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dyingswanpavlova · 2 days ago

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"Your girl" - Part 21 | The Salesman x Reader

Summary: During a weak moment, you think back to happier times.

Warnings: dead dove do not eat, kidnapping, mentions of sexual abuse and other traumatic events in the past, numbness, helplessness, violence, threatening (knife), mentions of blood, mentions of murder and rape, body issues, trauma talk, stockholm syndrome, forced relationship, unhealthy relationship, depression, manipulation, mentions of sexual activities and desires, mentions of pregnancy/pregnancy issues like nausea and puking, kidney failure, cockwarming, rough sex, penetration, oral sex, blood play, degradation kink, not beta-read and not proofread yet! if I've missed any please tell me! mdni 18+!

"Your girl" - The Salesman x Reader Masterlist

Having a knife pressed against your throat wasn’t half as exciting, if it wasn’t the one person you trusted not to kill you with it – and even if he did…you’d forgive him.

But what if it was someone else? What if it wasn’t the man who made everything possible, the man you had come to trust and love?

It wasn’t enough to kill you. But it, sure as Hell, was enough to break your soul.

You couldn’t help but think back to your last birthday. It had been quite the celebration, hadn’t it?

You had never really celebrated your birthday before and why would you? There were not enough people to invite, at least none who wouldn’t secretly make fun of you behind your back. A few people pitied you for being shy and quiet, they would have come for sure. Others were not so gracious – they said they’d show up and then they didn’t. It wasn’t uncommon, right? Nothing but a pathetic pity party. And yet it was enough to keep you from ever celebrating your birthday again.

Back home you had most often spent the day watching tv shows, probably comfort shows to keep your mind occupied, but at the same time not all that much. Carrie and Douglas shopping groceries for Thanksgiving. Samantha and Charlotte splitting up over Charlotte’s hot brother. A few of your favorite episodes and yet nothing to trigger any emotions in you. Because you knew, if you did, you’d spend all day and all night feeling miserable because your life was so goddamn empty. It went like that every messed up birthday of yours. No one to congratulate you, except for the people who felt obligated to. Your mother’s untrustworthy good wishes. Nothing of meaning.

That was until you met him.

Your last birthday…It had been…

God, if you had died and went to Heaven, it couldn’t have been like that.

Your gaze involuntarily wandered back to the typewriter. A part of you almost wanted to smile at the memory, but it was hard under these circumstances.

And yet you knew, you knew, you had to dissociate somehow. Because if you didn’t, your soul would be gone for good. And what good was it to spend the last few minutes of your life broken and miserable? No, that was so silly. So silly. Why would you do that to yourself, when instead you could remember one of the most beautiful days of your life?

You remembered it like it had been yesterday, though it was a few months in the past by now. You hadn’t been pregnant yet or if you had been, at least you hadn’t known.

Now, lying on your bed under the sharp threat of the blade, you felt your first trimester nausea had passed. Almost on the dot, three months into the pregnancy and the vomiting had stopped. Pasta was still an unbearable thing to you, but at least Tteokbokki worked – though not half as spicy as he liked to eat them. You just weren’t sought out for that kind of tongue pain.

The first morning you woke up and didn’t immediately feel like throwing up the emptiness of your stomach, your desire for something else than food immediately returned – and tenfold.

You didn’t consider yourself an especially wicked or wanton person. But now, that the nausea had passed…

Fuck, you wanted him all the time.

And you got him all the time.

Having him inside you was as natural as breathing. It didn’t matter if you woke up with him stretching you out lazily against the sleepy morning blur or if you found yourself on your knees, keeping his hardness warm for him like a good girl.

“Good girl. Fuck. My good girl. Daddy’s good girl. Mh-mh. Don’t you dare move, you know the rules. I know that you want it. Fuck, I bet you’re dripping by now. Ah…Fuck. No, darling, no. Keep that pretty mouth in place for me, will you? Stay in place and I might just reward you.”

The thought sent a thrill up your spine. Even in that situation.

A part of you still felt incredibly ashamed for being what you were. Every time you came to the thought of something degrading, something cruel, something shameful, your first impulse was to feel bad afterwards. But it got less. And less. And less.

Sex got easier. And so did pleasure.

He made sure to keep your mind occupied. And he made sure to cuddle and caress you to oblivion, each time he had just finished fucking you like a rabid animal, while throwing the worst insults your way and doing the most heinous things to your body.

Of course he took a few measures now that you were pregnant.

When you knelt before him for half an hour while he read the newspaper, he made sure you had a pillow under your knees.

When he pounded into you so hard that you were sure you felt him rip you apart, he made sure to kiss every part of your body afterwards.

Every time.

But your birthday, your birthday…That was different. That was a day you couldn’t ever forget. If you were forced to find your end at only twenty-five, pinned to your bed and pregnant, at least you wanted to think of something beautiful. And that was what your birthday was.

Everything started when he woke you up with a soft breath of a Happy Birthday in your ear. You had been so sure that he either had no idea about it, or if he did, he wouldn’t mention it. But he did. He wished you a Happy Birthday, only a few seconds after he felt you stir in the morning. The thought of that alone was enough to make your heart race in your chest. But that was nothing compared to what else was to come, right?

You didn’t expect much. No, in fact you didn’t expect anything.

So it was all the more surprising and unnerving when he left the room and came back with a giant present. It was packed in dark green wrapping paper, with a big, white ribbon on top. He hadn’t even gotten dressed yet, which was rather uncommon. Sure, he wasn’t the most organized, not with you. He had his ways of dealing with things, but he allowed himself to let loose every now and then. Morning sex and messy kisses before he even got out of bed. But when he did, he normally headed towards the bathroom and came back dressed. Not in anything special, but enough to remind him – and you – that another day had started.

But that day he vanished in nothing but his boxers and he came back exactly like that. You sat on the bed and watched with wide eyes as he came back, wearing no more than that little clothing. His body drew your attention almost involuntarily. Whenever he was near and whenever he looked like that, just a little messy, but still so fucking perfect, you couldn’t help but stare at him.

He was yours. He belonged to you. Only you.

That thought was enough to nearly make your heart stop beating.

You hardly even focused on the present, until he placed it right before you and made you snap out of your thoughts.

“Open it."

Your gaze dropped down, before you met his again.

“You…you got me a present?”

He immediately frowned. “What kind of silly question is that? Why wouldn’t I? It’s your birthday.”

Your cheeks burned, but not in embarrassment or anything similar. You simply felt the hurt of your last nineteen birthdays well up in you.

His expression softened and he gently cupped your cheek in his hand, his calloused palm rough against your skin and yet you felt yourself lean into his touch. Every touch was a gift.

“Just open it.” He said in a softer tone.

For some reason he seemed far more excited than you were. It wasn’t that you were not – but he seemed all but nervous about your reaction.

With a soft sigh, you began to tug at the paper, your thoughts a whirlwind of emotions.

When was his birthday? Would you ever get to know it? Would you ever be able to go out and buy him a present?

What a funny thought. You didn’t care to flee his fangs any longer, no, all you wanted was to buy him a gift.

By the time the floor was covered in paper snippets and the packaging of the present revealed itself, all other thoughts left your system.

Fuck.

Your head shot up and you stared at him with the most incredulous and confused look you could come up with. He wasn’t smiling, nor was he smug, he seemed to be assessing you. Reading you.

“Is this…”

You looked back down at it and ran your fingertips over the flat surface.

Olympia Carrera de Luxe…Typewriter.

Your fingers stilled against the box and you felt your heart skip a few beats.

You told him about it, of course you did. Just like many other things, like almost every ghost of every thought you ever had. So how would he have missed this? He wouldn’t. He was too observant.

Your dream was to become an author one day, but that wasn’t a secret. But you never mentioned the typewriter, not as in wanting to own one. All that you told him was how your father had owned one, back in the day. You had faint memories of sitting in his study and running your fingertips over the keyboard. It was so different from a computer or a laptop. You couldn’t tell what it was. The feeling of seeing whatever you had written right there, as a physical thing you could touch, fold, take wherever you wanted? Or maybe the way it fit into your physical representation of life. Mobile phones were fine, because everyone had one. It was impossible to survive without them nowadays, if you weren’t living in the forest, in a small cottage, with your own farm and freshly made sourdough bread every night.

But you liked real things. Mostly because you never had them.

You had relied on imagining your life rather than living it for as long as you could remember. But what you really wanted was a man to build a fence for you. Someone to wear dresses for. Fresh food. Real laughter. Dancing. Moonlight. Forehead kisses. Vintage phones. Photo albums. Ink. Paint. Sizzling food. And love.

Love like you could only find it in old love stories.

The feeling of the typewriter keyboard under your fingertips always made you feel like these things were possible, like life was endless and love was real. But then your father died and your mother got rid of everything, including the typewriter.

You had spent three weeks crying over it, until you finally realized that tears indeed dry out at some point. And if only, because she didn’t allow you to drink any water, until you finally stopped that pathetic whining of yours.

You had told him that. And he had heard you.

So when you looked up at him again, your eyes wide and filled with a veil of tears, the corner of his mouth twitched in uncertainty.

“I can bring it back, if you don’t like it.” He said in a soft voice. “I just thought you might.”

You swallowed back the lump in your throat as you looked back down at it.

“I can’t believe you did that.” You whispered.

When you looked back up again, you were smiling.

His eyes were still narrowed in uncertainty, as though he believed you were only saying this, because you felt obligated to. Your smile widened at that and you let out a quiet laugh. Without hesitation, you set the package down on the floor and straddled his lap, causing him to fall back against the mattress. His eyes widened for a brief moment, but he let you. His hands fell to your hips and he held you gently in place.

“You really like it?” He asked quietly.

“No one ever did something like that for me.” You whispered and rested your forehead against his. The way his breath seemed to catch in his throat, how your initiative still seemed to catch him off-guard, it was just a lovely bonus.

“Thank you.” You breathed out before you brushed your lips over his. “Thank you. I love it. And I love you.”

His eyes fell shut and he brushed his fingertips under your shirt, gently running his palms along your bare back. It made you shiver and he only ever pulled you closer.

“Happy Birthday.” He murmured against your lips.

Your smile widened impossibly, despite the tears that still stung your eyes.

“Just because of you.” You murmured right back.

Later that day, you found yourself sitting opposite him at the kitchen table. Things were…incredible.

They had often been these days, but that day was different in any sense. Not for a single second had you seen his hand twitch or his jaw clench. No, he was simply perfect.

Of course he had cooked the most heart-wrenching meal. You had no idea what it was or how you were supposed to spell it out, but it was delicious. More so than anything you had ever tasted before. Sitting in the kitchen and watching him cook had been the most relaxing thing you had done in a while, but it also made your mind wander all the same.

You loved cooking with him. It was always sweet, because he never lost his patience over spilled condiments or little mistakes you might have made. No, he stood behind you, his hands on your hips, his head resting on your shoulder. Or sometimes you stood curled into his side, simply observing. He liked cooking, you could tell and you tasted it with every spoonful. What you loved most though was simply co-existing with him, performing a basic, human task. Sometimes he’d hug you from behind and other times he’d shoot you that cocky smirk you loved so much. Whatever it was, it made you love him all the more.

But that night was different from any other time you had done it. You simply sat there, your knees pulled to your chest and your chin resting on your knees and you watched him cook. The precision in his movements, the focus in his expression, that little lip bite. It was all enough to make you swoon.

He was an attractive man, that much was clear. Aside from that, you weren’t sure if he really was your type – in case you ever had one. A part of you believed you didn’t have the right to have a type, since you never loved anyone and no one ever loved you before. It was all in your head, a wild mixture of all kinds of people in fiction and real life you had come to think attractive during some point in your life. Most of them actors, some your age, a few a little older, others quite a few decades above you. It wasn’t that you had daddy issues per say. You just found solace in the thought of a life that was already figured out.

Whatever it was, all of them normally had a little flaw. A little something, a little difference. You never fell for the quarterback, no, it was always some outcast who caught your attention.

Most people fell for Jon Snow for the time being, but your focus was always on Dolorous Edd. With his whole rough-around-the-edges-appearance and his dry sense of humor, he was your man. Jon was too perfect.

It had always been like that and you had never really thought about it. But that night, you suddenly realized, there was more to him that attracted you than his looks. If he was him, but with a kind, uncomplicated soul, with a smile that never left his lips, if all he ever did was assure and love and lull you…Would you still have fallen in love with him?

Probably not.

You realized that you weren’t exactly normal. But as you sat there, watching his quiet confidence and yet the ever-present sort of tension that always lingered somewhere inside of him, you realized you loved him.

For him.

You didn’t need him to change – not for you. The only reason you wanted it, was for him to be happy and carefree. Nothing more.

You didn’t mind his darkness, not even his cruelty, because he was yours and after every storm there followed the calm.

“You’re sure you’re alright?”

You snapped out of your thoughts. “What?”

He took a sip of his drink and watched you over the rim of his glass. “You’ve been staring at me. Again.”

That made you smile. “Are you getting shy?”

The sound of his laughter filled the room, real and unbridled. Your heart swelled with happiness and peace as you watched him, a warm smile on your lips.

“Just admit that you don’t like it.”

At your confused frown, he nodded towards your plate. You blinked in confusion and glanced down, only to realize he was almost done and you had hardly even eaten anything.

“Oh!” Your face flushed at the sentiment. “How long did I stare at you?”

He flashed you a grin that bared his teeth. “Are you getting shy?”

Your smile widened and so did the flush on your skin. “Oh, shush.”

A low chuckle rumbled in his chest as he observed you pick up your cutlery and take a generous bite, just to prove him wrong.

A part of you had always assumed men preferred women who didn’t eat. Who never used the bathroom and God forbid, there was ever a hair on your body where it didn’t belong.

But he had quickly proven your thoughts wrong. In reality, except for the times he had starved you in order to…break your will? Whatever it was. Except for those times, he seemed very content watching you eat and rather concerned whenever you didn’t. You didn’t feel the need to be something you were not with him. It should have probably been the bare minimum, but to you it was more. To you, it was something to be grateful for.

You did prove him wrong and showed him that you indeed loved whatever he cooked, by finishing the plate. You raised a brow and shot him a challenging look, as you set the cutlery aside.

He grinned like a predator stalking its prey. “Aren’t we proud over some pasta and steak.”

Your lips curved up into a slow smile. “Just trying to prove a point.”

He hummed softly and leaned back in his chair. “You want your cake now or later?”

Your eyes widened. “Cake?”

He shrugged. “It’s your birthday, isn’t it?”

“But I’m full.”

“So, later.” He smirked. “Or do you give up already? Weakling.”

You laughed. “You’re in for a real tragedy. There’s always space for cake.”

His smile softened. “That’s my girl.”

His words sent a pleasant tingle down your spine and you had no way of hiding that from him. He watched you with a mixture of amusement and fondness.

“Come. Let’s dance.”

Your brows shot up. “But I don’t know how.”

He hummed thoughtfully. “I’ll show you. Just trust me.”

And you did. When he held out his hand to you, you took it and followed him to the living room. Except for the gramophone (how old was this man, truly? There it was again. Your dream life…The cottage.) in the corner of the room, he wasn’t entirely frozen in time and so he had a music box playing, connected to a phone. Before you knew it, you heard a familiar tune hum quietly in the background.

He placed on hand on your waist, while he used the other one to intertwine your fingers. Your free hand rested on his shoulder and you looked up at him with wide, unsure eyes.

“Don’t be nervous.” He murmured. “It’s just us. I’m leading you. Just relax.”

It was no more than gentle swaying through the air, but to your surprise it felt far easier than expected. You couldn’t tell if it was the wine in your system, cutting your usual inhibitions short, or if truly was him. Whatever it was, when he spun and twirled you around, you let him – and you found you enjoyed it more than you ever thought possible. You were wearing the green dress, one of the first ones he had ever gotten for you. Mostly because you knew what it did to him. He kept glancing down at you, assessing you, licking his lips. And it drove you wild.

Not only with desire. But also the desire to be looked at like that by him.

You continued dancing, your rhythm slow, your thoughts caught in-between right there and somewhere else entirely. After a little while you felt his fingers tangle in your hair, gently pulling you into his chest.

“You know I tried my best to turn your black eyes hazel…And kiss away your cruelty…I gladly got undressed, put all my cards on the table...And by cards, I mean me…Apple in mouth, then you left town…Ran after you until my legs gave out...”

You hummed and your brows furrowed. “Interesting…choice of song.”

You heard his smirk before you saw it. “I found it on your phone, so I assumed you might like it.”

That made you look up at him. “Before you drowned it in tea, you mean.”

He exhaled softly through his nose. “Do you miss it? Your phone?”

A thoughtful hum later, you shook your head. “Not really.”

“I could always get you a new one.”

That caused your brows to shoot up in surprise. “Oh? Aren’t you afraid that I might end up calling the police?”

He shrugged. “To tell them what?”

There it was. The crack in the fourth wall, the cut in the curtain. What was it that you were doing here with him? You were hardly his victim, right?

“I came crawlin' in on all fours…Knockin' at your door…Knockin' at your door…”

Instead of making things more complicated, you somehow made a smile happen. “That a crazy man drowned my phone.”

He smiled as well, but it didn’t seem as genuine as he might have hoped for. He pulled you back into his chest and you continued to swing and sway to the soft melody. It was a song you had heard quite some times before, but you hadn’t ever thought back to it since you were there. Music was the least of your concerns. But now that you thought about it, maybe it did apply to him in a way.

“I don't wanna bleed anymore…I just wanted love…But you wanted gore…You're my matador.”

“Are you afraid of me?”

You didn’t need to look up to see the genuine concern in his eyes. His tone of voice was gentle, almost nonchalant. But there was a depth behind his words, a quiet uncertainty.

When you pulled your head back, he was already staring at you.

“Do you want me to be afraid of you?” You asked in the same, gentle tone.

He regarded you with a soft look and quietly admitted: “I don’t know.”

You took a slow breath, but didn’t say anything more. There was not much to say anyway. His words weren’t hurtful or at least they weren’t meant to be. You could tell.

“I want you to feel safe with me. Because you are.” He breathed against your temple. “Sometimes I just…I don’t understand what I want.”

“I do.” You whispered back, before you could stop yourself.

He froze in his tracks and looked down at you.

You decided to continue on with your courageous mission, even it might cost you your head in the end. “You want to control me.”

“Why are you so calm about this?” He asked quietly and he seemed genuinely confused.

“Because…Well, I don’t know.”

The only sound in the room were the soft tunes of the music and the quiet rustling of your clothes when you went back to your slow dancing. He didn’t press any further and so didn’t you. It was a quiet understanding of some sort. You belonged to him and you didn’t fight it. You weren’t perfect and he didn’t fight it either.

Because he fucking loved you. What else could matter there?

After a long while, after you already thought he had slipped into the abyss of his dark thoughts, he suddenly made you snap out of your own thoughts.

“Do you miss home?”

The question hit you harder than expected.

“Home?” You croaked out.

He nodded. “Yorkshire.”

You had to think it through for a moment. Then, with certainty you could say: “No. Not the way you think.”

He cocked a brow and waited for you to explain.

You hummed and gently tightened your grip on his shoulder. “I don’t miss her godforsaken house or anything else there. I don’t miss the Yorkshire I left behind. If anything, I miss the Yorkshire that Emily Bronte created. And I don’t miss her. I miss what it could be.” Your brows furrowed. “With you.”

His lips twitched in half-amusement. “Oh, yeah? You want me chase you through the moors like Heathcliff?”

You smiled. “Isn’t that what you are to me?”

His expression softened somewhat, but you saw the quiet concern flashing behind his dark eyes. “You’re not just some possession to me.”

“I know.” You whispered.

He exhaled a slow breath and gently cupped your face in his palms. They felt warm against your skin and everything else faded away, leaving your soul stripped bare beside his. He saw no flaws in it. Your brokenness didn’t send him running. Instead he was here, wrapping his clipped wings around you to protect your own.

“I want a future with you.”

There was not a thing in the world he could have said that would have made you feel a similar way. Your palms felt sweaty and your breath stuttered in your throat. There it was. The wall. The curtain. It was crumbling – and it didn’t hurt at all. But hope was a dangerous thing to have.

When he saw the way you struggled to come up with a reply, he continued, while his thumbs drew gentle patterns on your cheeks.

“I may not be the right man for picket fences and barbecues, but for you, I’d like to try. I never saw myself in that. Marriage. Children. Life. I never thought I’d make it this far anyway. I was always sure I’d be dead and gone and long forgotten, before I even reached thirty. It was never meaningful to me, none of it. I might as well have died.” He sighed softly. “Maybe it’s still that way. But you make it much more bearable for me.”

You didn’t mean to feel as touched as you did. But you were a natural crybaby it seemed and also, you were sure you were about to get your period, so you found your eyes grow damp.

Marriage. Children. Life.

“I don’t want picket fences and barbecues.” You heard yourself whisper. “We…we could just be us.”

His lips curved into a soft smile and you were sure, you saw the way his black eyes turned hazel again.

“I’d love that.”

Later that same night, after you had learned that dancing wasn’t as bad as you thought and your life wasn’t equally as hopeless, you found yourself underneath him. It wasn’t new, it wasn’t special either. But to you, it felt like it was.

His lips moved against yours with the same urgency as always, but there was something softer behind his touch, something that was almost careful. Like he didn’t intend to break your already fragile soul any further.

The tip of his tongue brushed against your own and that alone was enough to draw a moan from your lips.

“My naughty girl.” He murmured and slowly ran his fingertips up your thigh, pushing the material of the dress up your body. A few seconds later, he froze.

“Where’s your underwear?”

You couldn’t help but grin and shrug.

He sucked in a sharp breath and you saw his eyes darken. “You had no underwear on this whole time?”

“Mhm.” You purred.

“You…little…”

“Hey, it’s not my fault that you didn’t realize-“

“Minx!”

His lips crashed against yours again and he wasted no more time. His warm hands wandered up your body and he quickly discarded your dress on the floor, followed by your bra. You felt exposed when the cold air hit your skin, especially since he was still fully dressed. Your hands instinctively reached up to undo his shirt, but he quickly pinned your wrists against the mattress above your head and he kissed you with the fervor of a dying man. He used one hand to undo the buttons, while at the same time one of his knees settled between your own, pushing your legs apart. You felt so vulnerable, but at the same time, you couldn’t help but part them even further for him, desperate to finally feel him. When he felt the way you parted your legs for him, a low growl rumbled in his throat.

“Fuck, my dirty girl.” He breathed out and tossed his shirt aside, soon followed by his slacks. You felt his hardness before you saw it. He took your hand and guided it down his body and before you knew it, you felt your fingers wrap around him, your thumb brushing the little, damp spot on the material of his underwear. He groaned against your lips and bucked his hips against your touch.

“Fuck, yes. Come on, baby, touch me.”

Your hand slid inside and wrapped around his skin, all the while your eyes stayed focused on his face. The look in his eyes, the darkness, it was enough to drive you mad.

You bit your lip as you began to gently stroke him, rubbing your thumb over his tip in the most gentle touch. He groaned again and his head dipped forward, his forehead pressed against your collarbone.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck…” He kept bucking his hips, moving in rhythm with you. The way he bit his own lip to stifle any sounds and yet it didn’t help. The fact that you could do this to him…

A shuddering breath and...

“I want to have your baby.”

The words slipped past your lips way faster than you could stop them and you weren’t sure if you were ready to regret them. It was true. And at the same, you were scared shitless. It was stupid before it was anything else. But you wanted what he said. A future. A future with him.

He froze and his body went rigid above you. For a short moment, you were sure you had fucked up. But then he pulled his head back and you saw his eyes. Nearly black.

“Say that again.” He growled.

“I…”

“Say it.” He breathed out and tugged your head back by your hair. You moaned and arched your back, involuntarily pressing against him. He pulled your hand away and held your jaw firmly in place.

“Say it again.” He nearly hissed.

“I want to have you baby. I want you to…I want you…to…”

His lips found your neck and he left a trail of flaming-hot kisses against your skin. His kisses turned to bites, his bites to groans. His boxers shared the same fate your clothing did and before you knew it, he pushed your legs apart, as wide as possible.

“I don’t want you to say this, if you don’t really mean it.” His voice was a mixture of furious and pleading. He was taking control so effortlessly and at the same time, he was incredibly gentle.

You might have been confused, had you not been so desperate to finally feel him.

“I do mean it.” You whispered breathlessly. “I don’t need a fucking picket fence. Haunt me all you want. Kill me if you will. But let me be yours. Don’t look at anyone else. Love only me.”

You had no idea what you were talking. It was probably the wine speaking…or just the depths of your soul.

His expression shifted from quiet despair to something dark, something dangerous.

He leaned down and bit down on your earlobe, the sting of it enough to make you jerk, but not quite enough to really hurt you.

“Are you sure about this? Because, if you are, there is no way back. Because I want this. I fucking want this.”

You bit your lip and slowly wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him against you. His hardness pressed up against your slick core and you were sure you heard him let out a muffled moan against your neck.

“Fill me up. I don’t want a way out. I just want you.”

He didn’t ask again.

He pushed himself inside you, but he was gentle about it. It was as though he was trying to savor the feeling, to feel every little bit of you wrapped around him. You inhaled sharply and exhaled just as hard. Every time his breath hit your neck and he pushed a little further in, you couldn’t stop yourself from trying to meet him in the middle.

“Fuck.” He breathed out. “Fuck. I love you. I love this. Fuck, I want to die this way.”

His words sent a shudder through you. “Shut up.” You breathed out. “If something happened to you…”

You didn’t want to think about it, but you did every day. If something ever happened to him…

You couldn’t finish the thought.

He intertwined your fingers with his and pressed your hands against the mattress, his lips just a breath away from yours.

“You’d just go on living.” He whispered.

He gave a slow, deliberate roll of his hips and so you couldn’t answer immediately. But when you did, it was no less desperate. You shook your head, almost frantically.

“What am I going to do if you die, huh? Just live in a world with no you in it? Pass. Fuck. You’d have to kill me first.”

His movements stuttered for a moment, his eyes fixed on you. There was a slowness between you, a feeling like the rest of the world wasn’t really there. Eventually, he continued moving and he wasn’t slow about that. Every thrust he gave was determined, determined to either prove a point or maybe get you pregnant.

He leaned down and his lips barely grazed your ear as he whispered: “You can’t say shit like that to me.”

You didn’t argue. You couldn’t. You were too busy clawing at his back and trying to focus solely on the pressure he put on you. Before you knew what had hit you, you were already gasping and whining out your release.

When he felt your walls clench around him, he let out a low moan against your neck. “What do you want?” He breathed out, his movements never slowing.

“Fill me up.” You breathed out desperately. “Fuck, I want you. Forever.”

These words were enough. His movements stilled, but you felt the way he throbbed inside you, filling you with his seed and his love. His hope. Whatever this was, you wanted more of it. You wanted it all.

He was still gasping for air and so were you. His hands were gentle in your hair and his lips moved softly against your temple.

“I love you. Fuck, I love you. My birthday girl.”

You bit down on your lip and closed your eyes. “I love you more.”

He let out a low chuckle and was probably about to protest, when he felt you tense underneath him.

His eyes shot open and he regarded with a concerned look. “What is it? Did I hurt you?”

You shook your head, your expression tense. “I just…I think I got…I may have gotten my…” You swallowed, still feeling him pressed against you, but you suddenly felt way more uneasy.

His brows furrowed in confusion, until it suddenly hit him.

He pulled back just enough to look down at you and, indeed. A bloody mess.

“Ah.”

“I’m sorry…” You murmured, your face flushed in embarrassment and shame. “I’ll clean it up, I’ll-“

“Shh.”

He gently tipped your chin up, but your eyes stayed firmly shut.

“What?” He murmured. “You thought I’d be repulsed by this?”

You swallowed and nodded. For some reason, this felt far more humiliating than you ever imagined before.

He sighed softly and gently stroked your hair.

“I’m cleaning it up.” He murmured. “But I’m not repulsed, my silly girl.”

“You’re only saying this so I feel better.”

“No.” He murmured. “I’m saying it, because it’s fucking turning me on.”

Your eyes shot open the same instant.

“You…what?”

He nodded without hesitation. And truly. You felt him, just then. Hard again.

Your eyes widened impossibly, but the flush on your face only deepened. Your mother had somehow made you believe that your monthly blood was something terribly shameful. A curse, a punishment, because women were without shame and that was the only way to stop them.

You never knew what exactly she meant, but it was enough to make you hate yourself over it.

“That- I-“

“Why don’t you come to the shower with me…and I’ll show you exactly what I mean?”

You had no strength to protest. You had come quick to learn, his word meant more than your mother’s ever did. And you didn’t mind.

Even when he hated you, he still loved you. Unlike her.

So you found yourself in the shower only a minute later, pressed against the cold wall behind you. He turned on the water for the cold to fade, but he quickly had you pinned against the wall, while the hot water burned its way through your skin.

“What are you-“

He groaned against your lips and pressed himself against you. All normal. It was all fine. The blood would just wash away, right? Like all bad and shameful things did at some point.

But before you knew it, he was on his knees.

On his knees.

You nearly fainted.

“What are you-“

He hooked one of your legs around his shoulder and attached his lips to your core, before you could protest. Your eyes widened and your blush was near painful. But the thrill…the thrill it sent through your body…

You nearly came, right then and there.

What the hell was he doing? Did this really turn him on?

And why did it turn you on, the way it did him?

He lapped and sucked at you in the most intimate way, a low groan on his lips every now and then. His lips and tongue moved in a cruel speed and you quickly realized you couldn’t just pretend this wasn’t happening.

Because it was happening. And you were about to feel it unravel.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, holding him in place, your hips moving on their own accord and a breathless moan was on your lips.

There it was. The feeling.

May the water never wash that feeling away.

Your body trembled and shuddered violently as you came and it never seemed to stop. A few seconds later it eventually did. The reality of the situation came crushing back on you, but before you could dwell on it, he was on his feet, towering above you.

“Are you still ashamed?” He whispered breathlessly, brushing his lips against your earlobe.

“Yes.” You whispered back.

He groaned and spun you around, so his chest was pressed against your back.

“Don’t be.” His tone was a quiet command, and yet you recognized the hint of pleading behind his words.

Don’t be ashamed of your pleasure. Don't be afraid of mine.

He didn’t give you time to be ashamed though. He was inside you before you could even think about being. And this time there was nothing gentle about it. Just your vampire lover, pounding away at you and taking what he wanted.

“Are you still ashamed?” He grunted while he mercilessly fucked you into the wall.

You opened your mouth, but all you could do was moan.

His smirk. His smirk was the most cruel sound in the world. But at the same time you were thankful. He didn’t let you be ashamed for something you both wanted.

“Thought so.”

A beat later, his smirk softened into something else and he slowed his movements just slightly to whisper against your earlobe.

"You'll get to know in time. Everything...Me. I promise you."

That was exactly what you thought about.

A day filled with as much sorrow as there was hope. And now there it was. A life growing inside of you, strong and resilient against everything that had hurt you in the past and would continue to hurt you. Until it was too late.

Fucking hell.

Was this your last day on earth?

__________________________________________

Tag list 1: @mitsuki-dreamfree@kpopsmutty69@heroine-chique@vkeyy@mizuwki@blu-brrys@z0mbi345@yourpointbreak@ayieayee@freddyzeppsworld@lola11111111@indifitel6661@salesmanlover08@laurenbenoit70@lalalaa2210@lila-marshal@auspicious-lilana@0-aubrie0@lovelyaegyo@theredvelvetbitch@violentbluess@muriels-lover@dorayakissu@eviebuggg@muchwita@ririgy@strxlemon@obsessedwthdilfs@kiwilov3@misty-q

Author's note: Hey, guys! This chapter cost me years of my life yet again......I started writing this last night and finished it just now, with a sleeping break of course, but I'm just about to head out and I'm still sick, so I'm in no real condition to proofread. I'll do that later, I think...I just hope I didn't talk gibberish here. If I did at some point, please forgive me!

However, thank you guys for your patience and your constant love and motivation! A few things in this chapter were inspired by (anonymous) requests and I'll answer the asks in time!

What I remember definitely is: the period issue, the slow dancing, her wanting for him to finish in her in order to get pregnant, teasing him with no underwear and "What am I going to do if you die, huh? Just live in a world with no you in it? Pass." - "You can't say shit like that to me."

I love you, guys!

Yours eternally,

Lana

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selfloverrrrrr · 16 hours ago

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PLEASE PLEASE write a dubcon(?) fic about seemingly innocent reader slowly and subtly seducing Priest Gojo whenever she goes to church. One day, her family stays at the church for a little while (for a church gathering), she excused herself from her family (saying that she needs some air), but really she followed Priest Gojo into his room and manipulates him into thinking that doing the dirty with her is okay because it'll only happen once. She locks the door and they do the dirty, she tightens her legs around Gojo's waist so he can't pull out when he came. thank you in advance!!

The sin

Warnings : Priest Gojo, manipulative reader, smut , heavy smut, unprotected sex, dubcon, manipulation, cuming inside, P in V, biting, size difference....

( All characters are aged up/18+)

Minors Do Not Interact

Read the warnings carefully....if you don't like my stories block me not report

Gojo's POV

This is sin! this is sin! this is sin! I told myself. But this is not even my fault. It's just that girl. Her name is y/n. She does that every time she comes to the church. She knows what she's doing. She kneels at the pew, hands clasped together in mock reverence, but her eyes are on me. Do i realise I'm the one being tempted?

Her skirt rides up just a little when she shifts in her seat. Not enough to be indecent, but just enough for my eyes to flicker toward her—just for a second. A second too long. Oh god forgive for starting. That's also a sin. She's trying to play a dangerous game.

“Lost sheep often stray from the path,” I said with steady voice, but there’s an edge to it now, as if I'm speaking just to her. She tilted her head, lips parting in a smirk. “Then it’s a good thing you’re here to guide me… Father.” she said almost..... seductive tone. She's doing it again.

My jaw tenses. She's patient, careful—each visit to the church. A soft touch when I handed her a Bible, fingers lingering a beat too long. A confessional whispered just a little too breathy. A soft bite of her lip when she said "Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned".... And I looked in the other direction.

Y/n's POV

It starts small. A touch too sweet, a gaze too long, a confession too sinful. “I’ve been having… impure thoughts, Father,” I whisper in the confessional, trying my best sound innocent. “I don’t know what to do.” On the other side of the wooden lattice, I heard him shift. Even without seeing him, I know he’s tensing, his fingers curling in his lap.

“Temptation is natural,” he says, voice smooth but slightly strained. “The Lord teaches us discipline. You must resist.” I lowered my voice, almost a whisper.....but loud enough for him to listen. “But what if I don’t want to resist?”. Silence. Heavy, charged, and oh-so-dangerous. I smirked. Maybe it's working?

The next Sunday, I wore. I approach communion, standing before him as he lifts the wafer. My lips part obediently, but instead of taking it into my hands, I let him place it on my tongue, my lips brushing the tips of his fingers.

A sharp inhale. A hesitation that lasts barely a second, but I saw it. The way his Adam’s apple bobs, the way his gaze darkens before he corrects himself. I swallowed slowly, maintaining eye contact as I whispered, “Amen.”

And when I kneel back at my pew, I didn't miss the way his hands tighten into fists, as if in silent prayer—praying, perhaps, for the strength not to sin. A small smirk appeared on my lips. But I knew, deep down, that soon enough… he will.

After two weeks

They had a gathering in the church. My family was there that night as well. I excused me telling them I needed some air. The church gathering is warm with flickering candlelight, soft murmurs of conversation, and the scent of incense curling through the air. My family is still inside, engaged in discussion with the others, unaware that I've followed him.

Father Gojo walks ahead, his long white cassock flowing behind him as he moves toward his private quarters. He doesn’t notice me at first, too lost in his own thoughts. But when the door creaks shut behind him and the lock clicks, he turns, startled. I lean against the heavy wooden door, my lips curling into something between innocence and something else.

“Little lamb,” he says, voice laced with warning. “What are you doing here?”. I stepped closer, slow, deliberate. “I needed to talk to you, Father. Alone.” His blue eyes narrow slightly, his usual playful demeanor guarded now. “You should go back. Your family is waiting.” But I didn't move. Instead, I take another step forward, my fingers grazing the wooden desk beside me. “I don’t think I can.”

He exhales, as if already sensing the danger. “You should.” I cut off his sentence “But I don’t want to.” I replied. The words are simple, but they hang between us like a curse. His jaw tightens, his hands balling into fists at his sides. “This isn’t right.” I tilted my head, eyes glimmering with something wickedly persuasive. “Just once,” I whisper. “It doesn’t have to mean anything.”

Gojo is strong. He is trained in resisting temptation, in guiding the lost back onto the righteous path. But I knew whatever I did it’s enough to make him falter. “We can confess after,” I breathe, stepping close enough that my body nearly presses against his. “God forgives, doesn’t He?” A muscle in his jaw twitches. “You’re playing a dangerous game.”

I smiled. “Then stop me.” He doesn’t. My smirk deepens. My fingers trail up, ghosting over the collar of his cassock, the stark white fabric a cruel contrast against the dark intentions lacing the air. Gojo doesn’t pull away. He knows he should. But he doesn’t. Instead, his hands come to my waist—hesitant at first, then firmer. As if he’s gripping onto the last shred of control he has left.

“Once,” he mutters, almost to himself, as if saying it aloud makes it true. I nodded with a smirk. And when his lips finally crash against mine, when he lifts me and took me to his bed. Almost dragged me. Oh he’s already lost. He pushed me on the bed and deepened the kiss. Kissing me as if his life depends on this.

When he pulled away he was breathing heavily. Gasping for Air. "Oh ......oh god forgive me...... forgive me for what I'm.... I'm about to do....." He said between heavy breaths while taking off his cassock. Then he took off his shirt. His toned body flexes against the warm candle lights.

I always admired his height. But never thought he had that well toned body. Looking at his body is already enough to make me wet. "Take off your clothes" his voice broke my staring. "Huh?" I replied looking at his eyes again. "What? Did you change your mind?" He asked. "Oh ...no..." I said and unbuttoned my dress and took it off.

He grabbed the back of my bra and unclipped it in a second and crashed his mouth on my boobs. Giving it wet mouthed kisses and sucking on the nipples breathlessly. Did I make him that much excited? "Fuck!" A chocked moan came out of my mouth as my head fell back and my hand grabbed his hair.

He pressed down his hips on my thighs for some relief as he heard my moan. And I felt that. He was rock hard. Oh he really is too excited. He trailed wet kisses down towards my stomach. Then stopped. Staring at my panties. His hand reached to take off my panties. His hand was shaking.

He slowly took off my panties. He was staring. Then he closed his eyes shut. "Oh god god god .... please forgive me! Please forgive me! Please forgi-" before he could complete his sentence I cut him off by grabbing his pectoral cross and pulling him close. His face was inches away from mine.

He's staring at me. He's still breathing heavily. "You should ask for forgiveness..... after you do the sin" I whispered in his ear and slid down my right hand inside his pants. I was shocked by the length and the thickness. I wrapped my fingers around his dick and stroked it. He moaned so loudly in my ear.

"does it feel good?.... it'll feel even better if you put it inside me" I whispered. His hand reached down and unzipped his pants. His pants fell on the floor. He lined up. His hands were still shaking. I jerked my hips forward and his tip pushed inside. "FUCK!!" he almost screamed. Then his hip jerked forward and pushed the rest of the length inside.

His head fell behind. Mouth wide open. Eyes rolled back. Of course his first time in this. He'll feel that pleasure.... He started thrusting. His length was stretching me to my limit. I grabbed the bedsheet tightly. His dick was too deep inside me. I never felt like this. It feels so good. Too much good.

"f-fuck.... you're so thight......oh god.....so warm....wet... h-huh... feels so good" he managed to say between moans and thrust. He pressed down his body on mine. My hands gripped his back as he started thrusting faster. "Oh my-..... harder.... P-Please harder....huhhh" I moaned in his ears.

He started thrusting at an animalistic speed. The room filled with the sounds of moan, groan, calling each other's name and wet skin slapping sounds. His hand reached down and started rubbing circles on my clit. Pleasure filled me at the same time I was shocked that this man knows how to please a woman? Within a minute pleasure overflowed and I came.

A chocked moan came out of his mouth as he felt me cumming. My walls squeezed tightly around his length. I felt his length pulsing inside me. He was about to pull out to cum outside but I wrapped my legs around his hips tightly and pulled him close. I hugged him tightly as I felt he was cumming.

"NO NO NO NO WAIT-" he panicked. I felt his pulse the last drop of his cum. I unwrapped my legs. He pulled out immediately. "NO NO NO NO NO THIS CAN'T BE!!!! OPEN YOUR LEGS! LET IT OUT! PLEASE!" He said panicked kneeling down in front of my legs. I crossed my legs close and sat up. Gojo was looking at me with pleading eyes.

I grabbed his chin. "Look, father.... A charming, tall, hot guy like you shouldn't be a priest...... I waited for this sooooo long." I said then leaned towards his face. "You have two choices. Whether you leave all this and be mine......or I'll go out right now tell everyone what we did.... and I'll tell that you forced on me.... think about your reputation.... and I know you are too famous in this city" I said. His eyes widened..in fear? I gave his a kiss and after all this he still didn't pull away? A smirk formed on my lips.

Give me your requests guys....

I love when you give me your requests 💕

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brittle-doughie · 2 days ago

Note

(Sorry if my English is wrong, because I'm using a translator)

Man, I'm a recent fan of your content since I started playing CRK again just a whole month ago because of Shadow Milk Cookie (Whoever I can catch with 120 pulls, the same number I caught the awesome Vanilla Lol) and let's just say I stalked your account and stuff... But what I can say is that your writing is very unique and pleasant to read since there are no long descriptions, something I love but sometimes my brain bugs out and stuff, and then I realize that you put love into your content

But anyway, enough of the rambling and fangirling and let's get straight to the content I want to comment on:

Today's Soul Jam victim Y/N -

What we know about them: A Soul Jam created alongside the others but unlike them, they don't have a Cookie but rather have a form and they show resentment (hatred in its purest form) that the other Soul Jams have receptacles

My idea:

As I know, Soul Jam's were created and given to the Beasts before they collapsed, and with that comes my idea of what if Soul Jam Y/N also had a Beast

The relationship between the two was very different from the others because they interacted at every opportunity, had inside jokes, judged the other cookies and even the witches, and to the point that their Hero nicknamed them 'Y/N'

Everyone could see that they had a special bond, a bond that no other hero and Soul Jam had

But then the corruption happens, one by one the heroes fall, all except Y/N's hero, they were the only one left standing, the only one who resisted the corruption...

Because of this, the witches asked the hero to stop those who were once their friends, at first they didn't know what to do "They're my friends! But they're hurting the other cookies! But the other cookies also made big requests! What should I do?!" So they asked for time to think, something very short at the moment and had a conversation with Soul Jam Y/N

"What should I do Y/N...?"

"...This is a decision that I would say is easy from the outside point of view, but from the inside it is the hardest to make..."

"... So there is no answer...?"

"There is an answer, this answer will be the right one, I trust you ██████ Cookie!"

"Heh... thanks but I don't know... What if I make the wrong choice instead of the right one, what if I make the right choice for others and make the wrong one for my friends! I don't want to hurt them, they're already hurt by the cruel fate of immortality"

"You're a kind cookie, I'm sure you'll manage"

"...What if it was all my fault..."

"Hmm..?"

"What if I had been a better friend, noticed the signs earlier, stopped them in time... Maybe they wouldn't have to do this, maybe everything could be the same as before..."

"It's not like that-"

"It would have been better if I was the one to be corrupted..."

" ██████ Cookie!"

"I'm sorry Y/N, but I've already made up my mind, I'll go with them, I'll be sealed with them, but don't worry okay? You won't get caught, you can live your life and find a better cookie than me to be your user"

"Wait ██████ Cookie! Don't go!"

"Goodbye Y/N, I hope you can discover new things in this incredible world"

That was the last conversation the hero and Soul Jam Y/N had, the hero agreed to help the witches in exchange for being sealed with his friends, something that was conceived, during the purity of the Soul Jam's they did not purify Y/N because they were not corrupted

But then why did Y/N feel empty? Why did they feel like everything was wrong? Why did they feel like crying when they didn't even have a body? Why was ██████ Cookie gone?

Time passed and the other Soul Jam's found new users, but Y/N was left in the dark

They felt jealous of their companions, of how they moved on while they still mourned the loss of their Hero, of how they gave their power to their Heroes, while Y/N remembered the times when her Hero borrowed her power to help their friends, how they guide them to the right path, while Y/N remembers all the times they and their Hero would talk through sleepless nights when everyone else was asleep, how they would guide their Heroes through their darkest moments, while Y/N couldn't see him one last time properly

They were jealous, they wanted a Hero, but at the same time they couldn't, they couldn't move on, they couldn't accept another Hero, they couldn't find another cookie as their Hero

So they thought, if I can't have a Hero why can't I be my Hero?

So they did it, created their cookie form and bam! They could walk, touch and feel the Bread Land without any effort!

But at the same time, they hoped to find their Hero once again, maybe they could be like they were before...

Tadaa~ So what did you think of my idea?

-Just a Person

I think it’s a solid enough foundation.

#brittle answers

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blinday · 1 day ago

Text

1. Not a specific character, but it does feel very passive agressive. Yes, it does seem like fandom policing. It's all in the intent. Like, what's the point of it? "Oh look. You like a white character amongst your shows? Shame on you." That's stupid.

2. a) I don't know, but I doubt it's something like 'oooh! The only white character in the show! I'm gonna kin them instead of the mc'.

b) It certainly criticizes it. Or do you have a different purpose for this comic? You certainly made it seem like it's a bad thing to pay the white characters more attention than the poc ones.

c) Yes. Yes, actually. I've been and seen fandoms in which a character was there for very short period of time and got a lot of attention. Hell, the whole thing in MLP is that background characters get backstories because the fans love them.

3. Actually, no. Most of my favorite characters are black/asian/blasian coded ninja turtles. I like the characters based on how skrunkly and hurt shaped they are.

4. Yes. I do think there's a reason. White people already have many spaces for them, so it's frustrating when they're more beloved than a poc character. Even so, it doesn't make it wrong or bad or harmful for people to like them. What I personally do is to promote my favorites and make content for them.

5. Well. I saw something stupid that a lot of people talk about and decided to give my own 2 cents, since you know. It's the internet. And sometimes it's important to see other perspectives.

For the last question: Actually, no! I was raised in South Africa and am a Brazilian, now living in Brazil with my black boyfriend and family members. Speaking of which, before I posted, I asked for his input, because of the amount of people saying I don't have a say in this because I'm most likely white. I didn’t want to be disrespectful. Well, let's just say, he beta read this response and endorsed it. So. I think I'm in the clear.

Also, I tend to use sarcasm and paused structure sentencing to make my posts humorous. I don't have anything against you personally, I just wanted to participate in the debate. It is a funny comic and it's something that does happen. It's a bit annoying, but I just don't think it's harmful or too deep.

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c-oupsie · 12 hours ago

Note

okay, my love, i am here to officially request ruining vernon with some kind of vibe around these dialogue prompts "do you know how long I've been waiting for this?" and "Use me. Fuck Me. Do whatever you want, but god, please touch me"

like that general vibe of desperate vernon wanting to be ruined and used??? i am feral at the mere thought

you can go wild with the rest of it, and you dont even need to write it smutty if you don't want, just do what you feel it right, bby. i just request the vibes, man, the vibes.

i fear i will go insane and ramble forever if i don't send this rn omg

luv u bby 💗

[9:12AM] - vernon

ⓘ college student! vernon x tutor! f! reader — college au, SMUT (MDNI), reader is mentioned to have big tits and thighs and some pubic hair, kinda bottom! vernon, sloppy make out, mutual masturbation, dirty talk, handjob, spitting, overstimulation, bodily fluids (cum).

1.8k words — note. thank you for requesting, my love! (and thank you @haologram and @beomcoups for beta reading ‹𝟹) you know I love writing a desperate vernon, so I had a field day with this one. hope you enjoy ♡(˃͈ ˂͈ )

oh,

oh, fuck.

this is not what you're used to seeing during your advanced arithmetics tutoring private lessons, but alas, you're not one to complain; not with such a delightful sight first thing in the morning.

not when said sight makes your eyes twinkle, your heart pound, and your pussy clench impossibly tight around thin air the more you look at it—the more you look at him, your favorite student sitting on his single bed, back resting on the wall behind him, eyes closed and head thrown back, his usual adidas sweatpants pulled down just enough for his impressive dick to be free of restraints as his slender fingers jerk it off with expertise.

and your eyes lock in on it, completely entranced by how flush, and long, and curved, and pretty it looks—just like you always imagined—just like its owner: vernon, a second year student that, although actually pretty good in arithmetics, begged you to tutor him for an exam he just couldn't seem to pass. today was supposed to be the final session before his test, but with the scene unfolding in front of you, you suppose that's not going to happen.

to be fair, you should've texted him to let him know you'd be coming over about half an hour earlier than agreed—but how were you supposed to know that you'd be catching him like this? moaning and groaning and whimpering while desperately milking his own cock? so desperate he didn't hear your knocks, or you opening his bedroom door?

and fuck. you know you should turn away and erase this moment from your mind, but instead your eyes trail up from his dick to his blissed, completely fucked out and sweaty face. his lips are full and plump and red because of all the slow torture his teeth are putting them through in a futile effort to stay somehow quiet and not be heard from his roommates—the same ones who let you in just moments before.

your naked thighs start rubbing together, seeking some kind of relief, but all it does is make you even hornier. you can feel your own arousal slowly trickle down your inner thighs, eyes again locked on his angry cock, leaking and leaking non stop as it gets fucked with his hand.

then, a deep, guttural moan leaves vernon's lips, and you quickly go to look up at his expression, only to find him already looking at you. desperate, frantic—needy. you gasp at how intense his look is.

“____” vernon's voice is broken, breathless, his hips now jolting with every stroke. “please, please-”

“fuck…” you whisper, the knot in your lower stomach starting to tighten as he whines your name, as he begs you to help him in the prettiest, dirties way.

you're getting dizzy just looking at him—and there's no way you can resist him, so, heart pounding, you turn to lock the door and seconds later, you find yourself standing between vernon’s spread legs.

you groan as you throw your backpack on the floor, eyes never leaving his clouded, lustful ones. how someone can look this fucking pretty and pliant, just waiting for your next move, is a wonder to you.

“hands off.” you say all of a sudden, and his eyes widen. hesitantly, he stops stroking himself, his pink tip drooling with precum, but he doesn't unwrap his hand. you click your tongue, then, bend forward so you can face him.

“____ …” vernon whimpers when your minty breath hits his flushed face, his adam’s apple bobbing at the sight of your full tits being held up by your tank top—the sluttiest one he’s seen you wear thus far. the amount of times he’d gotten off with them in mind, dreaming about kissing, licking, fondling, fucking them was embarrassing.

thoughtlessly, his fingers start moving on his shaft again, but you hastily grab his wrist.

“off.”

and this time, he obeys, the look in your eyes causing a shiver to run down his spine, and he can’t help it when he groans: “use me. fuck me. do whatever you want, but god, please touch me.”

at vernon's words, your pussy clenches, another trickle of arousal running down your hot skin. you don't think you’ll ever hear anything hotter than this, from a pretty boy like him nonetheless, for the rest of your life.

you're so fucking wet.

“do you know how long I've been waiting for this, nonie?” you mewl, your thumb tracing his bottom lip while your other hand drops his wrist, your fingertips now lightly tracing the veins on his length. he shudders. “wanna know how many times I pictured you saying those words to me?” you continue, your voice charged with raw lust. “how many times I’ve had to hold myself back from pulling these fucking sweatpants down?”

he forces his eyes to stay open, forces himself not to cum the moment you spit on his cock and wrap your hand around it before starting a slow, lingering up and down movement—however, vernon's eyes do roll back a little when you push your manicured thumb inside his mouth.

“and hell, do you never put underwear on? or is it just for our tutoring sessions that you skip out on it?” you lightly squeeze his weeping cock, thighs rubbing together when he moans around your finger. “god, I could see your cock twitch every time I took a glance at it. bet you loved watching me drool at how hard and big it looked under these.”

vernon's dick throbs in your hand, his hazel eyes jumping between your eyes, tits and fingers covered in his precum.

“fucking perv.” you mutter, popping your finger out of his mouth to grab his wrist and bring his hand to your chest, the little black tank top you picked today doing nothing to hide how hard your nipples are for him.

“god–” vernon’s voice cracks when he gets a hold of your boobs, his long fingers wasting no time before starting to knead them, and his warm, sticky with sweat palm, paired with the rough fabric rubbing against your sensitive nipples causes a whimper to leave your lips, pussy pulsing under his mesmerized gaze.

in a swift movement, he pushes down your top, and his length twitches in your hold when he finally sees them naked because, as always, you had— “no bra…” he breathes, admiring your perked up nipples with a dreamy look. if he didn't start toying with them the second after, you probably would've giggled at how adorable his face was.

“yeah. made me a perv too. look—” you whine, your hand still jerking him off painfully slow as the other reaches for the one button holding your skirt up. you unbutton it, and the cloth falls down to the floor, revealing your bare, drenched cunt to his eyes. “look what you do to me, nonie.”

he could see your arousal dripping down your legs, the morning rays dancing on the skin of your plush thighs, and the sight of you, your pretty, fiery eyes looking down at him, glorious body almost naked between his thighs, pretty pussy on sight, his own hands playing with your tits while yours stroke his dick—

fuck– vernon wonders how he still hasn't busted the fattest nut in the universe.

“you’re–” he gasps out, “so, so, gorgeous-” he barely manages to say before your lips finally smash against his own with a high-pitched moan coming from you. and as you whine and whimper in his mouth, your tongues clashing for the first time, all he can think is how much better this is compared to all of the wet dreams he’s had about you.

and then, he can feel it– can feel his high approaching, fast. your hand’s strokes become quicker, more expert, and he can barely fucking think as he can feel your knees sinking on the bed, now straddling him.

“wan’” he struggles to speak, mind clouded by so much pleasure he feels as if he’s about to see the golden gates, but still, his hand slides from your full tits to your hips. his words are muffled when he says: “wan’ you to feel good too–”

your hips jolt forward when his slender fingers trace your pussy lips and the little patch of hair on top, before immediately finding your clit—throbbing, waiting to be played with. and so, vernon does.

he wastes no time trapping it between his fingers and teasing it with his thumb, making you gasp and yelp in his mouth desperately, your hand struggling to keep a steady tempo jerking him off, your kiss becoming sloppier, messier by the second.

“s-slow down—” he’s the one to beg when he can feel his balls and abs starting to tighten, his high imminent. “ple– fuck– no-” he continues, but instead, you keep going– even faster, your melodic moans, your bouncy tits his hand is still kneading, your warm pussy as he continues toying with your clit only speeding the process.

“don- don’ hold back, nonie–” you almost sob, nails raking at his scalp as if begging him. “cum for me. wanna see you cum–”

and vernon is but a man—a man who’s been having a crush on you for months. a man who's been jerking off for a good twenty minutes before you walked into his bedroom. a man who truly hopes this isn't the nth dream he has about finally getting to have you. a man who, even if he’d love to make you cum first, he knows he’s reached his limit—so, he cums.

he cums with a whimper, his eyes crossing, and with his hands fondling the soft skin of your thighs. and god, does he cum a lot. thick ropes of release shoot out and land on his stomach and torso, half covered by the black zip up on him as he moans and gasps your name.

that’s almost enough to make you cum too, your cunt dripping even more as you help him ride out his high, your lips drinking in his every sound and sigh. then, after what feels like forever, vernon pulls back from your kiss and, if you could, you’d take a picture to immortalize the moment.

he’s unsurprisingly gorgeous, even more post-nut. his eyes are glazed, his cheeks are deep red, and so are his lips: full and puffy after being tortured by yours.

then, a glint in his eye, and a finger tracing your drenched folds before it slowly teases your entrance.

“this is the last time I’m coming first.”

⨯ taglist: @aaniag @dokyeomkyeom @soonsgrl

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gh0st-ratt · 3 days ago

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Charles, Edwin and action

Putting my two cents into the dbda analysis to talk about the boys' relationship with action/movement throughout the show

Within the first episode Charles easily defines himself as the "brawn" and Edwin as the "brain". This presents Charles as what I like to call a physical response character and Edwin as a verbal response character, which reinstates what has already been shown to us as the boys dealt with the WW2 ghost: Edwin recites the Latin enchantment as Charles grapples with the ghost. By doing this, job is jobbed, case is closed etc etc.

I feel I have to mention that this almost unconscious dance between them is something that Edwin couldn't have in Hell. Movement and speaking meant being caught and torn apart. But it's also the fact that he probably wouldn't have even had anyone to talk to in Hell, and now he gets to be a part of a duo where his main role is to speak and explain knowledge.

Anyhow, this pattern continues in most things that the boys do; while at the Dandelion shrine, Edwin is the one to read the writing on the shrine and verbalises (to both characters and audience) what the intent of the Dandelion sprites is. And then Charles is the one to pick up the vase (and break it).

The Devlin House is of note because this is the first time that we see this dance fail. Edwin has explained what the Stone Tape Theory is, and now it is time to look for what might have caused the loop. This is where their roles flip, if just for a moment. Charles talks to Crystal about how he connects to Hope Devlin while reading through her diary. He understands her situation, her fear, how it feels to be struggling under your parent's command. And he actually talks about it. In that scene, Charles is the verbal response character. You could say that it's because it isn't Edwin that he's talking to that he can change his role in the dance. Crystal isn't a part of their dance as the 'brain' and 'brawn', so he doesn't have to fit into the role of the physical response character with her.

(You could go as far as to say that this unfamiliar flip of roles is what leads them astray. Edwin has completed both the verbal and physical aspects of this scenario, the dance is off. You can go even further to say that Edwin didn't even complete the physical aspect correctly, he got the wrong trigger, he's not used to being the character of action)

It is then after all this, still in the Devlin house, that Charles steps back into being the physical response character when he attempts to attack Mr Devlin. This is the first time that the boys completing their roles has completely backfired. (You could argue with Esther, being hit back was just the response of a typical fight. You go to hit and you miss and get hit back.) Charles attempting his role as the 'brawn' takes him out of commission entirely, because there isn't that balance. He hasn't actually spoken about much and instead internalised it for 30+ years, and now uses that emotion to act. And it doesn't work.

Charles never really seems to make actions about himself, and the times he does? It never really works out for him. The Devlin house takes him out of commission, and the Lighthouse Leapers have his friends reject him for his actions (I might talk about this another time). Even his kiss with Crystal that he instigated doesn't go anywhere.

An interesting note is that the times when Charles is much more passive in his actions is with his relationship with Crystal. He initiates the kiss first, but even before that he's almost tiptoeing around what Crystal might want or not want (I've seen a few people talk about this better than I could so I won't get too into it).

It's only really until after he and Crystal break it off that he starts really being a man of action for himself and not just others. He argues to not take Monty's case, he calls Crystal out on her lies about her powers, he stands on his decision to not let Crystal go to Hell. He's not being passive about what he might want and how it might clash with what others want.

Charles' arc and connection to his relationship with action kind of ends at the end of ep5 (Dead Dragons) when Edwin says "Let's get [Charles] sorted first" and they never really go back to Charles' arc lol

Edwin's relationship with his role as the verbal response character is interesting because part of his arc is about how he cannot verbalise what he is wanting. The Case of the Lighthouse Leapers makes that abundantly clear. To Niko he denies by "Absolutely not" wanting to kiss the Cat King, and he doesn't know what he wants with Monty. The Cat King has to literally spell him to get Edwin to admit what he wants from the agency ("[He] can make [his] case for leniency").

Edwin can explain anything for a case, anything for knowledge, but he does not like verbalising his wants. We see him struggle with this towards Monty at the swing set, he "-thinks it best if [they] stop seeing one another", but he also isn't sure if that's what he actually wants. It then!! Continues!! As Edwin begins to say what he wants, that there are "-feelings. That [he] thought were never to be spoken of.", Monty swoops (ha) in as the physical character in that moment, sealing it with a kiss.

But Edwin didn't finish! He as the spoken character has not finished his role before the action response occurs! And it doesn't work. The dance isn't working, they're stepping on each other's feet.

We then reach the Case of the Creeping Forest, wherein Edwin's feelings for Charles are, at this point in the narrative, one of the main things he cannot verbalise. So instead, Monty verbalises it! He is the one to finally state that "Those feelings that [Edwin has]? Are for Charles. He is the one [Edwin loves].".

(As I'm writing this I'm realising that Monty actually creates his own role as both a physical and verbal response character within like two weeks of being human compared to 2 oldass ghosts good for him)

Edwin's feelings for Charles have been established by the way he typically acts (with words), but not by himself, because he cannot do that. He has spent so long denying himself and avoiding verbalising anything akin to his own wants that he still cannot say it.

But then it is Charles' turn to establish how he feels for Edwin with his typical: actions. And how does this occur? With Charles' putting his hand over Edwin's as they are dragged by Teethface. It doesn't matter if the feelings being presented are or aren't exactly the same, it's still love. It's part of their dance. Edwin's perspective has been spoken, and then it's time for Charles' perspective to be acted on, and both times it means that they love each other.

Edwin's relationship with expressing want is also tied into his changing of clothes in ep6. One of the first things we are told about Edwin is that he "-[doesn't] like to try new things", but we see him in ep6 trying something new for Charles. This is Edwin, unable to express how he feels quite yet, but acting on something new.

Hell is really where the boys' relationship with action and movement turns almost entirely on it's head, because Edwin is Back In Hell so he can't really be the words or actions character, which leaves it for Charles to be both; which we've seen mess up in the past, but it works in Hell.

Charles gets to Hell fine, (he acts on ringing that bell impulsively because why not), he finds Edwin, he tells him they will get out, and then he is able to leave again! In the entirety of Hell Charles is able to go back and forth between a physical and verbal response character like he hasn't previously.

This then ties into our favourite myth of Orpheus and Eurydice.. and media illiteracy. The audience and Edwin know how the myth ends "-That story ends tragically.". That's the point of the myth, it's a tragedy. But Edwin (brains, words, verbal) finished the story and cannot choose their own ending. He's stuck with the understanding that the story never ends well, but he still acts on it.

In this story, Eurydice physically forces Orpheus to look, with the understanding that it could still end tragically.

Edwin forces Charles' to turn back to him and he finally finally acts on what he has been feeling to say "Charles, I'm in love with you", knowing it's a tragedy.

But Charles (brawn, actions, physical) did not finish the ending and therefore has the agency to change it. But he changes it with words. He turns around and he says "You're the most important person in the world to me" and he says "We have literally forever to figure it out".

Edwin and Charles, despite living in their unconscious dance roles of 'brain' and 'brawn', respectively, for 3 decades, swap their roles for the first time successfully in the show when Edwin takes a leap to act on his feelings and Charles responds with nothing but kind words and the reminder that their story doesn't have to be a tragedy, and they do this all on the steps of literal Hell because what wouldn't they do for each other.

#dead boy detectives #hey sorry this is batshit long #tried to get images to make it more interesting but i couldn't find them ANYWHERE #stay tuned for analysis of colour ig #i'm sure my old lit teacher is thrilled i'm using his teachings to analyse gay ghosts on the internet #save dead boy detectives #dbda analysis #charles rowland #edwin payne #the case of the devlin house #the case of the lighthouse leapers #the case of the creeping forest #the case of the very long stairway #zero says thingz

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my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction · 1 day ago

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No thoughts. Just the idea of affectionately annoying Nathan. Like just sauntering into his office while he's doing work and jut kinda being in his bubble a bit. Like just standing behind his chair and gently wrapping your arms around his shoulders and watching him code until he asks what you want and you just go "Nothing, I just like bugging you <3"

He acts like he hates it but he likes it. He likes it and he does back. You affectionately annoy each other and light heartedly push each other's buttons.

I love this!

Make Me Worse

Nathan Bateman x gn!Reader • Rating: mature pals • Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | request info • buy me a coffee? •

Summary: You and Nathan love to annoy each other.

Warnings: Kisses, fluff, pet names, playfully annoying each other, calling each other names, overuse of italics, not beta read, please let me know if I've missed a warning.

Word Count: 1007

“You’ve been staring at the wall for the last seven minutes.” Nathan huffs.

“You been timing me?” The smile in your voice is undeniable.

“Why are you in here?”

“I like this painting.”

“You do not.”

“Yes, I do.” You keep your back to him.

“You don’t. You said it looked like vomit.”

“It does.” You nod lightly, pretending to admire it some more. “I didn’t say that was a bad thing.”

Nathan sighs dramatically and the rhythmic sound of his typing stops. He turns around in his chair, away from his desk and you grin. Pleased that you have won your imaginary game of ‘can I make Nathan turn around before I do.’

“Why are you in here?” His voice is grumpy, a slightly pout colouring in his words. With a huff, he crosses his arms, annoyed that he lost his pretend game of ‘can I make them turn around before I do.’

You look over your shoulder at him and smile sweetly. “Am I not allowed to be in here?”

“No.” He grumbles, and then rolls his eyes instantly after as he recognises he’s said the wrong thing.

You practically beam. “Oh, and why is that?” You tease and step closer to him, putting your hands on his armrests.

He tuts again.

“Could it be that I’m annoying you?” The glee in your voice is undeniable.

“No.” He glares, trying to give you a stern look from over the top of his glasses.

You wait a beat, and just about manage to resist the urge to tap the tip of his nose. “Good.”

“Good.” He repeats, still staring you down.

“Then you won’t mind me saying in here then.”

He clenches his jaw and breathes in deeply. “Of course not.”

“That’s what I thought.” You give him another brilliantly insincere smile and step to the side to investigate his desk.

He turns his chair, and at first, you think he’s going to go back to at least pretending to work, but instead, he just watches you.

You wait for a moment, bouncing lightly on the balls of your feet and trying your best to hide how you’re watching him out of the corner of your eyes. Ever so slowly you reach out and just tease the edge of his pen pot with the tip of your finger.

“Don’t.” He growls.

And you burst out laughing.

Nathan bites back a smile. “Stop.”

“I can’t believe that is what got you.”

“I thought you were going to knock it onto the floor.” He loses the internal battle with himself and grins.

“Why would I do that?” You giggle.

“I don’t know, why do you do anything?” He pauses. “Like a cat?”

“Like a cat?”

He nods. “My little kitty cat.” And hold out his arms to you.

You snort. “Do not call me that.” You sit on his lap and let him hug you tightly and settle you against him how he likes.

“Kitty cat.” He whispers.

“I’ll bite you.”

“I’ll muzzle you.” He kisses your forehead.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you, you sick fuck?”

His chest shakes as he laughs. “I would. I’d like it if you bit me too.”

You tut and pretend to be outraged for a moment. “Maybe later.”

“Ooooo, later. Why not know?”

“Aren’t you meant to be working?” You take hold of his hand, linking your fingers with his.

“You didn’t care about that a second ago.”

“Longer than a second ago, dumbass.”

“It’s a figure of speech, smartass.”

You sit up a little straighter and Nathan’s hold on you tightens when he thinks you’re going to go away. “I’m the smartass now? Excellent, let me get on this coding then.” You push the chair around to face the desk and dramatically go to hit the keyboard with both hands, still holding Nathan’s in one.

“Stop,” he laughs, wrapping his arm around your biceps and squeezing your hand. He pushes the chair back and away from his computer with his legs.

“No, no, I need to show everyone how much of a massive brain I have and do this boring coding.” You pretended to try to get back to the keyboard and Nathan giggles. The sound fills your chest instantly, making you light and content.

“Stop.” He kisses the back of your neck.

“I’m sorry,” you turn your head and put on your best Nathan impression. “I’ve got this important coding to do, nothing can stop me, not even your kisses.”

“That’s a lie.” He pulls you closer, pressing your back against his chest and trying to tickle your side. “I always stop for your kisses.”

You yelp and laugh as he tickles you, manically grabbing at his hand to stop him. “You don’t!”

“Name one time, one time I haven’t?”

“Right now!”

“You haven’t tried to kiss me right now.”

You manage to capture his wrist, halting his actions and turn your head again to look him in the eyes. “I haven’t?” You nudge his nose with yours.

“No.” He smiles, his eyes bright and shining.k

“Ah, I knew I’d forgotten a trick or two.”

Nathan kisses you quickly, a small peck. Once, then twice. His lips are warm, his cheeks lightly flushed from his playful struggles with you. He moans when you kiss him again, slower this time.

You risk letting go of his hand to stroke his cheek and beard, he moves his fingers to your side but doesn’t tickle. Instead, he helps you to turn on his lap and sighs happily as you lick into his mouth.

As you pull back he rests his forehead against yours and breathes in a shaky breath. “Come and sit with me please?”

“I am sitting with you.”

“Smartass.” He repeats, smiling.

“I learnt it from you.” You kiss him again, and wrap your arms around him.

“I think I learned it from you, you’re the master, I’m just a lowly student.”

You snort. “You were like this before we met.”

“Yeah,” he nods, grinning, “But you’ve made me worse.”

Thank you for reading!

Taglist 1:

@pleasurebuttonwrites @raven-rk @campingwiththecharmings @alexxavicry @whatthefishh

@romanarose @strangerhands @steven-grants-world @blushingrn @to-be-a-sunshine

@angel-of-the-moons @minigirl87 @lunar-ghoulie @silvernight-m @autismsupermusicalassassin

@reallyrallyauthor @basicalyrandom @alwaysmicado @mangoslushcrush @marc-spectorr

@spxctorsslxt @novarosewood @pygmi-cygni @hammerhead96 @emma23

@sub-aro @killerdollz @maplemind @mwltwo @loonymagizoologist

@dameronshandholder @queerly-anxious @homuraak3mi @swiftiegirliepop

@oscarssimp @milkypompon @eternallyvenus @lounilu @avengersinitiative2012

@pigeonmama @marcsb1tch @iolaussharpe-24 @chaithetics @DowBaStan

@faretheeoscar @lonelyisamyw-0love @queerponcho @twwcs @ingoldthewizard

If you'd like to be taken off the tag list please let me know here

#nathan bateman #ex machina #nathan bateman x reader #x reader #nathan bateman x you #x you #nathan bateman x gender neutral reader #x gender neutral reader #nathan bateman x gn!reader #x gn!reader #my writing #fanfic #oscar isaac #oscar isaac characters

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afniel · 2 days ago

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Absolute success. I've been reading through it instead of anything else I meant to be doing and all I can think is, man, can I magically just have my copy of RP1 turn into this instead, because this is so much more what I actually want to have on my shelf. It's just so much more actually clever (and not always on Wade's part! Sometimes he's just normal-teenager-dumb which is way better writing than original!Wade ever got) and less 'trying really hard to be clever and instead coming off like a total fucking Redditor at all times' which. Eugh. I could go on but considering you managed to find every single thing I hated about the original so far and fix it, I don't think I actually need to preach to the choir about it!

Holy shit guys you're never going to guess what I just found on a random computer drive I'd forgotten about

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riansdiary · 3 days ago

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THIS IS THE MINDSET! THIS IS HOW YOU CRACK THE CODE! 👑

GUESS WHO'S BACK? 😏

Dearest Gentle Readers...

Hello to everyone who has always read and supported my loa blog! Thank you so much! I've been living life and focusing on my own manifestations! If I haven't been posting, it's because I simply have nothing to teach, I'm busy or I'm focusing on myself and staying away from over consuming here. But I am back with a new epiphany I've had as I was talking to myself and thinking about the law. This is how I'm doing nowadays because it's literally the easiest way for me. It is the best way for me but it might be different from you but I'm just here to share it with anyone who agrees or who needs help with manifesting. Enjoy!

Yours Truly,

Lady Whistledown 💋

These were my thoughts from where the idea for this post came:

Okay so I was showering in the bathroom when I thought of this. Again, as per usual 🤣

"What do I do if the 3d bothers me when I see around or look at my life? Because of how different it might be to my dream life. Then I thought the best trick for that is honestly to not pay attention to unwanted so you don't take yourselves to that reality back again. And my thoughts create my reality, I have to remind myself of that. I don't follow the 3d."

"Oh because Regina wore this top, you wear it too? So what, you're gonna copy the 3d like a freaking minion or a follower? No you're the queen, the boss, the trendsetter! You're the one who sets trends aka what your thoughts are! It gets created not the other way around. No you're Blair, Regina and Chanel Oberlin! You're Jennie! What you say goes! So if there's the negative or unwanted creping into your brain, flip or think of it as a question. Like someone's asking you those negative thoughts.

"Hey Rian, do you believe you don't look pretty?" like you're at a press con and I'd answer it in my mind pretending I'm at a press con or being interviewed like "Hi! Of course, I'm pretty. Literally such a visual! Right? I seriously look so gorgeous!"

Remember this.

YOU'RE THE BOSS 👏 THE QUEEN 👏 THE TRENDSETTER! 👏

YOU ARE LITERALLY -> CHANEL OBERLIN, BLAIR WALDORF, REGINA GEORGE, JENNIE, WEDNESDAY, HONG HAEIN AND MIRANDA PRIESTLY!

When negative thoughts or assumptions creep in, take it as an opportunity to create your reality and affirm. I literally invite you to get inspired, think, act, walk like these characters I've mentioned because their mindset is perfect for manifesting because we do not follow or get fazed by the 3d. You would be giving your power away and turning the queen bee to the minion, the boss to the employee, the operant power to the copywriter of your thoughts. Every time, you think negative thoughts, remember this. "Reminder: WATCH OUT, YOU'RE CREATING YOUR REALITY! CHANGE IT TO WHAT YOU WANT!" Every time you let the negative thoughts and self talk take over, you're pulling yourself away from the reality you wanted to be in. How to jump back to the right reality? Easy, if it helps you be delusional but I would say, it's not even being delusional but changing the radio channel to what you want.

This is an example situation. Oh there's ants on the coffee table? Okay let's change the channel and create the reality we want instead. What ants? There's literally not even one on the table? Stop yourself every time you check or go "why isn't it working?" You know what you're doing, you changed the radio or tv channel again. Get back to the right one and detach. This is one of my default affirmations every time my desires pop up in my head -> "No. Of course I have my dream life. Of course I have my desires and that's final." It can even be as simple as "I have my desires" or a code word which means you have all your desires like for me, I sometimes say Lumos from Harry Potter because it's short and easy to say.

Go on, I invite to affirm naturally like one of those characters I mentioned. It helps me think more naturally if I embody their mindset and confidence. You tell it like it is! Don't forget that you lead the 3d so don't be shy to remind it sometimes.

👑 Now let's reiterate everything 👑

You’re the Boss. The 3D Follows YOU.

You’re either the leader of your reality or a follower of the 3D. And I don’t know about you, but I am not a follower.

Think about it like this: If Blair Waldorf wakes up and sees something she doesn’t like, does she just accept it? No. She fixes it, flips it, and commands what she wants. She doesn’t follow trends, she sets them.

So why are YOU following the 3D? The 3D is not your boss. It is not your reality. You are.

Step 1: Stop Reacting. Start Dismissing.

🩷 Friendly reminder that it doesn't matter if you cry or let it all out when you're upset as long as you go back at it after that and stand up. It is only not beneficial if you fall, you cry and you stay on the ground.

💅The 3D is like an annoying follower trying to tell you what’s in style. Are you just gonna copy what you see like some clueless minion? Or are you gonna be the trendsetter and make reality follow you?

🚫 If the 3D shows you something you don’t like, dismiss it. Reject it. Don’t react. Don’t spiral. That’s not your reality. Twist that dial and change the channel! Like this! Choose your favorite character and think like them! Or better yet, do it in your own commanding style because you know you're the operant power.

🗣️ Say it like Chanel Oberlin:

❌ "Ugh, as if. That’s not my reality."

❌ "3D, I don’t think so. I already have what I want. Catch up."

🗣️ Say it like Blair Waldorf:

❌ "Excuse me? That’s not my story. Reality, fix yourself. I always get what I want, and this is no exception. Now, try again."

🗣️ Say it like Jennie (BLACKPINK):

❌ "Oh? The 3D wants to test me? Cute. But let’s be clear. I already have my desires. End of discussion. Try to keep up."

🗣️ Say it like Regina George:

❌ "Wait… you actually thought I don’t have what I want? That’s so embarrassing for you. Reality follows me, not the other way around. Now, let’s never speak of this again."

🗣️ Say it like Hong Haein (Queen of Tears):

❌ "Hmm? Oh, I literally don’t care. I already have what I want. This is just old news trying to stay relevant."

🗣️ Say it like Wednesday Addams:

❌ "The idea that I don’t have my desires is almost… laughable. Reality bends to my will, not the other way around. Let’s not be ridiculous."

🗣️ Say it like Miranda Priestly:

❌ "Oh. This again? Boring. I have my desires. That’s all." (sips coffee, doesn’t even blink at the 3D's attempt to shake her.)

You don’t react. You command. The 3D doesn’t tell you what’s real. YOU DO!

Step 2: Flip It & Set the Trend.

The 3D isn’t in charge, you are. So when you notice something unwanted, take it as a cue to affirm your real reality.

Instead of thinking: “Ugh, why don’t I have my desires yet?”

Think: "No. Of course I have my dream life. Of course I have my desires. That’s final."

You don’t wait for the 3D to show you something good to believe in it. You assume it and the 3D has no choice but to follow.

Step 3: Live Like It’s Already Done.

If you already had your dream life, would you be questioning or doubting? No. You’d be enjoying it.

So act, think, and feel as if your dream life is already real. Because it is.

Final Boss Affirmation:

"3D, listen up. I have my desires because I said so. That’s final."

Say it. Mean it. Live it.

That's it. That’s the game. You don’t follow the 3D. The 3D follows you. You're literally hypnotizing the 3d. Because that's what your job is, that's what you do and when you don't stand in your power, you let the 3d take it from you.

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