The germ freeloading on your skin. He/Him, 18+. Dudes are REALLY hot tbh(Bi). Birthday April 17th!!!
Profile Pic drawn by: @mothmaid.bsky.social
Vek
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Ditzy, woefully oblivious big and the countless smears adorning the individual fibers of their ill-fitting pants.
Desperate screams for attention.
Final prayers to a god too vast to care.
The tearful embrace of doomed lovers.
Meeting the same, unceremonious end beneath two, wobbling cheeks…
Your roommate’s bulge taking up the horizon past the crumb-strewn landscape of your shared counter as he lazily puts together his breakfast before work—so small you can see each individual fiber stretching across the semi-flaccid mass within, groaning with every idle twitch…
Oversized ditz please be responsible for the deaths of countless nanos during what is otherwise a completely mundane afternoon.
Tearful, hoarse screams for help silenced beneath the unimaginable weight of a sneaker tread as she walks to the kitchen for a snack.
Lost within the inhospitable environs of a pair of discarded, off-white socks, owned by an oblivious guy who hasn’t bought new ones since high school. Tangled within frayed, discolored fibers, choking on the reek that had backed into the tearing material for nearly a decade.
Dying from exertion after trekking for hours across the near-endless landscape of reeking fibers that make up some random boy's discarded gym shorts. Dead, long before he decides to grab it off the floor and carelessly toss it into the hamper.
The slice—and you, dehydrated, tired, eyes sunken and marred with drying tears—is unceremoniously tossed into the garbage hours later by a hungover pledge, the boy grumbling over being tasked with such an annoying chore while the others slept in…
Shrinking yourself down during a frat party in hopes of ogling the sea of massive, handsome dudes that frequent the house, only to end up tumbling onto a half-eaten pizza slice someone had knocked down in their drunken revelry, twitching in the binds of cooling cheese.
I’m not strictly into “worship” in size pieces, but there’s something incredibly hot about nanos being so infinitesimal that they view an oblivious homeowner as no less than a god—an average, overworked salary worker spoken of with the same reverence one would a destroyer deity.
This is the best thing ever chat, I love bad-end scenarios above all else for nano stuff.
The idea someone can be so utterly insignificant that they're destined to be little more than a stain—dotting the underside of a sky-spanning sneaker, smeared across a fingertip, splattered beneath a breast…
Air-headed himbo and the several dried, minute splatters of micros-turned-stains dotting the underside of his workout pants, imperceptible even as they stretch taut over the bubbly contours of his rear.
To say nothing of the gasping speck, plastered against his hole…
