#but i know I don’t have to ability to talk my way out of it

[pedroscurls]

at your pleasure (one-shot)

summary: din didn't need a partner, but he can't deny the fact that having you around has helped him complete his missions much faster. after din messes up a mission (which rarely happens), the truth finally comes out.

pairing: din djarin (the mandalorian) x fem!reader content warnings: EXPLICIT CONTENT (18+ ONLY MDNI), unprotected p in v, din keeps the helmet on (obviously), fingering, oral (m! receiving), edging, bondage (din ties reader up), light choking, creampie (oops! maybe? be safe y'all), no use of y/n. word count: 4.1k a/n: please bear with me! this is my first time writing for din ever so i really hope that i captured his characterization to the best of my ability. this is also part of @mushgloomz ppcu smut writing challenge! i got din djarin, trope: colleagues, with edging and bondage. please heed the warnings, it's gonna be a filthy one <3

“You almost died,” you tell him, bringing him back to the Razor Crest with one of his arms draped around your shoulders. He’s leaning against you and he turns his head to look at you—have you always been this attractive? 

“But I didn’t,” he answers. 

“Yeah, because I was there to save your ass.” You shake your head and gently set him down on the edge of your mattress. “Let me just get your bacta spray and you’ll be good as new.” 

“Don’t need you to take care of me.” 

“Well, your actions say otherwise. Stay here. Don’t go anywhere.”

Din just huffs and grunts in response. From underneath the helmet, he lets his eyes deviate to your ass when you walk away. He wouldn’t admit it but you had distracted him. The mission started out like any other mission—he would hide in the shadows while you did the talking. Your beauty always seemed to get most of their attention so rarely did it ever turn violent. He also knew that you could handle your own—he’s seen it plenty of times. 

But tonight… Tonight was different. He didn’t know when he had started to look at you differently, but when he saw the man get a little too close and touchy for his liking, he ended up ruining the entire plan. 

And the man ended up getting away. 

It was just a mess, and it was his fault. 

By the time you come back, his hands are resting on the was edge of your mattress. His shoulder is in pain, blood soaking through the fabric—it would be his fucking luck that he’d get stabbed just right next to his armor. 

“You know the drill,” you say, motioning towards his armor. “I’ll turn around but you need to let me do this.” 

“I can do it myself.” 

“We lost the bounty because of you, Din!” 

Din. He tightens his jaw—he should be angry at you that you’re using his name, but instead he’s angry with himself. Mainly because his body is reacting to the way his name leaves your lips. 

“We’ll get him.” 

You sigh quietly and turn around. “What got into you tonight anyway?” 

“Nothing.” He answers, standing up to remove his armor until he’s clad in just his undergarments. He places the helmet back over his face and clears his throat. “You can turn back around.” 

You nod to yourself and turn around—your eyes linger on his frame. He’s always been so broad with the armor on, but even clad in just his pants and tank top, he’s so much more muscular, so big, so—

“Don’t have all night,” he interrupts. 

You roll your eyes and walk up to him, standing between his legs when he sits back down on the edge of your bed. He keeps his hands resting on his lap as your fingers delicately—gently—touch his skin. 

“This might sting,” you warn him. 

“Used to it.” 

“Seriously, Din…” you sigh. “What happened tonight? We’ve done this so many times.” 

“Nothing,” he repeats. “Now, can you get on it with it?” 

You tighten your jaw and without warning, release the spray onto his skin. His large hand comes up to grip your hip instantly. 

“Fuck,” he growls.

“You said you were used to it.” 

Din looks up at you from his helmet, tilting his head slightly as his jaw tightens. His hand on your hip remains and you clear your throat as you stare down at him. 

“Was it because he was getting too close to me?” You ask quietly. 

“No,” he answers quickly. 

“Din…” 

“You’re a distraction,” he interrupts. 

“What?”

“You heard me.” 

“How am I a distraction? We’ve handled so many other bounties without any issue before!” You exclaim, glancing down at his hand which only seems to tighten even further around your hip. 

“Didn’t want a partner. Didn’t need one,” he says, ignoring your question. 

“Yeah, we established that already.” You roll your eyes. “But we both know that you’re making twice as much as you are now because you have me.” 

“You’re just getting too friendly and—”

“Just stop, Din.” You shake your head, taking a step back from him as his hand drops from your hip. You find that you miss his touch—you always had felt something for him but he had always seemed so out of reach. 

He stands from your bed and looks down at you. “You need to know when to stop.” 

“Stop?” You ask, confused. “What are you talking about?”

“He was getting too close to you,” Din admits. 

“It’s always part of the plan, Din,” you sigh. “And if he crossed a line, you know I would’ve handled him.” 

“Didn’t like him touching what’s mine,” he whispers. He gazes at you from behind the helmet, hands itching to reach out to you. 

You clear your throat. You can feel your cheeks heating up and even if you’ve never seen what he’s looked like, you can’t help but still feel so attracted to him. Your body reacts to his words—wetness beginning to pool between your legs, throbbing and yearning for him. 

“W–What?” You don’t move, watching him near closer and closer to you. “Yours?”

“Yes,” he mumbles. Din reaches up, gently brushes his gloved-clad hand across your cheek. He sees your lips part and there’s a part of him that wishes he can feel your lips on his, can have you gaze into his eyes. 

But he can’t. 

He cannot show his face. 

“Din…” you whisper. Your heart races faster and you feel his thumb brush against your lower lip. 

“He was touching you,” Din grunts lowly. “And you let him.” 

“It was part of the plan,” you repeat. “It’s always part of the plan.” 

“Not like this. You seemed to like it.” 

Then, he drops his hand from your cheek and grips your hips, turning you around as he firmly presses himself behind you. He leans forward—the coolness of his helmet a relieving sensation along the side of your neck. Your body’s on fire and you can feel his hardening length pressing into you from behind. 

“Din,” you whimper, pushing back against him. You can hear his muffled grunt from behind the helmet. “I was just playing my part… like I always do.” 

Din clears his throat and reaches around you, hand coming up to wrap around your throat. He doesn’t apply pressure, but he can hear you inhale sharply. You’re still squirming against him, the roll of your hips and your ass firmly pressed against his front causing his other hand to grip your hip tightly. 

“You like the attention, don’t you?” He whispers. 

“Only from you,” you finally admit. “I just wanted your attention. Only yours. Always yours.” 

Din bites back a smile and his hand moves from your throat down to your chest, brushing against your breasts as he skates his hand down between your legs. “You are a distraction,” he repeats. “It’s becoming harder with you around.” 

“What is?” You tease, moving a hand behind you—palm brushing against his hard and impressive length. “This?” 

“Don’t be smart,” he growls. “You’re the only one I ever pay attention to,” Din admits. “It’s dangerous. You are dangerous.” Suddenly, he turns you around to face him and your hand still continues its movement—he’s glad that you can’t see his face because his eyes flutter at the sensation of your hand palming him. 

“And you’re not?” You ask, increasingly gaining more and more confidence. You pull your hand away and gently push him back until he falls back onto your bed. He looks up in your direction, head tilting as you watch his hand move down to squeeze himself—you can visibly see the outline of his length and it causes a pulsating throb between your legs. 

“I’m not,” he huffs. 

“You are.” You answer, watching him kick off his boots before he moves further up on your bed until he’s sitting up and resting against the headboard. You wish you could see his face, his eyes because you begin to pull the ends of your tank top over your head, revealing that you were completely bare underneath. 

“See, dangerous,” he points out, nodding in your direction. Din clears his throat as he watches you push your pants down your legs. Once you stand completely bare and naked for him, he slowly begins to push his own pants down his legs. 

“Not my fault you can’t focus,” you quip back, slowly climbing onto the bed. 

“I can focus just fine,” he grunts. Din sits back against your headboard—now clad in boxers and fitted tank-top as his large hand squeezes his hardening length. 

“Yeah?” You ask teasingly, slowly crawling over to him. You can’t see his face, but you can see the rise in his chest, the grip he has around himself as he squeezes once again. 

“Yes,” he whispers quietly. He lets out a low groan when he feels you straddle his waist. Din can feel the wetness between your legs when you firmly sit on his lap, right on top of his growing erection. He lowers his gaze to your breasts, bringing his large hands to your hips. He slowly feels your hips roll against him and he whimpers, the grip around your hips tightening. 

“Liar,” you whisper, lowering your head to gently move your lips across his shoulder and to his collarbone. When your teeth grazes his soft skin, you feel him flip you over onto your back as he hovers above you. You stare up at him, watching his head tilt and you hesitantly reach up to rest a hand on the side of his helmet. His hand darts out to grip your wrist and your eyes immediately soften—hoping that he can see that he will always be safe with you.

Then, you catch him off guard when you press your lips on his helmet. He feels his breath catch in his throat as he loosens the grip around your wrist. “Din,” you whisper. 

“Hm?” 

“Do you know how much I have thought of this? Of you?” You move your hand and grab his own, bringing it down between your legs. He hesitates—almost like he’s unsure that you really want this but when he feels your slickened folds, something overtakes him. 

His eyes stay directly on you—watching your mouth slightly part when he slowly begins to circle your clit. Then, he hears you let out a quiet moan and it fuels him even further. “Tell me,” he finally answers. 

Your hands move to grip your sheets—it has been such a long time since you’ve felt someone else’s touch. Your own fingers definitely don’t feel as good as Din’s. There’s a part of you that’s afraid to tell him—afraid that he might realize that there’s no coming back from this. 

And you certainly don’t want him to stop. 

Your eyes flutter when you feel him apply a bit of pressure to your clit and you’re about to reach out to rest your hands on his shoulders when you feel him grab your wrists and pin them above your head. Your moans filter your small room and it fuels him further—turning his hand slightly so that the tip of his middle finger slowly slides past your folds. 

“Tell me,” he repeats. 

“Din—baby,” you whimper, squirming against his grip as you roll your hips upwards—a sign that you need more.

Din grunts lowly and slides his finger past the knuckle. He can feel how tight and how wet you are and the grip around your wrists tighten even further. “Tell me,” he whispers. “Tell me how much you’ve thought about this, about me.” 

Your eyes fall shut and you nod in agreement, feeling him slowly begin to pump his finger in and out of your depths slowly. “T—The way you just walk into a room,” you begin, toes beginning to curl when you feel him slide another finger inside of you. “The way you walk—you know that you’re valuable and oh god—” 

“Keep going,” he demands. 

“And your voice, Din,” you continue. “I know I—I won’t ever get the chance to hear it for real, but fuck!” He quickens his movements—the sounds of his fingers thrusting into your wet heat mixing in with your moans. “I—I just want you to use me,” you admit. “I know there are nights you can’t sleep, days where you can use some release and I wish—I wish you could see that I’m more than willing—”

Din’s fingers immediately slide out of you and he looks down—your glistening arousal around his middle and ring finger. He pushes down his boxers, letting out a groan of relief and he looks up at you hesitantly. He should feel very shy and uncomfortable under your gaze, but instead he feels the complete opposite. He’s clad in only a white tank top and his helmet, but your eyes take in every inch of his frame. He knows that opening himself like this with another person is dangerous—he knows that you are dangerous—but he can’t help himself. 

“You want me to use you?” he asks.

You nod, biting your lower lip as you stare up at him. “I’m at your mercy, Din.” 

From behind the helmet, Din’s eyes soften. He releases his hold on your wrists and moves his hands to your hips, lifting you further up the bed until the top of your head is near the headboard. He then climbs off your bed, leaving your room without a word. You furrow a brow, sitting up your elbows as you sigh, staring at the opened door. You think you must have scared him away, but just as you’re about to follow him, he reappears with a rope in his hand and now only clad in his helmet. 

You clear your throat, heart racing faster in anticipation. You look at him from top to bottom—his tanned skin, chiseled with muscle, hair across his chest down towards his lower half where he’s completely erect and leaking at the tip. 

“Are you sure?” he asks, continuing the conversation before he had left your room.

“Yes,” you answer almost breathlessly. 

Din nods once and walks back in your direction. He climbs back onto the bed, straddling your midsection as he takes your hands and begins tying you to the headboard. “Not too tight?” he asks. 

You shake your head, licking your lips as you keep your eyes focused on his hardened manhood that’s inches away from your mouth. “No,” you answer. 

“Good.” 

You’re about to whine in protest, thinking that he’s going to settle back between your legs, but he surprises you by reaching down with one of his large hands to grasp himself in front of you. His knees are placed on the bed at either side of your chest as his free hand rests on the headboard above you. Slowly, he pushes himself forward until his tip—leaking with precome—rests on your lips. You can’t help but grin excitedly as you part your lips, tongue darting out to lap at his precome. You keep your eyes focused up on him—even though you can’t see his face, you can see the way his chest rises when he inhales sharply at the feel of your mouth now wrapping around his tip. 

Din forces to keep his eyes open, wanting to remember this moment for the rest of his life. You lift your head slightly off the bed to take more of him and he gets the hint, pushing his hips further as a few more inches slide into your warm mouth. He reaches back behind him, his fingers finding your clit almost instantly. As he begins to circle your throbbing bundle of nerves, the moan that leaves your lips sends vibrations through him. Involuntarily, he pushes even further, the tip of his manhood tickling the back of your throat and your choke around him out of instinct—he pulls away and tilts his head down at you. 

“Too much?” he asks quietly, chest heaving.

“Not enough,” you answer and then lean forward to wrap your lips around him again. 

Din groans and pushes his hips slightly forward into your mouth. Your tongue swirls around him and another moan escapes your lips when you feel him slide two of his thick fingers into your heat. This time, though, Din pushes even further into your mouth and he watches as your eyes fall shut. God, he could have come right there at the sight of you—mouth filled with his thick and girthy length. 

He can tell that you’re enjoying this as much as he is—the squelching wet sounds of his fingers pumping in and out of you a clear indication that you’re becoming increasingly and increasingly wet with his manhood in your mouth. Din pulls out of your mouth again when he feels your walls begin to tremble around his fingers and your back arches upwards, but as soon as your orgasm arrives, he pulls his fingers out of you and a loud whine catches in the back of your throat.

“Din!” 

A quiet and amused chuckle leaves his lips. “You said I could use you,” he grins. “Didn’t say how.”

“P—Please,” you beg. “I was right there and—”

“Consider it payback,” he answers, slowly moving to settle himself between your legs. His length is glistening with your saliva and he grasps himself to line the head of his manhood at your opening. “For distracting me.”

Just as those words leave his lips, Din thrusts into you fully—burying himself into the hilt. You’re so tight and so wet—so warm and he can feel your walls throbbing around him. His large hands move to your breasts, slowly beginning to caress both into the pit of his palms as he pulls out to his tip only to thrust back into you roughly—it causes your breasts to bounce in his grip. 

“F—Fuck,” you moan out breathlessly. You’re already right near the edge and you wrap your legs around his hips in hopes to keep him sheathed inside of you. Even though his thick length is stretching you from the inside, the pressure and slight pain disappears instantly. 

He brushes his thumbs across your peaked nipples—it’s at this moment Din wishes that he could remove his helmet to wrap his lips around one of them. He squeezes and your back arches further into his touch. Din moves his hands down your sides to grip your hips as he continues to drive into you—it’s like he’s fucking you into your bed, chasing more of your tight and wet walls that slide along every vein across his length. 

He suddenly feels you clench around him and Din immediately ceases his movements, causing another whimper to escape your lips. You stare up at him, eyes glazed over in a mixture of pleasure and frustration. From behind the helmet, he smirks to himself as he reaches down to brush his thumb across your clit. You shudder in response and when you roll your hips upwards for more friction, he shakes his head and uses his free hand to hold your hips down. 

“Impatient,” he mumbles. “And eager, aren’t you?”

“S—Stop teasing,” you whine. “And just fuck me already.” 

Another amused chuckle leaves his lips. “I don’t think you’re the one in control here, are you?”

“Shouldn’t have told you the truth,” you mutter. 

“No?” Din asks, slowly rubbing your clit in circles with his thumb. Your eyes flutter and you pull your lower lip between your teeth. 

The tightness in the pit of your stomach builds even further and you can feel your walls clench around his manhood that remains inside of you. You’re so fucking close and your body begins to tremble—maybe if you listen, maybe if you just submit to him completely he’d finally let you come. 

But he wasn’t your boss. 

You both were equals. 

He was your colleague and you saved his ass tonight. 

“Fuck, Din!” you snap in frustration. “I—I need you to fuck me. Or is this all you got? Hm? Been a while for you that you don’t know how to—”

He growls loud enough for you to hear and he moves his hand back to your hip. He grips it tightly and without wasting another second, he begins to pound into you. The sound of his skin slapping against yours echoes throughout the room and into the rest of his ship—you can feel the bed creak with each of his movements and your breasts bounces with each push. 

Din slowly moves a hand up to wrap around your throat and you smirk, the corner of your lips lifting when he lightly applies pressure. He looks down between your bodies, watching his length disappear in and out of you—still so slick with your arousal. 

Your walls begin to clench around him and Din doesn’t let up. You feel almost breathless as your climax fast approaches. You shut your eyes tightly as your body begins to tremble—you’d never come as hard as this and Din’s thrusts don't falter and it almost becomes too much. Almost. 

“This is what you wanted, huh?” Din groans, the feeling of your clenched walls milking him closer and closer to his own release. “Is this what you think about when we’re debriefing on a mission, hm?” He pounds into you and you’re so wet that your arousal seeps through where you’re both connected and begins to dampen the hair at his base. It’s so obscene and he can’t help but want more. 

“Or when we’re planning our next one?” Din lets out a quiet moan and he glances up at your wrists, seeing you try to wiggle yourself free. He grins and leans down, removing his hand from your throat as he rests his forehead against your own. He can see the way your breaths fog up his helmet from the outside and your moans continue to filter throughout the room. He’s going to remember this—every inch of your body, every sound you’re making, and the way your body just gives way to him. 

It’s like you were made for him. 

“Din, baby,” you whimper, feeling another orgasm fast approaching. 

That was all it took. The way you said his name, the way you called him baby, it shoots straight to his lower half. His hips falter and become more erratic, but he feels your walls clench around him once more. He has no time to ask where you want it, but he assumes that you’d be fine with him finishing inside from the way your legs wrap around his hips and bring him even further into you. 

Din moves his hands to the headboard as he delivers one sharp thrust, his warmth shooting inside of you and painting your walls. His chest heaves rapidly as his own orgasm overtakes him—his length twitching inside of you as his entire body shivers at his own release. 

He looks down at you and he can’t help the smile that lines his lips when he sees you stare up at him with a look of bliss across your features. You’re both sweaty, bodies glistening and he slowly pulls out of you. He looks down between your legs and watches his come trickle out of you—it causes something animalistic inside of him because he grasps his length, gathers some of his spilled come and pushes back inside of you. 

You whimper, eyes widening slightly in surprise and he reaches up to undo the rope around your wrists. When your hands are finally free from its bondage, he lets out a quiet moan when he feels your touch on his chest—right near his beating heart. 

“Din,” you whisper. 

“Hm?”

“We’re definitely doing that again.” 

“Yeah?” he asks. 

“But this time, maybe I tie you up,” you grin. 

Din let outs a quiet chuckle. “We’ll see, baby.” 

Baby—you smile at that and you lean up to press your lips lightly on his helmet. “You know I won’t take this off, right?” 

Din nods. “I know.”

“And I trust you.”

“I know,” he repeats. “And I trust you,” he admits. “Which makes you dangerous.”

You roll your eyes playfully and slowly roll your hips. You bite your lower lip as your eyes flutter—even as he’s beginning to soften inside of you, he’s still so thick that it causes a quiet moan to leave your lips. “Dangerous or not, Din,” you whisper. “I’d lay my life on the line for you.” 

Din groans and brings a hand up to your cheek, thumb brushing across your soft skin. He wishes he can kiss you, can feel your lips on his but when he brushes his thumb across your lower lip, you gently press a soft kiss on the pad of his thumb. 

“I suppose I have a partner from now on,” he says. 

“And I guess I’m stuck with you,” you sigh playfully—lips pulled into a genuine smile. 

You don’t know it, but Din smiles so broadly that for once, he feels like this can be the start of something great. 

[seitmai]

You’re lounging in his bed one night, reading one of the books from the stack he got from the library. Bob isn’t in the room; he’s been with Bucky and Walker most of the evening, doing god knows what (jokes on you, he was getting a terrible pep talk from both of them on how to do this). Bucky was helpful; gave some relatively functional advice. However, Walker kept repeating to use the alphabet, which was…not great and even Bob knows that. They did make him put on a less baggy tee shirt; something about having confidence in his own appearance would translate into the room.

Hahaha love that they give him a pep talk even though it's debatable how helpful it was

“Where’s your sweater?” You ask, though it’s hard to complain when you can see the veins in his arms properly. You don’t mind the baggy clothes; he’s comfortable and you find that’s what is most attractive. But it would be a lie to say you’re not pleased to see the lean muscle that he has under this shirt. Outside of being intimate, it wasn't often that you got to see him exposed in any way —even if it was just a t-shirt instead of a sweater.

I love that she instantly clocks that he is not wearing his sweater probably out of concern for his comfort

“I think you look good,” you offer, sitting up properly now. “Not that I don’t like what you usually wear —I like whatever makes you feel good. But I'm not going to pretend that I don't like being able to see more of you whenever I get the chance." "You do?" He asks, and you can't help but laugh a little. "I'm not much to look at —,"

His surprise 🥺

"Wrong," you quickly interrupt, slowly standing up. "There's a reason why I like to take off your clothes —I like taking my time because I don't get to see all of you often." You pause for a second, taking a moment to consider how much more you could tell him without making him uncomfortable. "It's something that only I get to see. I like to enjoy that."

🤭🤭🤭

Sometimes you forget that Bob is incredibly powerful. He was, after all, created to be stronger than all of the Avengers combined. He doesn't particularly like using his abilities, but when his hands grip your thighs and lift you up, you gasp in surprise. "I want to make you feel good," he practically breathes into your mouth, and even though he's the one leading, his voice comes out begging. "You always take care of me —let me do that for you."

Putting his powers to good use 😌

Between the biting, the sucking and the pinching, you're aching for more. But the sounds he's making —the moans when you sigh his name or tug at his hair —are almost as satisfying as an orgasm itself.

I just know his noises are impeccable

You suck in a breath, begging him to keep going. He nods as if he trying to respond, but he's groaning instead as he slips his tongue into you. Your thighs tighten around his head, hand guiding his head and mouth exactly where you need him to be. The hands holding your hips drift away, one disappearing entirely while the other glides just between your folds, one finger pressing into you slowly.

😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨

He pulls his mouth away, just slightly, so he can see how you react as he slips a second finger inside you —curling up slightly. His eyes are glossy, face smeared in your juices, and you think this is the hottest thing you've seen in your entire life.

For sure!

You're so close —can feel it teetering on the edge when you manage to open your eyes just enough to watch him suck at your clit as he continues his rhythm. His other hand —the one that had disappeared —is in his lap and you understand his own whimpering now. While he's ruining you —burying his fingers so deep inside you, curling up and into that spongey spot that causes you to cry —he's jerking off at the whole experience.

🥵🥵🥵

You've collapsed on the bed, breathing heavy, and he's laying his forehead against your thigh. Both coming down from this, trying to catch your breaths.

I love a soft moment like that 🥰

"Have I told you recently how hot you are?" You ask, brushing your nose against his. You can smell yourself on his breath, and you're about to kiss him again when he says,"I think I might start believing it soon."

Success! 🤭

Tagging in here for the Bob discussion. But imagine after a few times together he gets the confidence to be on top but he is a complete service top (still whiny though)

You’re so right, anon. So very right (this got. Very away from me).

The first few times, he’s so awkward. He’s worried he’s not doing it right, or he’s bad at it. He’s so timid and awkward, and he waits for you to make the first move because he knows what he wants but he doesn’t know what you want. What if you don’t want him touching you there? Or what if he does something you don’t like but won’t say anything so you don’t upset him? So he lets you make the choices.

But after —let’s say, the fourth, fifth time (and a few shattered windows because, well, turns out he doesn't know how to control his powers just yet when he's worked up) —he realizes that…you want him just badly as he wants you. Actually, you might be even more desperate than he is, honestly. Because you’re the one being patient with him. You’re taking everything by his pace; stopping when he needs to stop. Only touching him when he’s made it clear he’s okay with it. While he’s the one “in control,” it’s not really control —you’re just you, and you’re willing to take it slow and take care of him over yourself instead.

And now all he wants is to give you everything.

You’re lounging in his bed one night, reading one of the books from the stack he got from the library. Bob isn’t in the room; he’s been with Bucky and Walker most of the evening, doing god knows what (jokes on you, he was getting a terrible pep talk from both of them on how to do this). Bucky was helpful; gave some relatively functional advice. However, Walker kept repeating to use the alphabet, which was…not great and even Bob knows that. They did make him put on a less baggy tee shirt; something about having confidence in his own appearance would translate into the room.

He missed his sweater.

You only look up when the door opens because there’s a shift in the air; not a bad shift. Just...different suddenly. You put the book aside as he walks in, hands behind his back. He looks a bit rigid; stiff, uncomfortable.

“Where’s your sweater?” You ask, though it’s hard to complain when you can see the veins in his arms properly.

You don’t mind the baggy clothes; he’s comfortable and you find that’s what is most attractive. But it would be a lie to say you’re not pleased to see the lean muscle that he has under this shirt. Outside of being intimate, it wasn't often that you got to see him exposed in any way —even if it was just a t-shirt instead of a sweater.

“Uh, Bucky and Walker took it,” he explains but that sounds bad so he explains further. “Training. We were training and they didn’t want me to train in it. It’s…weird, right? The shirt? I’m not used to wearing things that are so…I don’t know, tight?”

You just hum, tilting your head to the side as you look him over. He looks down some, feeling like he’s being ogled (well, he is. But he's still not used to you staring at him like this).

“I think you look good,” you offer, sitting up properly now. “Not that I don’t like what you usually wear —I like whatever makes you feel good. But I'm not going to pretend that I don't like being able to see more of you whenever I get the chance."

"You do?" He asks, and you can't help but laugh a little. "I'm not much to look at —,"

"Wrong," you quickly interrupt, slowly standing up. "There's a reason why I like to take off your clothes —I like taking my time because I don't get to see all of you often." You pause for a second, taking a moment to consider how much more you could tell him without making him uncomfortable. "It's something that only I get to see. I like to enjoy that."

Bob is staring you down, definitely short-circuiting because neither Bucky nor Walker advised him on how to handle anything you just said. How is it fair that you’re just so…good to him?

But then...he takes a step forward. You don't move; that shift in the air suddenly makes sense and you let Bob decide what he's going to do now. His hands clench into fists a few times, trying to coax himself forward.

You take just barely a step towards him —not even an inch. Something instinctual; something gravitational. Then his hands are on your hips, and his lips are on yours, and he’s pushing you towards the bed. It’s the first time he’s initiated a kiss without outright asking. You melt into the touch, sighing into his mouth as the back of your knees hit the edge of the mattress.

Sometimes you forget that Bob is incredibly powerful. He was, after all, created to be stronger than all of the Avengers combined. He doesn't particularly like using his abilities, but when his hands grip your thighs and lift you up, you gasp in surprise.

"I want to make you feel good," he practically breathes into your mouth, and even though he's the one leading, his voice comes out begging. "You always take care of me —let me do that for you."

You nod frantically, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him into another kiss, but he only let's you get a quick peck in before he's pulling away. You whine a bit, sitting up on your elbows to complain —but you can't find anything to complain about as Bob is slipping his shirt over his head.

It's not the first time you've seen him shirtless. But it's the first time he's taken his shirt off himself, without prompting. Usually he wants to wait until you ask, or you're the one playing with the hem of the shirt and trying to get it off. But the confidence in his movements is both amazing and distractingly attractive, and you're staring unabashedly with lust blown pupils and kiss swollen lips.

Your eyes trail over his skin —the freckles and scars that letter his collarbones, the flush that's spread from his throat down over his chest. Down to his abs and following the V that leads below the waist of his sweats —which are straining from the hard on that's hidden beneath.

"You're staring," he teases, and it's a shaking sort of tease —like he's unsure of if he should be speaking.

"You're hot," you confess, but it's not really a confession at this point.

You've told him he's hot before —he doesn't believe you usually. But the little grin on his face suggests that maybe today, he does.

"You're too good for me," he counters as his hands slide up your thighs and over your hips. Then he's leaning in closer, pressing his lips to your jaw and peppering kisses over your skin.

You buck slightly at the touch, chasing it, and he immediately gives in and slips his fingers beneath the waistband of your leggings. You suck in a breath, and he pauses, but you lift your hips in response, a silent plea to continue. He doesn't hesitate and pries your clothes off of you, tossing them to the floor, before settling between your legs on his knees. You move to take off your shirt but he stops you, one hand holding you down.

"Don't," he warns, puling away to look down at you. "Let me do this for you."

You watch him for a moment but nod, pulling your hands away from your shirt. Bob's hands are slow —not teasing, not purposely at least —dragging up your hips to your waist, pushing your shirt up as he goes. His fingers trail along your ribs, just grazing the edge of your bra. You briefly wonder if he'll try to take it off or if you'll need to do that yourself —but he settles on pulling your shirt over your head first.

Your skin is warm and soft against his fingers, and he's watching as your chest rises with each breath you take in anticipation. You're still sitting up on your elbows, waiting, watching, when he leans down and pulls you up against his chest. One hand is bracing your lower back as the other fumbles with the clasp of your bra.

Confidence doesn't matter when it comes to bras, because they're evil, he decides as he sighs in frustration. He almost caves into the embarrassment, worried he's ruined the moment. But you reach behind your back with ease and unclip it, and toss it away. He wants to complain, and you can see he does, but you wrap your arms around his neck again and pull him into a messy kiss.

It's all teeth and tongues, deepening each second his hands grip you tighter. Then he's laying you back down, dragging his lips from yours to your jaw. Then down your throat. One of his hands holds your hip, but the other is trembling as it approaches your breast and tentatively squeezes it. You hum in response, and his mouth is on your nipple now, grazing it with his teeth.

Between the biting, the sucking and the pinching, you're aching for more. But the sounds he's making —the moans when you sigh his name or tug at his hair —are almost as satisfying as an orgasm itself.

Though you certainly wouldn't refuse one or two of those.

Perhaps he can read your mind, or maybe he just knows what he wants —it doesn't really matter —because he gives your breasts one final squeeze and nip then trails his mouth down your stomach. The closer he gets to you, the more fidgety you become. You can feel his lips smile against your skin.

"It's okay," he promises, breath fanning over your thighs as he parts them slowly.

His fingers are trembling slightly, pressed into your thighs just enough to leave marks. Like he's scared that if he lets go, you're going to pull away from him. But he shakes those thoughts from his head, shifting down the bed until he's sitting on his knees on the floor. You're about to argue, to ask him what he's doing, but he wraps his arms around your thighs and yanks you down the bed until your legs are over his shoulders. You gasp, and his nose just barely presses above your wet core.

He groans, pressing his forehead into your thigh, fingers tightening around you. "God, you are...you're so wet."

"I told you," you sigh, running a hand through his hair, guiding him to look up at you through his lashes. "You're hot. This is hot. Everything you're doing is just...hot."

He melts into you, taking a moment to ground himself in your touch. "You have no idea how much you do for me," he admits, pressing his lips to the inside of your thigh softly. "But I'm...I'm going to try to show you."

"Oh, Bob, you don't —,"

But you cut yourself off with a gasp, fingers tightening in his hair as he buries his face in between your legs. Your hips move involuntarily, chasing his tongue as it swipes through your folds. He doesn't stop you, only presses his tongue flat against you before he sucks on your clit.

You suck in a breath, begging him to keep going. He nods as if he trying to respond, but he's groaning instead as he slips his tongue into you. Your thighs tighten around his head, hand guiding his head and mouth exactly where you need him to be. The hands holding your hips drift away, one disappearing entirely while the other glides just between your folds, one finger pressing into you slowly.

"Oh-oh," you sigh, involuntarily clenching around his one finger. "Oh, god, more —please —you're doing so good.."

He pulls his mouth away, just slightly, so he can see how you react as he slips a second finger inside you —curling up slightly. His eyes are glossy, face smeared in your juices, and you think this is the hottest thing you've seen in your entire life.

You cry out his name, back arching off the bed as you beg for him to go faster. He pulls out, just briefly, and you swear you hear him groan again. But you're too distracted by his fingers pressing up into you once again to notice any sounds that aren't the sounds of him finger-fucking you and him whining as he sucks on your clit.

You're so close —can feel it teetering on the edge when you manage to open your eyes just enough to watch him suck at your clit as he continues his rhythm. His other hand —the one that had disappeared —is in his lap and you understand his own whimpering now. While he's ruining you —burying his fingers so deep inside you, curling up and into that spongey spot that causes you to cry —he's jerking off at the whole experience.

And that tips you over the edge, pressing your heels into his shoulders as he furiously pumps his fingers in and out as you ride out your orgasm. You're crying out his name, begging him to stop because it's sensitive —fuck, your nerves are on fire —but he knows you don't actually want him to stop. It feels so good —the wave after wave of your orgasm washing over you before you hear him cry out himself, his body jerking against yours as he cums all over his hand.

You've collapsed on the bed, breathing heavy, and he's laying his forehead against your thigh. Both coming down from this, trying to catch your breaths.

When you've finally come to your senses —a solid five minutes later —you pull him up to lay beside you, pushing his hair out of his face. He's smiling at you lazily, hand laying against the base of your throat to feel your heartbeat.

"Have I told you recently how hot you are?" You ask, brushing your nose against his. You can smell yourself on his breath, and you're about to kiss him again when he says,

"I think I might start believing it soon."

---

Bob Taglist: @ilovemarvel12 @myrrh-dock

[whtepony]

What are your Rick headcanons?? 🧐

misc. rick headcanons

ft. rick sanchez x mostly gn reader, could be interpreted as fem

warnings: nsfw under the cut so 18+, cnc, drugs and alcohol mentioned, i think that’s it???

notes: i love this old freak so bad. this is kinda short but i hope u like it!!! my rnm fixation is kinda dying again bc im getting back into creepypasta but it’ll probably come back when s8 drops 🙏🏼 im so excited yall have no idea

sfw:

genuinely won’t keep you around if you don’t get along with summer and morty. as much as he says he “couldn’t be bothered” what his grandkids think, he does need someone that’ll mesh well with his family

SOOO unbelievably protective. if you manage to become someone rick really loves, he’ll do anything to keep you safe (and WILL kill anyone who hurts you if it comes to that)

likes taking you on adventures but only if you can handle yourself. obv like i said above he’ll protect you to the best of his ability but he can’t be with someone who can’t also look out for themselves

not super into pda but he likes to be touching you most of the time, whether it be a hand on your lower back, thigh, etc or standing so close to you that you’re touching some way or another

jealous and possessive. gets super insecure if someone flirts with you and has a bad habit of lashing out when he feels that way

he tries to hide it but rick really loves making you laugh. he knows he’s funny but he especially likes when you find him funny

i don’t think he really has preferences based on looks, rick seems like the kind of guy to not have a “type”

when you get close and he realizes he doesn’t want to lose you, he cuts back on his drinking and actually makes an effort to be better for everyone in his life

rick in love starts acting like rickbot and morty gets suspicious at first lol

lets you mess with stuff in the garage but only if he’s there to supervise and definitely hovers over you in case you get hurt

nsfw:

HE’S A FREAKKKK

down for pretty much whatever you wanna do. super open minded and will try almost anything once or twice

switch with a heavy dom lean (doesn’t sub unless he completely trusts you and even then it’s a semi-rare occurrence)

lowkey lazy sometimes bc he’s old lmao (makes you ride him more often than not but his fav is doggy)

probably controversial but he definitely has an intoxication kink that goes hand in hand with a cnc kink… likes getting you drunk/high just to play with you

^^ and definitely knows how to make an aphrodisiac that drives you insaneeee

rick is an ass and thighs guy. argue with the wall

can be kinda mean in bed but would never really hurt you if you didn’t like it. he’ll slap, spank, bite, and manhandle you but it’s out of adoration trust me

not the best with aftercare but if you ask him to do something for you he’ll 100% do it. usually consists of cleaning you up and letting you cuddle up to him unless you specifically ask for something more

hates pulling out sorry 😭 rick looovvvesss to cum inside you and has a number of options to prevent pregnancy if that’s a possibility/concern for you

actually super vocal and talkative in bed. he moans like a slut and the dirty talk is insane idc

has no preference for giving/receiving head bc he loves both!!!!!!

[shmisky]

Ford and Stan discuss Ford’s feelings for Bill. Stancest.

Tags: abuse recovery; character study; meta in fic form; accurate and in-character to the best of my ability; undeniably spiteful; I needed to get this out of my system; mentioned past triangle/ford (you know the ship); emphasis on “past.”

4692 words.

“This isn’t some dark bible or cursed gateway—it’s the last pathetic gasp of a has-been who fears being forgotten. Bill isn’t a god, he’s a needy theater kid in search of a stage. [...] You can’t kill an idea, but you can think of a better one. [...] I’ve found my happiness.”

— Stanford Pines, The Book of Bill

“Ford.” Nothing. “Ford.” Nothing. “Ford. Hey, buddy, I’m talking to you.”

“Hmm? Oh, sorry, Stanley, I was too busy studying these beautiful translucent scales,” he gestured to a pile of glittering stuff beneath his microscope, and alright, Stan could admit they were pretty, if only in the safe privacy of his thoughts where he didn’t have any grunkliness to uphold, “that Nayara—the redhead siren, if you don’t remember—so helpfully gifted us. Who could imagine that they can shed them, after all! Fascinating!”

In any other occasion, Stan would have asked for some to send their grandniece. This was not any other occasion.

“You sure... like... anomalies, huh. Monsters. Whatever. According to Dipper, you once dated a siren...?”

“Oh! Yes, yes. I have. I suppose that’s something I have in common with Mabel, despite sirens and mermaids not quiiite being the same thing.” He chuckled quietly to himself, and Stan knew his brother enough to identify the sheer fondness in that sound. It warmed his heart a little, like a single cup of coffee with sugar, before the Arctic chill rushed in again. “Really charming creatures! I could write an entire book about their mating—”

“DoyoueverthinkaboutBill?”

“I’m sorry, what was that?”

Stan grunted. He didn’t believe in no god, double negative and all, but a mysterious force in the universe seemed to really hold it against him sometimes. Which was ridiculous, because Stan was innocent. Could it be that wretched pink lizard? Paul Bunyan would never.

“Do you. Ever think. About Bill.”

Ford’s sweet disposition changed almost instantly. Stan didn’t need to see his face, not when his shoulders visibly tensed. Guilt wormed its way in his stomach—he hated to be the one ruining his brother’s good mood, but he had been in a terrible one himself, ever since...

“Stan. You know I do.”

Stan cringed. Yes, he knew. He was the one to comfort his brother every time he woke up from a particularly vicious nightmare, sweating cold. Ford had learned to abandon most of his paranoia, but it had been a struggle all of its own to convince him a gun underneath his pillow was not, in fact, necessary. Bill had probably traumatized him for life, but at least that trauma could be managed with time.

“Yeah, I know. I don’t... I don’t mean it like that.”

“How do you mean it, then?” His tone now had a curious edge to it.

“I mean... If you still miss Bill,” Stan whispered, steeling himself for the answer.

“Sorry? I couldn’t hear you.”

“If you still miss Bill!” He had to remind himself not to shout. Ford wasn’t the one with the hearing problems, between the two of them. “I know, I know, you told me that I shouldn’t ever touch TicTac—TokTik—that strange hellish app Mabel likes so much, ever again, but! But I couldn’t help but be curious! I wanted to know what more they were saying! I knew it would be bullshit, okay? But I wanted to know what kind of bullshit! And guess what! I found out!”

“Oh, Stanley...” Ford had turned to look at him now. There was emotion in his eyes that could almost be pity, as if they were saying, Strangers on the internet, Stanley? Really?

Stan really didn’t need his judgement now. Especially not when Ford was supposed to be the focus of that conversation.

“So. Do you miss Bill or not?”

“Short answer: no.”

“No, what?”

“No, I don’t miss him. I’m relieved he’s gone.”

“Stanford. Be honest with me.”

“I am. I don’t miss him. Sometimes I do miss the being whom I mistakenly thought he was, in my utter blindness and naivety. Not his true self, not whom he really was.” Ford sighed. “The being whom I thought he was—I am free to admit it now—was especially fashioned to enchant me. It reminded me a lot of you, Stanley, in a period of my life where your absence was especially felt, down to the very nicknames you called me. Sixer, Fordsy.” He made what Stan was Pavlov-conditioned to identify as a self-deprecating noise. “I see it now. He took advantage of my loneliness, of how much I missed my brother and human companionship. He was imitating you, not fully, but at least a little. I am ashamed of how well it worked.”

Stan could feel his own cheeks warming. Ugh. Not the time to be a sap.

“But that isn’t news for you, is it, Stan? I told you about how I always needed that second, that other person. You, and then Fiddleford, and then Bill, and then even poor Dipper.”

“That’s not it.”

“What is it, then?”

“I want to know: Bill’s true self, for you, is...?” He didn’t finish, hoping his brother would understand the opening to elaborate.

Ford looked puzzled again.

“You have read my old Journal 3, haven’t you? It’s exactly as I have described him in there, both visibly and in blacklight: a monster, a screeching, graceless lunatic, an angular psychopath. The good guy he pretended to be never really existed, and it was that nonexistent good guy whom I once thought I loved, if only in an obsessed, quasi-religious sort of way.”

Loved. Past tense.

That was enough, Stan thought. It was more than enough reassurance. Any reasonable person would be satisfied with that and not continue to push further, not with something that clearly made their brother uncomfortable. Again, Stan was not a reasonable person.

“But what if he became that?”

“Huh?”

“What if Bill became exactly that, Ford. The good guy you thought he was. For real, this time.”

“He won’t.” He had never heard Ford sound as certain of something. “There’s no hope for a being like him, Stan. He’s irredeemable.”

“Pretend with me, okay? Indulge me, like you say.”

“Well, then... good for him, I suppose. It would mean the Axolotl’s therapy worked.”

“And?”

“And, what? Stanley, if you’re not clear with me, I can’t know what you mean. Communicate, remember? Imagine Mabel is here. Imagine her saying what you know she would say if she knew—”

“Can it, Poindexter! What I want to know is if you would forgive him!”

“The Axolotl? There’s nothing to forgive, really. Do you mean it in a classic ‘God wasn’t here when I needed it’ way? No worries about that. I understand that, in the end, the Axolot’s ways are not our ways and things would have turned out—”

“Not the fucking lizard, you dumbass genius! Bill! Bill! Would you have forgiven BILL!” To hell with the no shouting policy.

Ford tilted his head like a confused dog. He had seen that gesture on the twins, before. It was cuter on them.

“Me... forgive... Bill...?” he repeated, dumbfounded.

Stan nodded.

“Stanley, do you have a fever? Are you drunk?”

Stan shook his head.

Something too quick for Stan to identify passed like lightning through Ford’s face.

And then he smiled.

“Alright, then,” he said in a far, far too cheerful tone. “I’ll just have to be a liiiittle more specific, Stanley! Just a little bit.” His smile didn’t reach his eyes. An almost manic expression he had never seen on Ford’s face. “What do you want me to forgive Bill for?���

“I—I dunno, the—the whole—”

“For deceiving me? For making me distrust my brother and my friend? For traumatizing poor Fiddleford? For haunting my dreams and giving me sleep aversion? For controlling my body like a puppet and bruising it all over? For threatening to commit suicide with it just because he could? For using it to ruin my reputation with the townsfolk? For tattooing it without my consent as a sign of ownership? For making my eye bleed, driving a nail through my hand, and making me eat live spiders? For persecuting and terrorizing me? For pulling my bones out of their sockets and subjecting me to excruciating pain? For threatening to erase my memories and messing with the meaning of words in my brain? For calling my brother’s number and threatening to commit suicide? For ruining my entire goddamn life?”

Stan was impressed, it nothing else, with how quickly Ford was able to name all of those things. Did he keep a mental list? Less impressed, however, with the clear annoyance behind them. Directed at Stan? Uh-oh.

“Stanford, I didn’t mean—”

“No, no! Let me guess!” The fake cheerfulness was grating in Stan’s ears. “For deceiving and possessing Dipper? For leaving a message to Mabel threatening Dipper’s suicide? For hunting me down in the multiverse? For taking advantage of Mabel’s feelings? For mocking one of my deepest insecurities? For humiliating me publicly? For turning me and the townsfolk into statues? For torturing and electrocuting me? For attempting to blackmail me? For turning Fiddleford and five more people into tapestry? For threatening to kill the three people I love the most in the world, for wanting to destroy the entire planet, for relishing in human agony, for being one of the most feared beings in the entire multiverse and terrorizing other dimensions to the point that their inhabitants were afraid to pronounce his very name?” He took a deep breath, as if recovering his energy. As if getting ready for more. “For—”

“Stanford, I’m sorry, okay? I really am! You don’t have to keep listing shit!”

Especially not shit Bill had done to his family. Stan wanted nothing more than to bring him back and kill him ten times over.

Something in the tone of Stan’s voice—or the fact he was offering a sincere apology, and those didn’t come easy to him—must have finally snapped Ford out of it. His visible anger gave way to deep-seated exhaustion.

“Oh, Stan, no. No. I’m sorry. Remembering all those things... I couldn’t help but... take it out on you. I forget myself sometimes. It wasn’t fair and I... I apologize.”

“It’s all good. I didn’t mean to offend you, I just...” He didn’t know what to say.

“You didn’t offend me, Stanley,” Ford assured, even though he was now rolling his eyes. “I was angry at him, not at you. I am just surprised with how forgiving you are.”

“Forgiving? Me? Oh, that triangle can fucking rot, I—”

“Not towards Bill. Towards yours truly! See, only a few months have passed since we decided to sail away together and you’re already forgetting the forty years I spent holding a grudge against my own twin brother for two mistakes he never even meant to make? Have you forgotten, perchance, the kind of unforgiving bastard I am?” The grin on Ford’s face was genuine, now, and Stan had to smile at that. “Mabel hasn’t forgiven him. Mabel. You saw her drawing about what she would do to him if she ever saw him again. And you think I would? Me, of all people?”

The unbidden image of Mabel eating the demon like a crunchy nacho came to Stan’s mind, and yeah, he was fully laughing now.

“Frankly, it sounds like you don’t know me at all,” added Ford in a mock-hurt tone.

“Oh, you shut your yap! I do know you, okay! It’s just that... those people on the internet...”

“I haven’t observed a lot of insightful, sensible discussion on this inter-net.”

“Internet,” he corrected, just for the petty satisfaction of being the one to point out his brother’s mistakes for once.

“Yes, yes. An impressive pool of human brilliance.”

Stan really could do without the sarcasm.

“As I was saying,” he continued, perhaps a little too defensive, “those people on the internet... they seemed to think you would feel...” He swallowed. “Incomplete. Without the... dorito.”

And just like that, any remaining anger vanished from Ford’s face.

“Oh, Stan.” His brother’s tone was very, very familiar, now. Guilt. Ford’s best buddy since Weirdmaggedon and the bane of Stan’s life. “I’m—I didn’t—” He seemed to fumble with his words. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you were feeling neglected.”

“That I—what?”

“Stan. You’re one of three people I love the most. The most important person in my life. You know that, or at least I hope you know that. I’m sorry I haven’t demonstrated that in forty years, I’m sorry I’m not being as loving as you perhaps thought you would be, but I promise you, I’ll do better. You’ll never again think Bill was more important than you, because he never, ever was, and I’ll make sure that we learn how to—”

“Ford, what the fuck! I’m not feeling neglected!”

Ford’s eyes widened at that. Mabel was right. He did indeed look like a startled owl.

“No? I thought that perhaps this whole conversation stemmed from your low self-esteem. It was the only explanation why you would think I was feeling incomplete when my real soulmate and adventure partner is right in front of me. Bill couldn’t ever compete against you.”

Paul fucking Bunyan.

“Stanford, I’m not having a self-esteem crisis.” He sighed. “I am worried about you, because I happen to know that many... abuse victims... have mixed feelings about their abusers, and... um. that’s, uh... that’s valid, you know. Totally valid.”

“Do you? How do you know that, Stanley?” He raised an eyebrow. “Who ‘abused’ you?”

“Stanford, again, I don’t—”

“Pa... Of course!” Ford spat, brows furrowed, protective rage all over his features. “Pa was your abuser. I’ve never associated this particular word with him before, but now I see it. I really do. I’m so sorry, Stan... I’m sorry I took me so long to see it...”

“Pa wasn’t an... an abuser! He just didn’t—”

“See! Defending him even now!” Ford ran a hand through his face. “Stanley, I know that this happens. You are the living proof of that. Dipper told me about how you talked about Pa’s ‘tough love’ approach, as if it was something you were grateful for.”

“We are talking about you, Ford!”

“Are we? Because I think we’re talking about you. I think you’re projecting your own experiences with abuse onto me and expecting me to feel as you do.”

Wow. Candid as ever. Some of his hurt must have shown on his face, because Ford’s face softened.

“I’m sorry, Stan. That was mean. But what’s up with that kind of talk? It almost seems like you’re the one going to therapy, with that... uncharacteristic wording.”

“Alright, alright, you got me!”

Slight surprise flashed across Ford’s face. An arched brow was quick to follow, a knowing ‘caught you with your hand in the cookie jar’ glint in his eyes.

The pomposity. The audacity. Stan would bet his ass Ford couldn’t guess the truth in a million years.

And that was why, obviously, he crossed his arms. Exactly like the petulant, immature child Ford thought him to be. Because he wasn’t that.

“Well?”

Oh, to hell with it.

“You know I like writing my own Duchess Approves stories, right? And I might or not have mentioned it to Soos and he might or not have told me it’s apparently called ‘fanfiction’ and that there’s a big public on the internet for that, so I asked him to teach me the basics. Turns out there was a fandom of Duchess Approves—if you don’t know what a fandom is—”

“Stan. To the point.”

“Well. People were saying that the Duchess’ mother was a ‘narcissistic mother’ and an ‘abuser’ or something and using all kinds of shrink talk and that got me feeling weird because her mother was just... she was just like Pa.”

“And?”

“And I may or not have created a self-insert fanfiction with characters based off all the people I knew and written about our whole love story in the guise of an AU. Alternative Universe, you know. Like a different story from the original.”

“And?”

“And the fans are getting weird about you and the triangle.”

Ford laughed, looking tired but genuinely amused.

“Oh, only you, Stan...”

“No, really! They loved the plot and that made me over the moon! Like wow, people really like what I write? Soos was right! They made fanart and everything!”

“Congrats!” Pride was added to Ford’s amusement. Stan felt like a petted dog.

“They adored your relationship with that godsforsaken demon and kept drawing you two smooching and at first I was like ‘ugh’ and ‘yikes’ but then I was like ‘alright,’ you know, ‘cause that had been my own fucking fault for writing it based on my stupid fucking life. I was not going to take it personally, I decided after the third our fourth fanart. They all thought it was fictional, and... and I suppose you did have a relationship with Bill, right? So to each their own.”

Ford didn’t seem very surprised. Nor impressed. Nor offended. Stan supposed that the Thirst Comments Incident had left him thoroughly desensitized.

“But?”

“But then it started getting out of control! Now some of them are pretending Bill was just a silly little clown or a poor lonely misunderstood soul who just wanted some lovin’—”

“Classic case of delusion—”

“—shoving even his most horrifying actions under the rug—”

“People do the same for corrupt politicians, don’t they? One just needs enough charisma and lying skills, so I doubt—”

“—and twisting everything I write for their own sick purposes and—and they’re saying that I meant things that I most definitely didn’t mean! They’re seeing clues and parallels where I didn’t intent them to be at all and now... now everything is fucking fuel!” Stan was aware his desperation was seeping into his voice, but he didn’t care. Ford had to know. “No matter how much I try to make it obvious that you are totally over Bill! For real, Poindexter, I tried, I swear I did! I tried answering their comments, I tried making a disclaimer, I tried—”

Ford started laughing again, now, which was more annoying than endearing.

“I take fandom very seriously, okay?”

“I can see that.”

“Their arguments started getting to me! Some of them were really well-worded and smart-sounding! Like as if it was you talking to me, with ‘evidence’ and stuff! So I thought that maybe, just maybe, they knew what they were talking about, perhaps...” perhaps more than me, he didn’t say, because that would be ridiculous. They couldn’t know Ford more than his own twin brother and lover, right? Even though Stan hadn’t lived with Ford for four entire decades...

“Hm-hmm.”

“And I answered your questions, so now get back on track, nerd.”

“Are you sure I am the nerd here?”

“Stanford.”

“Alright, alright. Just looks like you’re stressed over nothing, that’s all.”

“Stanford, you don’t understand! They seemed to consider your relationship with Bill more important than your relationship with... with your family!”

Ford raised an eyebrow. Ugh, his brother knew him too well.

“... Than your relationship with me,” Stan admitted through gritted teeth. “Yes! You were right! I was feeling insecure all along and Stanford Pines is always fucking right! Satisfied?”

“Not if it makes you suffer, no. You do know they are wrong, certainly...?”

“Well, y-yes, but...”

“In my own experience, it really is like you said—some abuse victims do feel like that, and it’s... it’s ‘valid,’ or whatever the kids are saying. It’s valid if you feel this way about Pa! But the contrary is also true and also valid. I am being completely honest with you when I say I do hate Bill.”

“You know what they say, though, right? People in general, I mean, not just on the internet. Hatred is close to love and all that. The contrary of love is not hatred, but indifference.”

“Oh, yes, and what an indubitably sensible perspective that one is. I was feeling very loving towards Bill when I was fantasizing about and orchestrating his death and humiliating downfall at my hands, and similarly, naturally, feeling very hateful towards the you and the children when I was willing to give up the entire universe for a slim possibility to save you.”

“You... you did hate me, once!”

Ford sputtered.

“Hate you? Hate you? Are you insane? I have never hated you, nor Fiddleford, for even a second! Nor did I ever thought I did!”

Oh.

Those were news. Stan could address them later, though.

“I’m not that emotionally unintelligent, Stan.”

“Ford—Sixer—can I call you Sixer?”

“Of course you can. And Fordsy, too, even though it annoys me. I’ll be damned if I let Bill ruin anything else for us. I don’t want nothing related to him ever remaining a taboo.”

“Sixer. Can you, uh, explain exactly how you feel about him as if I’m dumb? ‘Cause I kind of am.” Ford opened his mouth, probably to reassure Stan of his nonexistent intelligence, but he continued. “Just... be clear. No sarcasm, okay? It would put an old man’s mind at ease. You know what Mabel would say to that, too.”

His brother didn’t miss a beat.

“Stanley. Stanley, I loathe him. I fucking despise him. I’m over him, but I’m not indifferent. You saw, with my initial reaction to his book, that I’m not indifferent. I can’t bring myself to be indifferent, even if indifference is the commonly accepted ‘opposite of love,’” he included air quotes, then, also rolling his eyes to make sure Stan knew how stupid he thought that was, “because he utterly and thoroughly ruined my life and traumatized me. I’m but human. He made me afraid of my own shadow for decades. He will always remain my enemy, it would be foolish to pretend otherwise. It’s really that simple.”

“And... and before the betrayal?”

“It’s complicated. Have you ever had a religious experience?”

Stan shook his head no.

“Do you even have to ask?”

Unless the whole thing with Paul Bunyan counted, that is...

“He was like a god to me, and not only in the ‘powerful’ sense. He was my Muse. I worshipped him. I was obsessed. I don’t know if that counted as love, Stan, but let’s say it did, for the sake of simplifying things. Let’s make it easier for you to follow, let’s say I ‘loved’ him.” He sighed. “I thought I loved him religiously at least, and... after reading his book, looking back...” His voice grew quieter.

Stan understood. The romantic “rejected ex” undertones of that book were very hard to miss. Bill was about as subtle as a bull in a china shop.

“I might indeed have loved the person—sorry, the triangle—I thought he was, once, and he was the center of my stupid galaxy, and that—that was a beautiful but cheap illusion. An illusion that was very, very painfully shattered and cost me very, very dearly.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“Any love that I could have retained for him in spite his initial deception—any sympathy in spite of his gut-punching betrayal—was gradually but completely destroyed by Bill himself, poisoned by my own hatred and resentment, and eroded until nothing was left. I have loved him for two years, and hated him for thirty. Now I look back and only feel pity for the wide-eyed, dreamer boy that I was. I mourn what could have been, had Bill not been... well, had Bill not been himself.”

“He didn’t get over you, y’know. Bill, I mean. His pathetic little book left that very clear.”

“Oh, yes. I do know. Thanks to you, I now see that it was pathetic. And desperate. And deluded. Guess he finally realized what he lost.” He smiled again, although it looked more like baring his teeth, and something cold flashed in his eyes. “Good. I want him to suffer.”

Perhaps Stan should be alarmed, but he wasn’t. He felt like he was truly relaxing after a good while, a knot undone in his stomach.

“I did wonder, you know. While in the multiverse, I hated him so much, and I often wondered if I hated him only because I didn’t allow myself to feel nothing else. I am very, very good at ignoring and repressing my feelings, Stan.” His brother chuckled, as if he and Stan were sharing an internal joke. His feelings for Stan, he realized. Those were the ones Ford repressed. “So, deep down, I wondered and wondered and wondered. I wasn’t sure I didn’t love him at all anymore until the moment I had to kill him. I was shocked to look inside and find no regret, no fear, no remnants of love. All that was gone, lost forever in a distant past. There was only the bleak determination to rid the world of his evil. You weren’t there, of course, but Dipper was. You can ask him. My hand didn’t tremble. I didn’t hesitate. I didn’t flinch. I was proud of myself for that.”

“I just—Dipper mentioned once as we were having breakfast that... that you cried after his defeat, and I thought... maybe... I didn’t know what to think, really, but after all I saw and read in the Duchess fandom... I was feeling unsure.” It was still hard to talk about his feelings. “That’s why I came to ask you.”

“I did, Stanley. I cried for you. It was a bitter victory, because I loved—I love you—way more than I have ever hated him.”

Woah. Stan could feel the glitter of those damned scales getting to his eyes. They were watering.

“I supposed I shouldn’t have given him the honor of a funeral, even a mock one with dear Mabel’s witty disrespect, but... I wanted to. I wanted closure. To revolve my life around my loathing towards him was to revolve it around him all the same, but I wanted visual proof that this chapter of my life was over—dead along with him. It might not be over for him, but hah! That’s not my business. Not anymore.”

Stan didn’t think it was possible for him to relax more, but it was. Oh, thank Paul Bunyan.

“And Stanley... promise me you won’t give those people on the internet the time of day, alright? If there’s one thing I learned the hard way, it’s that human beings, smart or not, always see what they want to see. I have been exactly like this once, remember? Twisting everything in my reality to fit my worldview. You could make my post-Weirdmaggedon character—”

“The term is ‘post-canon’... by the way.” Stan supplied, trying to sound casual and non-nerdy. “And his name’s Duke Oglebottom.”

“Alright. You could make my... ‘post-canon’ character... Duke Oglebottom... hunt down and viciously stab Bill’s character—”

“Count Billiam—”

“Count Billiam? Seriously, Stan? Anyway, you could make post-canon Duke Oglebottom hunt down and viciously stab Count Billiam twenty-three times and they would still—”

“—ship them, yeah. And think they’re meant to be.” Stan sighed. “They would.”

“Ship them? Ship them to where?”

“It’s, like, wanting them to be together. People just really, really like yaoi.”

He didn’t tell Ford, but there were definitely people shipping Duke Oglebottom with his long lost twin brother, the humble but dashing stable boy, too. Those freaks. He was proud of them.

“Yatch? Like a boat? Are they that interested in sea adventures?”

Stan sighed.

“Forget it.”

“Well. No matter. My point is that people would still see what they want to see.”

Ford get up from his chair, then, holding Stan’s face with both of his wide hands.

“Stanley, you might not believe this, but the void left in my heart by Bill, if there ever was any, has long been filled. By the children. By you.” He pressed a chaste kiss to Stan’s forehead, then to both his eyes, then his nose, and finally, his lips. “And if you can’t believe that, believe this, at least: even if I ever forgave him for the innumerous, terrible things he did to me—which, rest assured, I sure as all hell won’t—I’ll never forgive what he did to whom I love. If he ever attempts to hurt you, Mabel, Dipper, or Fiddleford, any more than he already has, I’ll rip him apart.”

Stan shuddered. His nerdy brother really could be scary when he wanted to, not that he would ever admit it. Again, privacy of his thoughts and whatnot.

“Is that good enough for you, my love?”

“Y-Yeah.”

[dioslesbianwife]

Hello!!! ^^ I love the work you do for JJBA and really enjoy reading it!! Now for the request. How would the Jofoes react to a child!reader (platonic) they sorta took under their wing having a sorta of imprinting ability (copycat in other words). Like one day they catch the reader practicing outside trying to act cool like them and then all of a sudden a piece of the land is destroyed because they somehow used an ability similar to theirs. After the shock the reader is absolutely jolly and sees them watching them and is just, “Wooooah!! That was so cool!! Hey Dad, did you see that!? Did you see me!? Did you see what I did!?”

hii ^^ i'm so happy you enjoy reading my posts, thank you for requesting and i hope you enjoy <333

DIO

He watches from a balcony like a dramatic theater critic sipping wine- until the ground craters in slow motion with a golden glow.

“...ZAWARUDO- ?! Wait, no. Did you just... freeze time for half a second?”

You beam at him, dust all over your clothes, yelling, “DID YOU SEE THAT, DAD?!”

DIO blinks, then gives the most delighted evil chuckle. “Splendid. My heir already shows promise.”

But then he gets possessive. “No one touches the child. This power is mine to nurture. Mine alone.”

Now you have a tutor. And an ego boost. He’s already planning your world domination arc.

Kars

You’re throwing rocks and mimicking his regal stance when one of the rocks suddenly splits mid-air into tiny shards.

Kars stops mid-thought and stares. You just mimicked the Pillar Men's body manipulation, specifically his arm blade.

You spin toward him, eyes sparkling. “DID YOU SEE THAT, DAD?!!”

He crosses his arms, trying to remain composed- but a proud grin slips out. “Yes. You are... adapting faster than expected.”

From then on, he watches your training like a proud bird mom.

Also, he starts getting way more careful around you because what if you go all Ultimate Life Form mode and grow gills at breakfast.

Yoshikage Kira

You’d been copying his quiet mannerisms, playing with your food and clipping your nails more often. Then you giggle, snap your fingers, and a rock explodes.

His soul leaves his body. “Wha- W-WHAT WAS THAT?”

You squeal, “I did the thing! I did the thing, Dad!! I made it go BOOM like you!!”

Kira freezes. 

He awkwardly kneels beside you. “Okay. Okay. First, we don’t use our powers around... pets. Or school. Or hands.”

You: “Okay! :D”

He: internally sweating bullets for the next 7 years.

Diavolo

A patch of reality skips forward, erasing a few seconds like King Crimson.

You: “WAAAAHOOO!!! I MADE TIME GO WHOOSH!! DAD LOOK I DID IT!!”

Diavolo SCREECHES internally. “HOW- HOW DO YOU EVEN KNOW ABOUT THAT?!”

He immediately spirals into a paranoia loop. “Have I been around you too long? Is fate conspiring through you?”

But also... “Good. You’re strong. But you will never be allowed near my diary.”

You’re now on an extremely strict training schedule with Doppio acting as your babysitter.

Doppio

You copy his “talking on the phone” habit, but one day you accidentally get a vision of the future.

Doppio stares as you perfectly dodge a bird dropping.

You wave. “Didja see that, Dad! I saw that that bird was gonna poop and dodged it!!!”

He drops the imaginary phone. “Y-Y-You did amazing, sweetheart!!”

Then he sprints to call The Boss about it. “Boss!! Boss!! The kid has powers! What do we do!?”

You’re the only person Doppio ever fully encourages. He helps you practice, cheerleading while you do near-future telling.

Pucci

You’d been copying his calm monologues. One day, you mumble a random Bible verse and... gravity distorts. A tree bends sideways.

Pucci goes stone cold still.

You: “I DID SOMETHING COOL, DAD!! DID YOU SEE THAT?!”

He walks slowly to you, kneels, places a hand on your head. “Yes, child. You are touched by heaven.”

Then he goes off to write a 10-page sermon about you. He sees this as fate.

You’re now his little holy prodigy. The church choir starts composing you-themed hymns.

Funny Valentine

You’d been mimicking his posture and patriot speeches. One day, you accidentally swap with your alternate self. You come back with different shoes.

Valentine stops mid-sentence. “...Did you just breach the dimensional veil.”

You: “Yeah!! I jumped and my shoes changed!! COOL, RIGHT DAD?!”

He nods solemnly. “You are the embodiment of American evolution.”

He immediately requests Secret Service supervision for you. You now have a full security detail and your own presidential-themed notebook.

Diego Brando

You copy his confident walk and British insults. Then you snort, stomp your foot- and the ground trembles.

You turn around, grinning. “DAD!! I DID THE DINO THING!!!”

Diego gapes. “How the hell did you do that?! You’re not even... you're not even a dinosaur!!”

But inside he’s SO proud. You get a tiny cowboy hat and he makes you pose next to his raptors.

“You’re my little Velocibaby,” he mutters proudly. Then warns you: “Don’t do that in public or you’ll end up in the newspapers for the wrong reasons.”

Tooru

You’re copying his lazy posture and listening to Elvis. Then you wave at your friend approaching you- and a random boulder flings itself into a ravine near them.

Tooru, sipping juice: “...Was that... Wonder of U?”

You: “I DID A FUNNY THING!! DAD!! I MADE THE UNIVERSE HATE MY FRIEND!!”

He chokes. “What….”

He’s both horrified and deeply impressed.

He now acts like it’s no big deal but is very much watching you all the time.

And if you ever start getting secretive or manipulative- He melts. “…Damn. You really are my kid.”

[artielu]

Ok but if you look at the study, it's not as valid.

85 students at two universities in Kansas.

Deeply mediocre ACT scores when they applied to college their junior year of high school. Basically average.

"Of the 85 undergraduate English majors in our study, 58 came from one Kansas regional university (KRU1) and 27 from another (and neighboring) one (KRU2). Both universities are similar in size and student population, and in 2015, incoming freshmen from both universities had an average ACT Reading score of 22.4 out of a possible 36 points, above the national ACT Reading score of 21.4 for that same year (ACT Profile 2015 9)."

White kids from public high schools.

"Almost all the student participants were Caucasian, two-thirds were female, and almost all had graduated from Kansas public high schools. All except three self-reported “A’s” and “B’s” in their English courses. "

Kids going to regional universities in Kansas from public high schools in Kansas probably came from small towns. Cuz **regional** - no one from outside the Midwest are going to these regional universities and the brightest students and/or those with money went to state universities or out of state universities. These are rural small town kids.

And their teachers, who maybe are from that area because who's moving to small town Kansas to teach English but local folk and/or other Midwest small town folk??, probably did not focus on dead white men from Europe. They probably read some great American works like grapes of wrath and of mice and men and waiting for godot and catcher in the rye and white fang and Gatsby and maybe animal farm. And Shakespeare of course. Maybe some books that had African American or Latinx or indigenous characters in reflection of their community, one hopes. They probably didn't read Dickens. I did not read Dickens in my urban public high school. Why would rural small town teenagers in America be remotely interested in Dickens?! I was exposed to way more culturally and I sure wasn't.

Ok so, those are our test subjects. Small Town kids with mediocre English scores who went to regional Kansas universities who likely had no exposure to Dickens.

The kids that could read on a tenth grade level couldn't understand Dickens.

"We then compared the 10th-grade reading scores against the reading test results. All our subjects who scored 79 percent or less on the 10th-grade literacy test were also evaluated as problematic readers of Bleak House. However, 59 percent of the problematic readers scored a 90 or above on the literacy test, suggesting that the ability to read on a 10th-grade level does not ensure that students have the proficient-prose literacy skills to read complex texts."

And I'm not an English major and I've been zero percent interested in dead white writers for my entire life. I have an enormous vocabulary. I have two undergrad degrees and a law degree and have been a lawyer for pushing twenty years but I'm frankly not sure I could answer this intuitively. I've had enough education to know that the fog is probably a symbol because he talks about it so damn much and I can make up a paper about that idea but I don't necessarily believe it. The fog was a symbolism for mental fog and obfuscation??? God I hate symbolism.

"Original Text:

Fog creeping into the cabooses of collier brigs; fog lying out on the yards, and hovering in the rigging of great ships; fog drooping on the gunwales of barges and small boats.

Facilitator:

O.K. So, what do you see in this sentence besides fog?

Subject:

I know there’s train, and there’s like, like the industrial part of the city?

Facilitator:

O.K. [End Page 8]

By reducing all these details in the passage to vague, generic language, the subject does not read closely enough to follow the fog as it moves throughout the shipyards. And, as she continues to skip over almost all the concrete details in the following sentences, she never recognizes that this literal fog, as it expands throughout London, becomes a symbol for the confusion, disarray, and blindness of the Court of Chancery."

So this study used 85 mediocre high school students who went to college and tested them after 2-3 years of college in dead white man literature. And the dead white man writer was paid by the installment so he could fill space with extra words to create a hooked audience, like old school network series television.

Is this country failing to teach literature? YES. Did their high schools fail them? YES. Does reading literature, including dead white man literature, have value? YES. Is decoding complex texts an important skill? YES.

Is THIS the study to hang those hypotheses on? NO.

Why did they choose to be English majors? Did they actually want to study English lit? I also wonder what careers they went on to have.

I also wonder what the school funding was in Kansas in the early 2010s versus other states, and what the educational degrees were of their teachers. Kansas ranked 28th in the US in that time period. I wonder if another state has different results.

Also, please run this on students at a big public university like Michigan and an elite school like Yale and a liberal arts like Reed.

Maybe the conclusion is PAY AMERICAN TEACHERS WAY MORE MONEY AND THEN YOU'LL HAVE BETTER EDUCATIONAL OUTCOMES FOR STUDENTS duhhhhh.

I read the first few pages of Bleak House and now I'm extra upset about the post on college-level literacy because what do you mean they couldn't parse meaning from that. WHAT DO YOU MEAN they couldn't figure out he was setting a specific sort of mood for the opening of the story. WHAT DO YOU MEAN the words they didn't understand and looked up made the entire sentence structure virtually meaningless to them?

[itspileofgoodthings]

there is something about the fragmentary nature of teaching that I hate so much but I think I have to make my peace with because it’s probably where a lot of grace is working/things are operating that I can’t see. In good ways as well as hard ways.

[fingertipsmp3]

There are two wolves inside me. One is trying to convince me to do extensive research for the job interview tomorrow and the other is saying “wing it”

[plainclothesdisaster]

DPxDC Mechanical Engineer Danny

Danny caught the attention of Batman while studying at Gotham University for his alternative energy projects. He’s hired right out of college to work on the Watchtower.

He shows absolutely no tell of his abilities till there’s a dire situation- Flash’s electric discharge messes with one of his projects in progress and the whole base would have lost air pressure if he hadn’t done a quick fix using telekinesis and ice.

Of course Batman notices.

Batman assumes the worst- he suspects Danny’s a rogue of some kind, someone who has infiltrated the Justice League with an ulterior motive. But he can’t just fire Danny now- he’s the only one who knows how the new Watchtower energy source works. Plus, he’s not letting Danny go anywhere until he’s figured out his true motives.

Cue Batman subtly testing Danny- tossing things at him to trigger inhuman fast reflexes, having him lift too-heavy machinery, setting up convenient opportunities to steal or snoop or otherwise be up to no good. Danny does take advantage but only once, to use a computer terminal with unlocked clearance. He didn’t plant any bugs that Barman could find, and he otherwise kept up his powerless civilian act perfectly.

Still, Batman’s not satisfied. He brings an infrasonic sound emitter to Danny’s lab one day, and that, of all things, is what gets Danny to break.

“I know what you’re doing,” Danny admits with a sigh, finally. “If you’re really that suspicious of me, I can leave, but I kinda like my job so I’d prefer not to. The benefits are insane compared to what’s standard.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Sure. yeah. How about you turn off the freaking noise generator and we can talk?”

“Hm.” Batman obliges, and he takes the stool next to Danny at his gesture.

“Number one, I’m not a meta. Despite all the data and conclusions you’ve probably drawn otherwise. Number two, I’m on your side. I’m here to work on the base, that’s it. I follow your rules to the letter.”

“The-“

“The classified files I looked at? Yeah that was the one exception. You already know what I looked at, I’m sure, but maybe you haven’t figured out why. It goes back to point one- I may not be a meta, but I am something that organization, the GIW, cares about. I looked at your files on them to sus out your relations. Seeing as I don’t particularly love being the victim to twelve degrees of human rights violations if I can avoid it.”

“Hm.” The Ghost Intelligence Ward was one of many government agencies that the Justice League hadn’t worked closely with. But they also hadn’t been flagged for Justice League investigation. Danny’s comments made him doubt that call.

“Any other questions?”

“If you’re not a meta, what are you?”

“I’m an engineer. A pretty decent one. And I’d really, really like it to stay that way.”

Batman considers, and ultimately lets him stay. He likes Danny (everyone likes Danny), and it would be a massive pain in the ass to replace him. He really is a good engineer.

It’s only much later that his faith in Danny is repaid in spades.

Batman finds Danny on the Watchtower command bridge. Alarms are blaring, the station has been knocked out of orbit, out the window there’s shrapnel floating everywhere as a space battle rages around them.

On the station it’s chaos. Technicians run around, shouts from the med bay, sparks from the walls.

Batman and Danny stand at the main controls, watching the battle outside, stoic, unmoving.

Wonder Woman’s harried voice crackles through on coms: “We need backup.”

“There is no more backup.” Batman replies, while looking pointedly at Danny.

“What?”

Batman doesn’t move.

“What.”

“The impact from Darkseid’s initial attack should have sent this station on a terminal trajectory toward the planet.”

“Well. We aren’t currently plummeting to our deaths, so turns out it didn’t do that.”

“You did something.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You’re lying.”

“Maybe Superman nudged us back on course in all the chaos.”

“I’ve been watching the trackers. No one else with the capability has come near the station.”

“Can’t you just be grateful we got lucky?”

Sounds of peril screech over the coms. Danny’s face scrunches.

“Luck had nothing to do with it. As it is now, we are going to lose this fight.”

“Isn’t there anyone else you can call?”

“I’m asking you. You can help, can’t you?”

The glare-off lasts a long moment more before Danny breaks.

“Fuck. Fuckity fuck.” Danny runs his hands through his hair. “Shit. You don’t know what you’re asking.”

“I’m asking you to save this and countless other worlds from a genocide. I’m also asking you to save my friends.”

Danny looks at him, hard, weary, and with a kind of deep resolve that feels far too ancient to be on the face of a supposed twenty-something.

“Fine. Fine. Okay.” He steps back and transforms. If Batman is surprised when he shakes off his human appearance like an old coat, he doesn’t show it. But what’s undeniable is the being in Danny’s place has the unmistakable presence of power.

“No one else can know.” His voice echoes in a way that’s sonically impossible, both sounding closer and further away than he should be.

He pulls a gear-shaped medallion seemingly out of thin air and puts it over his head in one motion.

“If I get in trouble for this, I’m blaming you.”

He vanishes. Outside, the shape of the battle changes instantly. The stars seem to glow brighter as the arms of the galaxy flash with the colors of the aurora. Then it’s like the void of space itself comes alive. It moves the spaceships back like they’re toys, plucking them from one side of the field to the other. It finds Darkseid at the heart of the chaos and massive arms of nothingness and darkness wrap around him. He’s screaming as it swallows him whole.

His armies scatter. The battle turns. The JL deal with the stragglers, but the air of relief is palpable.

Danny reappears next to Batman, once again donning his grease-stained coveralls. Arms folded.

“Happy?”

It took all of five minutes. Less, probably. Batman tamps down a thousand questions.

“Thank you.”

“I’m gonna need two weeks off minimum.” Danny snaps. “One to deal with the bureaucratic nightmare you’ve just caused me, and another to recover from the headache.”

Batman blanks. “Granted.”

Danny sighs. “And I’m not fixing the station until I’m back. It won’t fall out of the sky as is. Make up whatever excuse you want.”

“Done.” He considers. “I would prefer to tell them the truth. That you saved us.”

Danny glares. “I’m not supposed to save you. I made a pact not to use my power to influence the mortal realm.”

“A pact with who?”

Danny rolls his eyes. “The embodiment of Time. The concept of Justice. Among others.” He smirks at Batman’s confusion.

“And what, exactly, does that make you?”

He stands, framed by the space window, haloed by the stars. “I’ll give you three guesses.”

Batman frowns.

“Look. I like you guys. I like working on your base. I like supporting the work you do. But you can not go factoring me in to any of your plans or contingencies. This was a one time thing.

“So to answer your question again: I’m an engineer.”

[overwhelmedfrog]

normally I dread small talk with people I haven’t seen in a long time because as a severely burnt-out autistic with physical disabilities that have worsened to the point that I couldn’t go to college and can’t work a normal job, and have forced me into isolation because I am immunocompromised, the “how are you? where did you go to school? what do you do? what have you been up to the last few years” conversation is exhausting. so this week when I ran into someone I haven’t seen since middle school, and we got to talking and he told me he went to school for environmental science and then started talking about how he hates lawns and how he wants a house with a moss or native prairie grass lawn and asked me about my favorite plants (I grow houseplants) he activated my autistic special interest and I was like “wow this is so much easier than normal conversations!”. but now instead of the normal social anxiety rumination spiral of being embarrassed about how awkward I was and about being a failure blah blah blah etc etc, I’m having a social anxiety rumination spiral of “oh god why did I start infodumping at him he literally went to school for this and is looking for a job in the field he definitely knows more about this than you do. embarrassing.” goddddddd I cannot win here. girl it’s not that serious!

[blackcatxmagic]

The truth was that Winter wasn’t the best at meeting new people. Much of that had to do with him not knowing if they knew each other already and the anxiety that came with that. But also, Winter felt sometimes like he’d forgotten how to socialize in groups, maybe literally; maybe that was something he’d forgotten with his accident. Even though he knew now what had happened, it was easier to still refer to it that way. Still, it would be interesting to test this (possibly magical) ability of his. “I would maybe be interested in doing that sometime,” Winter told Jinhwan slightly nervously. 

Jinhwan had such a lovely way of seeing the world, and listening to him talk made Winter smile. What was it like to be so serene? Winter doubted he would ever know. “I hope you’re right,” Winter said. “I hope the really important things are going to always be there. And I think you’re right. There are things I don’t necessarily remember, but I remember how they make me feel. Like…I can’t remember my grandma, but I remember how much she loved me. Things like that.” Now Winter was feeling awkward, having not said that out loud to many people. “I hope you’re right about that too,” he said. “I hope I build new joy in my life. I could use it.”

Winter smiled as the house came into view, fully aware of how beautiful it was. But he didn’t expect Jinhwan’s comment about it suiting him. “Do you really think so?” Winter asked. Looking back toward the house, he admitted, “It is kind of a sanctuary for me. And it’s hidden away like so much of my memory, so I guess you’re right.” They pulled up to the house, and he said, “Wait until you see the back. There are flowers and fruit trees everywhere for the bees.” They walked inside, Winter just now realizing he hadn’t prepared for Jinhwan’s visit by taking all his reminders down and hiding them. “Please ignore all the notes,” he requested as they walked through the house, embarrassed. 

Going through the back door, they emerged into the yard behind the house, which was just as Winter had described it. There were flowers of all kinds in the huge space along with orange trees, and of course there were several hives spread out. “I spend a lot of time out here,” Winter told his friend. He led Jinhwan to the shed, walking inside and taking a beekeeper’s suit off the nearby rack. “Sorry that it’s kind of dusty,” he apologized, handing the suit to Jinhwan. “I don’t need to use it.”

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ “Oh, no, I don’t speak anything else. I do have some friends who speak Spanish.” His brow furrowed in thought. “They’re very kind. I’m sure you would like them, and they do tend to speak Spanish unprompted. Maybe I’ll host another tea night and invite you and them, it might happen naturally. Only if you want to, of course.” Then, once they were in the car, he followed Winter’s directions.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Jinhwan smiled as he drove, one hand steady on the wheel, the other resting loosely in his lap. He glanced over at Winter, eyes kind. “No, it made perfect sense,” he said softly. “You put it beautifully. That’s exactly what it felt like, like something touched a part of me I didn’t realize was still waiting to be held.” He shrugged, gaze returning to the road, a thoughtful quiet settling between them for a moment.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ At Winter’s comment about remembering how to get home, Jinhwan let out a gentle chuckle. “It’s okay to joke about it.” As Winter went on, Jinhwan listened closely, giving him space to talk without interruption. “That does make sense,” he said, after a moment. “I think there are parts of ourselves that live deeper than memory. Like… muscle memory, but for the soul.” He hesitated, then looked over again. “That longing you feel, it means it mattered to you. Even if you don’t remember it, it left something behind. And maybe, in time, some of it will come back to you. Or maybe you’ll build new versions of those things. New joys.”

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ As they turned down the tree-lined driveway, Jinhwan let out a quiet breath, awe threading through his voice. “Wow… it’s beautiful out here.” He slowed the car, eyes sweeping over the clearing as the house came into view. “It suits you,” he added softly, “peaceful and tucked away, like a secret garden.” When he parked, he walked toward the other side, opening the door for Winter. Once they were both outside, he smiled, and clasped his hands together behind his back. “I am ready for some bee friends.”

[cloverapple]

How I Shift On Command + How You Can Too

I don’t plan on posting anything other than this or starting a blog, so I don’t need anyone to “believe” in me. The only person you should trust is yourself—trust yourself to resonate positively with what you see online and click away if it doesn’t serve you. This is here for you to take from if it resonates. I literally only made this blog to post this here. My hope is that it reaches at least one person who can take something from this and apply it to their shifting journey. If not, and this post ends up here untouched, I’m just glad to finally get everything down in words and off my chest. 

Jumping straight to the answer because I’m not going to make anyone sit through a long post for it. The rest, the "advice," is here if you want to read it.

The "method"

I figured out what works specifically for me as an individual instead of following everyone else’s journey. Everyone has their “thing” that makes shifting click, a sweet spot that makes reality shifting possible. For me, it’s a combination of the law of assumption and inducing an altered state of consciousness.

During the day, I spend time affirming—or sometimes just reminding myself or keeping a little note nearby—things like:

I can shift.

I know how to shift.

I could shift tonight.

Shifting is accessible to me.

At night, I watch videos, look at Pinterest boards, or listen to music that reminds me of my DR. This ingrains where I’m going in my brain. Sometimes I do this for fun, and other times I skip it entirely.

When I lay down, I always lie on my back and stay somewhat still because I like the feeling of my body going numb. This isn’t necessary to shift, but I enjoy it—it lets me feel the symptoms of hypnagogia (that in-between state of wakefulness and sleep).

To meditate quickly, I count from 1 to 100 with a few affirmations in between to remind myself of what I’m doing. I do this until my body goes numb, and I start messing up the counting. Usually, the mistakes or random, nonsensical thoughts are my signal to start shifting.

At this point, I begin affirming the things I affirmed during the day:

I could shift right now.

I have the ability to shift.

I have the power to shift at any moment.

While I do this, I focus on the feeling of being in my DR—not my surroundings, not my senses, just the internal feeling of being there.

This is where “brazen impudence” comes in. I hard-force myself to feel like I’m in my DR. It’s not about imagining my surroundings but purely about embodying the feeling of being there.

Hypnagogic imagery and sensations like floating often kick in at this point. These are symptoms of your body falling asleep so your awareness can take shape in that sweet spot for shifting.

I continue this, then stop and start counting from 1 to 100 again, with affirmations like:

I can shift.

I know how to shift.

I could shift right now.

Then I repeat the process: using brazen impudence to force myself to feel like I’m in my DR.

Eventually, I reach that threshold between sleep and wake—a liminal state of pure consciousness. Body asleep, mind awake, I call this the “rabbit hole” which is honstly just a deep state of hypnogogia. It’s a state where anything is possible: lucid dreaming, astral projection, slipping into the void, shifting—anything.

When I’m in this state, I use brazen impudence to force myself to feel like I'm shifting to my DR and don't take no for an answer (I tell myself I'm in Barbados and shut the door in my own face). This can involve affirmations or just talking myself through it, either way I wake myself up there. Occasionally, I simply relax, expect to wake up in my DR, fall asleep, and wake up shifted.

Does all that sound complicated? Let me simplify:

Lay down and get comfortable.

Count from 1 to 100 on a loop with affirmations in between until you mess up the counting, get sleepy, or have your mind wander. Like this:

Me: *counts from 1 - 100* Me: *says a few affirmations/askfirmations* Me: *counts from 1 - 100* Me: *says a few affirmations/askfirmations*

On a loop until...

Persist in the feel of being in your DR—not focusing on surroundings or senses, just the feeling. Feeling is the secret.

Alternate between steps 2 and 3 until you’re in that relaxed body asleep/mind awake state, OR just straight up hypnogogia tbh. (That is, if you don’t already shift lol)

From there, choose what feels right: shift from a lucid dream, affirm, slip into the void, or just feel yourself in your DR like I do, convince yourself that either you shifted and are there, or are shifting and will end up there.

One thing I’ll tell you now—regardless of your circumstances, how long you’ve been trying, how long it’ll take, who you are, etc—is that you already know how to shift. You, reading this right now. You know how to shift, and there’s nothing you did to learn it. There’s nothing you can do to unlearn it. It’s something that will stay with you until the end of time.

Why do you think people shift randomly without prior knowledge of shifting? Even people who don’t believe in it? It’s because everyone can shift. You can shift.

Right now, stop reading this post and say in your head or out loud, “I already know how to shift.” Or, if that doesn’t feel right, “I already have the ability to shift,” “No matter what, I have the power to shift,” or “My mind knows how to shift no matter what.”

Can you argue that? No, you can’t. And if your mind starts throwing out “buts,” go back and read that again.

Shifting isn’t difficult, and no one struggles to shift. I’m sure you’ve heard it before—that shifting is simple and happens in seconds—because it does. You don’t struggle with shifting. You can shift; everyone has the power to. What you “struggle” with, so to speak, is figuring out what works for you, what your brain likes, how it operates—because everyone is different.

What ended up working for me more than anything was figuring out how I operate and modifying shifting to fit me—not forcing myself to fit shifting.

Will my method work for everyone? I have no idea. Unless you assume it will work for you, this is what works for me. I’m me, and you’re you.

Before you say “Oh, but I’ve tried everything and nothing has worked so far” and expect me to sit here and ask you “but have you really tried everything? <3” , listen to me. 

I could shift perfectly well with my own personal method before I started shifting regularly. I knew it worked well for my brain, but the thing that “blocked” me (so to speak) were my assumptions. 

When you sit there and say “I’ve tried everything and nothing has worked” that’s your assumption about yourself. You believe that nothing works for you, that you don't know how to shift, that you’re this powerless, lost baby shifter who needs guidance. 

There’s nothing wrong with this, it’s not your fault, and theoretically you could shift even with your “blockages” (I really hate that term), as shifting waits for no one.

This is why so many people shift randomly and with poor assumptions without meaning to. But you clicked on this because you want to know how you can shift consistently + on every time, and this is the answer I’m giving you. 

You find out what works better for you, be it affirming, visualizing, scripting, shifting awake, shifting asleep, shifting with hypnagogia, shifting with hypnopompic, shifting through lucid dreams, shifting with brazen impudence, through SATs, robotic affirming, through letting go, through putting your DR on a pedestal, through listening to music, through law of assumption alone, and many more. 

If that sounds overwhelming, please note that all of these are the same vehicles that get you to your destination. Just in different shapes and colors. Like how some people drive a car, others drive a motorcycle, others walk, others swim. The movement forward is always the same. 

What you’re doing, no matter how you’re doing it or in whatever state of consciousness you’re doing it from, will always be:

Assume it's true, feel it, receive it. “Assume and persist,” “ground yourself in the assumption,” you’ve heard it all before. 

How to Find What Makes You Shift On Command

You could either test different techniques (affirmations, visualizations, scripting, lucid dreaming, etc.) and see what feels natural to you. 

You could (and I love this one because it’s a cheat code) Assume you already know what works, and let the law of assumption guide you. “Manifest it” so to speak. 

Pay attention to your life, because you already shift on command, you've been doing it your whole life, but I guarantee you haven't noticed it. Pay attention to you, like how easily you slip into hypnagogia, your dream recall, or how strong your intuition is, maybe you put too much emotion into a scenario you don’t want in your life and it inherently manifests, things like that. Pay attention to the thing that makes you go “huh, that was weird”

“But Clover, I tried everything you mentioned above and still haven’t found my method!” 

My darling. Listen up. Come closer—I’m about to let you in on a secret. The way you apply the law of assumption isn’t one-size-fits-all, because assumptions and beliefs are not linear. It's the same every time, yes, it's a law. But just like you, the way you can use it is unique to each person.

Let me tell you how easy it is so you don't think I'm over-complicating it

You could, for instance, believe you’ve got $1000 in your bank account right now and act like it, fully living in the end. Or you could believe you’re going to have $1000 in your account and act like it’s already on its way. Or maybe you believe something’s going to happen that’ll bring you that $1000.

The same applies to shifting. It’s been a game changer for me. I used to struggle so much with things like:

“You’re already in your DR, just act like it.”

“Ignore the 3D.”

“You’ve already shifted.”

Do those methods work? Absolutely, they work beautifully. But like I said, if it doesn’t feel good or true to you, don’t force it.

My dearest, darling reader. If the story you see in your 3D is that you can’t shift, can’t find what makes you shift, are you just going to sit there and accept it? What is more satisfying? Think with me here: accepting that you don’t know how to shift and cannot shift, or persisting that you do know how to shift? 

“Clover, but I’ve been trying for 4 years! I’ve tried everything and I still haven’t shifted”

So that's your story? Your story, your assumption is that you’ve been trying for 4 years and haven’t shifted? If you’ve resonated with the phrase above, that’s your story. And there’s nothing wrong with it, but! there will be no magic solution for shifting. Or a magic method. Or a person like me giving you advice, that can make you shift without you changing your assumptions first.

“But I don’t want to reprogram my mind! It doesn’t work for me. I don’t want to do robotic affirming 24/7, I want results now!” 

I know, right? It’s annoying having to do these 100-step methods, and drink charged water, and have to beg the universe for your desire, and loop affirmations in your mind that directly contradict what you’re experiencing in the 3D.

“Oh ignore the 3D, the 4D is your only real imagination!” they say, as you sit there, clutching your phone, rocking back and forth in bed, repeating affirmations you don’t resonate with while dreaming of being railed by your S/O.

Believe me, I've been there, wondering what the hell was wrong with me. I asked myself why couldn't these basic steps that worked for everyone else work for me. I blamed myself for not trying hard enough, for being lazy, for inconsistent. When all that time, the answer was me. I needed to manifest/shift in a way that felt good for me.

Just remember, the law of assumption isn't complicated, and the way you apply it is not one-size-fits-all. Reprogramming the mind through continuous repetition and affirmation works, and if that resonates with you or feels effective, you should absolutely go for it.

However, at its core, you don’t inherently need to reprogram your mind. It’s as simple as assuming your mind has already been reprogrammed and watching it unfold before your eyes. You do what feels right to you.

For example, if person A does better with visualization and listening to music, why on earth are they affirming and listening to subliminals?

If person B feels better scripting in a notebook, why the hell are they reprogramming their mind?

If person C feels good reprogramming their mind, why are they taking the simple route?

Funny, isn't it? Which is why if you've read all of this so far, and you have not resonated with it, just click away. Go find another post or advice that feels true to you. The words I'm writing right now are not universal, they're not the absolute truth. That's the beauty of the law of assumption. Whatever you believe to be true, becomes true.

I didn’t feel good with the affirmations “I’m already in my DR” and “I already shifted.” Do they work, are they true? Yup, but I didn’t feel good ignoring the 3D, even when I knew the 4D was the true reality. So I swapped them for affirmations like "I'm shifting to my DR", “I’m going to shift to my DR”, swapping things like “I already shifted” to “I’m shifting” because those are the kinds of affirmations my brain loves. 

I've heard a silly bit of misinfo that these affirmations stating future events put you in an infinite loop, and that they don’t make you achieve your desire. That’s not true? At all? Makes me laugh, really. Because here I am, “master shifter” or whatever name people give it in this reality, shifting as much as I want to wherever I want with these types of affirmations.

Yet here I see every day on the internet, people implanting stubborn little rules and regulations to a practice that has been done for ages, a universal law that will work even when you don’t care for it to work. 

How I Shifted The First Time

The law of assumption is what made me shift in the end. Initially, I surprised myself at the beginning of my shifting journey because I shifted three months after starting it. I woke up one morning in my DR room, felt it was real, knew it was possible, but accidentally shifted back because it was too good to be true. 

What followed was a period of losing my mind; I shift back to my DR for a few seconds (mini-shifts), fully shifted to different rparallel ealities, and filled the hell out of shifting journals with my discoveries as I went along. But I never fully shifted to my DR and stayed there. I wanted to permashift. I was so focused on leaving my CR and going to my DR permanently, frustrated because I knew I could shift, knew how to in theory, but was stuck in this endless loop of assuming I couldn't make myself shift and had to rely on spontaneous shifts.

And then one night it clicked when I was reflecting on the law of assumption and reality shifting. I knew shifting was real. I knew I could shift. Everyone can shift. I had shifted before. I would continue to shift even if I gave up on shifting. I could shift that night if I wanted to. I could shift that night even if I didn't want to. I knew how to shift. And so do you.

These are all assumptions I went to sleep with in mind, laying there, feeling like an idiot as it all clicked for me. 

If there was no doubt in my mind that I could shift that night, why wouldn’t I be able to shift? 

What followed was an overwhelming sense of peace washing over me. I let go. What more was there to be done? I could shift. There was no crying or screaming that could make me shift more than I could right then. 

I laid there and started my process. Just like I mentioned earlier. I began counting from 1 - 100 on a continuous loop. With affirmations that I could shift, I knew how to shift , I could shift that night.

And then I reached hypnagogia, and began inducing the feeling of being in my DR, just like I mentioned earlier. That liminal space rabbit hole shortly followed. I could go anywhere I wanted then. I could lucid dream. I could astral project. I could slip into the void. I could shift, and I did. Just…letting go and inducing the feeling of being in my DR. Not the surroundings, not the 5 senses, no affirmations. Just knowing that I was in my Dr. 

It was peaceful. 

I was at ease. 

And then I was woken up by a violent crack of thunder because my dumbass scripted my DR wakeup scenario to be in the middle of spring, and it was raining -_- 

I woke up in my DR, fully grounded, fully there, pinching my skin purple because I couldn't believe I was looking out the window at my DR city.

I wish I could tell you that I remained cool, but I so didn’t. I sat in bed for a good 10 minutes, mouth agape, repeating “oohh fuck it’s real….ohhh my god it’s real…whaaat the hell.” 

And then I paced around my room panicking, giggling like an idiot, checking my DR phone because all my friends and DR life was on there as evidence, opening drawers, looking at myself in the mirror, and straight-up freaking out. 

What followed after that was incredible, something I lack the words to describe. I spent a few weeks in my DR before shifting back, spending a few weeks here and then shifting back–here, back, here, back and forth, spending more time in my DR then my CR to the point where I consider my DR my true reality, and this one as my “other” reality. 

I shifted back here in early December of last year, and I’m here now before I shift back permanently—meaning, I’ll shift there, and then the next time I shift will be to another DR or a waiting room somewhere in the multiverse. I’m taking a "break" so to speak and hanging out here until events I scripted in my DR start to happen, and my life changes (positively, all good things I assure). 

I’m not sure if the person or people who find this post will care, but my other reality was originally called my “Witch DR”, where, as the name suggests, I’m a witch :) But not the fun kind, with a broomstick, a cauldron, and a pet cat though 😂The kind where I have to be up early for work in the mornings, can’t keep a cat because the building I live in doesn’t allow it, and have more responsibilities there than I do in this reality. 

One thing I didn’t expect about shifting before I lived there the first time is that—it’s life. You will have good days. You will have bad days. You will fuck up. You will laugh so hard that soda comes out of your nose. You will cry more than you ever have. And the people you once saw on a TV screen are very real, and can be very annoying lol. I miss my DR friends dearly right now, but I can’t go poking around the internet for videos and pictures of them because it feels so weird. 

Gut feelings are strange. I use them as a compass in both realities whenever I have to manually flap the butterfly’s wings and take a route. I felt compelled to write this post, and I’m not sure why. But if what this post has the power to help one singular person and help them realize their power, I'll be beyond happy.

[cinnamorollcrybaby]

The way Nanami subtly doms you

Tags: dom!Nanami x fem!Reader, sub!Reader, dom/sub relationship, NO age regression, sub space.

An: yeah idk i feel like nanami’s very subtle with his domming style, but i see shiu kong as full on dom.

• Nanami isn’t the type to flex his dominance over you. He doesn’t have to be rude or degrading to drive the point home. You know exactly when he gives you that look, it means to behave. His hazel eyes cut in your direction, and his eyebrow raises ever so slightly, like he’s amused by your disobedience. However, he doesn’t smile — doesn’t reward bad behavior.

• “Want to say that again?”, “Language.”, “Didn’t I tell you no pouting?” when you’re being a brat and mouthing off. bonus points if he’s pulling his tie away from his neck and slowly wrapping it around his palm.

• It’s simple, but he gives you his hoodies or coats to wear when you’re out and about. He likes seeing his clothes encompassed your body, and he enjoys that everyone will immediately be able to tell just whose you are.

• Speaking of clothes, Nanami’s not the type to tell you when you can and can’t wear something. He’s confident in his abilities to keep you safe, but that doesn’t mean he won’t make suggestions. “Are you sure about the skirt, sweetheart? I don’t want your legs getting cold.”

• He takes great care of you in an inconspicuous manner. He’ll adjust your clothes on you, buttoning up your top or gently fixing your unruly hair. He’ll throw your towel and pajamas (that he picked out for you) in the dryer when you’re in the shower, so they are all warm and cozy for you when you get out.

• Nanami is also the type to set a pretty firm bedtime for you. He knows how much you like to stay up and how ill you get in the mornings if you hadn’t had a minimum of 8 hours of rest. So, he sets you on a pretty strict bedtime schedule and routine. Don’t worry. He’s there every night to cuddle you to sleep.

• Insistent that you hold his hand while you two are out. He knows how distractible you are, and it eases his mind when your palm rests in his.

• The way he talks can throw you straight into a more submissive headspace, and he knows it too. He doesn’t do it often, but when he notices you getting too stressed or burnt out, he’ll immediately start with the dom talk, “My baby needs a break, doesn’t she?” He’ll coo and pull you into his lap, and when you inevitably lean into his touch, “There she is. Did my baby miss me?”

• Nanami sees it as a gentlemanly thing, but it could also be seen as another form of domming. He doesn’t let you touch a single door handle if he’s with you, and you best believe he’s walking on the outside. You’re tucked beside him on the inside of the sidewalk. He’ll also never let you hold a shopping bag. No, he does not care that he’s holding a bunch of Victoria’s Secret and Ulta bags. He pays for everything. If your car needs gas, Nanami fills it up.

• On the off chance that you two are out, and he’s not right beside you, all he has to do is curl his finger and point at the ground in front of him to let you know that he wants you to come to him, and you better do as you’re told.

• The king of giving simple stern instructions. “Look at me.” “Speak up, baby.”, “Come here, now.”, “Give me a kiss.”, “Ask nicely.”

• Nanami will sit on the couch, spread his legs, and pat his knee when he wants you to sit on his lap. He doesn’t even have to give simple instructions for that.

• Even while he does all this, he respects your independence, autonomy, and intelligence. Let’s bffr rn he’s your biggest supporter in everything you do. He’s so in love with you because he knows how smart and hard working you are. He’s so damn lucky that he gets to be the man to pamper you and ease your weary mind. He loves being that safe space for you, so you can just relax, lean on him, and just be you.

[solmire]

Deaf!Gojo mourns his life before car crash.

He tries his best not to show it, especially to you. He knows he has every right to regret everything he missed during being able to hear, but you don’t deserve to watch him breaking apart, after all, this car accident brought you two together.

Satoru misses his favourite songs, tv shows, anime. But mostly he regrets not knowing how your voice sounds.

Sometimes you can reflexively start talking, forgetting that he lost ability to capture what you are trying to say. Satoru doesn’t stop just watches how your lips move with every word and sadness starts growing deeper in his chest.

He tries his best not to think very much of it, but the way the voice inside his head keeps stumbling over the words, the spelling is falling apart and he might forgot how some words are pronounced and heard, it’s all leaving him to suffer in the loneliness of his soul, watching how life keeps going without him, as if he is locked in the room full of mirrors and all that was left for him was to watch his suffering reflected in hundred mirrors.

‘Satoru, is everything okay?’ You signed during a dinner with him in your dorm. It’s an evening outside the window. The sun is slowly setting, and you notice how the rays of the sun are reflected in his eyes, the glow of his skin because of the sun shows his beauty in a full potential, scars are playing the role of accessories in his skin making him look younger than he is.

“Yeah, why do you ask?” Satoru is accustomed to use voice while communicating with you. Sometimes he might miss the volume of his speech or the words are too slurred to understand. But you understand him. Always.

‘You aren’t even paying attention to our dialogue! Does your head hurts? Maybe we need to see your doctor?’ You signed, this time also saying every sentence out loud.

“Do you regret being with me?” His posture started to change. Satoru doesn’t meet your eyes, keeps scratching something on your floor, he moves his legs closer to his torso, silently putting his hoodie over his knees. Eyes are glued to the hole on your floor, as if it has all answers to his questions.

You are not sure what to say sign, especially when he’s not looking at you. So that’s why you are moving closer to him, lifting his chin up so he has no choice but to look straight at your eyes.

Satoru is waiting for you to sign something, but instead you move even closer to his face, noses slightly brushing, and his lips are parted waiting for your next step.

And you don’t let him wait too long, making your way to his lips. The kiss is full of immaturity and inexperience, even though it’s not your first kiss, every time it feels like it is.

Satoru puts down his knees, pushing you right onto his lap. Hands are trembling because of the overstimulation he is going through.

Everything is too much for him. Your scent takes over his olfactory receptors, as if trying to enter his bloodstream and circulate throughout his body, making it think that you are the only thing he is allowed to have in life. And he doesn’t mind it.

Lack of air lead you both to pull away. You feel the heat on your face, fingers slightly shaking be the intensity of emotions. ‘Satoru, there will never be a day, when I regret being with you. You are my love, my everything, and I will do anything for you. I love you’.

You watch how your vulnerability reflects with his in his eyes. He opens his mouth to say anything but nothing is coming out. Therefore, he is going to sign something back, but he doesn’t do it either. Instead he pulls you in a tight hug.

“I believe you, my love. I love you too”.

And none of you question the lie he is trying to pass off as the truth. You just hug him back fighting the urge to cry. Not here, not when he is watching. He holds you tightly trying to help not to fall apart because of the damage he caused.

You know the ending you are going to get.

masterlist first second

Oh my goood, it’s almost 4am in my town. I am suffering from sickness an I need to prepare for my finals. I will proofread it in the morning, sorry my lovely readers.

[oreo-creampies]

“𝐚 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐬𝐥𝐮𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐬 𝐬𝐢𝐱 𝐛𝐢𝐠 𝐜𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤”

𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐲 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫! - Ghostface gangbang (with one Michael Myers mask)

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: celebrity!reader, guards! Toji, Sukuna, Choso, Satoru, Suguru and Kento, reader has healing abilities, knife kink/light cutting, no blood since reader heals, light bondage with chains, ghost face with one Michael Myers mask gangbang, you have tits for this, titty fucking, face/pussy slapping, pain kink, praise/degradation, pain kink, fingering/anal fingering, ass eating, face fucking/cock sucking, handjob, pussy slapping, toys, double/triple penetration, anal, hair pulling, spitting, spitting water in your mouth, cum swallowing, creampie, choking

𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐡: 14 minutes - 4k (of mostly nasty smut)

Oreo: this has reminded me why gangbangs are my favorite

Your phone lights up with a text, your Mom sent you a link. Opening it brings you to a page with a bright bold red header where it proclaims ‘Single for 1 year?! She can’t seem to get a date and goes to dinner alone!’

You scroll to see the attached picture of you surrounded with by your guards. “Oh! There is a trashy tabloid going around talking about my dating life. Apparently I was alone last night cause all six of you don’t count!”

Toji shrugs a large shoulder, “Who cares if it looks like you’re single, they don't need to know the truth.” The end of his blunt casts a red glow on Toji’s handsome face.

You sigh and click on the appearing text bubble, “My Mom is caring otherwise she wouldn’t have sent me to link to it. Along with; I won’t judge your choices, though I am worried about you not pursuing a relationship. Are they just not for you or did something happen?” A large warm body presses you against the cold glass railing of the balcony. Warm large hands squeeze your hips.

You look up into Sukuna’s face, your head resting against his chest. “What are you gonna tell her?” Toji nudges Sukuna’s arm to get him to take the fat blunt.

Looking out at the city below. “I’m sure as hell not saying that I’m fucking all of the personal guards they hired for me and that y’all cock-block any dating opportunities that come my way.”

He grabs your hair yanking your back holding the blunt to your lips. He sneers, “We do plenty of sharing between each other. Who else could you need.” Sukuna pulls the blunt away, and you blow a large puffs of smoke into the night’s sky.

Toji adds on, “‘Side we all cuddle you, take you out on dates, we switch out who sleeps in the bed with you. You had six different valentines.” He leans against the glass railing. Tugging on your robe’s ribbon causing it to fall open.

Satoru announces, “Oo someone tweeted what if she is fucking one of the guards. She close, but it isn’t just one, you’re too much of a cock hungry whore for only one.” Leaning up against the glass on the other side of you Satoru joins Toji in fondling your soft breasts. Swirling his soft thumb over your nipple, getting it hard.

You’ve been waiting all day to be sandwiched in between your guards. With one pressing their hard cock into your lower back while two play with your tits. You slowly inhale the harsh smoke from the blunt that Sukuna holds to your lips.

Suguru looks at Satoru’s phone then lightly hits Satoru’s shoulder.“You should unlike it they’re gonna think it’s you, that choice is up to her, if she decides to make it.” Taking the short blunt from Sukuna to puff on.

Satoru rolls his eyes before removing his like, “Ok ok.” Sukuna roughly smacks your ass and steps away for Satoru to sweep you off your feet.

You think about it aloud, “If they got a screenshot of that then my actions with all you are going to be heavily analyzed.” Spreading your fingers out on his chest, looking up at him as he carries you to the sex room. “Especially with you, going out the two of us is gonna be seen differently, tea channels are gonna have a field day.”

Satoru smiles, “Don’t act like you don’t enjoy seeing some of the shipping content out there.” A few of your fans had created some fanart of your guards and you. Which you saved to your phone.

He points out, “This will only give them a little fuel for their ships.” He kisses the top of your head and you’re wondering if you should play into it a little.

You admit, “Is is a bit fun to see. And who could blame me, especially with how unprofessional three of you were from the start, my pussy didn’t stand a chance.”

You dig your painted nails into Satoru’s chest, leaving bright pink lines. “It’s mostly your fault, you were the first one.”

Satoru teases you, “The way you were practicing drooling over me after I unbuttoned my shirt a little too cool off had me wanting to put your pretty mouth to use and I’ll do it again.” You bite his chest, his hold doesn’t waver but his pace does as he moans.

Sukuna walks past and pushes the door open, “Let’s go ahead n’ tie her up with some chains.” When Satoru carries you throug.

Kento and Choso have a ghost face mask on. Are they all going to be wearing one? Your pussy hopes they do.

Satoru drops you on the bed, straightening you out on your back, folding your legs by your side. Kneeling at the edge of the bed to kiss your wet cunt. Gliding his tongue in, you slip your hands into his soft white hair.

Suguru walks up, mask on and with the Michael Myers one in hand. Which Satoru pulls away to grab when Suguru nudges him with it. “Happy early Halloween, it’s close enough right? I figured why not do something a little seasonal.” He climbs onto the bed and yanks you into the middle by your hair.

Kento gets on the bed next to you, his hard cock swinging, you love how he’s so heavy he hangs. His voice is soothing, “What do you think about this?”

You gently grab Kento’s thick cock swirling your thumb on his cockhead. “I wanna be gangfucked till the sun rises or I pass out.” You kiss the freckle close to his pre-cum dripping slit you adore.

Satoru praises, “‘Course you do beautiful, we are gonna fuck your pretty ass stupid.” Satoru straddles your neck and part of your face. When you look down all you see are his balls.

He squeezes your fat, soft tits together with his cock in between. “Pour some lube on her tits for me Choso.” His balls are so close to your face. Lifting your head up to lick and suck on Satoru’s nuts.

Choso joins you on the bed whilst reminding you. “You’re safe word is melons remember to say yellow if you need us to slow down, and red for a break.” He grabs your hand, pouring lube into your palm. Then guiding your hand to his cock for you to stroke.

You hold your other hand out for some lube to jerk Kento off. Choso then squirts a generous amount onto your breasts. It slowly drips until Satoru smears it with slow strokes of his cock.

Satoru groans, “I want to cover her in cum, her beautiful face, soft tits, squishy thighs and her gorgeous cunt.” Slowly fucking your beautiful soft breasts. Whilst enjoying your warm mouth on his soft balls.

Jerking Choso and Kento off, swirling your hand slowly along their cocks. Swiping your thumb over their heads and keeping your pace steady.

Sukuna groans, “I’m fuckin her beautiful, sofa ass into a gapping mess. Seeing her in that skin tight gown all night, I know y’all know what I’m talking about.” Two different hands spread your legs apart, one rougher than the other. “Makin’ her ass look like a delicious peach.”

Arching your hips down from the sudden intense vibrations from toy on your clit. Laying your head back on the bed with a loud moan. Another hand presses on your stomach keeping you still.

Your thighs tremble, and your cunt quivers when you feel a wet tongue swirl around your tight asshole. “Nnnn! Plug your cum inside my ass when you’re done.” Moaning as he quickly pushing his tongue in to you. Both of your holes clench as you feel two small, smooth warm metal balls of Sukuna’s tongue piercing.

Satoru ruts his hips faster, gliding his long cock between your soft fat breasts. Squishing them together with his large hands, his groans are loud and breathy.

You love hearing all of them groan, moan, and whines as they enjoy themselves. If they weren't there you could masturbate listening recording to the sounds they make when they cum.

Whining, “It’s too much!” The pressure is intense, you’re unable to pull your hips away they follow your clit with the toy.

You can hear the jiggle of chains as the bed dips with someone’s weight.

“But I just started, how could it be too much already?” The condescension dripping from Suguru’s tone has your cheeks burning. “Besides isn't this what you wanted?” Suguru slowly swirls the toy increasing the pressure till it borders on painful.

Toji says, “Go ahead n’ tie the chains around her tits and neck.” Satoru smothers you with his balls by sitting on your face. Wrapping your breasts by coiling the chains around them once. Then moving back wrap it around your throat. He tugs on both ends squeezing your neck and tits.

Kento grabs your wrists, using your hand to get themselves off. Kento’s guides your hand slower, as he massages your breasts. His gentle touch is always a wonderful contrast to how rough the other’s get.

“I can't believe I'm getting off on this, I've become a dirty old pervert for your beautiful tits and soft pussy.” It made Kento’s cock rock hard seeing the chain wrapping around your tits, squishing the plump fat, whilst restricting some blood flow. You had corrupted him.

Choso groans, “Your hand feels so soft on my cock.” Grabbing your fist to keep it still so he can fuck your hand. Gently rubbing your hard nipple with his thumb,

Satoru pulls the chains again strangling your cry and pulling your body taunt. Your hands pause as you try to focus on not squeezing Choso and Kento.

“Don’t yank on her too hard, the chains are already harsh.” Kento drags a finger along the chain wrapped around your breast, feeling the soft fat spilling over.

Satoru eases up, but keeps the chain tight around your throat. Smacking his long, pale cock on your face whilst you suffocate. Rubbing his cock head along your lips, his pre-cum tastes so sweet. Opening your mouth, Satoru glides his cock in quickly.

Choso grabs the chain from Satoru’s hand, “Deep breaths.” He waits for you to catch your breath. Peeling up his mask to softly kiss you, sliding his tongue past your lips when you moan.

Satoru groans stroking his cock next next to your face. “The camera is recording what a whore you are. We are going to show you tomorrow, have you ride a dildo, and play with your asshole while you watch it. How does that sound?”

Choso lifts his head, holding his cock near your face. “Can you deep throat my fat cock with your pretty mouth?” You kiss his cockhead before softly licking up the mess up pre-cum. Then taking him deep into your mouth with a loud groan. Fondling his large balls with one hand.

Satoru jerk his fist faster watching you suck Choso off. “You’re such a good lil’ cock sucker. Are you getting off having Choso’s fat cock in your mouth while Sukuna eats your ass.” You groan to respond, closing your watery eyes.

You switch in between licking and sucking on one cock to pay attention to the other. Resting your tired hand on the bed, before giving up on moving your head too. As Choso and Satoru turn your head from side to side, taking turns fucking your mouth.

Kento slides your hand off his cock to rub himself against your plump, soft breast. “I’ll give you a massage after being a good girl for us tonight.” Nudging your fat with his fat cock head, smearing pre-cum on you.

Kento guides your hand back to his cock. “Before we take the chains off I want to take a picture of you laying here looking sexy covered and dripping cum. I can’t get enough of seeing you looking fucked out.” It’s one of the main reasons he got hooked on joining in on the planned gangbangs Satoru would get the other’s in on.

Two thick fingers into your dripping wet cunt with a soft squelch. “Look at this, she’s already soaking wet, you’re a depraved whore say it.” Toji’s deep voice is unmistakable. Your soaking wet pussy quivering around his thick fingers as the pressure and pleasure build in tandem.

Satoru nudges your cheek, smearing some pre-cum on it. Choso glides his cock out with a loud pop. “I’m a depraved whore, I love being a dirty slut please use me to help you cum.” Turning your head taking Satoru’s cock. He smacks your lips then sets a quick and merciless pace, gagging you with his long, veiny dick.

Suguru rubs your clit a little faster, easing up on the intense pressure. Working with Toji to get you off while Sukuna enjoys himself with your ass. Holding out three fingers prompting Choso to grab the near by bottle of lube to pour some onto them.

Your ass stretches for three thick probing fingers that can reach deeper than his tongue can. Scissoring his fingers apart rough, pumping them quickly, making your body slightly bounce.

You’re getting off on how six muscular masked men are entertaining themselves with your ass, cunt, clit, tits, hands and mouth. You’re hoping they trap a mixture of their cum inside you with a plug.

Toji points out, “I think she’s gonna cum n’ so fucking quickly. I don't think she should cum yet. No reason why other than fuck her.” Suguru lifts the vibrator off your clit as Toji glides his fingers out.

Sukuna keeps playing with your ass, it’s enough that you can taste that sweet peaking orasgamic high of cumming.

Sukuna mocks you, “You’re a dirty slut, look at that! The bitch kind of came anyway.” some creamy cum drip from your small quivering hole he sneers, “Looks like you only ruined it for her.” He pinches your sensitive clit making your hips jerk back. Stuffing some of your slick into your ass with each pump of is thick fingers.

Toji states, “She deserve it for being a filthy whore.” Someone smacks your cunt, once, twice, you stop counting after the fourth. Trembling you have to fight the urge to twist your hips away as your cunt stings.

Choso croons, “Are they being mean to your pretty cunt?” He leans down “She was good and took all those hits we should let her cum.” Satoru pulls his Michael Myers mask up to spit on your face.

Suguru holds the pulsing toy to your stinging, throbbing clit. The sweet pleasure easing some of the stinging pain. You focus on each quick circling motion of the toy eager to cum.

You’re begging them, “I wanna cum! Please lemme cum! I wanna make a mess!” Whining as the three thick fingers in your ass glide out.

A pulsing thin toy nudges your wet hole, which easily gives for the toy. It’s size getting thicker the more you take. Till you reach a thick knot that won’t slide in easily. Causing him to have to use a little more force.

Arching your hips, your eyes sting with tears as your ass throbs from taking the thick knot. “I hope that fuckin’ hurt dumb lil slut, I wanna see and hear you crying! Your ass looks so hot taking all of it. I wonder,” he tugs on the toy’s short stumpy handle. The knot isn’t budging, tugging on your ass, too thick to slip out like his fingers did.

Your thighs are burning as they tremble. A large hand on your stomach keeps you from moving too much. They are all working in together to keep you from getting away.” Choso straddles your neck fills your mouth with his cock. Abandoning the chain leash as he grabs your hair and fucks your throat.

You can’t tell who wraps your hand around their thick cock but you don’t care. You too drunk off the overstimulation to focus on moving your hand. So they jerk them off, swirling your fist, swiping your thumb over their cock head. They’re so warm and heavy in your palm, you want them inside any of your wet holes.

Your moans creating pleasurable vibrations that make him messily rut his hips. “Nnnn when she moans goddamm, I wanna cum in her mouth.” He fucks your moan faster, gagging you when he gives you all of his cock. Choso is so much thicker than Satoru, making it harder to deep throat him.

Satoru suggests, “Let’s play a game she has to guess whose fucking her from the back. Then she can cum.” Choso glides his cock out, Kento let’s your hand go, Suguru lifts the toy off your clit causing you to whine.

Choso carefully gets you on all fours, then orders you, “Keep your eyes forward you can suck Kento and I’s cocks but don't cheat by peaking.” He moves over for Kento to kneel beside him. Just having their large cocks in your face shouldn’t turn you on so much but it does. You feel like such a dirty, cock hungry slut.

Holding both cocks, moaning as you give Kento attention. Closing your eyes and enjoying feeling his thick cock slide along your tongue. His head nudging your throat, going deeper till you’ve taken every inch.

You hold your head still letting Kento enjoy the wet, tight warmth of your throat. As it squeezes him, your body softly jerking as you gag.

Kento moans, “Nnnn fuck me that feels so gooood when you take me just like that. You’re so beautiful, nnn,” bobbing your head, quickly taking Kento’s fat cock. “wrapping you pretty lips, hhhhn sucking me off like you need my cum.” Gliding him out with a loud pop and kissing beneath Kento’s cockhead.

A cockhead too fat to be Satoru’s lines up with your cunt. Your thoughts linger in between Toji and Suguru when you don’t feel Sukuna’s piercing beneath the large cock head.

Kento slowly rocks his hips, slowly fucking your wet mouth. Causing spit to drip down your chin which smears onto his balls when they brush against.

A cold knife drags along your cheek, causing you to tense up then squirm. The cut heals seconds after he creates it. One, two three and fuck! You’re so full of someone’s thick, veiny cock.

You’re sandwich in between Kento, Choso and one of your guards. The thought of that is getting you. toy for them to fuck until their balls are empty.

Clenching the fat cock whilst listening for a single groan or any vocal indication of who is fucking you. As they slide the knife across the bottom of your back.

If they would groan once you would know if it’s Toji or Suguru. You focus on the way their fucking you to try and decide between the two. It’s hard to focus for too long, whoever it is hitting your soaking wet pussy in a perfect, eye rolling, toe curling and pussy clenching angle.

He grabs the short handle of the toy vibrating in your ass. The thick knot slides in and out of you a little easier after your asshole got used to it.

Slowly glide the blade along your thigh and stuffing the toy in deep, the vibrations pulsing stronger than before. He made it intense, you swear you can feel it in your cunt.

Smacking your cheek with a large hand, the strike is to quick for you to get a good judge off whose hand it is.

Kento’s pace is getting sloppy, as he ruts into your mouth a little faster. His broad shoulder curling in as he trembles. His tight tensing up as he bites his bottom lip. Thick warm cum spurts into your mouth, he tastes so sweet, it’s so thick and creamy on your tongue.

Stuffing his cum into your throat with a messy thrust then gliding his cock out. “Thank you darling, l needed that.” Choso moves over as Kento leans down, grabbing your throat. His thick fingers pressing the chains into your neck as he lifts you up to kiss your forehead.

You can’t glance behind you in time before Choso stops you from breaking the rule. As Kento gets off the bed slowly pulling off the mask, and taking a seat to watch.

You whine, “Not fair, moan once! Say anything!” You bounce back, pressing your ass and thighs flush against him. The thighs pressing against your’s are thick, with muscles too hard to be Suguru. He is incredibly well built, but Toji’s muscles are something else.

The muscles of his arms, thighs and abs had a harsh rigidness the other didn’t. His body feels like a greek statue that’s has life breathed into it. With a waist that feels too damn slutty.

You whine, “Toji!” He grabs a handful of your ass and the roughness of his hand lets you know you’re right. Your body roughly rocks forward with his next harsh thrusts.

Toji groans, his deep voice sounds so damn good when he’s getting off. It’s a smooth, deep sound that is the cherry on top.

You’re squirting on Toji’s far veiny cock. “Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! The toy vibrating in her ass fuck I can feel it. Fuck it’s like her pussy is a vibrating toy clenching me. So fuckin’ wet!” He pumps the in your ass in time with thrusts, his strength keeps the toy’s knot from catching.

His fat cock twitches slightly, and the pulse in his veins feels like he’s throbbing inside you. “Nnnn I want someone to fuck his cum into me. Please lemme cum on your thick cock too.”

Sukuna declares in confusion, “Was that cheating?!”

Satoru defense your case, “We only said she couldn’t look back, using her body to feel up Toji isn’t against the rules. Meaning our chain bound slut gets to cum on our cocks tonight.”

“You’re going to bully her anyway.” You glance over at Suguru, a blunt between his lips, and his dark hair pulled back. With a few locks of his bangs framing his handsome face.

He winks, snuffs out the blunt and pulls his mask on. “Let’s switch.” Toji slowly glides his cock out smacking your cum dripping cunt with the flat of the knife.

Toji groans, “Her slutty lil’ cunt looks so good dripping my cum.” He dips his head down and glides his tongue in. “What a messy pussy squirting on me like that.” He stretches your hole apart to see how his white cum looks against the pink insides of your pussy. Before walking off, the blunt that Suguru ashed out on his mind. Passing the knife to Sukuna.

Choso grabs the chain leash and says, “Wrists behind your back.” He carefully binds your wrists, making your bsck softly arch, pushing your bound breasts forward.

Sukuna roughly yanks the toy out of your ass. Replacing it with a different one, the wildly vibrating model made after his cock. He orders, “Sit up, let Choso get underneath you so he can use your pretty cunt to get himself off whilst I double stuff your ass.”

Sukuna smacks your ass, grabbing the long chain between your neck and shoulders. Yanking you upright before you can move for yourself.

Choso leans back on his heals, thighs spread apart letting his heavy cock hang in between. “I want her to myself when y'all are done.” He gets off the bed and takes the blunt Toji passes.

You ask Choso, “What are you planning for me handsome?”Watching him jerk his cock slowly. His cock with it’s far head, upward curve and two puffy veins is pussy watering. Especially when he slides his hand down and his heavy, long cock start to droop. He’s perfect cock is so heavy, long, and thick.

You’re folding at the sight Choso with his ghost face mask on, his broad muscular chest, hard abs, and thick, pale tattooed arm. Choso looks good manspreading, his thighs are perfect to ride.

Sukuna stuffed ass with his fat cock makes it nearly impossible to listen to Choso explain, “You want some ghostface roleplay, how can I tell your pretty self no? I'm going to chase you around then pin you down and fuck you at knife point for a happy early Halloween.”

You look up at Sukuna’s masked face when he loudly moans, “You’re right, fuck n’ I thought she was like a toy before hand. But this, her vibrating double stuffed ass clenching my cock is gonna make me cum too quickly.”

Suguru climbs into the bed laying down and holding his cock up. “Let me feel our slutty mama’s pretty whore pussy on my fat cock. Sukuna holds a knife to your throa, taking the moment to himself to roughly fuck your ass.

Suguru strokes his cock, watching as the tears slip down your cheeks. Your pussy is dripping Toji’s cum as Sukuna pounds your ass. “She looks so hot when she’s helpless.”

Sukuna grunts, “It’s not enough, I wanna break her, fuck her ass till she can't move..” Sukuna digs the knife’s tip into your throat, blood slowly trickles down before he eases up.

Satoru chimes, “Tell me whose cum taste better, Kento’s or mine!” Whilst joining Sukuna, Suguru and you on the bed.

Kento passes Satoru a water bottle, his cock already half hard. “Since you like spitting so much you can spit some water into her mouth first.“

Sukuna encourages, “Fuckin cry you stupid sexy lil brat!” He slides the knife across your throat, over your shoulder and down your side. He drags the knife in a swirl over your cheek, your healing keeping up with as fast as he can cut. The stinging like the cut is fleeting, reigniting when he smacks your cheek with the large knife.

Sukuna drops the knife to folds your legs by your sides. Stopping with his cock balls deep and the toy still vibrating inside you. He makes you take Suguru’s thick cock in your sore sensitive cunt quickly.

The combination of their cocks and the toy stretching the skin between both holes taunt. They aren't moving and you’re already on the verge of overtimulation. Suguru slides his soft hand up your stomach towards your breasts.

You look down at Suguru, you can't get over how hot they look in their mask. “I want all six of you to stage a break in and then use me wearing these mask for the festive Halloween season is over.”

Suguru croons, “You’re such a dirty slut for us. You want it even rougher and nastier don't you?” You’re squirming on Sukuna’s and Suguru’s fat cocks. Rubbing Sukuna’s cock piercing inside your ass.

Suguru strokes your clit with his thumb. You’re still so sensitive from squirting on Toji’s cock. Both holes quiver clenching Suguru and Sukuna large cocks.

Sukuna lets both of your legs go, grabbing the near by knife. Gliding it along the harsh chains leaving imprints on your soft breast. Dragging it up the supple curve, Sukuna presses the tip into your sensitive nipple making you squirm.

Satoru drinks some water, squishes both cheeks with one large hand then spits water into your open mouth. The second you swallow it and open your mouth for more Sukuna yanks your head back.

“Hurry and pour it in her mouth.” His rough thrusts are slowly picking up pace. He can't wait any longer, your soft wet ass is clenching his cock begging him to fuck you.

Sukuna’s cock is wonderfully punishing. Stretching and slamming into you with toe curling, body quivering strength. You love how Sukuna fucks you like a toy.

Satoru pours water into your mouth, some of it trickles down your chin and neck as you do your best chug. Whilst Sukuna drags the sharp blade along your soft nipple. You choke and before you can regain your breath Sukuna is shoving over Suguru and Satoru is stuffing his cock in your open mouth.

Spit drips down your chin as he roughly fucks your throat. Gagging you and crooning “Aw she’s crying how fuckin’ hot, look up at me.” You do your best to look up at Satoru’s white mask, his bright blue eyes not covered by black fabric.

You get glimpses of a feral, hungry and playful looking in his piercing blue eyes. You would beg for him to keep fucking you till his balls can't make anymore cum if it wasn't for his cock in your mouth.

It feels so good to have three handsome masked men roughly fucking you. You’re their cum and cock hungry slut. It’s the only thought going through you head.

The wooden frame of the bed groan in protest as they roughly fuck their hard, throbbing cocks into you. Suguru’s fondles your sore breasts, squeezing your side gently. Whilst mercilessly fucking up your sensitive squelching pussy.

You’re quickly losing the ability to think. Why should you anyway when all you need to be is their cock drunk whore.

Suguru brings up, “Let’s place bets on long she can last before the six of us are too much for her. After Choso we can pass her down the line until her slutty ass n’ cunt can’t handle anymore cock n’ cum.”

Oreo’s m.list

[slttygeto]

Actors on Actors | Toji Fushiguro

pairing: actor! toji x actress! reader

genre: interview style, slightly suggestive on toji's part

note: ah shit here we go again

📊 Video Stats

10M views | 350K likes | 40K comments

Convincing Toji to do this interview was as hard as his team had expected. 

The man was extremely private, always giving short answers on red carpets but they were more than enough to feed his fans. Coupled with a confident smirk of his and a proud display of the scar on his lip, the man knew he had people swooning for him. 

However, he wasn’t fond of interviews. It was evident in the way he leaned back in his chair with his arms crossed over his chest, a bored look on his face and only answering when the question pertains to his character only. 

Other than that, you couldn’t get a single word out of this man.

When you heard that you were invited to be on an episode of Actors on Actors, you were both excited and nervous. Talking about yourself wasn’t your favorite thing in the world, but you loved getting to know other people in the industry and bonding with them over shared experiences.

What you don’t expect is to read Toji’s name on the paper. 

“Toji?” you turn to your manager with a look of disbelief on your face. “Fushiguro Toji?”

Your manager gives you an apologetic look. She could see the anxiety brewing inside of you, and you have to place a hand over your heart to calm your nerves. 

Talking to that man was the equivalent of talking to a brick wall. There was no way this was going to be a good interview—and who thought of pairing the two of you together?

The tall, broad shouldered man sits in his changing room with the same paper in hand as his eyes land on his name. His makeup artist catches the glimpse of a smirk on his face before Toji turns to his manager.

“That’s the pretty one, right?”

His manager chuckles before placing a hand on Toji’s shoulder. “The one and only.”

“Maybe it won’t be so bad.”

The interview is off to an awkward start. At least from your part. 

You feel small under the gaze of such an intimidating man, putting a leg over the other and pulling down the hem of your short dress to hide as much of you as possible. That doesn’t stop Toji’s shameless gawking as the two of you shake hands.

“I’m (Name), nice to meet you.”

“‘course I know who you are,” the words roll of his tongue smoothly and he watches as you purse your lips, dropping your gaze. “Fushiguro Toji”

“Very pleased to meet you.” You finally let go of his hand but you could’ve sworn that his hand lingered on top of yours a bit longer. 

When neither of you decide to speak up first, you let out a nervous chuckle while Toji turns to the filming crew with a playful smirk.

“This is fun,”

“I mean…” you trail off, smoothening the fabric of your dress. Again, his eyes land on your thigh and clear your throat.

“I’m…a really huge fan of your work.” your voice is small as you confess your admiration for his work in the industry. “I’m always amazed by your ability to get into character so quickly.”

“Watched some behind the scene footage?”

You were caught.

“Maybe…I mean it’s there!” You laugh and fortunately for you, Toji does as well as he nods. 

“Sure it is. I could say the same about you—” he gestures towards you with a genuine smile. “Great work, it’s rare to see someone so passionate in the industry nowadays.”

“Oh,” you wave your hands. “It’s-it’s nothing, I just really love acting.”

Toji braces himself forward with his elbows on his knees. “How old were you when you thought of giving it a try?” 

Your back straightens up under his gaze and you avoid his eyes as you think of a response. “I was about 6 or 7 when my parents would pull out a camera during Christmas and record me recreating scenes from movies like The Wizard of Oz and The Shining.”

“The Shining?”

“I was a weird kid,” you laugh when you see the look of shock painting his features. “But yeah these two were my favorite movies of all time.”

“That’s interesting, cause in a way I can see you getting into movies like that at a young age.” 

“Really?” 

Toji really likes the glint in your eyes. 

“Mhm,” he nods as he leans back in his armchair. “Like I said I’ve seen some of your work and–” he raises his hands. “I’m a fan.”

You drop your head shyly, silently thanking him for the amount of compliments he was throwing your way. This was honestly going better than you expected, but you knew it was time to ask him questions. 

“Can I just say,” you gesture towards the man. “Your recent work absolutely blew my mind—I mean, the entire movie was just amazing but your role. Wow, just wow.” 

Toji bows down his head when you clap for him, chuckling when you go the extra mile by pretending to bow down for him. 

“That role, was it difficult to get into such a state of mind? I’ve seen many actors—including myself, who needed a much needed break from everything after a certain role. Was it the same for you or were you able to detach yourself from the role easily?”

Toji gives it a thought, taking in the fact that you had crafted this question so carefully unlike any other interview he’s ever been on before. 

“After we finished shooting, I cut off contact with most of the world for about three months straight. I moved out of my neighborhood and into an area where it was just me, the mountains and the sound of birds.”

 Toji proceeds to explain how the role was mentally taxing, how the idea of going back and doing promo for the movie seemed like a huge roadblock he needed to get over. But after lots of therapy and some much needed time off, he was able to get back on his feet. 

“I’m glad that you feel better now, the industry needs good actors like you.” You admit and Toji leans back in his armchair again with a knowing smirk.

“I could say the same about you.”

The interview proceeds smoothly, with the two of you asking each other questions back and forth. After fifty minutes, the interview comes to an end and you get up to share a well deserved goodbye hug. 

However, Toji’s arms linger a little longer around your waist and he whispers something in your ear that’s facing away from the camera.

“You look good by the way.”

Guys, the mics are still on!

🗨️ Top Comments

💬 [somethingsgottagive]: DID YALL SEE THAT (6k likes)

💬 [somuchtosay]: this entire interview is just toji flirting with her im losing my mind (5k likes)

💬 [onehastogo]: ive never seen him this down bad omg??? (7,3K likes)

💬 [theboyismine]: this is the most talkative ive ever seen toji am i sensing smth (1.8K likes)

💬  [sweetnsourchicken] replied to  [theboyismine]: THAT HUG???

💬 [alltheavocadoes]: THE THING HE WHISPERED???(923 likes)

💬 [albumoftheyear]: oh the internet is on FIRE (508 likes)

💬 [cmontryme]: someone check on me ive shipped them for the longest time (392 likes)

💬  [sweetnsourchicken] replied to  [cmontryme]: without a single interaction is crazy

💬 [cmontryme] replied to [sweetnsourchicken]: i’m crazy

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