✮ Rafayel, Zayne, Xavier, Sylus, Caleb

𝒢𝑒𝓃𝓇𝑒/𝒲𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔 ˙⋆✮ fluffff, i love soft women therefore the boys love soft women. this is for alllll the chubby reader requests. feel free to request more specific scenarios if you’d like :p

> ࣪𖤐.ᐟ Your chubbiness is a result of their spoiling. they take full responsibility

𝙍𝙖𝙛𝙖𝙮𝙚𝙡 °‧🫧⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

- “So soft…” Rafayel can’t stop touching you. Your tummy, your thighs, your arms, he’s always squeezing, always hugging you from behind with his chin resting on your shoulder and both hands laid over your stomach like it’s sacred. “It’s all mine, isn’t it?” he murmurs with a dreamy little smile that makes your heart melt.

- He spoils you constantly. Food from quaint seaside cafés, sugary pastries, lavender bubble tea, rich desserts from his homeland… and he insists on feeding you with his own stained fingers. If you try to share with him, he pouts, “No, no, I bought it for you, not to split.”

- He’s obsessed with how you glow. He paints you in soft, dreamy palettes, your figure bathed in sunlight, your belly peeking from under silk robes, your stretch marks immortalized like delicate brushstrokes. He’ll kiss your shoulder and murmur, “My masterpiece.” And he means it.

- He takes it personally when you talk about dieting. He’ll gently pull you onto his lap, smug as ever, rubbing slow circles into your hips while teasing, “You want to starve what I’ve been working so hard on?” Then he starts pressing kisses down your neck until you forget what you were even saying.

- He overstimulates you out of worship. Especially when you’re feeling self-conscious. Rafayel takes his time with you. He kisses every inch of your stomach, thighs, hips. His voice goes soft, “I love when you’re full of me… full of love. You’re perfect like this.” And he makes sure you feel it, over and over again.

- He loves how soft you are when you sleep. He always spoons you, his leg draped over yours, hand possessively resting on your stomach. Sometimes, he’ll even wake you up at 3am just to whisper, “You’re so beautiful right now. Look at the moonlight on your skin.”

- He starts drama with Thomas constantly. Usually because he’s skipping some press event or gallery meeting to stay home feeding you strawberries in bed or building a pillow nest around you for a nap. “Tell him I’m retired,” Rafayel yawns, nuzzling into your hair. “I’m busy sculpting divinity.”

𝙕𝙖𝙮𝙣𝙚 ⋆꙳•❅‧*₊⋆☃︎ ‧*❆ ₊⋆

- He doesn’t say much, he just stares. The moment you walk by in one of your silky robes, and he catches the curve of your fuller hips, your thighs, the soft swell of your stomach, Zayne goes completely silent. His hazel-green eyes follow every movement like a surgeon examining perfection. And then? That low, commanding “Come here.”

- He has zero complaints. You might grumble that you can’t fit into one of your old gala gowns, but he’s already kneeling in front of you, lips brushing your stomach. His voice is calm, steady, reverent. “Then we’ll get better ones. Custom. To fit exactly the way I like.”

- He touches you constantly at home. When you’re curled up beside him, he’ll rest his hand over your thigh or stomach while reading patient files or typing on his tablet. He rubs slow, absentminded circles, like the feel of you grounds him more than anything else.

- He keeps feeding you, without comment. Gourmet meals, imported teas, delicate desserts from private caterers. He’ll set snack trays on your vanity while you get ready, murmuring behind you as he fastens your necklace, “Eat something while I zip this up.”

- Strict with everyone, except you. When you worry out loud about your weight, he looks at you with that cool, clinical gaze before saying, in a voice that brooks no argument: “You’re healthy. You’re mine. That’s all that matters.”

- Obsessively gentle during intimacy. Especially now that you’re softer. Zayne takes his time, kissing your stomach, massaging your thighs, whispering into your skin like he’s reading scripture. “I love this body. You grew it for me.”

- He starts buying you more robes. Expensive ones. Satin, silk, cashmere, soft fabrics that fall around your frame like royalty. All a little oversized, all handpicked. “You’re a doctor’s wife now,” he says, voice low with amusement. “I expect you to look the part.”

- He shuts down your insecurities instantly. A quiet frown at your reflection? Tugging at your shirt in the mirror? Zayne’s already there. He closes the mirror with a snap, tilts your chin up with steady fingers, and says, with unshakable certainty: “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” And with him, you know it’s the truth.

𝙓𝙖𝙫𝙞𝙚𝙧 ⋆⭒˚.⋆🪐 ⋆⭒˚.⋆

- He’s completely fascinated by your body. Xavier watches you like he’s studying your curves for a thesis. When you shift beneath his gaze, he tilts his head, touches your belly or hips, and murmurs, “You’ve changed… I like it. You feel warmer.”

- He teases you when you’re curled up together. Lying on the couch with you wrapped in his arms, he strokes your sides and hums, “If you get any more spoiled, I might have to carry you everywhere.” Then he does, lifting you with ease and tucking you into bed like precious treasure.

- He falls asleep on your tummy constantly. It’s become his new favorite pillow. He curls up around you like a sleepy cat, arms snug around your waist, murmuring softly as he drifts off, “You’re softer now… don’t change it.”

- He buys you outfits that show off your new curves. Tailored gowns, soft clingy fabrics, elegant cuts that flatter everything. He brushes his fingers along the zipper and says, low and reverent, “If you’re mine… I want everyone to know it.”

- Your insecurity doesn’t compute. You say something like, “I think I gained weight,” and Xavier just blinks at you. “So?” he says plainly. “You’re mine either way. I don’t want you small. I want you happy.”

- He overfeeds you without realizing. Every slice of cake, every weird herbal drink he mixes for you, it’s all love. If you say no, he looks vaguely heartbroken. “Please,” he murmurs, coaxing the bite to your lips. “Just one more. You’ll like it.”

- He secretly memorizes every stretch mark. He kisses them like starlight, like they’re sacred constellations. Tracing them with his fingers, he whispers, “You changed for me… I’ll make sure it’s worth it.”

- If anyone dares comment on your weight… Xavier goes still. Completely unreadable. He doesn’t react in front of you, but later, someone ends up quietly blacklisted, evicted, or vanishes entirely from the N109 registry. When you ask, he just hums, “Strange. People disappear all the time.”

𝙎𝙮𝙡𝙪𝙨 ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𓅨⋆｡°✩

- “Look at you.” That’s the first thing he says every morning, voice rough, amused, eyes glued to the way you stretch in bed beside him. His gaze lingers on your plush thighs under the satin sheets, your softened waist, the evidence of his spoiling. “You really have gotten spoiled, haven’t you?”

- He treats your weight gain like a divine achievement. He’ll lean back in his chair, wine in hand, watching you try on a new dress with a lazy, hungry smile. “You were beautiful when I met you. But now? Now you look like you belong to me.”

- He feeds you luxuries like a prince feeding a pet. Truffles, lavender tarts, honey-drenched pastries. He sits you in his lap during meetings, arms around your waist, lazily slipping bites between your lips. “Open up. Good girl.”

- He buys you tighter clothes on purpose. They’re supposedly tailored, but they always cling just a little too much at the hips, the chest. When you pout or tug at the fabric, he smirks. “Maybe I like watching you outgrow things. Makes me feel like I’m doing my job right.”

- He talks to your stomach in private. Especially after long, indulgent nights. He’ll press soft kisses to your belly, murmuring against your skin like it’s a prayer. “You take everything I give you so well. Look at how you’ve changed for me.”

- In public, he’s shamelessly possessive. His hand always rests over your stomach, arm snug around your waist. He makes sure people notice. Especially the ones who knew you when you were thinner. “Doesn’t she look divine?” he’ll ask, voice full of dangerous pride.

- He cuts off any insult with a smile like a blade. If anyone glances at your figure with even a hint of judgment, Sylus leans in close. “Careful,” he says smoothly. “Speak like that again and I’ll have you scrubbing sublevels in Zone K by morning.”

- Your softness is his favorite display of power. You didn’t get soft for anyone else, you got soft for him. And Sylus lives for it. His voice dips low with satisfaction every time he sees your curves catch the light. “Let them all see,” he murmurs. “You’re mine now. And it shows.”

𝘾𝙖𝙡𝙚𝙗 ⋆｡ ‧˚ʚ🍎ɞ˚‧｡ ⋆

- “I’ve been feeding you well, huh?” he teases, voice soft and full of pride. He wraps his arms around you from behind, presses a warm kiss to your neck, and gives your belly a gentle squeeze, like he’s proud of it. Like it means you’re finally his.

- He refuses to let you walk half the time. From bed to couch, to his ship’s quarters, Caleb just picks you up with no warning. “You’re not walking.” His voice leaves no room for argument. He’ll nuzzle your cheek and murmur, “You’ve gotten heavier. I love it.”

- He tucks snacks into your bag like a protective husband prepping for war. Your favorite cookies, soft milk drinks, sweet little pastries, he packs them before missions or errands. “Eat while I’m gone, okay?” he tells you. “I want you full when I get back.”

- He’s obsessed with you in his clothes. Especially when you’re lounging around in one of his Farspace shirts and it rides up just a little over your tummy. He’ll freeze mid-coffee, jaw slack. “Pips. Seriously. Come here. Right now.”

- He shuts down your insecurities fast. Call yourself too chubby? His expression hardens instantly. “Pips, i made you like this. You’re soft. You’re safe. You’re mine.” And then he’s pulling you into his lap, hand resting over your stomach like he’s guarding the most precious treasure in the universe.

- He maps your body like a star chart. Especially after showers or when you’re curled in bed, his fingers trace every curve, every mark, every soft place you’ve grown under his love. “I could spend forever learning this body,” he whispers, kissing your skin.

- He doesn’t tolerate a single word against you. One snide remark from a cadet and his smile vanishes. One glance from Caleb and that person is off the mission roster, probably reassigned to the worst post in orbit. He doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t need to.

- To him, your softness means you’re safe. You stopped running. You started resting. You let him take care of you. Every night before bed, he kisses your stomach like it’s holy. “Took you forever to let me love you, huh?” he whispers. “Look at you now.”

[felixfrecklesandhoneyjisung]

Most likely to SIMP for their SO?

I feel like this is another one that would be true for all of them in their own ways. Instead of doing top 3 I'm going to do a short answer for all of them from most likely to simp openly to more subtle simps 🤭

Han: Borderline obsessed with you. Breaks into the biggest cheesy grin whenever you walk in the room and throws his arms out for a hug yelling "MY BABY IS HERE!" Can't stop staring at you and needs your attention 24/7. Writes a million songs about you and lives off your love like it's oxygen. The most painfully obvious simp that ever lived.

Chan: Would be a complete, shameless simp. Loves showing you off and introducing you as his partner. Always has his arm around you or his hand on your thigh. Big on PDA: will kiss and cuddle you in public without a second thought until the members tell you to get a room (you don't). Wants everyone to know that you're his and he's yours.

Felix: Adores you. Thinks about you all the time and mentions you in every conversation without even realising it. If you so much as look at something in a shop he's buying it for you. Lives to make you smile and would never leave your arms if he had his way. Tells you he loves you daily and gets teary sometimes trying to put his feelings into words.

Changbin: Opposite of Felix, mentions you in every conversation intentionally and smugly. "My GIRLFRIEND just got a promotion" "My GIRLFRIEND told the funniest joke yesterday" Brags about you to anyone who will listen. Has so much respect and love for you and is not afraid to show it. Already told his mum that he's marrying you.

Hyunjin: Believes you are his soulmate. Expresses his love in every way it can be expressed: words, touches, song lyrics, paintings, gifts. Everything he does he does for you. You inspire and support him more than he could articulate, and he builds his life around your relationship and future together.

Lee Know: Not as obvious as the others, but still 100% a simp. Shows his love in quiet ways: cooks for you, sends lots of messages and cat pictures, reminds you to eat and sleep when you're busy. Shares his passions, thoughts, and worries with you. May not show up with a huge bouquet of flowers, but he always shows up no matter what.

Seungmin: This man will chew an arm off before being called a simp. Bullies you (lovingly) and pretends to be very nonchalant about the relationship, but everyone knows it's a lie. He lights up when you walk into the room and he's constantly trying to impress you. Secretly, he loves you so much he doesn't know what he'd do without you.

Jeongin: Similar to Lee Know, not keen on big displays of affection. He's private when it comes to relationships, but that doesn't mean he cares any less. You are his comfort and he will allow you to get away with things he wouldn't tolerate from anyone else, mostly skinship and affection (he only goes to you for cuddles). He also lets himself be vulnerable with you and values your advice when he's struggling.

If you want to request a SKZ MLT send me an ask 💜

[pinkmalibuprincess]

I asked chat gbt to give me ways to enter both the void state or shift realities during the day. Shifting and inducing the void are not limited to when you’re sleepy. I struggle with only inducing the void during the time I go to sleep but with these possible methods I plan to induce the void or shift during the dayyy!!!

First, just so we’re aligned:

• Reality shifting usually refers to consciously moving your awareness into another reality (like a desired reality, alternate version of your life, or fictional world).

• The Void is that infinite nothingness — a dark, silent, powerful space where you can manifest instantly, heal, or shift realities easily. It’s pure awareness, no body, no mind.

Doing it during the day is a little harder because you’re not sleepy/dreamy but not impossible, it’s actually really easy! You just have to tweak your techniques for waking mind energy.

⸻

Ways to Shift or Enter the Void During the Day

⸻

Micro-Meditation Drops

• Throughout your day, practice micro-drops into stillness.

• Example: Set a timer every hour. When it goes off, close your eyes, breathe deep, and “drop” your awareness backward into your mind imagine falling backward into black velvet nothingness.

• Do it for 30–90 seconds at a time. Over the day, this conditions your mind to find the void state faster.

Think of it like “training wheels” for sudden immersion.

⸻

Saturation Method

• Focus obsessively on your desired reality or void state all day — but softly, like background music.

• Whisper affirmations like:

• “The Void is my natural home.”

• “I enter the Void instantly and effortlessly.”

• “I am already in the Void.”

• Every action you do (walking, eating, typing), imagine you’re already in your desired reality.

• This builds a saturation effect where you “tip” into the shift naturally.

You’re basically blurring the line between your normal day and the other reality.

⸻

Mirror Gazing / Daydream Gazing

• Sit in front of a mirror (or even a blank wall or window) during a sunny, sleepy part of the day.

• Stare at your reflection without blinking much, or past it.

• Relax your eyes and imagine your face isn’t “you” it’s just a mask.

• Let your mind slip into daydreaming.

• Suddenly, you may feel a “slip” — like you’re detaching from this version of yourself.

It’s like triggering a soft disassociation which can lead to a Void portal or shift jump.

⸻

Breathwork + Eye-Roll Technique

• Do slow, deep breathwork:

• Inhale 4 counts

• Hold 7 counts

• Exhale 8 counts

• After a few minutes, gently roll your eyes upward (like looking at your third eye) while staying relaxed.

• This can force your brain into a theta/void-like state even during full daylight.

• You might feel lightheaded or “floaty” — that’s a good sign you’re nearing a void pocket.

⸻

The “Already Shifted” Illusion

• Instead of trying to get somewhere, pretend you already shifted this morning and today is just a “memory” of your original life.

• Every time you remember you’re “trying,” stop and say mentally:

• “I’m just remembering the old timeline. I’m already there.”

• It tricks your brain into syncing with the new reality field without brute force.

Shifting is all about convincing your subconscious — not pushing or forcing.

⸻

Music Frequency Entrancement

• Listen to brainwave entrainment tracks (Delta waves, Void-themed subliminals, deep solfeggio frequencies like 528hz or 963hz) while doing light tasks.

• Wear headphones if you can.

• Let your mind drift while you do chores, walk, or relax in sunlight.

• Sometimes, you’ll naturally slip into a void state without expecting it.

⸻

Daytime Nap “Drop” Method

• Lie down in the afternoon with the intent to nap, but don’t fall asleep.

• Instead, keep your body completely still (like a body scan meditation) and let your mind drift without controlling it.

• If you feel your body getting heavy, floaty, vibrating, don’t move — you’re entering the threshold where void shifts and reality jumps happen.

⸻

Signs You’re Close to the Void or a Shift Mid-Day

• You feel extremely floaty or weightless.

• You hear ringing in your ears (like a frequency change).

• Time feels weird (minutes feel like hours or vice versa).

• You get “pulled” backward or inward in your mind.

• Your body feels like it doesn’t exist anymore.

[marksbear2]

hai im a yume of omni man so i wanted to request a omni man x ftm reader if thats ok!!! nsfw and sfw hcs i dont mind ☆

Omni Man x ftm reader

Hey guys!! I’m back and this is my first anything after not writing for a long time. Someone request a Cecil or a conquest fic 🤤 see how down bad I get.

Warnings ⚠️!!— FTM reader, fluff to smut, trans reader. Pre and post transition. Strap, creampie, oral, switch reader and Nolan. And more etc!!⚠️

— Nolan is surprisingly attentive when it comes to your needs, even if he doesn’t always get human social nuances. Once he learns about your transition, he doesn’t question it — to him, you’re you, and that’s all that matters.

— He doesn’t mind helping you bind your chest with tape or help you put on your binder. Even when you two are rushing to get somewhere he spends the last spare minutes with you helping you what you need to get done. He also takes it off for you and gives you a shirt that you can sleep in.

— If you get top surgery he’ll spend most of his time by your side while you recover. He rants about how you should be resting and not overworking yourself.

— He’s hyper-aware of making sure you’re comfortable, especially physically. If you’re ever feeling dysphoric, he immediately adjusts — no questions asked, just pure support. He has a blunt but oddly comforting way of grounding you. “You are who you say you are. Anyone who questions that? They’re wrong. Period.”

— He distracts you with kisses and other affections while he helps you take your T-shot.

— When you first show him your scars (surgery scars, binder lines, etc.), he presses soft kisses to them without hesitation — like they’re sacred battle marks, proof of your strength.

— While Omni-Man can sometimes be distant or focused on his mission, you has a grounding influence on him. They’ve learned to navigate each other’s emotional landscapes, with the reader helping Omni-Man open up more and show affection.

— Parenthood for you is a mix of softness and strength. You’ve always known how to protect your own, and with Nolan’s guidance, you’ve become an incredible team. Sometimes, you’ll catch him staring at your little one, a look of awe in his eyes. Maybe it’s because they remind him of both of you—strong, resilient, and full of love.

— Late-night talks are a thing between you two. The weight of his responsibilities as Omni-Man gets to him sometimes, and you’re there, always willing to listen. He won’t talk about the darkness of his past, but in those moments, he lets his guard down. “You’re the only thing that feels like home,” he’ll whisper, and your heart will skip.

— While Omni-Man struggles with the notion of having human attachments, he’s undeniably soft in his own way. His pride and love for the reader often clash, leading to moments of intense tension, but always with a layer of admiration that shows through when he looks at them.

— Omni-Man is usually a man of few words, and even less when it comes to admitting fault, but after the fight, he can’t stand the distance between you two. He steps into your space, and without saying a word, his lips find yours in a fiery kiss. The passion in the kiss is raw—raw from frustration, love, and the undeniable need to close the emotional gap. It’s like he’s kissing the argument out of both of you.

NSFW BELOW

— He’s obsessed with your scent. He’ll nuzzle into your neck and just breathe you in, low rumbling growls vibrating from his chest, especially when he’s worked up.

— He’s all about the build-up — slow, deliberate licks that start from your hips, up your inner thighs, around your most sensitive spots. He’ll tease you relentlessly, making you beg before he even touches the areas that are burning for attention. He’ll be eating you out for hours not caring if you can’t handle it or had enough.

— Fucking your thighs in the middle of the night. He cock sliding up and down in between them while you moved and squeezed your thighs around his cock. His deep grunts filling your ear while you hush him to be quiet.

— His hands are everywhere — gripping your wrists, your hips, your neck — like he’s scared if he lets go, you’ll slip away. His touch is possessive but gentle, as if he’s trying to be careful, but the force of his thrusts tells you otherwise.

— Omni-Man is gentle at first — despite being a powerful, war-hardened warrior, he’s never been with someone like you before. He’s aware of your body, your scars, your vulnerabilities. His touch is slow, reverent, as if he wants to savor the moment and make sure you’re comfortable.

— He’s a perfectionist. His focus is absolute when he’s giving you oral, taking his time to learn every inch of you, savoring your taste. His hands grip your thighs tightly, keeping you still while his mouth works magic on you. He loves the sounds you make when he speeds up, pulling off just to flick his tongue over your slit, then swallowing you back down like he’s starving for you. The way your body trembles under his touch sends an electric thrill through him.

— Sometimes when you’re feeling insecure about your body, he’ll literally worship you — kissing down your chest, mouthing at your hips. He takes his time sucking on your nipples and kissing whatever insecurity you have.

— He has this thing about your hands — seeing them ball up in his hair, clutching his uniform, clawing down his back — it shatters his self-control. Watching you as you fingered your own pussy, masturbating in front of him with no shame. He couldn’t help himself but started to jack off his cock inches away from your fingers.

— He has no shame about mutual masturbation — he’ll sit back on the couch, legs spread wide, watching you touch yourself under his heavy gaze, stroking himself lazily, telling you what a good, filthy boy you are.

—He has a total size kink — seeing his huge hands around your throat, your waist, your thighs drives him insane. He’ll pin your wrists with one hand, just to watch you squirm and whimper for him as he used his free hand to finger you.

—- Omni-Man is obsessed with overstimulating you — holding you down, making you take it even when you’re trembling and begging. He’ll praise you through it, his voice like molten velvet: “You can handle it, I know you can.”

— Omni-Man loves the feeling of being inside you, and when he finally cums deep inside you, it’s a primal, animalistic feeling — as if he’s marking you in the most intimate way possible. His entire body trembles when he fills you, the sheer possessiveness of it overwhelming. When he’s about to cum, his voice gets rougher — a low, guttural growl slipping from his lips as he holds you close, not letting you go, claiming you in the most visceral way. He’s breathless, on the edge, murmuring your name in a way that makes you shiver.

— He loves the idea of filling you, claiming your body in such a personal way. The thought of leaving himself inside you, of marking you with every drop, makes him feel possessive and protective — like you’re his in a way no one else can be. As he cums, he’s not shy about it — his hands grip your hips, pulling you in deeper, thrusting into you with an intensity that makes you both see stars. He fills you up, groaning your name with a growl that shakes his chest. It’s the most intimate he’s ever been, and he’s addicted to the feeling.

— When you first bring up using a strap on him he thought you were joking. He wanted to play into it and watched you online shop for them but when he saw you actually buy it with a smile on your face his heart stopped for a moment.

— Seeing you wearing the strap — standing over him, cocky and strong — shatters his composure. He’ll stare at you with wild, desperate eyes, literally aching to be filled again. He even sucked it before to get it all nice and ready for himself.

— He’s embarrassingly sensitive when you use the strap on him. One slow grind against his prostate and he’s already groaning into the mattress, fists clenching in the sheets, his whole body twitching. Nolan wants you rough sometimes — pulling his hair, forcing him to stay still, slapping his ass while you pound into him. His pride shatters for you, and he begs so pretty when you make him ask for more.

— Secretly, he fantasizes about letting you fuck him somewhere dangerous — high in the clouds, on an alien battlefield after a win — while he moans your name loud enough to shake the stars. The thought of someone as worshiped and loved like him getting caught being fucked turns the hell out of him.

THE END