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oikasugayama · 4 months

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He F--KS You When You're Stuck pt. 1

pt. 1 *Atsushi, Fukuchi, Nikolai | pt. 2 Dazai, Ango, Oda | pt. 3 Kunikida, Sigma, Akutagawa

Disclaimer: These are works of fiction. The actions in these stories do not reflect real actions taken in the source material. I do not condone the actions some characters may take in these stories. If you are sensitive to potential non-consensual activity, do not read this series.

Contains: fem!reader being stuck/confined, non-con, fingering, spitting, doggy style, cunnilingus, masturbation, degradation, being used as a toy, etc.

*Atsushi

*This idea was originally for Atsushi, so his section is mostly a drabble! Enjoy!

You're getting ready for your first date with Atsushi when you drop an earring into your bathroom sink. It's your absolute favorite so you scramble to save it before it goes down the drain, but no-- it disappears into the darkness.

"Fuck," you swear, dropping to your knees to open the cabinet beneath the sink. The drain pipe has a bend in it before it disappears into the wall. If you're lucky the earring just dropped and is sitting in the elbow. If you're unlucky, it slid further back into the pipe.

You manage to unscrew the elbow connector by hand, only getting a bit of water on the ground. Your earring isn't in there, though. "Shit, shit, shit," you hiss, trying to look into the pipe on the wall. You have to get your phone flashlight to really see, but there it is!! Just a couple of inches back!!

You ranch one finger inside trying to grasp it, but it's too far back...so you add a second finger since your middle finger is longer, and you push as far as possible in and feel your earring just under your fingertip, and when you try to bend your fingers and pull out-- you can't. You're stuck. Thoroughly.

"You're lucky you had your phone with you," Atsushi says as he walks into your bathroom. "Otherwise, I--" his voice drops off, and you're certain it's because he just laid his eyes on you. You're on your hands and knees on the bathroom floor, your upper body inside the cabinet under the sink, and you're only in your underwear, not having put on your dress yet.

"Yeah, I know. Please, Atsushi, just get in here and help me."

"Right." He slightly stutters when he says it. A heat is stirring in his pants and he feels incredibly guilty, but as he kneels down beside you his eyes are glued to your ass. It's almost entirely exposed to him given your skimpy black thong.

"Um, I can't really-- get-- in there," he says, trying to reach in the narrow space around you without letting his body touch yours. If he feels your warmth and your sturdiness right now he's really going to lose himself.

"Just get closer, I don't care what you have to do, please! This is really uncomfortable, I just need like-- lotion or lube or something."

"Huh?!" You're looking over your shoulder at him and he can see in your eyes that you're serious, but all he can think is I'm hard I'm hard I'm hard I'm hard.

"Look around, I've got some somewhere."

Atsushi meekly agrees and crawls backwards away from you, but when he catches sight of your ass gently swaying as you shift your weight uncomfortably, he can't help but to palm his crotch, which makes him let out an involuntary whine.

"Are you good?" you ask him, and he shakes his head though you can't really see him given that he's behind you.

"It's-- [Y/N], I'm sorry, but you're so hot. I can't help it. I wanna touch you so bad." He scoots forward and presses his clothed dick to your ass, instantly throwing his head back and moaning.

"Atsushi, what the fuck?! This isn't cool-- h-hey! Ohh--" As he grinds against your ass, you feel how big his dick must be, and it sends you a jolt of arousal.

"I know a way to get something slick," he says, and you also hear the tinkling of metal as he unbuckles his belt.

"Atsushi," you say as a warning, but he ignores you.

"I'm gonna make you feel so good," he promises breathily, and then you feel his fingers caressing your cunt through your panties. "I'm gonna get you wet and then we'll get you out of there. Promise."

He pulls your panties to the side and spits, though you don't feel it hit you. You're torn between panic and frustration now, trying to pull your fingers out, but only succeeding in back up onto him, feeling how his hand must be moving over his dick, spreading his spit out as if it'll be slick enough to enter you.

Meanwhile, his fingers dip into you, and you squeal, lurching forward and banging your head against the wall. "Wha-- stop-- Atsushi!" You're ashamed at how wet you already are from him touching you, but you refuse to say so, and you don't want to let him know.

"Don't worry! I'm gonna get you out!" He says, completely brainwashed by how horny he is. His fingers disappear, only to be replaced by something bigger, thicker, and much hotter.

"Oh my god, is that your cock?!" you ask, dropping your head between your arms and guiltily leaning back into him. "Oh my god... Atsushi," you moan, giving in to how good it you just know it's gonna feel.

He whimpers behind you, and both of his hands grab your hips. He starts thrusting immediately, not giving you any time to adjust to him. His strokes are long and firm, making your ass clap against his hips.

"Oh, fuck! Atsushi-- oh, fuck, Atsushi, n-no--" You try to bite back moans and give a final plea for him to stop, but to his ears it only sounds like you moaning his name, which only spurs him on.

"Oh, yeah, baby. Oh, [Y/N]! Oh yeah!" he moans, babbling loudly over the sound of him clapping your cheeks hard. His head is thrown back, his eyes screwed tightly shut. "You're so wet. Oh, you're so hot," he whimpers. "You feel so good!"

"Atsushiiii," you whine, "You're such an asshole." You cut yourself off with a moan, and you find yourself rocking back and forth to meet his thrusts. "Oh, fuck-- It's a-- good thing we-- I was-- I wanted to do this anyway--" You try to say between your moaning and gasping.

"Yeah!" Atsushi agrees loudly. "Wanted to have sex with you so bad. Oh god, I'm gonna cum. I'm gonna cum already, I can't-- I can't-- aaaaaa!!--" With a few rapid, hard thrusts and a loud moan, Atsushi comes, still fucking you, making his cum and your wet squish out around his dick.

When he finally pulls out and falls backwards to sit on his butt, panting to catch his breath, you groan.

"You're not done yet," you tell him sternly.

"I'm so sorry, I'll get you out, I swear!"

"Yeah and after that you've gotta make me cum or I'm never going on a date with you again."

Fukuchi

You had the misfortune of being trapped by a mafia scheme in the tunnels below Yokohama. You're relatively unscathed, thank goodness, but unfortunately the way the train derailed and crashed sent you flying forward and you ended up pinned beneath a seat that got partially crushed when the side of the train dented inward.

Don't worry, though! You've been reassured that the mighty hero Fukuchi and his team of Hunting Dogs are coming to rescue survivors! You're so relieved, as you know of Fukuchi and how incredibly his reputation is. You have no doubt he'll save you.

"What pretty panties," is not the first thing you expect to hear from him, but when he kneels down and pats your butt, you realize your dress must have come upwards and exposed you.

"Sir?" you stutter out when his gloved fingers stroke up and down your crack all the way down between your legs to your cunt.

"This is thanks enough for the mighty Hunting Dogs saving you, wouldn't you say?"

"P-please?" you ask, meaning "say that again" or "excuse me?" but he takes it as you begging.

"Good girl," Fukuchi says, slowly removing his gloves.

He doesn't put his dick in you, but he does get a face full of your ass and pussy as he eats you out like there's no tomorrow, getting sloppy and messy, even spitting on your cunt when two of his fingers come up to rub back and forth acoss your clit

He makes you cum and demands you scream his name while you do it. When he finally gets you out of the seat and stands you up, he hands you a handkerchief and makes you wipe your wet and cum off of his face and especially out of his mustache.

"I trust this will stay between us. Go get your injuries checked out." and then he sends you on your way, not even casting a look at you over his shoulder.

Nikolai

He forces the situation in which you're stuck. You've been his plaything for a while now and you didn't have a choice about it. He fell in lust at first sight when you started working with one of the cover-up companies for the decay of angels. he sent you flowers, treats, popped his head in now and again to talk to you, and you talked to him too because honestly he's handsome, though he makes you nervous because you know he's dangerous.

then one night his portal spawned and he appeared in your bedroom in the middle of your alone time

"What beauty!" he said, watching the panic overcome your face as you clamped your legs closed, hiding his view of the dildo buried in your sopping wet pussy. "Apologies for being late."

You freak out, telling him to leave, threatening to call the police. you reach for your phone but he gets it away from you. somehow you end up pinned down, and when you think you've fought your way free you realize you're not actually making any progress.

Nikolai summons a portal and sends the top half of your body onto the floor, while the bottom half of your body he stays on the bed. he uses his hands and knees to keep your thighs spread and your pussy exposed while he pushes his pants down just far enough for his cock to spring free.

you feel every bit of it while you see it. you watch from the floor as he fucks you on the bed. you feel his pants rubbing against your legs, you feel his fingers digging into your plush love-handles, and it's so. fucking. hot.

you had been thinking about him while masturbating anyway, and from the way he said "sorry i'm late" he must have known it, though you have no idea how. now he rails you hard, and his stamina is incredible. he's fucking you for twenty minutes straight, moving you around, flipping you over, getting different angles, before he realizes you're moaning and enjoying it. you're calling his name because you want to touch him, not because you're telling him to stop.

finally he pulls you back through the portal so he can play with your tits and cum on your face when he's finally done with his new favorite fuck toy

#bsd x reader #atsushi x reader #atsushi smut #atsushi #atsushi headcanons #fukuchi smut #fukuchi x reader #hunting dogs x reader #hunting dogs smut #hunting dogs headcanons #fukuchi headcanons #nikolai x reader #nikolai smut #nikolai headcanons #mdni #tw noncon

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tongue-like-a-razor · 6 months

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Ex Appeal

Jake "Hangman" Seresin x F!Reader

Summary: Jake Seresin gets a frightful visitor on Halloween.

CW: Angst, fluff, suggestive themes, alludes to past cheating

WC: 3500+

This fic was written for @roosterforme’s Rocktober challenge! Inspired by the song Poison by Alice Cooper.

Masterlist

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Jake says with a look of disgust – as much of it as he can muster. You, after all, have been his greatest source of misery as of late.

You give him a dirty look – your specialty – and barge into his home as though you own the place and Jake’s just a goddamn doorman. “I need to lay low for a bit.”

Jake narrows his eyes as he turns to face you. He keeps the door open because he’s still hoping you’re going to leave any minute. “Lay low?” he asks mockingly. “What’d you do? Commit murder?” He wouldn’t be surprised.

You peek around his arm to glance out at the street. “Someone’s looking for me.”

Jake watches you impassively. “Is it the police?” Then, after a moment, he adds, “Is there a reward?”

You roll your eyes. “You’re the only one in this neighbourhood that I trust,” you say, pushing on the door that Jake is obstinately keeping open.

Jake nods. “Shame that trust doesn’t go both ways,” he comments contemptuously.

You eye him irritably. “Close the door.”

“Tell me why you’re here.”

“I just did.”

Jake shakes his head. “You could not have been more vague.”

You sigh. “Close the door and I’ll tell you.”

Jake exhales warily and shuts the front door. He surveys your outfit. “What are you wearing?”

You glance down at your ensemble: a black, form-fitting body suit and fishnet stockings. You’re also sporting knee-high boots and you’ve got what looks like six extra arms coming out of your back. You look back up at him with an annoyed expression on your face. “It’s Halloween,” you snap defensively.

Jake grimaces. “Yeah, I know.” He gestures to a cauldron full of candy sitting near the front door. “There’s gonna be a fuck-tonne of children coming through here trick-or-treating in like half an hour and you’re dressed like a gothic porn star.”

Instead of being offended, you lift your eyebrows in surprise. “You’re handing out candy?”

Jake sighs and places his hands on his hips, fixing you with a stern look. “Yeah, I’m handing out candy. That’s what adults do on Halloween.”

You stare at him as a smile materializes on your face. “Is that your costume?” you ask facetiously, gesturing at his checkered polo shirt. “Adult?”

Jake squares his jaw to mask the fact that he found your joke humorous, but you seem to notice the shift in his features because your own grin broadens. “My mom got me this shirt,” he says.

“Ah,” you respond. “A fellow adult.”

Jake tears his gaze away from you, focusing instead on the shiny, pointed toes of your stilettos. “Why’re you here?” he asks again, this time a lot less peevishly and a lot more grimly.

You bend down to unzip your boots. “I’m a spider,” you say. “Black widow.”

Jake glances up to meet your gaze as you straighten up. He nods. “Suits you.”

You give him a flat look. “I was at the bus stop and some dude started harassing me.”

Jake’s eyes trail down your scantily glad body. “You don’t say,” he remarks sarcastically.

Your jaw drops in outrage. “Are you victim blaming?”

Jake chuckles and shakes his head. “It was a joke.”

You cringe. “It was in poor taste.”

Jake closes his eyes and lets out a tired sigh. He’s had about enough of your attitude. “You wanna talk about poor taste?” he asks. “Where’s that lovely boyfriend of yours?”

You watch him sourly. “We’re not together anymore, if you must know,” you reply.

Truth be told, Jake probably didn’t need to know. But, now that he does, it’s only fitting that he respond with, “Shocking.”

You give him the finger. As if he were the one who’d been dating two people at the same time.

There’s a knock on the door. “Fuck,” he mutters, giving you a moody look. “Hide,” he says. “Unless you’d rather traumatize a bunch of eight-year-olds.”

You grimace at him. “You think eight-year-olds haven’t seen worse?”

Jake scans the low-cut neckline of your costume. He can’t think of anything more erotic if he tried. But, if he’s being honest, it’s not the outfit so much as your insane body that’s the culprit. He reaches out to grab your hand and pull you aside, making sure you’re tucked safely behind the door before opening it.

He smiles down at the two little kids on his porch when they yell, “TRICK-OR-TREAT!” at the top of their lungs.

“Well, well, well,” he says cheerily, bending down to grab a handful of candy out of his cauldron. “Who do we have here?” He puts the candy into one of their bags. “Are you a mermaid?”

The girl nods happily.

Jake wows in amazement. “You’re the prettiest mermaid I’ve ever seen!” He bends down to grab another handful of candy and drops it into the second child’s bag. “And you must be Iron Man!” he exclaims. “That’s one cool costume, bud. You look great!”

When Jake finally closes the door and looks at you, he sees that you’ve got your arms folded over your chest and a giant smirk on your face.

“What?” he asks darkly.

Your smile widens. “That was cute.”

Jake takes a step from the door and looks away from you. He’s not about to get sucked back into your web of lies, no pun intended. “You wanna hand some out?” he asks.

“I thought you don’t want me traumatizing the children,” you respond sarcastically, stepping out of the corner toward him.

Jake glances at you with a small smile. “I can give you some clothes, if you like.”

You wiggle your eyebrows. “Adult clothes?”

Jake rolls his eyes. “Come on, before more kids show up.”

He makes his way into his bedroom and grabs a pair of jogging pants and t-shirt and brings them back out for you. “Bathroom’s down the hall,” he says.

“I remember,” you respond, but you’ve already started to remove your bodysuit.

Jake turns away in alarm and holds out the clothes for you. “Do you?”

“Come on, it’s not like you haven’t seen it all before,” you say. “Shoot, I’m not wearing any underwear.”

Jake groans. “Are you for fucking real?”

“You got a pair of boxers?”

Jake swallows uncomfortably. “Hold this,” he instructs, keeping a hand over his eyes as he hands you the crumpled clothes and starts back for his bedroom.

“You know what? I’ll just go commando.”

Jake takes a deep, cleansing breath and turns back toward you. He keeps his eyes closed and holds a hand out so as not to bump into anything as he walks. Of course, as luck would have it, he stumbles into you.

“What the fuck, dude?” you exclaim as his hands cling to your naked body, steadying you so you don’t fall over.

Jake squeezes his eyes tightly so that they don’t open inadvertently. “Sorry, sorry!” he winces, finally stabilizing both himself and you. He feels the softness of your skin underneath his palms as his hands do a final sweep along your back before he lifts them away from your body with a grimace. He’s bracing himself for a punch in the face.

“Are you a dumbass? Open your eyes!” you screech. “You’ve seen me naked how many times?!”

“Twelve,” he responds, a little hoarsely. All he can think about is how smooth your skin felt in his hands not a moment ago and it’s driving him a little mad.

“It was a rhetorical question,” you say pointedly. “You counted?”

“Are you decent yet?” he asks, clearing his throat.

“I’m never decent,” you mutter under your breath and Jake can’t help but smirk. “But if you’re asking whether or not I’m dressed. Then, yes, I am.”

Jake releases a heavy sigh and opens his eyes cautiously.

You scowl at him. “What, you think I’m tricking you?”

“Well, you aren’t treating me.”

You stare at him coolly. “You’re such a delight. Can’t imagine why we ever broke up.”

“Need a reminder?” he calls as you make your way back into the front hall. “It’s because you cheated on me!”

You’re standing at the front door with your arms crossed. “I didn’t cheat, for the last time,” you retort. “We weren’t exclusive.”

Jake presses his lips into a thin line. “I was exclusive.”

You shake your head in frustration. “Let’s just agree to disagree.”

“Fine.”

“Great.”

There’s another knock on the door. You sigh irritably and reach for the doorknob.

“Hello!” you exclaim enthusiastically the moment the door is open.

The mob of children on Jake’s doorstep all look up at you with exuberant grins and yell their opening line in a loud, messy chorus.

You react with an animated gasp. “Oh my goodness! You guys are a frightful bunch!”

The kids laugh. Indeed, they’re dressed as zombies, ghosts, and vampires, and, when you comment on their appearance, they growl and make scary faces at you. Jake smiles at them and then at you as you distribute the candy from the cauldron excitedly.

Once the door is closed, however, you drop the act, giving him an icy look as you settle yourself on the little bench near the door.

Jake fights the urge to sit next to you and maybe get a little lost in the smell of your perfume. He still gets a whiff of it from time to time when he walks by his closet. Which reminds him –

“I have your sweater,” he says awkwardly.

You glance up at him coldly. “Well, why didn’t you give it to me? It’d probably look better than this.” You tug on the hem of the t-shirt he gave you.

Jake doubts it; the fact that he could see your nipples through the fabric of his own shirt is even more of a turn on than your low-cut bodysuit had been. But he responds with, “Probably. But I’m not about to let you change again.”

You snort. “Fair.”

Jake wonders just how detrimental sitting next to you might be to his personal journey of recovery. He figures that you also would prefer that he stay as far away from you as possible. Ultimately, however, he decides that it’s his bench, after all, and that he’ll be sharing it with you and not the other way around. And, with regard to getting over you, well, he can try again tomorrow.

Jake makes his way over to the bench and you eye him cautiously as he approaches. Silently, you slide to make room for him. He gulps nervously and lowers himself onto the seat beside you.

“What were you doing at the bus stop, anyway?” he asks, staring down at his own clasped hands because he can’t handle looking at you when you’re sitting so close.

“Frank and I were on our way to a party,” you respond sullenly.

Jake glances up at you despite himself. “Thought you two broke up.”

You meet his gaze and promptly look away – apparently, you’re not too keen on engaging in eye contact at this proximity either. “We did,” you say curtly. “About an hour ago.”

Jake raises his eyebrows. “An hour ago?”

“We had a fight on the way. I hopped out of the car at a red light.”

Jake leaps out of his seat. “Are you crazy?” he exclaims. “Do you have any idea how dangerous that is?”

You give him an amused look. “Don’t you fly jets for a living?”

Jake gapes at you incredulously. “I trained for that,” he retorts.

You let out a small laugh. “You’re right,” you reply. “I should’ve practiced first.”

Jake draws a hand over his mouth. “Okay, so you got out of the car in the middle of traffic,” he says with a wince. “And he, what? Just let you go?”

You shrug. “Wouldn’t you?”

Jake raises his eyebrows. “In what you were wearing? I wouldn’t even let you go to the bathroom by yourself.”

You stare at him with a grin. “That’s a bit excessive.”

“Yeah?” he asks. “How many guys made passes at you before you finally decided that taking the bus home wasn’t the brightest idea?”

You lower your gaze without responding.

“As if that douchebag just left you,” Jake says angrily.

“Well, I wasn’t being very nice.”

“There’s a surprise.”

You eye him dangerously.

“You could’ve gotten hurt,” Jake says. “This isn’t the safest neighbourhood.”

You suck in your cheeks and nod. “Yeah, I was pretty freaked out actually,” you admit. “There was a group of guys following me and they kept making lewd comments. When I got to the bus stop, they sort of surrounded me…”

You trail off and Jake’s hands curls into fists of their own volition. “I could kill your boyfriend.”

“Ex,” you remind him.

“Whatever,” he says. After a moment, he asks, “Are you okay?”

You nod. “I pretended to call someone – you actually,” you say with a laugh. “I had a whole fake conversation with you on my way over. They lost interest in me after a little while and took off.”

He watches you solemnly. “You could’ve actually called me,” he says.

Your face turns skeptical. “Right. And you’d pick up?”

Probably not. “Of course,” he responds. Then he sighs and shakes his head. “Maybe I wouldn’t.”

“It’s fine,” you say. “I wouldn’t blame you.”

Jake sighs and sits back down beside you.

Several more groups of trick-or-treaters come and go and you and him take turns answering the door. Occasionally, both of you jump up at the same time and end up oohing and aahing in unison at the various costumes that grace Jake’s doorstep.

This activity does little to help quell the feelings he’s tried for months to repress. He remembers grudgingly the night he told you he was falling for you and you telling him that you weren’t ready for that kind of commitment. That’s when he found out that he wasn’t the only one you’d been seeing.

In your defense, it’s not something you had been actively hiding. In fact, you probably thought that Jake was also sleeping around, given his reputation. But Jake caught feelings like an idiot and was heartbroken when you finally showed your cards.

He spent nearly a year convincing himself that you’re absolute scum. Yet, here you are, looking cute as a button in his joggers and t-shirt, laughing giddily at the neighborhood children like you’re some kind of sweetheart. Like you could fool him now.

Jake slumps back down on the bench, trying to interact with you as little as possible. He can sense that you’re starting to win him over again, and he can’t have that happen. He will not be seduced.

You sit beside him with a grand sigh and lean your head back against the wall. “You get a lot of kids here,” you say lightly.

“Mm-hm,” he hums, bending forward to rest his arms on his legs.

“I’m getting hungry,” you say. “You?”

Jake closes his eyes. The last thing he needs is a fucking dinner date with you. “There are some leftovers in the fridge. You can go heat some up for yourself.”

You lay a hand on his back and Jake goes rigid. “You’re not going to eat?” you ask.

“Not hungry,” he manages to say.

Your hand slides unhurriedly down his spine, your fingers grazing him delicately. Jake brings a fist to his mouth to suppress a moan. “I’ll wait, then,” you say softly. Then, before Jake can gather the strength to remove himself from the situation, you lean your body into his and rest your head on his shoulder.

Jake sits very still, trying to decide how best to navigate this turn of events.

“Do you ever miss me?” you murmur faintly.

Jake turns his head to look down at your face while his heart springs into his throat to constrict his breathing. “What are you doing?” he asks huskily.

Your eyes stare deeply into his. “I’m just wondering,” you whisper.

Jake sighs and rubs his forehead. “You just broke up with Frank.”

Your eyes start to fill with tears. “I miss you.”

“Fuck,” Jake mutters and straightens his back. His head drops like a deadweight against the drywall in behind.

You’re displaced in the process but, once he’s situated, you slowly move closer, until your head is resting over his chest.

Jake grits his teeth but wraps his arm around you and, in response, you lay your arm over his abdomen. He can feel your fingers twist into the fabric of his shirt. He tightens his embrace around your shoulders and curses some more, in silence this time. What is it about you that he just can’t resist?

You lift your head off his chest so you can be face to face with him. Jake tries very hard not to lock eyes with you because that would likely be the end of him. “Jake,” you say in a wispy sort of tone and Jake instantly loses that fight. He meets your gaze, and your eyes entrance him. “I want you to kiss me,” you breathe.

Jake can almost taste the citrus of your perfume; it hangs over you like a veil. He can already hear your melodic moans; he knows what you sound like when he touches you. He can feel the rise and fall of your chest, the ardent urging of your hands as they slip underneath his shirt.

But what he can’t do is kiss you.

Your lips… your lips are all he can think about. He wants you more than anything in the world but you’re not here the same way he’s here; you’re just passing through while he’s here to stay.

You come impossibly close, aching for just a split second of contact. “Don’t you want to?” you whisper.

Jake can hardly stand being this close to you. “Why are you doing this?” he asks in a low, uneven voice.

You gulp and the tip of your nose brushes his. “I want to be with you, Jake,” you whimper, your fingers digging persistently into his ribs. Your travelling hands ignite a chain of pyrotechnics under his skin that sort of set his entire chest ablaze. “Don’t you want that?”

If only you knew how much. He shakes his head, cupping your cheek in his hand. “How can that be? When you’ve only been single for an hour?”

Your eyes start to sparkle. “You don’t believe me?”

He’ll never believe a word you say. But that doesn’t make him want you any less. He catches the tears that stream down your face with his thumb.

“I never got over you, Jake,” you say, clasping your hand over his on your cheek. “I think about you all the time.”

Jake leans his head into yours and grips your hand in his. If you’re telling the truth, he sympathizes. But, more likely than not, every word coming out of your mouth is fiction.

You push him away and sit up straight, wiping at your tears. “I never meant to hurt you,” you say. “I made a mistake. I realized that the moment you left. And I was too proud to go after you.”

Jake grimaces. “So, you dated Frank for ten months?”

You shrug. “On and off. He cheated on me, so…” you trail off with a cynical laugh. “Got what I deserved.”

Jake furrows his brows. “You don’t deserve that.”

You glance up at him with renewed hope. “I don’t deserve you,” you say with a strangled sigh. “I know that. And you know that, obviously. Which is why you won’t kiss me.”

Jake shakes his head.

“I know that it’s long over, Jake. I’m not delusional,” you say, your eyes so penetrating it feels like they’re clawing right into his soul. “And, I swear, I did not come here for this. It’s just, seeing you again – and your fucking disgustingly adorable adult shirt – handing out candy like a well-adjusted member of society – it reminded me what I missed out on.”

Jake lifts his eyebrows. “A lame, costume-less, party-less Halloween?”

You smile. “It’s not lame. It’s perfect.”

Jake watches you wretchedly. You may look innocent sitting before him in his very own baggy joggers and t-shirt with your dizzyingly beautiful eyes. But you are a fucking black widow. With a venomous bite. And sweet lips that spew lies, webs of which he could never untangle. Poison on the tongue. Toxic to the bone. Fatal. “You’re perfect,” he says.

You gaze at him tenderly, waiting for your moment to strike. Jake is waiting too. There’s no use fighting it, he lost the moment he met you. And he’ll lose as many times as it will take to win you for good.

Hangman Tag List:

A/N: The rest of the list will be in the comments. Let me know if you don't want to be tagged anymore.

@atarmychick007

@callsign-sunshine

@shanimallina87

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shuttershocky · 1 year

Note

this overwatch 2 shit has GOT to be illegal right? I mean, they sold the game on the promise of PvE and now they cancel it. This better earn them a false advertising charge

And the wildest part is that you can't even play Overwatch 1 anymore.

Anyone who's followed this blog long enough has probably seen me post a rant about how terrible video games are at media preservation, and how we should preserve games (even ones we don't like) to be playable in some manner long after the developers take the servers offline because games are art and deserve to be able to be experienced by the future long after they've been discarded by their makers as a product.

You can't do that anymore with Overwatch 1, a game that wasn't even free to play.

People paid 40$ in 2016, 60$ if they went for the deluxe edition, to play Overwatch. New heroes, maps, etc were promised to come as free updates, instantly accessible for anyone to play without grinding or microtransactions (though there were mtx for cosmetics) and that the game would be supported for many years.

This was one of the many reasons why Overwatch back then absorbed a large part of TF2's playerbase: TF2 had been chugging along since 2007, at the 8-9 year point its updates were winding down and people have accepted it was finally hitting the end of tis life, and were looking for a new cartoon team shooter that would last for years. OW was not TF2's successor and was never intended to be, but that promise of many years of free support was a major part of why people gave it a chance just the same.

And then just 3 years later in 2019 they announced Overwatch 2, a game that looked really, really similar to Overwatch 1, except it was going to have the actual story missions via PvE mode that Overwatch 1 didn't have. They said there would be enough new things to justify the '2', and that people who bought Overwatch 1 need not worry about their investment in the first game.

And then it turned out what they meant by that was that they were killing Overwatch 1 by closing its servers, forcing everyone to move over to Overwatch 2, a Free to Play game where you had to grind to unlock the new heroes (people who bought OW1 instantly had the new hero unlocked but come on), was chock full of the usual Free to Play engagement mechanics, and changed the 6v6 format to 5v5, if you had a full squad of friends before, you had to tell one guy to get fucked.

I think the worst part was that when people were understandably angry that Overwatch 2's actual changes from the original were almost all monetization based, games journalists that pressed Blizzard on why players now had to grind a battlepass for heroes, which Overwatch 1 had always given for free, were met with a "well, heroes are the strongest engagement point for our players" type of deflection where they didn't even try to hide their reasons behind something respectable.

Now they're announcing that OW2's PvE mode, the whole (public) reason they made OW2 a sequel instead of an update to OW1, isn't even happening anymore, and Overwatch 1's original 6v6 remains dead and inaccessible.

I didn't like Overwatch 1. I was really hyped for it when it came out, but found myself really disliking the gameplay (especially on its map design which I thought was terrible) which only worsened with its creative and balancing direction until I lost interest in only a few weeks.

Still, killing OW1 to force all players to move to OW2's free to play model was inexcusable. All art must be preserved in some manner, even ones we don't think are good enough to be worth preserving. Overwatch in particular was so massive in 2016-2018 that to kill it is to make inaccessible the source material of a kajillion other pieces of art from those years.

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empty-movement · 3 months

Text

Empty Movement's 2023 Revolutionary Girl Utena UPDATE

Fashionably late? As always. 2023 was a HUGE year for Empty Movement, so much so that to confess, we did a big fail in actually keeping up with sharing the stuff we did! OOPS. So finally, we proudly bring you: all the Revolutionary Girl Utena content we dropped in 2023. Essays, artbooks, CD information, you name it. Click below for the entire site update, or get it at the source, as always, at ohtori.nu.

In Analysis (Fan Essays): • seebee's essay The Power of Living an Embodying Narrative is about more than Utena, it's about the fandom--including us. We were both interviewed for this piece, and the result is an absolutely beautiful essay that has helped inform how we do Utena stuff going forward. Thank you so much for letting us be part of this! • seebee's VIDEO essay FILM CUTS BACK | transfeminism in utena absolutely blew our minds and it's so good we're listing it. Look at the title. Just go watch it, it rules. • Nicole Winchester's essay No Choice But To Become Witches: The Bishōjo-Demonic Phallic Mother Dichotomy in Revolutionary Girl Utena catches you up to speed on the academic discussion around what might best be described as the shoujo manga iteration of the Madonna-Whore complex. Then, naturally, it finds plenty to say about Utena. Great work that was well worth the coding!

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In From the Mouths of Babes (Translated Meta/Creator Content): • Cross X Talk, A Round Table Discussion Commemorating the Second Musical Utena GOGAI FUCKIN' GOGAI. Nagumo and friends bring us the final untranslated part of the 2019 Black Rose Musical's program guide: the monster interview with Ikuhara and the director of the musicals, Yoshitani. INCREDIBLE content here that 100% lives up to the first musical's similar encounter! A must read!! • The Rose Apocalypse's Ei Takatori Interview The director of the mysterious 1999 musical (yes the machine gun one, and YES WE HAVE MORE INFORMATION ABOUT IT COMING) interviewed in The Rose Apocalypse book. This...is that. Thank you so much to iris hahn for translating, and I can't wait to bring you more of this mythology!!! • The Utena Dossier Animage Magazine's June 1997 supplemental, this 36-page Utena tome has ben translated by Nagumo with editing by Ayu Ohseki. Because so much of the content is in its visual presentation, I worked the translation into the original scans! Check it out! (PS. Yes that is an entirely different gallery on the emptymovement.com domain, no this won't stay there, yes it has been a weird couple years.) The Dossier includes two long interviews that are also worked into html pages for easy viewing! The Auspicious Joining of Manga and Anime: Saito and Hasegawa For Whom the Director Smiles: Ikuhara and Kitakubo

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In Historia Arcana & The Bibliothèque (Untranslated Resources): • There are a lot of changes happening in this arena!!! How and where to place different materials has been a moving target, so I'll do my best! The sites don't quite reflect this yet, but Historia Arcana will be for cover to cover Utena media, including special magazine publications. Something Eternal's gallery, the Bibliothèque, will be for magazine articles, clippings, and other things. Major artbooks will likely be in both places, cross referenced. New books in Historia Arcana: • The Rose Spiral: Reflections on the Mythology of Utena While not strictly official, this is a fan published book of in depth analysis of Utena, circa 1998! Yep, cover to cover. • Revolution Dictionary (OST 1 First Press Bonus) Cross-referenced from Audiology, this is the bonus dictionary you only got if you grabbed it early! Cool! • Revolutionary Girl Utena Making of Visuals Book Art of UTENA I am mentioning this for completions sake and because I already uploaded it, but this is a cover to cover high resolution, uncleaned scan of the 1999 Art of Utena artbook. I am going to clean the scans, and ultimately be posting the official artbooks elsewhere. • Revolutionary Girl Utena Photobook: Rose Memories This special Animage bonus could be purchased for 700 yen, and back then, was probably a great way to keep the anime in your pocket! It's entirely shots from the TV series, though, so there's nothing specifically new. But I scan it all, baby. New books in the Bibliothèque: • Chiho Saito's 1999 Revolutionary Girl Utena Original Illustration Collection HI THIS IS A VERY BIG DEAL. Read more about why when you visit! TLDR? Here's some of the best artwork of Utena, rescanned and remastered by yours truly to be the best big big scans of big big beautiful Chiho Saito Art. This is a feast. I even made myself a calendar! (Note that the price is such that I don't make a profit on these, so if you're looking to donate, definitely go by other routes, haha.) You will find multiple ways to obtain the scans, and in more than one size. Either way you soak up the rays, enjoy 'em! New articles and clips in the Bibliothèque: • H! Rockin' on Japan Magazine Saito X Oikawa This fashion music magazine's July 1999 article has ALREADY BEEN TRANSLATED? Like, I am going to add the translation officially to the site of course, but holy hell Nagumo is amazing!! This article is actually the origin of a Saito art piece that uh, well. Now we know she went to a love hotel with movie Akio's VA. Cool! Anyway check it out! • Comickers Magazine, August 1997 This absolute monster find is an industry-focused magazine with this gorgeous spread and interview with Chiho Saito. It gets into how she does things. The making of Utena. All kinds of stuff. I'd LOVE to know more about this one!! • Comickers Magazine, June 1998 Again, an industry-focused publication, this time it's exploring the manga and the anime and how they compare. Again looks like a tasty meal!! • Volks Magazine, Spring 2022 YEP SCANS OF THE BOOK OF THE DOLLFIES. For a lot of us, this is at close as we get to these ludicrously gorgeous dolls. I included a few extra pages because they were just fuckin' cool and felt relevant. • Sega Saturn Magazine, December 1997 One of two grabs I got recently on Yahoo! Japan! This appears to be the first look announcement of the 1998 Utena video game! (Yes we have more on it, yes we will eventually post links.) • Sega Saturn Magazine, April 1998 This feature brings attention to the voice actors, who are all returning for the game! • Dengeki G's Magazine, January 1998 Another gaming focused magazine, with frankly a more adult edge, cheaply lets the readers know about Utena. These three game magazine moments are just a bizarre reminder of how we did things before the internet, LMAO

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In Audiology (Music and CD Information): • Complete information about the STAR CHILD - Girls Character Song Best album! You also definitely can't grab the two new remix tracks there. • Did you know there was a first press bonus dictionary for the first OST? I DIDN'T UNTIL RECENTLY. Now I know all about it, and so can you. Check it out! Obviously, scans available, both here and in Historia Arcana. • I FINALLY acquired a complete set of the Utena CD singles!! Check out complete track lists, scans, and information for ALL FIVE Utena singles. Yes. Including the movie Akio guy's one.

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In The Doujinshi Gallery: • Several dozen dounjinshi were uploaded earlier in the year, and can be found listed on the Site Update archive here.

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That's all for now, folks! There's so so so much coming. I have the episode 18 and 20 (!!!!) storyboards to scan, as well as a fully translated scanlation of The Duelist Bible. We're planning to do something for Anthy's rare LEAP YEAR birthday coming up, probably a musical stream or something! Love!

#revolutionary girl utena #rgu #empty movement #empty movement update #utena meta #chiho saito #shoujo kakumei utena #utena movie #utena merch #utena

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runningfrom2am · 4 months

Text

cold nights // part three

summary: all the stars aligned, and it was you.

pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader

wc: 2.8k

masterlists / nav / requests

tags/warnings: tribute!reader and mentor!coriolanus, r is very sweet (too kind for this world. literally.), sunshine x grumpy trope kinda, he falls first, violence typical for the source material, r is very smart (as she should), district twelve!reader.

a/n: this is where it starts to get different (i hope!)

series masterlist // playlist

You saw two deaths in one day, and the games had not even started.

The local girl, who you didn't have the pleasure of learning the name of, had taken her final breaths in the arms of your mentor before he was dragged away. You hoped he was doing okay. And the girl from District Ten, Brandy. She had guts, you had to admire that about her- but killing an innocent was something you struggled to understand.

Coriolanus's classmate was only guilty of a cruel joke, and to you, that didn't warrant violence. However, the misdirected anger from your fellow tributes was valid. You just got lucky with Coryo as your mentor.

You spent your night reaching through the bars to pick weeds and flowers to place with Brandy while she slept. "For in that sleep of death what dreams may come, when we have shuffled off this mortal coil, must give us pause: there's the respect that makes calamity of so long life," repeating in your mind.

"It's my fault... It was my idea to get closer to the tributes but I didn't know this would happen." Coryo says, sat at the dining room table with his cousin and Grandma'am. He was sent home as soon as he was dragged out of the zoo, and he's not sure he had a coherent walk the entire walk home.

"You're just lucky your poet didn't do the same to you. Stay away. District people are a different breed, Coriolanus."

Tigris chews on her lip next to him, her cousin's arm wrapped around her back. "She's not a rebel, grandma'am. She's just a girl."

"No, I can see it in her eyes and the way she carries herself. That one hasn't been a girl in a long time." She shakes her head disapprovingly.

"You haven't met her, she won't hurt me." Coryo insists. "She's far too... gentle, unfortunately. At least Arachne's tribute would have done well in the games."

"It doesn't matter, Coryo." Tigris states. "If that's not who she is we can't force her. What do you think a change like that would do to someone?"

"I just want her to win."

"Dean Highbottom said that she doesn't have to win for you to get the prize."

"I know that." He mutters, closing his eyes and rubbing his forehead with his free hand. "It's not about..." He stands up, pushing his hair back out of his face. "I have homework to do. Goodnight." And just like that, he's gone.

Come the morning, you were awoken from your slumber next to her no longer bleeding body by peacekeepers barging in with guns- one pointed at every last one of you. You backed away as they grabbed her, careless of her arms which you had delicately crossed, or the flowers you placed in her hair.

You were shackled alongside each other, and then forced back into the truck that delivered you to the zoo so recently.

"Don't be scared..." You whisper to the young girl on the bench next to you, watching as she cried, her pleas for answers going ignored by the others. "The world will be a better place tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" Wovey sniffles, looking up at you as you reach up with tethered hands to brush her dark hair back from her face.

"Tomorrow." You nod, smiling at her sadly. You didn't know where you were going, but you doubted it meant anything good. You were supposed to have some more time before the games, but it's not impossible they would be moved in the fallout of the murders. Tomorrow, given your deaths today, would be a safer place for you both.

It wasn't a long ride before the doors were opened and you were all pulled out, and tied to a vehicle while Brandy's body was being hung above you. A parade? This was new, you were sure, you had never heard of such a thing before in the games as they were, although, no one from Twelve had ever returned to tell the story.

You were forced to walk alongside the vehicle as it moved, down an empty street and onto a much more populated one. You wondered if Coriolanus was there, until you reached your destination, and you heard his voice.

You didn't take Coriolanus Snow for a singer, but people shock you every day. There's a screen set up, and you can see him there. He looks uncomfortable, you can see in his eyes that he doesn't want to be there, but by now you've gathered that this is a funeral for his classmate; he likely wasn't given a choice.

You couldn't look at anything else happening around you. If you look at the casket in front of you, or god forbid the body hung above your head, you would burst into tears. This is what the Capitol deemed as justice for the loss of one of their young people- how did they think District people felt every year when their children were torn from them to face an eerily similar fate? The lack of empathy could make you ill. So your eyes remained locked on the blonde boy on the screen until the very end.

Coriolanus couldn't look at you. He knew you were there, all the tributes were. He took one look at you shivering under the metal that encased your wrists on bare skin, and he couldn't look back. You didn't do this to Arachne, you couldn't. Unfortunately, he's certain you wouldn't hurt a fly. To him, it felt unjust to drag you into this.

As soon as he was done and returned to his seat as chief mourner for a girl he didn't even like, he couldn't help but let his gaze track you again. You had tears in your eyes. He could see it even from a distance. You were scared, or you were saddened even by the funeral of a stranger. Your emotions were a mystery to him. You clutched your hands to your chest as you followed the car you were tied to, eyes glued to the ground at your feet as people simultaneously booed at you and cheered at the tribute hanging over your head- and he thought he was humiliated by having to sing. To be a spectacle in the Capitol was to be hated, and it was his job to make sure those same people would know you.

As soon as he was free from his duties at Arachne's funeral, he was headed back to the zoo. It took him all day, and the sun was set by the time he made it. "Y/N." He whispered, unable to see you in the dark as he approached the bars of the monkey cage. "Y/N?"

You had awoken to the footsteps, hearing your name being called in hushed tones as you sat up from where you were lying on the cold ground. You had just managed to fall asleep, Jessup had given you his sweater to use as some form of blanket as you laid your head on his stomach. You missed your bed, but body heat was helpful. You didn't think summer nights were truly this cold.

You got up, following your friend's voice over to the bars that separated you. "Coriolanus." You whisper, trying to smile. "It's late."

"Are you okay?" He asks, grabbing one of the bars in his hand and ignoring the cold burning into his palm.

"I'm just fine." You assure him. "I'm sorry about your friend."

"She wasn't my friend." He whispers back.

"Still. It was hard to watch, anyone with a heart would be hurt by what happened."

He remembers seeing you cry at the funeral, taking a sharp breath in. "Are you cold?" He asks, changing the subject.

"Only slightly." You answer. "Jessup gave me his sweater, and body heat helps."

Coriolanus squints as he looks past you, seeing the form of the boy lying on the ground, rolling onto his side now that you weren't using him as a pillow. "I brought you this." He whispers, holding up an old, torn-up afghan that he slung over the top of his book bag.

"I figured in that... dress thing you must be freezing out here. I couldn't sleep knowing you'd be out here shivering." He explains as you take it, unfolding the knitted material.

"Thank you, that's very considerate." You smile, quick to drape the small blanket over your shoulders. "Did someone make this for you? It's beautiful."

Coriolanus watches you pull it tightly around yourself, already trying to pull any warmth you can from the material. "I... I'm not sure." He says quietly. "It was a gift for my mother, it was meant for my sister."

"Well, tell your sister I say thank you. I'll get it back to you before the games."

"Oh... well, she doesn't need it." He chuckles nervously, rubbing the back of his neck to quell the goosebumps forming there. "My mother died in childbirth. Neither of them made it. So now, we've just got this blanket..."

You frown, instinctively loosening your grip on the suddenly delicate material. "I'm so sorry, Coryo. That's awful."

Coryo? The nickname falling from your lips sounds like the spoon that stirs sugar into tea- abrasive for the breakfast table, but still very sweet.

When he doesn't respond, you continue. "The distance that the dead have gone does not at first appear- their coming back seems possible for many an ardent year."

"Why do you talk like that?" He asks suddenly, eager to discuss anything other than the death of his mother.

You smile. "It's from a poem. An ancient one." You explain. "I like to read, it's all I've ever really done. My ma taught me how, gave me all these old, old books with reprints of popular stories from way back when. They just... speak to me. People back then seem to have known it all."

"I've never read anything like that." He replies.

"That surprises me." You answer honestly. "Did you know you're named after a play?" You ask, sitting down now, careful not to let the blanket touch the dirty ground.

"Am I?" He asks, sitting down across from you without thinking much of it.

"Yes." You nod. "I quoted it in my goodbye to the District. I thought that was why you came to see me."

"I had no idea." Coryo says, smile tugging at his lips. "What a coincidence."

"Pray you, who does the wolf love?" You giggle, leaning closer so he can hear you better. "The lamb."

"From?" He asks, unable to resist the urge to smile any longer.

"The Tragedy of Coriolanus."

"Why is it a tragedy?" He asks, brow furrowed.

"Well, it's about this man named Coriolanus, who gets thrust into a position of power he isn't quite suited for. It's all he can think about, he's obsessed with it. He does well, he rescues the city, but his power and pride become his downfall, and he's banished by his own people." You explain.

"Oh. He doesn't regain their favour?"

"He dies at the end, 'cause he's betrayed too many. It's sort of sad."

"Sort of?" Coryo chuckles quietly. "He did so much for his people, is his death not a great loss?"

"His death is meant to be a justice for his actions, but I disagree." You whisper. "I think he was too far gone to be changed, yes, but I think if things had gone differently for him he would have made some better choices."

"Maybe." Coryo agrees. "But with a tragedy, doesn't that mean it was always meant to end that way?"

"People say that." You reply. "But I think the aspect of human nature has been lost in it. I think people can always change. Usually, it's circumstance that changes people into villains, so I think it could change them into heroes too. How do you know so much about tragedies if you've never heard of Shakespeare?"

"There's others, more modern stuff that they teach us here. No one likes to talk about history before Panem." Coryo answers. "But I agree. I think the idea of destiny is embellished, in some ways."

You hum in agreement, looking up at the sky. "There's not as many stars here."

"No?" He asks, taking a break from looking at you to look up as well. He's never known anything different than the very few stars they get, even on a clear night.

"No." You shake your head. "Back home, if you look up at night you couldn't count the stars if you were given a month to do it and a pencil to track it all down. There are thousands."

"Sounds nice." He whispers.

"It is." You agree, voice catching. You'll never go home and see the stars again, this is the best you would get for the rest of your life. You didn't realize the last time you saw the stars light up the sky that you never would again. You wish you had appreciated it more. You let out a shaky breath, deciding to look instead at your lap. There was no use in hurting your feelings anymore.

At the sound of your unsteady exhale, Coryo snaps his eyes back to you. He realizes at just about the same time you did what you were thinking about. "I'm sorry." He says after a few moments of silence, unsure what else he could say.

You just nod, reaching up to wipe your eyes. "I'll just miss it. I didn't realize until now that I won't get to see it again."

"You might." He tries to be encouraging, but the odds of you surviving are slim and he knows that. "I'll do everything I can to help you. I want you to get home."

"You would love it." You say, ignoring his sentiment because you know if you acknowledge it you'll start bawling. "There's a big open field by my house, when I was younger my ma would take us out there with a blanket in the middle of the night and we would lay down and look at the stars."

Coryo is quiet, just nodding as he listens to your story. "Sometimes my cousin and I sit on the roof of our apartment at night. We'll just sit out there and talk for hours, it's the best part of my day when we both get the chance." He tries to relate to you, he really does, but he knows that he could leave whenever he wanted and go sit with Tigris on the roof tonight. You don't have that privilege.

"You live together?" You ask, sniffling.

"Yeah. It's just us and our Grandma'am."

"That sounds nice." You smile sadly. "What's her name?"

"My cousin? Tigris."

"Tigris." You roll the name around in your mouth. "Will you tell me about her?"

"Well, she graduated a couple of years ago. She wants to be a designer, but there's not much of a market for that these days, so she works under someone else. Her boss is just awful to her, but Tigris gives it all she's got. She's got a real talent for it."

You lean forward against the bars as he speaks, resting your forehead on the cold metal and letting your eyes close. "I'm sure she's amazing."

"She is. She took this old shirt of my father's, completely remade it for me to wear to the reaping like nothing had ever been wrong with it in the first place. She even used the tiles in our bathroom to make these tiny buttons for it. It's really impressive. I think one day when I'm president, I'll get her a better job. If she even wants to work. She's been working for as long as I can remember to take care of me, I hope to return the favour one day."

"That's very kind of you." You yawn. "She sounds lovely. I wish I could have the pleasure of meeting her one day."

"If she's free, I'll bring her to say hello." He smiles, noticing you're already half asleep. The urge to reach forward, just a little, and push your hair away from where it has fallen in your face is near impossible to resist. Instead, he keeps talking. "She would love to meet you too, I know it. You are pretty much all we talk about these days."

"Me? Why's that?"

"You're just... unlike anyone I've ever met. Better, I suppose." He whispers. "And you're really important to me. I hope you understand that."

"I don't have to win for you to get your prize, right?" You ask quietly.

"No." He replies. "But I really hope you do. Maybe it's selfish of me, but I'd like to see you when you're not a monkey in a cage. As yourself."

You smile, cheeks flushing under the mask of the darkness that surrounds you. "Come, gentle night, come, loving black-browed night, give me my Romeo, and when I shall die, take him and cut him out in little stars." You whisper, so quietly to yourself he's not even sure he heard every last word, but god, did he long to. Only so many quotes and poems and words of your own would have the gift of leaving your lips. Your words were numbered- and as he could, he would cherish every one.

"What's that from?" He asks, leaning closer.

"Romeo and Juliet." You yawn. "That's my favourite. One day, you should read it."

"I will." He promises. And he'll think the whole time of you.

taglist: @soulessjourney, @keziahcore, @that-veela-girl, @motorsport, @dreamyysouls, @rockstarbfs, @Lanadelrey3, @rawrmameh, @3zae-zae3, @babyspice6, @pastel0rchid, @maysileeewrites, @articxari, @Urfavpouge, @Multivitaminfy, @baybieruth, @kitscutie, @annaelise, @serrendiipty, @fratboyharrysgf0201, @totallynotkaibiased, @stelleduarte, @klplynn, @secretsicanthideanymore, @bejeweledreverie, @fals3-g0d, @drewsandsebastianswife, @niicole-87, @queenofshinigamis, @innercreationflower, @nallasstuff, @spring-goddess1, @baybieruth, @lovelyxtom, @throughgoeshxmilton, @enwonie, @scorpiolystoned, @iovemoonyy, @kodzuvk, @soupasoup, @eedwardss, @thatmarvelchick19, @wearemadeofstardust0

if your user has a strikethrough i wasn't able to tag you! i'm so sorry!

#tbosas #hunger games #tbosas fic #tbosas x reader #coriolanus snow #thg series #thg fanfiction #thg #the hunger games #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus fanfiction #coryo snow #coriolanus x you #coryo x reader #snow x reader #snow lands on top

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basicinstnct · 11 months

Note

if ur taking requests, can we see what happened the time reader denied miguel and he begged? if ur not taking req you can just ignore this <3

word count: 1143

a/n: this got much longer than intended, i don’t think it necessitates explicit tags, but there is dubious consent. I suppose there are slight hints to events in the film as well, but honestly blink and you’ll miss it stuff. referenced fic here.

The date goes alright. The man in general is alright. Reasonably you know you should be satisfied with alright. It's not like you have much going on elsewhere. Except for the fact that you're fucking Spider-Man. One of them, at least.

You don't know much about Miguel other than that, and a couple of other things you've pieced together. Most things you didn't even learn from him. Corporate gossip is the source material for half of his portfolio. It's taken you months to get just those pieces, and you know you're not a girlfriend, but can you be blamed for wanting more?

He certainly expects more from you, you realize, when he shows up at your place an hour after you get home from being out.

“What a coincidence," you laugh. “I had a feeling you might show up, and here you are."

"You look nice," he sidesteps aggressively. It's unlike him to ignore anything resembling an attitude, but he does now. For what reason doesn't even seem important. All you can think is that you want this man out of your apartment, and maybe even your life.

“That's what he said." you reply, wincing at the brightness when you move to hang up your coat. The lights are set to activate when there's a human presence, but he must have hacked the system to turn them off, so he could sit in the dark like a lunatic. “He said, 'you look very nice,’ too. Except he had a lot more enthusiasm."

"So what? You pick him. That's it?"

"I'm not picking you. You aren't even an option.” The rage quietly taking over his features isn't like anything else when it's directed towards you. His brows begin to pinch, and when he opens his mouth you see hints of his fangs.

"Why not?" He starts to step into your bubble. You have less space to retreat before your back is against the way. You can’t see the rest of the room past his broad shoulders, and he’s got his neck craned down so he can see every cute expression you make.

"I know nothing about your past, or even much of your present, to be frank." You say the words monotone secretary style, still trying to have control. "I assume you're busy with things I can't even dream of, and I don't think you want me near any of that either. You have issues, and I don't need you to spill your guts, and we could go on about this forever. It won't be worth it, it's not even interesting.”

“I can make it more interesting." You can see that he intends to fuck you. To use sex to make the problem disappear.

"One for the road," you smile, because at this point why not. He's never been bad at this part, but you have leverage, and if it’s the last time you’ll see Miguel, you might as well blow it. “Sure,” you say, “if you beg me.”

You clench your things when you see him even consider it, and it gets worse when you hear him.

“Please,” he starts, teeth gritted, and you start to think about them in your flesh. “Please, let me fuck you. That’s what you wanna hear? I wanna fuck you. I wanna feel you come on my dick. That good enough for you, baby?”

“Sure, good enough,” you try to downplay, but you think you might want it more than he does.

He's faster to take you than a human man ever could be. You’re pinned to the floor, his fingers in your hair, one hand at your hip and the other at your neck. He just holds his hand there, flexes his fingers, so you can feel the threat of a squeeze. He stares you down. “Nothing like that,” when you cock your head, he doesn’t elaborate.

“Give me a kiss,” Miguel demands. He’s so shy about it that you fall for the bait. He doesn’t waste a minute before trying to shove his tongue in your mouth, like there’s no point in kissing you if he can’t, but the problem is he also drools, because he’s keeping his mouth just a little too wide so he doesn’t cut you with those teeth.

“Just fuck me,” you hiss between kisses, feeling like you’re drowning in him.

“Gonna be nice after being so mean, huh?”

“Maybe,” you groan, “if you stop talking.”

“You sure, baby,” he gives you one last out, “you want me to split you on my dick? Not my fingers first?”

“I don’t care. Do what you want.” You let yourself go limp in his hold, and he does as he threatened. You feel him remove your layers slowly, a small torture, but you’re fit to endure when it leads to the warmth of his hands. They grab you all over, your stomach, your tits and shoulders. Then they make their way down.

Miguel makes a pleased grunt when he finds you wet, and doesn’t waste any time. You feel his cock split you, something you can’t get used to. You used to try and fight it, writhe and squirm. It took you a couple times to realize you’re too weak. In Miguel’s hands all your strength needs nothing. Every time he’s pinned you against him, held you close while inching his cock inside.

He moves his hips till you can feel his balls on your clit, and then sighs. Relief, something you wish you could be granted. You’re whining, all because you can feel him throbbing in your guts, against your cervix.

“Listen to me next time,” he grumbles, sounding strangely fond of you.

Then the sympathy fades away, and he starts to move. He’s not gentle, he’s fucking you to prove something. He’s the only one who can give it to you like this. Who can make you lose your mind on a cock.

“This is what I wanted, fuck.” You can tell it affects him when you wrap your legs around him, dig your feet into his ass to push him in deeper. “Feel so good. Can’t stop clenching all over me, huh. Feels like you’re trying to milk me.” He huffs into your neck. “That it? You want my come, baby?”

He brings his hips down harder, so deep in you breathing feels difficult. You moan and agree to whatever he says, nodding without thinking. Making promises you can’t keep.

He tells you that your cunt’s the best, nobody else can take me this deep, and that’s why you can’t date other guys, need to keep this pussy mine. All while you look into his eyes with a blank stare, almost like you love him while he drills you.

“That’s why you’re gonna be good for me,” he says, “because if not, I’ll just remind you again, just like this.”

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara smut #asks #smut #my writing #actually happy with this lol #1k

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eat-limes-bitches · 3 months

Text

Love After War

PAIRING: Female Reader x FATWS! Bucky Barnes

SUMMARY: The mind has a way of playing tricks on you, images you thought to be real are just a figment of your past. But how to get back to the present?

WARNINGS: Angst, nightmares, PTSD, panic attack, cannon-level violence, torture, smidgen of fluff at the end

Word Count: 1239

A/N: soooooo this was supposed to be the start of my Febuwhump challenge but with the way my life is going right now I won't be able to finish all the prompts by the end of the month, BUT I will post the ones I have done, and I will keep working on some prompts as well but don't expect them to be in order at all.

Prompt: Helpless

Enjoy! <3

Divider by Rookthorne

The first thing Bucky realized as he came to was how incredibly cold he was. A shiver wracked his body, causing him to try and pull the flimsy material covering him closer to his skin as water poured down on him. Wait- water? He looked to find the source and realized he was in a shower. The cold water turned red as it ran across his body from all the blood there. Was it his or someone else's? Bucky couldn’t tell.

“SOLDAT.” A voice boomed from behind, causing him to flinch aggressively. He knew that voice, it was one of his handlers, and by the sound of the rapidly approaching footsteps, he wasn’t happy.

“Poydem s nami, soldat. Dok khochet tebya videt'” The voice growled and Bucky froze.

His frazzled mind still trying to work out where he was and what was going on. His hesitance must have been seen as resistance because the next thing he knew, a rifle butt was flying towards him.

Confused, Bucky blocked it with his arm, the clash of metal reverberated around the room causing more handlers to pour in, each one with a gun all pointing in the same direction. His pulse was starting to quicken, and every muscle in his body tensed.

He was so focused on what was going on in front of him that he didn’t notice the guard coming up behind him with a stun baton. The guard struck, causing Bucky to fall to his knees as he hissed in pain, the electric shock causing his arm to fall limp at his side he clutched the useless appendage in his right hand as he looked on in terror as they all started moving in on him. Two of the guards grabbed him and began to drag him out of the room. He knew where they were taking him and as those rusted double doors came into view he began thrashing as wildly as he could to get away but it was no use.

“Bucky?”

They flung open the doors, his senses on hyperdrive as the blinding lights of the room burned his eyes. Noise. There was so much noise, nurses scrambling around, guards shouting, and doctors preparing for whatever horrible things they had planned for him that day.

“Bucky!”

He tried to fight against them as they strapped him into the chair, but it was no use, he felt utterly helpless as they began tying him down. His metal arm, although useless, was cuffed in 4 different steel brackets to keep him from moving, the rest of his body bolted into place as the panels of the machine began to lower over his face and just as they were about to connect to his skin-

“JAMES!”

He sucked in a large breath bolting upright in bed and scrambling far away from where he was until he managed to situate himself in the corner of the room. His chest, slick with sweat heaved up and down as he tried to get oxygen to fill his lungs, but his heart was beating too fast for him to do anything but hyperventilate. There was a quiet sound from the other side of the room that made him realize he wasn’t alone, and he let out a whimper as their footsteps got closer, curling in on himself to appear as small as possible.

“Bucky?” This voice was soft and full of concern, a complete contrast to the voice he heard just moments ago. This intrigued him slightly, but not enough to make him uncurl himself to see who was speaking to him. There was a sigh from the other person and the floorboards squeaked as they moved their entire weight to the floor, sitting on the ground near him.

“Bucky? It’s me, baby.” The voice cooed gently, and with the next breath he took, the familiar smell of cedar and lavender invaded his senses. He peaked his head out from behind his knees and saw Y/n sitting on the floor looking at him with concern coloring her features and sorrow clouding her eyes. She noticed the small movement and smiled gently as her eyes caught his.

“There he is. Hello, my love.” She whispered, a gentle smile decorating her face. Bucky blinked owlishly at her, still not realizing who he was looking at, but still Y/n smiled.

Progress she thought before she started speaking again, “It’s just me, love. You are safe. We are in our bedroom, in our apartment, no one is going to hurt you.”

This made him cock his head to the side before looking around the room. There was no one else besides the two of them. Instead of the gurneys, there was a dresser. Instead of blood-stained floors, there was a soft, grey plush carpet. Instead of that chair, there was a bed, and her. Bucky took a deep breath, finally able to fill his lungs and when he did, his body began to shake. He would shake violently for a moment before his muscles would give out and relax before contracting all over again. Y/n watched him carefully and scooted a little closer.

“Can I sit next to you?” It was a simple question, and it might seem trivial to ask someone you were just sleeping next to if you could be in their space but it was important for Bucky to feel in control of his situation, if he was in control, he was no longer there. Bucky looked at her and gave a small nod and Y/n moved to sit next to him, her back plastered against the wall. Although she wasn’t touching him, Bucky could feel the warmth radiation from her body, another piece of proof that he wasn’t in the basement of a bunker in the Siberian mountains. The pair sat in silence for a moment, Y/n watching Bucky, and Bucky staring straight ahead at the wall. Y/n shifted, causing Bucky's eyes to leave the spot on the wall and look at her.

“Can I touch you?” She asked softly. Buckys hesitated for a moment, before nodding again. Y/n scootched closer to Bucky so that their bodies were pressed against each other and she reached over with a hand and ran her fingers through his shortened chestnut locks. That simple action seemed to bring new life back to Bucky and he began to uncurl, leaning into her touch. Y/n began humming a soft melody as she continued to massage Bucky’s scalp. His tremors became less and less until they were all but gone.

After some more time passed, Bucky wasn’t sure how much, Y/n stopped and gently stood up, offering her hand to him.

“‘C'mon love, let’s get back in bed. Your back isn’t going to thank you if I let you sleep in the corner.”

Bucky placed his hand in hers and allowed her to lead him back to bed. Y/n folded back the covers in a more orderly fashion before sliding under the soft grey sheets, motioning for Bucky to do the same. He did so, snuggling back into Y/n’s side listening to her steady heartbeat, reassuring him that he was safe. She began humming that soft melody again. Feeling warm and safe, his eyes grew heavy and he fell into a dreamless sleep. The last thing he remembered was the whisper of an “I love you,” in his ear.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes #bucky fluff #bucky x female reader #bucky angst #bucky barnes x you #whump #fatws bucky x reader

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angelltheninth · 3 months

Text

Too Dumb for Your Own Good

Pairing: Gusion x Fem!Reader

Tags: nsfw, smut, rough sex, study date, dumbification, feelings avoidance, angry sex, slight breeding kink

Word count: 1.2k

A/N: I'm not the smartest person around either.

You had Gusion over at your place again, for the third time this week because you were having trouble memorizing the necessary materials for your next collage exam. The subject itself wasn't that hard to understand, it was more the fact that Gusion insisted on helping you and you couldn't focus on anything but the handsome, glasses wearing devil in your presence.

Or the fact that you were just masturbating in the very chair he was sitting in. That part was especially distracting. He didn't seem to notice you being a flustered mess around him, he was too focused on trying to help you.

He wasn't a good man by any stretch of the imagination but he was almost all too happy to help with this problem. Puzzles and tests were some of his favorite things in the world, and a collage student had plenty of those to go around. That was why began visiting you in the first place, that's how your relationship began.

"You aren't listening to a word I'm saying." He grabbed your chin with his fingers and forced you to look at him. His glasses slid down his nose a bit, those deep, dark eyes staring into your soul, "Are you only keeping me here for personal entertainment?"

"You're here of your own accord." Making it seem like this was your fault, really he had some nerve. "You could always leave if you don't like it."

Gusion scoffed at your suggestion, "And risk you flunking and me losing my source of entertainment? Not very likely. Don't dance around this, tell me what it is that's distracting you so much." So he didn't know after all. You knew he didn't know because he wasn't the type to keep those kinds of things close to his chest.

Should you be honest? Or lie to him? He said it himself, being here if fun for him. So theoretically a confession shouldn't ruin it. Right?

"I think about you, Gusion. A lot. It's been more and more lately and I think I'm starting to like you as a lot more then a friend." The confession was out in the open now. The ball was in his court.

Gusion's eye widened for a brief moment before he got up. Oh. Maybe you were wrong, maybe he didn't need to be here as much as you thought. You felt tears coming on, and a second later his hands on your shoulders and his rough lips pressing against yours.

"How foolish." He scowled, "Something as stupid as lust keeping you from achieving your goals. You humans are so weak. So easily taken over the by most basic, animalistic needs that it's embarrassing."

You were still too dumbstruck by the kiss to be insulted by what you were sure were both insults and his real feelings.

"You're doing it even now. Fine. If you can't focus without my cock in you then…" He pushed himself on top of you and unbuckled his belt with one hand, the other taking his glasses off and placing them on the chair he was just sitting on. "If I fuck you, will you study?"

"I… yes?" You couldn't promise anything.

"Can't even give me a good answer to that. Pathetic whore." His angry face was a huge turn on, the way he looked at you like you were beneath him, unworthy of him being here, helping you. But deep down he must have cared. Otherwise he wouldn't go out of his way to do this for you. Gusion, pulled your legs apart and pushed your panties to the side, his thumb pushing into your pussy. "You must have been touching yourself before this if you're already this wet. No wonder you couldn't focus, your mind must be swimming with oxytocin. I'll fuck you back into reality."

You gulped as you watch him pull his hard cock out of his boxers. Ah, so he wore the kinds that had the little hole. Of course he was the practical type.

"You're gonna fuck my brains out smart boy?" You pressed your legs around his hips and your hands into his short hair. "Or maybe you're gonna come inside me so hard I become smarter. You never know what could happen."

"If I were to come inside you then you would become pregnant. It's the most basic biology. Did you miss those lessons as well? Should have guessed a woman like you wouldn't bother, you just want a dick don't you? My dick to be more precise." The corner of his lips turned upwards for a second as he suck his length into you. "Maybe you didn't pay attention, but you sure do know how to squeeze around a cock. Like a good slut should."

"And you… seem like much more then a nerd." You moaned as he began to pick up the pace, your legs crossing over his back but not hard, you still wanted him to thrust in and out like he did. Every stroke stimulated your pussy walls, stretching, filling, pushing them apart, making room for his throbbing cock.

Gusion didn't take well to being called a nerd. His hands slammed against the floor, by your head, making you flinch. He might look and act like a nerd, but he was a devil. Evident by those two little horns on top of his head. You pulled his collar to the side and traced your fingers across the tattoo on his neck, every number, every letter, making him shiver.

He didn't like that either. He didn't like being weaker then you.

"Now you're being clever? Sneaky." He took on the challenge of fucking your brains out seriously this time. You struggled to find a comeback as his cock repeatedly rammed against the deepest parts of your pussy, making your eyes roll back a little more every time. "There you go. Now you look like you're supposed to. A dumb, fucking cockslut. Don't bother trying to be anything else right now, I'll take care of everything. Mine."

"Yours. Gusion. Please." His horns elongated when you started milking him with your cunt. You wanted him to do it. To make you his. Mark you with his cum. You could be his toy if he wanted it. "Yours." You could only repeat his words at this point.

"Yes. All mine to fuck and fill." He was never possessive before, he never let his calm and collected persona slip away from him. "You'll be my pretty cumwhore from now on. Just need to prove to me that you're capable of it." You knew how, you needed to let him dump a whole hot load of seed into you, it was the only way to prove yourself to be good enough for him. "Take it, fucking take my cum, I know you can, you can do that much for me at least!"

It didn't matter if you could or couldn't. You simply would.

You screamed his name as your vision began to go blurry, your inner walls squelching, clamping down on his cock, draining his cock. "So hot. So much. Full. My pussy is…"

"Overflowing. Yes. Yes, yes, yes, yes!" You may not be the smartest but you were smart enough to know that the way Gusion was looking at you as he pumped you full of cum wasn't that of an emotionless tutor. It was the look of your soon-to-be-lover. He surely knew it too, he was too smart to be oblivious to his own feelings.

#what in hell is bad #what in hell is bad x reader #what in hell is bad x you #what in hell is bad smut #gusion #gusion x reader #gusion x you #gusion smut #what in hell is bad gusion #whb gusion #whb #whb x reader #wihib #wihib x reader #wihib x you #wihib smut

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inkykeiji · 7 months

Text

say you’ll love me to death, cause i will

character: todoroki touya | dabi x fem!reader

genre: smut

notes: alright, so we’ve discussed how touya-nii would react to encountering the man who took your virginity, but let's talk about how you would respond to running into the woman who took touya’s. set in my touya-nii au! as always please heed the warnings and stay safe! | title credit: RUNRUNRUN by dutch melrose

warnings: 18+ minors do not interact, pseudocest (stepcest), public sex, minimal prep, extreme jealousy, toxic relationship

words: 4.7k

synopsis:

“Well, that’s alright! How long have you two been together?” And, oh, the giggle that bubbles past your lips is downright sinister, fucking caustic, burning your tongue and eroding your teeth. No, you’re not his girlfriend, or his partner, or his significant other. You’re something so much better.

You’re off minding your own business, legs swinging idly on a bar stool as you wait for your designated reservation time, when it happens, when she appears.

“Touya?”

The name cuts through the blurred noise of the restaurant, both yours and Touya’s attention snapping to the source: a woman, late twenties or so, waving a little in indication on the other side of the bar.

She’s snaking through the patchy crowd, busy unfastening her hair from the intricate bun its been woven into—a requisite for all the waitresses at this establishment—eyes bright, smile brighter.

You don’t even know who she is; not technically, anyway, had never thought to press the issue any further than a simple how’d it happen, had never cared enough to try—especially not when he had been sleeping with so many others right in front of you.

It hadn’t seemed to matter much then. Not the way it matters now.

But she exists, because she must, because somebody would’ve had to take it, would’ve had to be the first, one way or another.

Doesn’t mean you have to like it.

She’s pretty, but you wouldn’t expect any less. Touya stands as she reaches the two of you, pulling your body up with him.

But then Touya greets her, a name you’ve heard kicked around every now and then, and it all fully, finally clicks.

Touya’s first.

“Oh my God,” she’s gushing, “I haven’t seen you in—What’s it been now? Over ten years?”

“Just about,” he responds easily, readjusting his grasp reassuringly on your hip as you cling to him, large palm flattening against your abdomen and hugging you closer to his side, tucked protectively beneath his arm.

“What are the chances! You look...” her eyes scan his body once, from the top of his head to the tips of his toes, then back up again, and your fingers flex, coiled and rigid in the material of his shirt, stiff joints already aching. “Wow, incredible!”

“Thanks,” Touya says, an awkward lull in the conversation when he doesn’t repay the compliment.

Their discussion meanders for a little bit—how have you been, what are you doing now, remember when...?—most of it muddled by the blood roaring in your ears and jealousy burning in your throat.

But then her fingertip is just barely grazing his forearm as she points in indication at the ink etched into his skin, and your ears tune into their frequency again, white-hot fury slicing through hazy envy.

“I remember when you started this one,” she’s reminiscing. “You finally finished all of the pieces,” she says with another appreciative glance, and you grip him tighter, the skin of your knuckles pulled so taut it’s starting to hurt. “It’s so breathtaking to see them all come together.”

And you hate the way she speaks to him with a certain type of familiarity; an old friend, effortless and full of laughs, someone who knew him long before you did, when you were only in grade school.

God, how rude of her not to introduce herself, she’s telling you as she finally turns toward you, finally takes notice of you, rooted in Touya’s side; a growth he planted there himself, shoved between his ribs and engrained in his soul, roots so tangled you’re both irremovable, inseparable, now.

She holds out her hand in greeting, but you only clutch Touya more firmly, nails scraping against starched cashmere, face half-hidden in his chest, childish and petulant.

The woman’s smile drops from her face, a slow drooping of her mouth as her forehead crinkles, confusion bleeding through her features.

“She’s shy,” Touya says as way of explanation, but that wolfish smile is stretched sharply across his cheeks, teeth gleaming in the dim light.

“I see,” she says, almost hesitantly, her eyes lingering on you for a moment longer before they flit back to Touya’s face, expression brightening again. “Well, that’s alright! How long have you two been together?”

And, oh, the giggle that bubbles past your lips is downright sinister, fucking caustic, burning your tongue and eroding your teeth.

No, you’re not his girlfriend, or his partner, or his significant other.

You’re something so much better.

“Oh, we’re not a couple. This is my little sister.”

And, oh, how this is always your favourite part.

You know that it’s his favourite part, too.

Because the way that shock and disgust eats through their confusion, fucking devours any other emotion on their face, is better than anything else in the entire world. The way their expression churns into something twisted and repulsed sends sordid little thrills racing through your veins, blood buzzing with adrenaline.

The two of you must be such a fucking sight, expressions handcrafted by the Devil himself, with glowing eyes—gluttonous gazes gobbling up every little expression, two pairs wide and frantic as they glide across her face—and smug little smirks, points of your mouths so sharp they could pierce the flesh of a fingertip if touched.

Her voice sputters a little, snagging in her throat as she struggles to find the proper words, blinking rapidly, as if trying to clear the scene in front of her.

“I—Uh, I didn’t know you had another little sister?”

It’s phrased as a question, her voice beginning to tremble, unnerved as her stare swaps between your faces.

“My mom remarried,” Touya says simply. “This one came packaged with the deal.”

He jostles you in his arms a little—showing off his favourite, precious, most coveted prize—and you cuddle into him, burrowing into his chest a little, fingers flexing in his dress shirt as you clutch him tighter, gathering healthy handfuls of cashmere in your scrunched palms, buttons beginning to strain beneath the strength of your grip.

And he states it proudly, as if he’s glad to own you, to be your big brother, to call you his, staring down at you with so much fondness it melts his hard eyes, sapphire turned to something thick and gooey.

“Oh,” the woman responds, but her voice wavers through a wobbly smile on her face, lips unsure if they want to grin or grimace. “That’s cool.”

“Yeah,” Touya responds, though his eyes do not leave yours, voice softening. “I got pretty fuckin’ lucky. Don’t think I could’ve asked for anything better.”

You can feel the sick, sadistic glee radiating off of him in dense waves—something heavy, something intoxicating—and, if this girl knows him well enough, you’re sure she can, too.

It’s so thick it’s nearly suffocating, but you breathe it in readily, greedily, draw it into your lungs and let it marinate in your tissues—infect, consume, decay.

“We should go for drinks sometime!” her unnaturally chipper tone snaps the trance, draws both of your gazes back to her. “You know, to catch up and all that.”

A noise shudders your ribs, something between a growl and a whine, and Touya laughs as if it’s so fucking cute, looking back down at you with so much adoration in his eyes it’s nearly spilling past his lashes.

“Nah, I’m good,” he says, but his stare never breaks yours. “Thanks for the offer, though.”

“Mr. Todoroki?” a smooth voice floats above the indistinct murmur of the venue. “Your table is ready.”

“Ah, that’s us,” Touya says to you.

“It was nice—”

But you’re already turning away, a single entity in the way you move, think, breathe, be.

“I don’t like her,” you’re grumbling as Touya guides you toward the hostess, not caring that she’s still very clearly in earshot, the confession spilling from your mouth almost subconsciously, having pried past your lips, desperate to be heard.

“I can tell, baby,” Touya snorts, though the smile on his face is soft.

“I—I don’t even wanna eat here anymore,” you sulk, feet starting to drag, words filtered through a deep pout. “And I don’t ever want to see her again!”

It comes out as a demand, a little harsher and firmer than you had intended, uncharacteristically surly, and Touya stops.

Blinking down at you, Touya’s face falls, features suddenly serious, all mirth evaporated from his expression in an instant.

His head dips, voice dropped to a low, dire murmur—something secret, something just for you.

“You want me to kill her for you? Huh, princess? Does niichan need to get rid of her?”

And, oh, how your heart soars, swells, swoops then nearly bursts from your ribs, desperate to claw its way from your chest and into the palms of its owner. Tears rush to cloud your eyes, vision thick and bleary, and two large hands cup your jaw, tilting your face to his.

“I’ll do it, baby, I swear to God. All you gotta do is say the word.”

He will. You know he will. You love that he will.

“I love you,” you nearly whimper, hands pawing at him urgently, the words a garbled mess in your mouth, weighted with spit and tears. “I love you so much.”

“I love you, too, sweetheart,” he laughs a little, but concern is warping his features, eyes sweeping across your face in search of an answer.

His hand squeezes your jaw gently, callouses decorating the pad of his palm scuffing your soft skin as he holds you in place.

“Just tell niichan what he needs to do to make this better.”

Your gaze holds his for a moment, heavy and unblinking.

“Fuck me,” you finally say. “Remind me who I belong to, remind me who you belong to, remind the whole fucking world who we belong to.”

Sapphire turns to navy, lips spreading into something sinful.

He can do that.

The parking lot is sparsely populated, rows of cars jagged and gapped like knocked out teeth. A small cluster of people hover outside the restaurant’s golden doors, encased in a hazy cloud of smoke and murmuring quietly amongst themselves, and a few people are scattered throughout the lot, just arriving or preparing to leave, but for the most part, you are alone.

The Audi is parked near the back, narrowly missing a pool of white light from one of the tall lampposts.

A chuckle is huffed from tattooed lips, shining eyes trained on your profile as you march toward the car, his long legs easily keeping up with your own.

His baby is on a mission tonight.

“You know, it’s really cute,” he’s saying as he presses you up against the driver’s door, “to see to see you so fucking determined.”

“Want everyone to know you belong to me,” you whine a little, forehead scrunching as your pout deepens.

“Is that so?”

“That is so.”

“And how would you like to show everyone that niichan is yours?” he murmurs into your flesh, lips tracing the curve of your neck.

“Want—Want you to fuck me, right here.”

“Right here?” his hips shove against yours in emphasis. “In the car?”

“No,” your hips push back into his, back arching, already so needy for him. “Right here, in the parking lot. I want that bitch to see.”

And for once, you do not get scolded for such foul language.

“Yeah?” Touya’s breathing into your mouth, hands already rucking up your little cocktail dress. “All out in the open where everyone can see how much of a little whore you are for your big brother?”

“Right here, right here,” you’re nodding, words cracking with desperation. “Right now.”

“So greedy, my little sister is.”

“I don’t care,” you gasp. “Show them, Touya-nii, show them all.”

And he’s so fucking hard you swear you can feel his cock throbbing with each rush of blood, each of your little pleads and dirty words sending another bout of it southward, swear you can feel it twitching and gorging with lust.

“You don’t care, huh?” Hardened fingertips sink into the plush flesh of your ass, kneading a little as his hips gyrate in pitiful little circles, more teasing than anything else.

“No, no,” you’re shaking your head. “I want it now!”

A palm collides with your flesh, hard and sharp, the sound echoing out among the space, chased by your resounding yelp. It draws a handful of glances from the throngs of people loitering around the restaurant’s entrance, but doesn’t keep their attention for long.

“Don’t be impatient, now,” Touya warns, but the glint in his eyes begs you to keep misbehaving. “Get my cock wet first.”

Your face falls as your fight fades, a small frown on your lips.

“Wh-What?”

“You want my cock so badly, baby? Get it fucking wet, then.”

He pauses, watching you closely, smirk growing into something sinister when you freeze in hesitation.

“Aw, what’s wrong?” he pouts, and it’s so condescending it scathes your cheeks. “Not so bold and brave now? I thought you wanted everyone to know; I thought you wanted to show everyone who I belong to,” his tongue tuts, head shaking in mock disappointment, “and you can’t even take my cock down your throat?”

“I do,” you nearly growl, eyes flashing with sudden jealousy, uncharacteristically fierce.

His expression softens, that sharp glint in his eye dulled to a smoldering glow, full of fondness.

“Then get niichan’s cock wet,” he says, hips shoving against yours in emphasis again, “so he can fuck you properly.”

And although it is still very much a demand, a direct order, his voice is tender, his edges worn down by years of affection.

Sliding down his body, your fingers furl in the waistband of his suit pants and tug a little, pulling his hips closer to your face. The buckle of his belt clanks heavily as you tug it undone, the button on his trousers pops easily, and then you’re yanking them halfway down his thighs, freeing his cock.

It’s so fucking pretty, dusty pink from base to tip and smoother than the most expensive velvet, and you just can’t help but nuzzle your cheek into the head with a cute little hum, smearing a thick stroke of pearlescent pre-cum across your skin.

But you know that Touya doesn’t like that, no matter how beautiful you look with his pre-cum slathered all over your face, that Touya can’t stand anything he deems even remotely teasing, and you’re quick to wrap a hand around the shaft as the beginnings of a growl rumble against his ribs, feeding him to yourself.

“S’it, there you go,” he praises as you gorge on him, stuffing him down your throat in a single swallow, reflexive tears burning your eyes.

Lashes flutter quickly, desperate to clear your vision, little drops of crystal collecting in the wispy strands.

It’s pathetic, really, how much your heart soars with such bland praise. But it doesn’t matter, you don’t care, willing to soak up any scraps he’ll afford you, an addict endlessly chasing a fix.

You force your mouth open wider, hinges of your jaw stretching, straining, your tongue curling around the underside as you suck him in further, viscous globs of drool already beginning to collect at the corners of your lips.

“Yeah, yeah, swallow me whole, baby,” he breathes, gaping pupils glittering with a thin ring of cobalt. “God, you’re so fucking gorgeous like this.”

A choked little whine, muted by his cockhead grinding itself into your throat, vibrates, evoking a cracked little moan of his own, hips twitching involuntarily, an instinctual reaction, searching for more.

The asphalt is rough against your knees, skinning them with superficial little scrapes as Touya fucks your mouth a few times; first slowly, breath huffed out through spit-slicked lips as he glides in steadily, inch by inch, voracious eyes watching as your wet mouth puckers around his shaft, coating it in thick, gleaming saliva.

He whimpers a little as the tip of your nose scrunches so cutely as he presses it to his pubic bone, holds it for a breath and savours the way your throat flutters with hiccups and gags before pulling nearly all the way from your mouth, repeating the process as he gains momentum; then faster, harder, cockhead rubbing against the back of your tongue, each quick stroke leaving bitter streaks of pre-cum.

And you hate how his palms are pressed against your ears, muffling every sweet sound you manage to elicit from him as he holds your head still, his thumbs pressing into your cheekbones, nails biting shallow crescents into the skin as they dig deeper, grasp tightening as your face becomes slippery with tears, cascading over his knuckles.

Even so, his grip isn’t enough to keep the back of your skull from banging off the door of the Audi, each thrust procuring a dull thud of flesh against metal.

And, Christ, what a beautiful symphony it all creates; the rhythmic sound of your head thwacking against his car, the dainty jingle of his belt buckle, hanging heavy and undone and bouncing between your chin and his thigh, those precious gags and gurgles and sniffles and hiccups that he loves so much, choked off and snuffed out as his cock rams them back into your chest, the half-stifled sounds that keep shattering to pieces on his tongue, shards swallowed down with difficulty, scraping against the walls of his throat and leaving his voice ragged and raw.

“Alright, alright, that’s enough,” he’s panting as his fingers thread through your hair, fisting at the roots and dragging you off of him. “S’a shame, because you look so pretty,” a rough thumb skims over your swollen, glossy lip, his gaze following its trajectory. “But I wanna cum in your cunt, not your throat.”

And then he’s pulling you back up from the ground, strong arms wedged beneath your own and hoisting you into the air, your legs instinctually wrapping around his waist, locked securely at the ankles as they hook together at the base of his spine, thighs squeezing around his hips in anticipation.

He pins you to the metal of the Audi, one palm securely cupping your ass as the other wraps around the base of his cock, hips inching back just enough to find your hole.

The head, now slicked with your spit, glides over your clit twice—a cheeky little tease, just to hear you whine his name again, all stringy and petulant through a swollen pout—then down your slit until it catches on your hole.

It stings as he forces himself into you, always does no matter how wet you are, no matter how much you’ve slobbered all over his shaft, because Touya routinely refuses to prep you at all—not that you would’ve let him, not tonight—because he loves it, too, he loves it just as much as you do.

He loves the sharp little hiss pushed through the gaps of your teeth by your tongue, he loves the gentle fluttering of your cunt as your most delicate skin stretches, splits itself open for him, to suck him in and swallow him down, he loves that sweet sigh that melts from your mouth as he bottoms out, slathered over his own huff of breath, conjoined relief.

“Touya-nii, Touya-nii,” you’re whimpering out, fingers curling against his shoulders.

“M’here, baby, m’here,” he pants out, forehead pushing against your own, eyes slipped shut.

And for a moment everything is still, breath held stagnant in swelling lungs as you both savour this feeling—of fullness, of closeness, of wholeness—appreciation unhindered by noisy exhales or slapping skin.

Then his hips are moving, gyrating in little circles that gain speed with each completed motion, cockhead grinding into your cervix.

He can’t exactly fuck you properly like this, can’t exactly fuck you like he wants to, like he normally would, not all out in the open like this.

But he manages to make do, the pace quick right from the start, shallow fast snaps of his hips that have the buckle of his belt is clanging against his car, leaving superficial little scratches just below the door handle.

It’s all still so fucking hot, though, his forehead pressed tightly to yours as he exhales nicotine-tinged breath across your face, each one pushed from his chest with the rapid little ruts of his hips.

It’s all so fucking naughty, fucking out in the open where anyone who’s paying more than a shred of attention can see, his movements just barely hidden by the flesh of your thighs, cushioning his hips.

The thought that anyone could be watching, touching themselves, filming you has your muscles tightening and your stomachs fluttering, the dirty, illicit nature inspiring another rush of adrenaline to taint your blood.

Your mouth drops open, starved for more of him—never satisfied, are you, greedy lil thing—welcoming his huffs onto your tongue, spicy and sweet as hickory. Your tongue unfurls from your mouth, dumb and lazy and so fucking messy, licking at his lips in quick, uneven strokes, sopping up any remnants of his essence.

The tip slithers between his parted lips, kittenishly lapping at the edges of his teeth, tracing the sharp ridges one by one, and he laughs, warm and airy.

His own tongue shoves against yours, pushing it from his mouth and back into it’s rightful home before he flattens the slick muscle against your face and drags it, slow and steady, from the point of you chin to the tip of your nose, leaving behind a thick, fat trail of cooling saliva painted across your face.

The action has you squealing, scrunching up your nose as you involuntarily suck your bottom lip between your teeth and suck it clean.

His scent is strong, now saturating your skin as it dries, tight and hard, on your face, sealed by the breathless little giggle he exhales across your cheeks.

And, Christ, he’s so fucking gorgeous, strands of alabaster plastered to his forehead and stuck to his temples in scraggly strings, clumped into damp little tufts that curl up at the base of his neck, drops of sweat balancing precariously on the points.

His rough, quick movements have them breaking free, glistening drops of sweat rolling down his puckered skin, tracing the curve of his neck, streaking ink and ivory with glimmering little trails. They pool in the dips of his collarbones and soak into the collar of his shirt, turning cashmere translucent.

The sleek muscles in his forearms flex beneath inked skin, gliding as he readjusts his grip, holds you closer, hugs you tighter, fucks you harder.

His whole body is covered in a sheen layer of sweat, urgently chasing that high that only his little sister can gift him, sharp pistons of his hips keeping you pinned to the car while he uses you as his personal little toy, his favourite little toy, forcing you to just take it.

And yet, despite it all, his eyes are bright, his lips molded into a brilliant smile, a sick sort of love stained with exhilaration—the thrill of getting caught: fucking all out in the open, fucking your family—brimming in his gaze.

He’s such a fucking pro, knows you and your body better than anyone else ever has, ever could, ever will, angling his hips so they fuck you just right, each stroke of his cock an upward curve, dragging against that puffy spot buried deep within your cunt, head swiping against your cervix with each draw back.

Across the lot, that girl is fiddling with the keys to her shitty little car, rooting around for something in her bag, and Touya laughs—a loud, booming sound, heavy with deranged delight that echoes throughout the space, garnering the attention of a smattering of bystanders.

“Look,” he nudges his head to the right, your gaze following his own, slippery cheeks pressed flush together. “She’s watching. She can see you, sweetheart—can see us, can see you’re mine and I’m yours.”

Good. If she hadn’t already figured it out before, it should be abundantly fucking obvious now, who he belongs to.

“She—She looks disgusted,” you snicker.

Even from several meters away, she does, you can tell, face twisted up somewhere between horror and shock, eyes wide and unblinking as they scan your conjoined forms, brow scrunched and chest beginning to heave.

She looks like she’s going to be sick.

You hope she is.

“Oh, she doesn’t even know—fuck—the half of it, does she?” Touya keens, hips faltering for just a moment before regaining their momentum. “Why don’t we give her something to really be repulsed by?”

Yes, yes, yes, you’re nodding your head, little mewls of affirmation spilling from your throat.

“Give your big brother a kiss, then.”

And oh, how eager you are, ever his good girl, ever his best girl, arms tightening around his neck as you pull yourself closer, smashing your lips to his. Dainty fingers thread through the hair at the back of his scalp, soaked with salt, and tug harshly, enough to have a reactionary hiss slipping through his teeth.

Using the opportunity, you suck his bottom lip into your mouth between your teeth, clamp down hard and yank backwards, so hard his lip stretches like shimmering, pink bubblegum, gums beginning to strain until it finally slides free of your hold, teeth scraping against flesh. He spits out a curse, muddled and chased by a laugh, tongue laving over the indents you left, now weeping copper.

“Niichan’s gonna get you back for that one,” he says, sadistic glee shimmering in his eyes almost as pretty as the crimson glazing his mouth.

You’re sure he will, too, later tonight, with that cherished knife you gifted him last year.

The giggle that pours past your lips is fucking raucous, leaves your tongue sticky and tingling, so wicked it rivals your brother.

“I wanna show her, niichan,” you’re panting out, voice fading into a whine. “I want to show her that you’re mine.”

“Do it, baby,” he breathes. “Show the whole world how fucking gorgeous you look cumming for your big brother.”

Three more rapid pumps of his hips and you’re convulsing around him, cunt clenching almost viciously around his cock as your heat gushes down his shaft, sticky and messy and so much, so much it pools in the folds of his heavy balls, so much it streams down his taut thighs and soaks the waistband of his trousers, so much it dribbles down the metal of the Audi, smeared across the door in sloppy strokes.

“Mi-Mine,” you growl, thighs squeezing around him as if you’re attempting to milk more juices from yourself, trying to stain him with you and stake your claim.

“Yeah,” he nearly moans, hips beginning to stutter. “Yours, baby, niichan’s yours. Tell him again.”

“You’re mine!” you sob out, nails gripping the sleek muscle of his shoulders with such strength the joints of your fingers crack and ache, clawing at him as if you’re trying to gorge every part of you on him, eat up every piece of him you can, stuff every bit of you as full of him as physically possible.

“Fu-Fuck,” he keens, the curse shattering in his throat. “That’sa—That’s my good girl.”

He’s close now, you can tell; can hear it in the way his words keep splintering on his tongue, can feel it in the way his thrusts have gone from precise and particular to loose and sloppy, an urgent, uneven rutting of his hips.

“Fill me, fill me, fill me with your cock, niichan,” you’re gasping out, scrabbling at his neck, scraping skin and sweat beneath your nails. “Fill me with your cum, fill me so much, fill me until I can’t take anymore and it starts le-leaking out, all—all over the place.”

And, well, he’s never been one to deny his precious baby sister what she wants.

Because then he’s complying, hips stammering to a halt and pressed flush to your ass as his cock throbs, stuffing you full of thick, burning cream.

“More! More, more,” you’re gasping out as you try to fuck yourself on his twitching cock, desperate to pump him for everything he’s got to give, eliciting a breathless, broken little laugh falling from his lips.

“S’all yours,” he manages to slur out, slumping a little against his car, knees beginning to quiver as his cock strives to please you, giving another weak spurt of cum. “S’all yours, princess, always.”

#dabi x reader #dabi x you #dabi smut #todoroki touya x reader #todoroki touya x you #todoroki touya smut #tw:pseudocest #tw:toxic relationship #tw:minimal prep #tw:public sex

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nakedbibi333 · 1 year

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˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 𝐓𝐨 𝐎𝐧𝐞'𝐬 𝐈𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐀𝐫𝐞 𝐏𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐞

Realizing the importance of your internal reality - a comprehensive guide to the law of assumption...

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✧˖° 𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐝𝐮𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 ✧˖°

Receiving a gift does not mean that we are going to use it wisely, but we have the gift. Everyone has the gift; and the world simply reflects the use of that gift. (Control Your Inner Conversations Neville Goddard)

Welcome to my comprehensive guide on the law of assumption!

This document is highly focused on understanding, changing, and properly utilizing your internal reality. It will also be mainly focused on self-concept. I understand that most people simply want to know how to manifest material things, however in order to truly give yourself the life you deserve, you must first change self.

If you are still wary about changing your self-concept, think of it like this: You have lived your whole life believing your life is left to chance or some unknown fate. You have always believed that achieving your dream life was impossible, or at the very least extremely unlikely. However, now you’ve found the law of assumption. You know now that you can give yourself absolutely anything you want (and yes, I mean anything), but the reluctance to change your self-concept is all that is holding you back.

You found out that the only thing you need to do in order to give yourself the life of your dreams is to change your assumptions about yourself, but you overcomplicate it, so you shut down.

I promise that changing your internal reality, living from the 4D, and improving your self-concept are not as difficult as they seem. I hope that this document can help you guys realize that all the power is within you, not methods or any outside sources. It’s all you.

So, please enjoy and I look forward to hearing what you guys think!

✧˖° 𝐎𝐟 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐜𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠? ✧˖°

If you are reading this right now, chances are that you are not currently satisfied with the current state of your life. Maybe you’d like to become rich, famous, successful, etc. People usually discover manifestation because they want to change aspects of their lives. You may have begun by searching how to manifest an sp or how to manifest more money, and while these things are great, using the law of assumption as a means to get things is counterintuitive to the way the law functions.

First and foremost, the law of assumption is all about changing your internal reality in order to change your outer circumstances. However, most people hyperfixate on the physical aspect of this equation. You must be able to be completely satisfied with achieving your desires in imagination, without ever relying on the physical world.

You fed and kept alive the things you did not wish to express within this world. (Thinking Fourth Dimensionally Neville Goddard)

Now, because of the way the world works, you have made it a habit to take what you see and experience in the 3D as an unchangeable fact. You have unknowingly perpetuated and “kept alive” that which you deem undesirable. Because of this, your current conception of self is most likely not as fine-tuned as you would want it to be. Maybe you falter, maybe you often react negatively to things that happen around you, or maybe you’re insecure. These are all a result of your current state of consciousness or your self-concept.

For when someone would come into my world and describe their world to me, they revealed the being that they really are. When I ask the simple question, “What do you want?” and they named it and they told me they really want it with all their heart, and then I asked them how would they see the same world had they realized their objective? Looking at the same world they began to describe it differently. I said, “Now, that is the description you must make of the world. You must weave that into your mind, for in so doing you move into the state where that world becomes real relative to that state.” (The Power of Awareness Neville Goddard)

Ask yourself by looking inward and attempting to be as honest with yourself as possible, what am I embodying right now? What are the assumptions you have about yourself? Is it that you’re a responsible or irresponsible person? Capable or incapable? Attractive or unattractive? Limitless or limited? All of this relates to your self-concept. Your current state of consciousness dictates the circumstances that await you in your 3D reality.

Are the assumptions you have about yourself benefiting or harming you?

You can either be attentive to the limitations and feed these and make them mountains, or you can be attentive to your desires; but to become attentive you must assume you are already that which you wanted to be. (Thinking Fourth Dimensionally Neville Goddard)

Only you have the power to change your internal reality and assumptions. You have the choice to focus on the limitations or to free yourself from them. Now that you are currently aware of what you are conscious of being, you can change them. You are not stuck where you are. You always have the ability to change what you are embodying and believe about yourself. You are ever-changing.

All through my life I have always accepted the limitations of my senses, I have always looked upon them as fact (Thinking Fourth Dimensionally Neville Goddard)

If there is one thing you should immediately incorporate into your self-concept it is this: You are limitless. There is absolutely no one and nothing that can hold you back or be above you. In your reality, in your life, you are the operant power. The real you is never limited by the physical reality.

So, what are you conscious of being? And, are you prepared to leave it all behind?

✧˖° 𝐀𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐩𝐚𝐬𝐭? ✧˖°

To the natural mind, reality is confined to the instant called now; this very moment seems to contain the whole of reality, everything else is unreal. To the natural mind, the past and the future are purely imaginary. (Thinking Fourth Dimensionally Neville Goddard)

You are now consciously aware of your current story. The assumptions you perpetuate, which are usually just habitual from the past, are now out in the open. This is now your old self. You can now let go of all the assumptions that are not beneficial to you. Whatever it is, you can let it go. I don’t care what it is, you can let it go. The past is the past. It is never set in stone.

If you truly want to change who you are and your life, you must leave the undesirable behind. It must be as though it never existed in the first place. You cannot take any part of your old self into your new self. It must completely die in the past to never return again. You must make this decision yourself and commit to it. If you’re not committed to the law and to changing yourself, then it will always be an uphill battle. You must fall in love with your desired self to the point that you cannot live with yourself unless you are satisfied by being them.

At this very point in time, you can make the decision to leave the old story in the past. By removing your attention from something, you deprive it of what it needs. To make anything real, all you need is attention and belief, so to remove it from your reality, you simply must deprive it of its needs and redirect your attention to the new story.

It’s time to give yourself the life that you deserve. It’s time to stop victimizing yourself in the face of your 3D circumstances. It’s time to take back your power.

You are never stuck where you are. No matter what is happening for you in the 3D, your internal reality is always able to change. Nothing is ever unchangeable. Nothing is ever lost.

You simply revise, and as you revise the day you repeal the day, for the day is not slipping into the past, it does not recede as people think, it is always advancing into the future to confront you, either pruned or in some strange weed-like state. (The Pruning Shears of Revision Neville Goddard)

If it is difficult for you to let go, you can always revise, so that your past experiences never have to be present in your life ever again. You can change the past to be as you desired it to be simply by focusing on the desired outcome instead. Pay no mind to what you have experienced. Only give life and attention to the experience you wanted to have. That is all you have to do to revise.

I understand that some people find revision to be more difficult than manifestation, but remember it’s all the same. The only reason you find it harder is because you are giving your memories and 3D circumstances too much weight. Imagination is reality in itself. Consciousness is the only reality. Therefore, your imagination of the future is just as real as the experience you remember having from the past. Revise, forgive, and let go.

Time is simply a construct of the human mind. In reality, time is happening all at once, but our human brains are only able to comprehend the present moment. Time moves linearly because that is how our human minds understand the universe. However, the past, present, and future are all already in existence right now.

This is what we mean by “creation is finished.” You are not creating anything, simply tapping into the reality in which you have what you desire. While the 3D man is only able to access the present moment, the 4D man is able to access all dimensions of time. It is why you have deja-vu, or even how some people can access future events through “psychic visions.” Really, they are just manifesting the outcome they have access to. Your imagination has the ability to access any point in time that you can possibly experience. There are infinite possibilities for each of these moments in time.

This is why you are able to revise and change your past and also manifest to change your future. You are deciding that another outcome happened instead and staying loyal to it so that it really was the version of the past that occurred. And yes, the people around you will remember the event as you revised. Revision is only a manifestation of the past.

Because consciousness is the only reality I must assume that I am already that which I desire to be. If I do not believe that I am already what I want to be, then I remain as I am and die in this limitation. (No One to Change but Self Neville Goddard)

✧˖° 𝐈 𝐀𝐌 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐞 ✧˖°

You are absolutely responsible for every being you meet in this world; that’s your responsibility. (The Pruning Shears of Revision Neville Goddard)

I know this may be a sensitive topic to many people, so I will try to explain it the best way I can.

First of all, no one is at fault for what manifests in their world unconsciously. Your experiences and your traumas are still valid, and they are never your fault.

However, saying that we are only responsible for the good things we manifest is impossible. We can only be the cause for everything in our experience, or none of it. Otherwise, we would be giving our power away to an external source, even if that source is the 3D. You are the sole reason for every single thing you experience in your life. There is nothing, and I mean absolutely nothing, that you experience that is separate from you. It all stems from you. You are the cause, but you are also the solution.

There is nothing you cannot bring into your experience because if you can imagine it, you can experience it. Absolutely nothing is impossible.

Does this concern you? Does this make you feel worried or scared? It’s a common feeling. The idea that you would be the reason for all the bad things that have happened in your life seems almost impossible. You’re probably thinking that you would never have wanted that to happen to you. Well, that’s the thing. What manifests isn’t what we want to happen, it’s what we accept as true, what we expect to happen, and the state that we remain in most often. Underlying and subconscious assumptions are also a factor.

Remember that nothing that has happened to you, especially if it was unconsciously manifested, is ever your fault. We are not at fault for what occurred while we were asleep. Now, however, you have the chance to take control of your life.

Man is always looking for some prop on which to lean. He is always looking for some excuse to justify failure. This revelation gives man no excuse for failure. His concept of himself is the cause of all the circumstances of his life. All changes must first come from within himself; and if he does not change on the outside it is because he has not changed within. But man does not like to feel that he is solely responsible for the conditions of his life. (No One to Change but Self Neville Goddard)

Thus, we must take responsibility for the life around us and decide with conviction to change it. Once you take responsibility, you will have a newfound confidence in which you know that you have the power, as the cause of the 3D, to change it however you desire. However, remember that you can only change it if you fall in love with your desired state. Otherwise, you will find yourself in a cycle in which you fall back into the old story again and again.

You must leave behind the old story and fully embody the new story.

You cannot find a cause outside of your own consciousness. Your world is a grand mirror constantly telling you who you are. As you meet people, they tell you by their behavior who you are. (Remain Faithful To Your Idea Neville Goddard)

It is easy to want to place blame on something outside of you for the undesirable circumstances of your life. I mean, it makes sense. Why would you want to manifest any of the things that have hurt you in the past? So, you look for other reasons. This is why some people are so averse to learning about the law.

The truth is, everything you experience is your doing. I am not saying that you deliberately did anything, neither am I saying that you deserved it, nor that you are not a victim when it comes to your traumatic experiences. I am saying that you are the cause of everything you have experienced and will experience in your reality.

While many find this discouraging, I only wish that you find it empowering. Now you know that you have the power to change absolutely every aspect of your life.

Now every man in the world is rooted in you who look out and see that world. Every man is rooted in me; he ends in me as I AM rooted in and end in God. Because he is rooted in me he cannot bear other than the nature the root allows. So he is in me and any changes desired in the outer world can be brought about only if I change the source of the thing I see growing in my world. (The Pruning Shears of Revision Neville Goddard)

Everyone (and everything) is you pushed out. Everyone around you reflects your internal reality back to you. If you experience anything undesirable, then know that which you have entertained in your imagination was the cause.

The only universal truth about your identity is this: I AM. It is the fact that you are conscious right now. You have an internal reality, an imagination, that is capable of creating the world around you. The great news about this is that if you are the cause, then you can be the solution. Actually, you must be the solution, because no one else is going to do it for you. Remember, you are the sole power in your life. No one else can do the work for you

All that we meet is our Word made visible (Mental Diets Neville Goddard)

Your inner conversations and what you entertain in imagination are the root of what you experience in your reality. If you are imagining inner conversations with others that often involve disagreements, arguments, or perpetuating undesirable 3D circumstances, then you are manifesting that into your reality. Be conscious of what you are entertaining in imagination.

This is where a mental diet comes into play.

Mental diets are not about policing or flipping or being afraid of your thoughts. Your individual thoughts don’t manifest. Also, intrusive thoughts are just thoughts, although you give them more weight by giving them attention and fearing them. Allow them to pass and not affect you. Since they are not part of your state, and they are not a true assumption you have about yourself or your life, they will never manifest.

In reality, to effectively retain a mental diet, you need to discipline your mind. It takes practice and you may have setbacks, but persisting in that desire to change is the most important thing. Continue returning to your desired state, while also stopping engaging in undesirable states immediately, and cutting off negative inner conversations. Notice when you are entertaining something undesirable in your imagination and stop it in its tracks. If you do this consistently and effectively, you will find yourself struggling much less with your internal reality and circumstances, and also you will not be afraid of intrusive thoughts any longer. You will know that thoughts are just thoughts unless you give them the power to control you and decide your state.

If I am hurt, I am self hurt. If there is darkness in my world, I created the darkness and the gloom and the depression. If there is light and joy, I created the light and the joy. (Remain Faithful To Your Idea Neville Goddard)

✧˖° 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 ✧˖°

You are functioning three-dimensionally and you cannot seem to reach the fourth-dimensional world where your present desire is already a concrete objective reality. You cannot seem to reach it because your senses bar you from it. Reason tells you it is impossible, all things round about you tell you it is not true. (Assumptions Harden Into Fact Neville Goddard)

The 3D world has limitations. There are blockages, disagreements, conflicts, and setbacks at every turn. There are also privileges and systemic issues that hold people back from their true potential. If you base your inner reality on the outer reality, you will be perpetuating undesirable cycles and therefore limiting yourself. The wonderful thing is that we are not confined to the 3D reality. This is because we have our imagination and that in turn is truly limitless.

Notice your imagination right now. Even if you are unable to visualize, simply be aware of your internal world. Notice how there are no restrictions. There are no obstacles. There is no money, no power, and no people. It’s only you.

There is something that Edward Art mentions often about being all-powerful in imagination. In your mind, you are the only one in control. There are no limitations in imagination. There is no hunger in imagination. If you are hungry in imagination, you can simply imagine that you are full and then it is done. Anything can be brought into your mind with a simple thought or intention. You can imagine yourself at the top of Mount Everest without ever making the trek. You can have anything instantly in imagination. There is no need to fear in your inner world because you are completely in control. You are safe and satisfied in imagination. By experiencing your desires in this safe space, you are cultivating the state of already having and experiencing your desires. Therefore, you are manifesting. Experiencing and having what you desire in imagination is as simple as a thought. This is why you can manifest absolutely anything into your 3D reality. The 3D is a mirror. Whatever you entertain and experience in imagination will be reflected onto your physical reality.

You will never lose the ability to give unto yourself what you are bold enough to appropriate as true of self (Assumptions Harden Into Fact Neville Goddard)

I realize that some people are afraid of manifesting because they are worried that they will manifest something they don’t want, or that they will change their mind and decide that they want something else. The thing is, you will always have the ability to manifest. You don’t manifest once and then you’re done. You have infinite power at your disposal. Nothing is ever set in stone. You will always have the ability to manifest. You will always able to change your life. Even if you manifest your dream life and realize you want something else, you will always have the power to change your circumstances.

Your consciousness is God. It is creation itself. It is the reason you are alive and conscious and experiencing the world around you. Your imagination is an extension of consciousness that you, the 3D man, has access to. By using your imagination with discipline and practice, you can express anything you desire into your life.

As I stand here, having discovered that my consciousness is God, and that I can by simply feeling that I AM what I want to be transform myself into the likeness of that which I am assuming I am; I know now that I am all that it takes to scale this mountain. (Consciousness is the Only Reality Neville Goddard)

✧˖° 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲 ✧˖°

As a man thinketh in his heart so is he. (Thinking Fourth Dimensionally Neville Goddard)

You are only able to change the external by changing the internal. The 3D, the physical world is simply a reflection of the 4D, the imaginal world. The inner man is your infinite consciousness. This is what you are referring to when you say that you are god/the god of your reality/the operant power. It is all-knowing and all-powerful.

There is nothing your inner man cannot do. The outer man is limited by the physical world. It has rules and limitations that the inner man does not have. However, the outer man has the ability to influence the inner man to take control of the infinite power he has available to him. By changing your assumptions consciously, and also by changing your state, you will be able to use the inner man’s power to change your outer world.

People consider imagination to be a world of fantasy or not even a world in itself. However, it is the basis of everything you experience in your life. What you experience, you have once before entertained in imagination. Once you realize that this world is real and tangible and that it truly affects your life, you will know how important it is to take what you entertain internally very seriously.

Men call imagination a plaything, the “dream faculty.” But actually it is the very gateway of Reality. (Mental Diets Neville Goddard)

✧˖° 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐧𝐨 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐆𝐨𝐝 ✧˖°

The whole story is all about you (Control Your Inner Conversations)

Think about this phrase: I AM. It seems so simple. You use it all the time to refer to yourself, whether that be internally or to others. However, it is more than just a phrase. It is this idea that you are. You exist, you are conscious, and you are experiencing life. This is the one truth that you know. That you are here and you are alive.

No one can be before you when you alone possess the power to say I AM. (Thinking Fourth Dimensionally Neville Goddard)

You are the only person that can declare the phrase I AM. You are only able to confirm that you are conscious in your reality since you do not have access to the minds of those around you. This means that you are the sole power in your reality. No one else has any power over you.

Think about it, in your mind, you don’t have anyone else who is able to tell you what to think, what to imagine, what to desire, what to feel, etc. It is only you. Therefore, only you have the power to manifest anything into your 3D world. No one else has the ability to manifest for you. No one can be above you because you are the operant power in your reality. You cannot lose because you are the only source of power.

Do you know that no two in this room live in the same world. We are going home to different worlds tonight. We close our doors on entirely different worlds. We rise tomorrow and go to work, where we meet each other and meet others, but we live in different mental worlds, different physical worlds. (No One to Change but Self Neville Goddard)

Being the god of your reality means that there is no one and nothing above you. There is no other source than you. Your reality is your own. The reason you can manifest anything into your life is because you live in your own reality where you are the operant power. No one can manifest for you, no one can manifest harm unto you, and you cannot manifest for anyone else. You are the sole power in your reality.

We look upon the world as, I would say, a manifestation of consciousness; and the whole vast conditions of men but revelations of individual states of consciousness. (The Power of Awareness Neville Goddard)

This also means that any external power is obsolete. The 3D, other people, astrology, numerology, tarot, etc. have no power in your reality. Everything is based on your assumptions, your expectations, everyone is you pushed out, and your conception of self.

You believe in astrology? You’ve got to sell it. You believe in numerology, in teacup leaves, in numerology and all these things? No matter what you believe in as a power to control you, you’ve got to sell it. It takes all these beliefs and you’ve got to sell them. No one will buy them from you, but you give them up as valueless. (The Pearl of Great Price Neville Goddard)

In order to fully take control and responsibility for your power over your reality, you must give up any and all external sources of power in exchange for your own. Once you have the pearl, you realize that nothing outside of you has any power and that you are the sole source and sole cause of everything that happens in your life. You cannot be the operant power, the god of your reality, by having anything outside of you be more powerful than you are.

If you think for one moment you can hold on to one little thing in the event this doesn’t work, you can’t buy the pearl. And so when I buy the pearl, I go all out and live by it. And there is no other being in this world, just this pearl, and I live by it. (The Pearl of Great Price Neville Goddard)

✧˖° 𝐀𝐬 𝐈 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐩𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟, 𝐈 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝 ✧˖°

There is nothing to change but our concept of self. As soon as we succeed in transforming self, our world will dissolve and reshape itself in harmony with that which our change affirms. (No One to Change but Self Neville Goddard)

Now, you can use all of this to cultivate a new self-concept. All you need to do is leave your old self behind (all the undesirable aspects of yourself you wish to change) and fully embody your new self in the process.

This can look like anything. Your ideal self-concept can include you focusing on confidence in manifestation, or even confidence in your everyday life. You need to decide who it is you want to be and how you want your life to look as a result. Everything you want to change externally will be changed only if you change internally. Remember that there is no one to change but self. You are the sole person that can change the world around you. You are the cause and you are the solution.

Remember this: Self-concept is not necessary to manifest. You can manifest without a perfect self-concept. However, if you truly desire to have a life of ease, and to have the life of your dreams, I would greatly encourage you to prioritize your self-concept above anything.

Everything we do, unaccompanied by a change of consciousness, is but futile readjustment of surfaces. (No One to Change but Self Neville Goddard)

You cannot easily change your entire life, including everyday occurrences, without working on your self-concept. Here’s what I mean by that: you never stop manifesting. Even when you are not consciously and deliberately trying to manifest something into your life, you’re still manifesting unconsciously. If you work on your self-concept, most things in your life manifest the way you desire unconsciously. You are getting ahead of the game and proactively creating favorable circumstances for yourself. Without this, you will have to be consciously manifesting every little thing you want to change. Working on your self-concept simply makes it easier for you to live a wonderful life filled with your desires and favorable circumstances.

The most important thing in this world to you is your concept of self. When you dislike your environment, the circumstances of life and the behavior of men, ask yourself, " Who am I?" It is your answer to this question that is the cause of your dislikes. (No One to Change but Self Neville Goddard)

Your circumstances are a reflection of your concept of self. Everything, including the way that people treat you and interact with you, is all based on your self-concept. Nothing is separate from you. Everything is coming from you. Therefore, in order to change your life and circumstances, it is imperative to change your self-concept.

Change your I AM and you will change the world around you.

We can use our powerful imagination in order to drop the old conception of self and assume the desired self. Since the world is directly a reflection of your self-concept, we must be consciously aware of what concept of self we are currently assuming. Turn to your internal consciousness, your I AM, and dare to assume a new concept of self.

As soon as we succeed in transforming ourselves, the world will melt magically before our eyes and reshape itself in harmony with that which our transformation affirms. (The Search Neville Goddard)

✧˖° 𝐈 𝐀𝐌 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐈 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 ✧˖°

But now having assumed that I AM what formerly I desired to be, I cannot continue desiring what I AM conscious of being. So I do not discuss it. I talk to no one concerning what I AM. It is so obvious to me that I AM what I wanted to be that I walk as though I were. (Thinking Fourth Dimensionally Neville Goddard)

Changing your I AM is your power and your path to total freedom.

Incorporating new assumptions is imperative to changing and improving your self-concept. How do you assume? It’s simple. You decide that whatever you desire is true in your world. Then, what is an assumption? It is a belief you have, despite having no physical evidence of its truth. Therefore, you are believing before you are seeing.

I suspend the limited reason of the natural man and walk in this bold assertion that I am what my senses deny. (Thinking Fourth Dimensionally Neville Goddard)

I want you to think of all the times you have assumed negatively with little to no evidence. That was easy, right? So why, when it’s beneficial to you, is it so hard, or even impossible for you to assume something positive about yourself or your life?

If you cannot instantly believe it, keep trying. Keep pushing. Some people may need practice, yes, but once you have practiced enough, you will be easily able to cultivate new assumptions, especially if you work on your self-concept.

When I feel that I AM what I want to be I cannot suppress the joy that comes with that feeling. (Consciousness is the Only Reality Neville Goddard)

✧˖° 𝐓𝐨 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐫𝐞 𝐚 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐢𝐭 ✧˖°

That this wonderful consciousness of yours is the ultimate reality, and you are free to choose the state into which you will go. (The Power of Awareness Neville Goddard)

What is a state? When I talk about states, I mean states of consciousness. They are mindsets that you can consciously access and manipulate by experiencing how you would feel if you already had all your desires manifested.

Man is incapable of passing over from one state of consciousness into another unless he releases from consciousness that which he now entertains, for it anchors him where he is. (Assumptions Harden Into Fact Neville Goddard)

In order to fully embody a new state, you must leave behind the undesirable state. You must not bring any little piece of your previous state into your new desired state. It must be completely released in order to appropriate the new state.

It is not a complicated idea because you are always occupying a state. That is, unless you are in the I AM state, which is when you detach from everything physical, everything changeable, and focus on the one truth about you, that you are. That you exist and you are conscious. That is the one true and unchangeable thing about your reality and your life. Therefore, you don’t have to try so hard to achieve your desired state.

He can pass now from this present state into any desired state in the world, for no power can stop you from dwelling in imagination where you desire to dwell. So, placing yourself there, you begin to think from it, and not constantly starve yourself by thinking of it. So I will go and prepare it, and preparing it I will dwell in it, and begin to think from it. (The Power of Awareness Neville Goddard)

The state you desire to occupy is always within arm’s reach. Experience what you desire in imagination, feel the wish fulfilled, and persist in that state. Don’t constantly worry whether or not you achieved the state. If you felt the wish fulfilled and experienced your desire in imagination, then you are in the desired state. If you know that your desires are yours, then you are in the desired state. Don’t overcomplicate, simplify.

In my imagination, I go and prepare the state. I actually go into the state and fill that state with my own being, and view the world from that state. I don’t think of it; I think from it. When I think from it, I’m actually preparing that state. (Catch the Mood Neville Goddard)

✧˖° 𝐖𝐚𝐥𝐤 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐟𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐟𝐮𝐥 𝐭𝐨 𝐢𝐭 ✧˖°

For dwelling in the state long enough clothes the state in flesh. (The Power of Awareness Neville Goddard)

Persistence is one of the most important aspects of manifestation. You persist, meaning that you remain faithful, to your desires, so that they will manifest into your physical reality. You are consistently returning to the desired state, and feeling it real.

Once you have felt the wish fulfilled, your desire is promised to you. It must come. It has no other choice but to manifest physically into your world.

That is the secret: thinking from what I want, instead of thinking of what I want. (Catch the Mood Neville Goddard)

While you are persisting it is important that you stay consistent in thinking from your desire, rather than just thinking of it. What does it mean to think from your desire? It means that you are in the state of already having it and allowing yourself to think from that state of mind. So, instead of thinking of your desire (as something separate from you), you are thinking from your desire (from the perspective of someone who already has it).

By thinking from your desire, you are showing your inner man that you are fully embodying the state of someone who has what you desire.

✧˖° 𝐍𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐬𝐞𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 ✧˖°

Therefore that which you seek you already are, it can never be so far off as even to be near, for nearness implies separation. (No One to Change but Self Neville Goddard)

What does it mean when we say nearness implies separation? It means that you cannot think of your desire as separate from you in any capacity. This means that there is no such thing as a time crunch. Focusing on time and how long it will take implies you do not have your desire already, which is counterintuitive to the law. To successfully manifest with the law of assumption, you must assume that you already are fulfilled with your desire. Then, you persist in that state of fulfillment. That is all you need to do. Methods are not necessary. Nothing else is necessary but assuming and persisting in the state of the wish fulfilled. Therefore, if you are focused on it being separate from you (such as separated by time), then you are not in the state of the wish fulfilled. You are still in the state of desire. Fulfill your desire in imagination and you will never have to worry about time.

For to desire is to confess that you do not now possess what you desire, and because all things are yours, you rob yourself by living in the state of desire (Assumptions Harden Into Fact Neville Goddard)

✧˖° 𝐃𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐞 ✧˖°

You don’t accept one thing in the world as final unless it conforms to the ideal you want to realize in the world. (The Pruning Shears of Revision Neville Goddard)

Now, I know there are times when it feels like the physical world is still not changing the way you want it to be. In those instances, it may feel like the world is telling you “no.” Even in this case, you must persist. There is no failure. You can only fail if you are not faithful to your desire.

There is no limit to the power of belief or to the possibilities of prayer, but you must be brazenly impudent and not take No for an answer. (Brazen Impudence Neville Goddard)

You must never take no for an answer. You must remain stubbornly faithful to your desires. Never compromise when it comes to your desires. Never accept “half-manifestations.”

Only allow yourself to be satisfied once everything you desired has materialized exactly the way you wanted it to. Only then can you move on.

The Sabbath is the day of stillness wherein there is no working. (Thinking Fourth Dimensionally Neville Goddard)

The sabbath is this time period in which you no longer feel the need to do anything else to achieve your desire. You do not want because you know that what you have once desired is now yours. This means that you have fully accepted the reality of your desire in imagination. You are satisfied with having it in the 4D, therefore you know that it is yours in the 3D, no matter what you see or experience in the physical world.

You must remain faithful to your desires no matter what. Only you can stand in your own way.

Do not compromise. Decide exactly what you want and assume you have it. If your world would change, determine what it would look like; then construct a scene which would imply you are there. (Brazen Impudence Neville Goddard)

✧˖° 𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐲 𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐩𝐡𝐞𝐜𝐲 𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐝 ✧˖°

Denying the evidence of the senses and appropriating the feeling of the wish fulfilled is the way to the realization of your desire. (The Feeling is the Secret - Law and its Operation Neville Goddard)

Now, this entire document has been mainly focused on changing your internal reality and your self-concept, and that was deliberate. While I know manifestation’s entire purpose is to get things in the 3D and change your physical reality, I think it’s more important to focus on the internal change before anything. Once you introduce any kind of change into your internal reality, the external reality must express this change. After you realize that changing your internal reality is all you need to do in order to give yourself your dream life, you will have all the knowledge you need to manifest anything into your physical reality.

That state has its own unique way of becoming embodied in this world, of becoming flesh that the whole world may touch it. (Assumptions Harden Into Fact Neville Goddard)

Now I will briefly discuss physical manifestation. Here is how it works: Remaining in the state of your wish fulfilled internally with persistence will allow it to be manifested upon the physical reality. You never need to act as if in the physical. You can still remain faithful to your obligations and responsibilities in the 3D. That will not affect your manifestation. You can be working a 9-5 and still manifest being financially free. You can be living in difficult circumstances and still manifest your dream life. It’s not about ignoring the 3D, it’s about remaining faithful to the 4D.

You cannot take thought as to the how, when you know that you are already. (Consciousness is the Only Reality Neville Goddard)

I also wish to remind you that you do not need to concern yourself with how your assumptions will be made manifest. If you’d prefer to detail how your dream life will manifest, then that is your choice. However, it is not necessary, since your infinite consciousness already knows exactly how to give it to you in the absolute best way possible.

We say that you should not think about the how because it can get overwhelming. Sometimes there is a fear that it will not manifest the way you desire, or maybe the idea of it coming to fruition is the scary part. This is why you should remain in the end. Focus on the end result you desire and remain faithful to that and you will never need to concern yourself with the details.

Do not let anyone tell you that you must struggle and suffer. You need not struggle for the realization of your desire. (Remain Faithful To Your Idea Neville Goddard)

Finally, manifestation does not take effort or struggle. There is no struggle. You do not have to force anything to happen. No physical action is needed to manifest. All there is to do is change self. Once you take the necessary steps and do the only thing required of you, then everything else will be taken care of for you.

You need not be concerned with the affairs of the inner man. Simply have faith and the rest will be done.

The condition which I desired and assumed that I had, becomes objectified within my world and bears witness to the power of my assumption. (Thinking Fourth Dimensionally Neville Goddard)

#loa #loassumption #loablr #neville goddard #edward art #law of assumption #manifestation #states #shifting #reality shifting #self concept #inner man #consciousness #internal reality

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oikasugayama · 4 months

Text

He F--KS You When You're Stuck pt. 2

pt. 1 *Atsushi, Fukuchi, Nikolai | pt. 2 Dazai, Ango, Oda | pt. 3 Kunikida, Sigma, Akutagawa

Contains: fem!reader being stuck/confined, sex worker, role-playing non-con

Dazai

You're one of Dazai's coworkers who he's previously hooked up with. Kunikida asks you for another box of paperclips, so you go to the supply closet down the hall. It seems you're almost out, but you do spot one box that must have fallen off the shelf and into the corner behind a stack of heavy boxes.

You decide to clear a space on a lower shelf and try to climb through enough to grab the box of paperclips from the floor, but you mistake how far they are and you end up tipping too far forward. Now your legs are in the air, your skirt is slowly shimmying up your legs, and you can't get the leverage to get back up.

"Um... Hello?" you call out, not screaming but trying to be loud so someone in the hallway or maybe the nearby bathroom will hear you. "Can someone help me out? I'm stuck in the supply closet."

You have to call out and thump on the wall a few times before the door swings open, but for some reason the person who opened it is silent. The door clicks closed again, and then you feel someone grab your hips.

"Hey-- can you at least tell me who you are???"

"Don't worry, baby, it's me."

"Oh, Dazai! Hey, I just need you to pull me out of here, I fell too far forward."

"Mmm... I can't let this opportunity go to waste though, can I? Your ass is all pretty up in the air for me..." he pulls you up just enough so that he can grind against your ass and your toes are just barely scraping the ground.

"We're at work... our coworkers are all out there..."

"I may have told Kunikida that we needed to go out and buy more supplies because you said we're out. I'm sure we have twenty minutes."

And that's how you end up with Dazai balls deep in the middle of a work day with your boss two rooms away.

"Be quiet," he hisses to you when you moan and whimper as his balls clap your ass.

"You be quiet," you huff back. "you're being too loud when you-- ohh fuck--"

"Do I have to pull you out of there and hold your mouth shut?" he grunts, pulling your hips back to meet his thrusts.

"m-maybe..."

"shut up or i'll tell kunikida i've been fucking his pretty little secretary. he'll be soooo mad."

Ango

He hates his coworkers. He hates how skeezy and immoral and degenerate they are. He hates how sometimes they convince him to go to bars and clubs in the back alleys of Yokohama. He hates himself for going along with it when one of them takes him into a back room and points at something-- he isn't sure what he's looking at at first, but then you kick your leg a little.

"Hey, is someone there?" you coo. "I'm stuck. Can you help me?"

"She's all yours," his coworker says, clapping him on the shoulder before leaving the room. Ango is stunned at first and spends several minutes standing back, staring at your bare ass sticking out from between the couch cushions.

"Are you there? I need help," you say, honestly unsure if there's still a client in your room.

Ango finally decides to use you for some stress relief since he concludes this is your job and you wouldn't be here if you didn't want to be.

He kneels behind you, gets down eye level to inspect your cunt. He can't exactly tell if you're STD free just from looking, but he's gonna try anyway, and damn you have a pretty pussy. He reaches out to feel your glistening folds and realizes you're soaking wet and plenty open for him to slide right in.

with shaking hands he pulls his cock out of his unbuttoned pants and lets himself divulge, sliding into you and starting to thrust with his eyes closed.

even as you moan and try to get him to say something, he stays silent, only giving little tiny moans and sighs every now and again. even when he cums, splashing on your back and cheeks, he only whimpers, leaving his voice mostly indiscernible. he can't let you have to ability to pick him out of a lineup later in case someone tries to blackmail him over this.

Oda

He suggests you pretend to be stuck for a form of roleplay. It's not your fault you get actually a bit stuck when you climb between the bottom tines of one of your dining chairs.

Oda comes home to you spread out on the floor in your pajamas, upper half stuck in a chair.

"Well hey there, miss. It's a good thing I came along. Can I help you get out of there?"

"Oda, I'm literally stuck," you whine. He takes a second to process that, then kneels down beside you.

"I'd be happy to help you out of there. Why don't you think of a way to repay me?" he rubs your hip, slowly moving toward your butt. As uncomfortable as you are with your chest hooked around one spire and your shoulders locked forward, you're not entirely against this right now. You'd made the plan together before anyway.

"You can use my pussy, sir," you pay politely, and Oda sighs heavily as he pulls down your shorts.

"Sounds like a perfect trade." He whistles when he sees that you're not wearing panties. "My, my, what a pretty cunt you've got."

He starts teasing, eventually fingering you as you moan and squirm. He's his usual self, praising you while he works you up, all the while pretending like a good samaritan who's just helping you out.

Before he gets his dick out he does actually help you out of the chair because he thinks you look uncomfortable and he wants to see your pretty face while he fucks you.

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jadedxhearts · 2 months

Text

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐧'𝐬 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫

Your crew abandons you on an island, one that's said to have the demon of a once-legendary pirate inhabiting it. Though you never expected for the demon to desire pleasure, above all else...

Warnings: smut, demon! Law, fem reader, not proof-read.

Shivering from the breeze on the island, you frowned as you trudged on to find a spot for shelter. Your crew had laughed when you’d directed them to the island, claiming that the tales of the demon who resided on the island were childish fantasy stories. As their captain, you’d rolled your eyes and gone to the island anyway. But now- you were starting to regret that decision.

The second you’d stepped foot onto the island, the wind seemed to change, an odd low humming sound whistling through the air. Your now ex-crew, being freaked out and panicked by the odd phenomena, threw your small amount of personal belongings off the ship, claiming you were now “cursed” and “would bring bad spirits back” if you got onto the ship again. And without another thought of you, their captain’s safety, they took off with your ship, leaving you on the lone island.

With your items in a small pack, you continued walking, eyes scanning your surrounding area to look for anything of use. Food, a fresh water source, shelter, anything. Seeing nothing, you grumbled out curses, bad-mouthing your ex-crew to any unseen animals or spirits around.

Finally, just as it started to rain, you came across a cave. It was an interesting cave; crystals in varying shades of blue and gold all along the top of the opening in the mountain. Deciding this was as good as you’d get for now, you dove into the cavern, escaping the worst of the weather.

Starting a fire wouldn’t be too difficult, you determined, seeing some branches and dried leaves that had blown into the cave who knows who long ago. You had some flint in your back, thankfully, so it seemed you had some luck.

When you’d finally gotten the small fire going, you drank a small amount of water, not wanting to waste what you had. Then, you sat, alone, looking at the various crystal formations in the cave, thinking they looked incredibly pretty as they shimmered from the light of your fire.

Then that low hum picked up again, and you were suddenly horribly aware of how alone you really were.

“Who do you think you are, venturing into my domain, mortal?” A deep voice echoed throughout the cavern, scaring you.

Eyes widening, you flew up to your feet, head spinning in all directions, looking for whoever had just spoken to you. But there was nobody. At least, physically, there wasn’t.

“I- my crew abandoned me here,” you managed to say, voice uneven. Your fear was evident. Not good.

“Did they now? How come?” The voice questioned.

“I… wanted to investigate the tales of this island,” you replied. “The legend of an ex-warlord, one of the most fearsome pirates, part of a no-longer existing group named ‘The Worst Generation’… his spirit is said to reside here,” you explained, then realizing something as you spoke. “That… must be you?”

There was a low chuckle, and it sent goosebumps over your skin. It was oddly delightful to hear.

“I was once a pirate named Trafalgar Law, that is true,” he told you, and you could almost hear the smirk in his tone, “but now I am nothing more than a demon. Tell me, mortal, why did you seek me?”

“I, uh…” you trailed off, not really sure, “I just… I like investigating these things. Wanted to see what was true and what was myth.”

The demon hummed, suddenly materializing before you. He wasn’t what you expected, honestly. He resembled a human, but his skin was now dark blue-ish in color, though you could barely make out black hair and regular human features on his body. He seemed to have tattoos that traveled up his form like flames, bleeding into an aura of pure darkness that surrounded him. And most of all, this demon had piercing gold eyes that seemingly glowed.

Gasping, you reflexively took a few steps back, startled by the sudden physical being in front of you.

“Didn’t anybody tell you what really happens in my domain?” He then asked, and you could see him smirking.

Feeling butterflies erupt in your stomach, you shook your head, voice evading you.

“When I was still a mortal being, I had a devil fruit that allowed me to cut up bodies without actually harming them,” he explained, eerily. “But here? They get chopped up and are left to die.”

Your eyes widened more, and you continued to back up, until you were met with the wall of the cavern against your back, giving you no more space to flee.

“I… I’m sorry,” you shivered, a more urgent fear and sudden, icy chill running through you, “I meant no harm, honestly… I… I’ll do anything, please!”

“Please what?” He growled, icy finger grazing under your chin.

“Spare me!” You cried, “I’ll stay here… doing whatever it is you can’t in an immortal form, i-in your service!”

He hummed, licking his lips. “There’s one thing that I haven’t had since being a mortal…”

“W-which is?” You stammered, hoping it wasn’t some sick desire that would result in your death.

“The pleasure of having a pretty girl like you in my… company,” he purred.

“Wh-what?”

“The warmth of a woman’s flesh, sinfully close to me,” he clarified, closing in on you. “Only foolish, greedy men looking for my nonexistent treasures have come to this island for the last couple centuries.”

Suddenly, there were cold, ghostly hands roaming your body, running up and down your arms, gliding over your waist. Leaning into the touch, you let your head fall limp against the wall behind you, mouth agape as icy fingers tugged at your clothing. Allowing the demon once known as Law to forcefully pull your clothing off, you relaxed your body, aiding him in removing the barriers between his immortal form and your soft, warm flesh.

Now bare, you whined as the demon ran his hands over your breasts, squeezing them and rolling his thumbs over your hardened nipples.

“Such a needy thing, aren’t you?” He teased, frosty breath landing on your ear, running down to your exposed neck. You were suddenly glad he wasn’t the type of demon with sharp teeth, as the thought of him sucking out your blood and killing you crossed your mind.

Pulling your body away from the cavern wall, the demon carried you closer to the fire, and your heart fluttered as you thought, perhaps he was trying to keep you warm? Whether it was out of kindness or because he craved to feel warm skin, you were grateful to be less cold now.

Laying you against the cool floor, the spirit grabbed your wrists, almost clawing at them as he raised them above your head, a sudden unseeable force holding them down as his hand left them, joining his other in feeling up your thighs, massaging the flesh between ghostly fingers.

“Such a pretty mortal,” he hummed, forcing your legs apart. “To think you’ll be all mine… for eternity…”

One hand slid over your cunt, feeling around your folds until his fingers pressed against your clit, the tip of one rubbing against the little bud, making your pussy begin to drip with need.

Moaning, you strained against the invisible force holding you down, your hips being the only thing that you could move up. Grinding against the demon’s hand, you cried and begged for more.

“Please, demon,” you whined, head shaking against the ground, “take me, make me your whore for the rest of time!”

Chuckling, the demon’s breath tickled over your neck, and he bit down, licking the skin between his teeth. “As you wish, mortal.”

You weren’t sure when it’d appeared, but there was suddenly a hardened length prodding at your cunt, the demon using one hand to hold his cock, the other pulling your folds open, making your tight hole visible to him.

The head of the length pushed into you, and you let out a gasped moan at the intrusion. Squirming, your fingernails dug into your palms, not realizing how big this demon was compared to you until now.

He continued to shove himself inside, burying his cock into your pussy, stretching you wide open. His hands grabbed at your hips, clawing into your skin and surely leaving marks, as he lifted them off the ground and pulled you flush against where his abdomen would be. Pulling back, the demon then slammed into you, rocking your entire body, extracting a pleasured-scream from your lips.

“Cry for me, mortal,” he demanded, licking your lips. “Nobody can hear you. Nobody will save you from your life as my little toy.”

Letting out the loudest moans and cries you’d ever made, the demon chuckled deeply and continued fucking into you, claiming your body as his. You clenched around him, body hot and alive under his powerful, ghostly form. He was incredibly big, reaching so far into your cunt that you could almost swear his tip was kissing your cervix, pounding into your womb.

“L-Law!” You sobbed the demon’s name, which seemed to have a powerful effect on him. Growling wildly, almost like a rabid animal, the demon’s fingers dug deeper into your skin, and he bit down on your neck, teeth bruising the skin as his tongue sucked red spots into it, marking you as his. His hips slammed into yours with such force that your whole body swayed with the thrusts. He was so strong, holding so much power over you. As your velvety walls clamped down on him, orgasm beginning, you thought he was close to killing you with how rough he fucked into you. And gods, did it feel good.

Suddenly, an odd warmth erupted in you, filling your cunt with the hot, liquidy substance that spilled from the demon’s cock. You weren’t even aware that demons could cum, but here was one, stuffing you with his seed. And it was apparently a lot, from the way more and more continued to spill into you.

Tears slid down your cheeks, though you were certainly in no pain. You felt such euphoria, a rush of intense pleasure that had you feeling drunk, wanting even more. Mind feeling cloudy with thoughts of other ways the demon could fuck you, somewhere in the back of your head you realized there must’ve been some sort of aphrodisiac in the demon’s cum. Truly, he meant it when he’d said you’d be nothing but his whore forever. You’d forever be addicted to his touch, forever desperately needing more as the effects of his seed coursed through your veins.

And you’d happily accepted it, drool spilling from your lips as a small smile formed on them. This was the best possible outcome to being abandoned on an island. Bound to a demon, as his dutiful mortal lover, for eternity.

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