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winxanity-ii · 2 days

Note

Hello, I'm not sure if the requests are open, so please forgive me! After reading your Gojo x Fem reader FIC "Gamer Gojo," awakened something in me. I wanted to see if I could request a gamer Gojo x Fem reader story, where the reader is really needy after watching Gojo play!😫or something like that feel free to reject this request if you don’t or feel uncomfortable. Thanks!

thanks for requesting and i hope i do your vision justice, forewarning, i might have made gojo a little mean 😩❤️

GAME OVER

ship: gamer boyfriend!gojo x fem!reader warnings: nsfw 🔞 (p in v ; overstimulation; creampie, wrap before you tap kiddos) word count: 9.9k (i'm gagged cuz i swear it wasn't that many words as i was typing 😭😭💀)

★·.·´🇯‌🇺‌🇯‌🇺‌🇹‌🇸‌🇺‌ 🇰‌🇦‌🇮‌🇸‌🇪‌🇳‌ 🇲‌🇦‌🇸‌🇹‌🇪‌🇷‌🇱‌🇮‌🇸‌🇹‌`·.·★

You unlocked the front door and stepped into the apartment, the familiar scent of sandalwood and vanilla greeting you like a warm hug. Kicking off your shoes by the door, you slung your bag over the back of the dining chair and made your way to the living room.

Satoru was exactly where you'd expected him to be: sprawled on the couch, his eyes glued to the TV screen, fingers moving furiously over the controller. His headset was pushed back slightly, his white hair tousled in that effortlessly messy way he always wore it.

"Hey, babe," you called out as you passed by, heading to your shared bedroom.

"Mm, hey baby," he replied absently, his focus never straying from the game. His voice was a low hum, almost drowned out by the sound of in-game battle cries and epic orchestral music.

You couldn't help but smile; it was almost cute how engrossed he could get.

You dropped your bag on the floor and slipped into your comfier clothes—a soft oversized sweatshirt and your favorite pair of pajama shorts. You glanced at your reflection in the mirror, wiping your face before heading back to the living room.

As you walked over to the couch, you noticed your little corner already set up: your pillow propped against the armrest, your blanket folded neatly and waiting for you.

Satoru might be lost in his digital world, but he never failed to make sure you had a cozy spot right beside him.

You plopped down next to him, the cushion dipping slightly under your weight. Leaning over, you placed a kiss on his cheek, your lips brushing the corner of his mouth.

Even though he was in the middle of a heated battle, he instinctively tilted his head towards you, almost like muscle memory, seeking out your touch.

"How was school?" he mumbled, his eyes still glued to the screen, fingers dancing across the controller with a practiced ease. You settled into your spot, draping the blanket over your lap and fluffing up your pillow.

"Same as always," you sighed, glancing at the TV. "Boring PowerPoints, boring lectures, boring discussion boards."

He let out a soft chuckle, his thumb rapidly tapping the attack button as he took down another cursed creature. "Sounds thrilling."

"What are you playing?" you asked, watching the screen as a dark, mythical landscape unfolded before you.

The game looked familiar—vivid bursts of cursed energy flashed as Satoru's character, a powerful sorcerer, slashed through hordes of enemies. It was the same one you'd seen him playing this morning before you left for class, though the setting now looked far more ominous, like he'd entered some cursed realm.

"It's Sorcerer's Domain: Curse Slayer," he said, his voice dropping as he concentrated, his character weaving through a series of devastating attacks from a towering boss. "A new MMORPG. The graphics are wild, right?"

You watched his hands as he played, fascinated by the speed and precision of his movements. His fingers moved deftly over the controller, each button press deliberate and fluid. The veins on his hands stood out slightly, muscles flexing with each motion as he navigated through the game with a kind of graceful intensity that made it hard to look away.

"Yeah, I mean, look at the detail on that cursed spirit," you mused, squinting at the screen as his character launched a spell that sent a wave of blue energy crashing into the boss.

It staggered, its grotesque form crackling with cursed energy before retaliating with a devastating attack. Satoru dodged it effortlessly, his thumbs moving in perfect synchrony with the game's frantic pace.

"Just playing with some friends," he murmured, his focus never wavering. "We're almost at the final boss level. Shouldn't take long."

You knew what that meant. Whenever Satoru got like this, it was best to let him ride it out. He was hyper-focused, chasing that rush of victory that came with beating a tough boss or clearing a particularly challenging quest.

"Alright, I'll leave you to it, then," you said, patting his knee gently. He hummed in acknowledgment, already diving back into his virtual world.

You reached for your phone and opened up your socials, scrolling through the latest posts and updates.

Time had slipped away, as it always did when Satoru got absorbed in one of his games.

It's been five hours since you'd come home, and he was still glued to the TV, headset on, fingers moving in a blur over the controller.

You'd spent the first hour scrolling through your socials, hoping he'd wrap up soon, but it quickly became apparent that he was in for the long haul.

Sighing, you put your phone down and got up from the couch, stretching the stiffness from your legs. "Might as well get some work done," you muttered to yourself, shooting a glance at Satoru. He was muttering something under his breath, the focused crease between his brows telling you he was neck-deep in whatever dungeon or boss battle he was facing.

You headed up to grab your things, pulling out your textbooks and laptop. It didn't take you long to finish up the few assignments you had left, the work more tedious than difficult. By the time you closed your laptop with a satisfied sigh, another hour had passed.

You looked over at Satoru, half-expecting to find him wrapping things up.

Nope. Still at it.

Shaking your head, you decided to be productive in other ways. You tidied up the living room, folding the blankets and fluffing the pillows. Then, you made your way to the kitchen to tackle the few dishes that had piled up in the sink. The warm water and soapy bubbles helped distract you from the annoyance simmering just beneath the surface. You knew he got lost in his games, but this was getting ridiculous.

Once the dishes were clean and drying on the rack, you even managed to carve out some time to catch up on your favorite stories, scrolling through the latest updates from the authors you followed religiously.

It wasn't until your stomach growled that you realized how much time had passed. You glanced at the clock—7:00 p.m. Satoru had been at it since you'd come home, and it didn't seem like he was planning to stop anytime soon.

With an exasperated sigh, you trudged downstairs, your patience wearing thin. You found him in the same spot, the blue glow of the screen reflecting off his glasses as he barked a command into his headset, his eyes never leaving the screen.

"Hey," you called out, but he didn't respond.

Typical.

You tried again, louder this time. "Hey, babe."

He glanced at you, barely registering your presence before turning back to the game. "Yeah, babe?"

"What do you want to eat? I'm starving."

"Uh, give me a sec." He leaned forward, fingers flying over the controller as he dodged and attacked, his character on screen spinning through a flurry of spells and sword slashes. "Almost done here."

You narrowed your eyes at him. "You've been 'almost done' for hours."

"Just a few more minutes, promise," he mumbled, not really paying attention.

You sucked your teeth, feeling the annoyance bubble up again. "Fine, I'm just gonna order Chinese. You want anything?"

"Yeah, sure," he said absently, completely lost in his game again.

You rolled your eyes and pulled out your phone, scrolling through your saved takeout places. You placed an order for your usual dishes and added a few extras for Satoru, hoping that by the time it arrived, he'd be ready to eat.

Spoiler alert: he wasn't.

When the doorbell rang, you jogged downstairs to grab the food. You placed the bags on the counter and called out to him. "Food's here!"

"Okay, just put mine in the microwave, I'm almost done!" he shouted back, his voice muffled by the headset.

Your jaw clenched, the irritation rising again. You were hungry, tired, and honestly fed up with the damn game. But you did as he asked, placing his portion in the microwave before grabbing your own food and heading back upstairs.

You sat on the edge of the bed, chopsticks in hand as you picked at your lo mein. Every now and then, you could hear him shouting at the screen downstairs, his voice filled with excitement or frustration.

You scowled, stabbing a piece of broccoli with unnecessary force.

It wasn't like you weren't used to this. Satoru's gaming marathons were a known habit, something you'd learned to live with. But tonight, it just grated on your nerves.

Maybe it was the long day at school, or the fact that you hadn't really had a moment to spend together since you'd come home.

Whatever it was, you found yourself glaring at the staircase, silently cursing the game that had stolen your boyfriend away for the entire day.

When you finally finished eating, you trudged back downstairs, only to find Satoru still engrossed in his game, the food you'd microwaved for him untouched.

You sighed, putting his plate in the fridge and wiping your hands on a dish towel.

Now, you were seated in your little spot on the couch, legs tucked under you as you pouted at your boyfriend's side profile. Satoru was still fully engrossed in his game, his brows furrowed in concentration as he battled yet another wave of cursed spirits.

You'd been trying to get his attention for a while now—first by poking his arm, then by leaning into his side with an exaggerated sigh. You even went so far as to pull at his sleeve like a child, your lower lip jutting out as you peered up at him.

But all he did was shoot you a distracted glance, a quick "Not now, babe," before refocusing on the screen.

You huffed, leaning back and crossing your arms over your chest. Satoru was usually so playful, always quick to tease or scoop you up in his arms, no matter what he was doing.

But tonight, it seemed like the game had taken complete hold of him.

"Come on, that was bullshit!" he suddenly shouted at the screen, his fingers clenching the controller as his character took a heavy hit. "Seriously? Who designed this wack-ass boss fight?"

You watched as he leaned forward, his frustration bubbling over as he frantically dodged and countered, cursing under his breath as he tried to regain the upper hand.

There was something almost endearing about how seriously he took his games, but right now, you were far more interested in getting his attention than watching him rage at virtual monsters.

"What the hell! Get out of the AoE, you absolute trash-fucker!" he barked into his mic, and you couldn't help but snicker at the ridiculousness of it all.

Even when he was annoyed, he was still so damn dramatic.

You waited a few more minutes, hoping he'd wrap up soon. But when he let out a triumphant cheer, pumping his fist in the air as his character finally landed the finishing blow, you knew you'd have to take matters into your own hands.

Without warning, you shifted closer, throwing yourself into his lap. Satoru jolted slightly, but his eyes never left the screen, his hands still firmly gripping the controller.

You straddled him loosely, your arms sliding around his waist as you pressed your face into his chest, just under his chin. His body was warm against yours, and you could feel the soft thrum of his heartbeat through his shirt.

You curled up a bit more, pressing yourself closer as you mumbled his name.

"'Toru…"

Nothing. No response.

His eyes were glued to the TV, his fingers still working the controls as he maneuvered through another enemy onslaught.

"'Toruuuuu…" you whined again, this time louder, your voice muffled against the fabric of his shirt. You tilted your head slightly, sneaking a glance up at him, but he didn't even look down.

You let out a huff, your frustration mirroring his earlier outburst. You wiggled in his lap, hoping to at least distract him enough to get a reaction. But he merely shifted his weight, adjusting his position to keep you balanced without losing focus.

"...Almost there..." he muttered, his voice low and strained with concentration.

You let out another whine, your breath warm against his chest as you nuzzled closer, your hands clutching at his sides. "Baby, I'm bored."

Still nothing.

You sighed dramatically, tightening your hold on him as you turned your face into his chest, your nose brushing against the soft cotton of his shirt. He smelled like a mix of his cologne and that clean, comforting scent that was uniquely his.

Another few minutes passed, filled with the sounds of Satoru’s character slicing through enemies and his occasional muttered curses.

Every now and then, he'd let out a triumphant shout or a frustrated groan, his fingers never stopping their rapid dance over the controller.

You could feel his muscles tensing and relaxing under your hands, his focus razor-sharp. He was clearly in the zone, but that only made you more determined to break through his defenses.

Taking a deep breath, you lifted your head just enough to peek at his face. His jaw was set, his lips pressed into a thin line as he concentrated on the screen.

The faint glow of the TV reflected in his eyes, and you couldn't help but admire the way his lashes cast delicate shadows over his cheeks.

But admiration wasn't enough right now. You needed his attention.

"'Toru..." you whispered again, your voice softer this time, almost a plea. You nuzzled your face against his chest, your lips brushing against the fabric of his shirt as you squeezed his waist gently.

For a split second, you thought he might finally look at you. His fingers paused, his body stilling under yours. But then, he shook his head slightly, as if trying to shake off a distraction.

"Just a few more minutes, baby," he murmured, his voice distant, already slipping back into the game.

You groaned in exasperation, your forehead pressing against his chest as you let out a muffled scream. You knew he could be stubborn, but this was a new level of obsession.

For a moment, you just stayed like that, curled up in his lap, your face buried against him. The rhythmic rise and fall of his chest was soothing, the steady beat of his heart a reminder that, no matter how annoying he could be, he was still yours.

But that didn't mean you were going to let him off the hook that easily.

You pouted harder, leaning back to stare up at his face. Satoru's height always made moments like this a little ridiculous—he barely had to move, just a slight tilt of his head, and he was able to see right over yours, his eyes still glued to the screen.

You tugged at his shirt, your fingers curling around the fabric as you whined his name again, dragging it out like a petulant child.

"Satoru…"

He only hummed in response, the sound low and absent-minded as he continued to play, his attention still fully on the game.

A small breath of frustration escaped you, and this time, you decided to take more direct action. You reached up and grabbed his chin, your fingers pressing gently into the slight stubble that had started to grow there.

You pulled his face down, forcing him to look at you. His eyes, an intense shade of blue, almost too bright, blinked in surprise as if he were just now remembering you were there.

Up close, you could see every detail of his features—the way his hair fell messily over his forehead, still somehow perfect despite hours of being neglected. His lashes were long, almost absurdly so, casting soft shadows over the tops of his cheeks. And that slight stubble against your fingers felt both rough and familiar, a reminder of all the times you'd traced your hand over his jaw like this.

His eyes, usually sharp and playful, softened as he looked down at you. They were the color of the clearest sky, the kind of blue that held a thousand different shades, each one shifting and changing with his mood.

Right now, they were gentle, full of a warmth that made your heart stutter in your chest. You could see the flecks of lighter blue near the center, the darker ring around the edges.

It was like looking into the endless depths of the ocean, and for a moment, you almost forgot why you were mad.

He blinked again, his lips curling into that familiar, handsome smile that made you melt every time. The kind of smile that had gotten him out of trouble more times than you could count, the one that said he knew exactly what kind of effect he had on you.

"Hey there, stranger," he murmured, his voice soft, almost teasing as his eyes roamed over your face.

Before you could respond, before you could get lost in that look he was giving you, something seemed to click in his mind. His eyes widened, the lazy smile dropping as he quickly remembered what he was supposed to be doing.

"Oh shit!" he yelped, his head snapping back up to the screen. "No, no, no—damn it!"

You could hear faint shouts from his headset, his teammates clearly panicking as whatever battle they were in started going south. Satoru's face was set in a small grimace now, his brows knitting together as he tried to salvage the situation.

"Sorry, sorry," he muttered into the mic, his fingers moving rapidly over the controller again. "I got distracted. My bad, my bad—just focus on the healer, I'll tank this."

You couldn't help but roll your eyes at his sudden shift in demeanor, his earlier softness replaced with that determined focus you’d seen so many times before.

It was almost comical really, the way he could switch from doting boyfriend to intense gamer in the blink of an eye.

Still, you kept your grip on his shirt, refusing to let him off that easily. You watched as his jaw clenched, the muscles tensing under your fingers as he concentrated on the game. His eyes were narrowed now, the playfulness gone as he leaned forward, his whole body taut with focus.

"Damn it, Gojo!" one of his teammates shouted through the headset, the voice tinny and frustrated. "You almost cost us that round!"

"Yeah, yeah, I know," Satoru replied, his voice still a bit strained as he navigated his character through another onslaught of attacks. "I'll make it up to you guys. Just give me a sec."

Satoru tried to juggle his focus, his eyes darting between the TV screen and your face. He muttered a string of apologies, his voice laced with a mixture of guilt and distraction. "I'm sorry, babe, really. Just—just try not to do that, okay? I'll be done soon, I promise."

He attempted a quick smile, but his gaze kept flickering back to the game, his fingers never slowing as he guided his character through another barrage of attacks.

It was clear he was torn, wanting to give you his attention but still too wrapped up in the game to fully pull himself away.

Your patience, already stretched thin, finally snapped. You sucked your teeth, the sound sharp and frustrated, and pushed yourself off his lap. "Ugh, I'm just gonna wait upstairs until you're done."

You turned to leave, annoyance radiating off you in waves as you took a step away from the couch. But before you could get far, Satoru's hand shot out, his fingers wrapping gently around your wrist.

"Babe, babe, babe, wait!" he pleaded, his voice rushed, almost panicked. He tugged you back a step, his grip loose but insistent. "I'm sorry, really, I am."

Even then, he kept bouncing his attention between you and the screen, his character taking a few hits as he fumbled with the controller. He glanced back at the game, his jaw clenching as he barely managed to block an incoming attack. "I'll be done in a second, okay? Just—please don't go."

You crossed your arms over your chest, your glare piercing as you looked down at him. "You've been saying that for hours, Satoru."

"I know, I know." He sighed, his shoulders sagging slightly. He looked back at the screen, his fingers moving in a blur as he navigated through another complex series of moves, and then back at you, his eyes soft with regret. "Just give me like, ten more minutes. I'll make it up to you, I swear."

You could hear the faint shouts of his teammates through the headset, their voices filled with frustration and urgency as they tried to coordinate. "Gojo, seriously! Pay attention!"

"Crap, I know, I know!" Satoru shot back, his hand still holding your wrist as his gaze flickered between you and the screen. His face was set in a small grimace, the strain of trying to balance his attention clear in the tense line of his jaw, the tightness around his eyes.

You let out a heavy sigh. You knew he was trying, but it didn't make it any less frustrating.

You didn't want to be that type of girlfriend, the one who pouted and sulked because her boyfriend was enjoying his hobby. But right now, it felt like you were competing with the game for his attention, and you were losing.

You stood at the foot of the couch, still stewing in your frustration, arms crossed tightly over your chest.

You could feel Satoru's gaze on you, the weight of his eyes as he turned his head away from the screen, his fingers still working the controller almost on autopilot.

"Babe, I swear I'm almost done," he said again, his voice softer this time, a hint of desperation threading through his words. His lips were slightly parted, a pout forming as he looked up at you with those damn blue eyes of his—eyes that were usually so bright and playful but now seemed almost pleading, like he was afraid you'd slip away for real this time.

It was unfair how beautiful he looked, even now, disheveled and slightly sweaty from hours of gaming. His white hair was a mess, sticking up in every direction from where he’d run his fingers through it in frustration. His cheeks were a little flushed, the result of his excitement and annoyance blending together in that way only Satoru could manage.

And those eyes... Gods, those eyes. They were so impossibly blue, like the sky on a perfect summer day, framed by lashes that were almost too long for a guy, making him look absurdly beautiful even in his current state.

He tilted his head slightly, his gaze never leaving yours as he bit down on his lower lip, a small, almost childlike gesture that made your heart clench. "Please?" he added, his voice almost a whisper now, the sound of it tugging at the frayed edges of your resolve.

You huffed, the annoyance still there, but you could feel it softening under the weight of his gaze. He always did this, made it so damn hard to stay mad at him when he looked at you like that—like you were the most important thing in the world, even when he was being an absolute pain.

"Fine," you muttered, your voice begrudging as you took a step back toward him. "But this better be the last time you ignore me for some stupid game."

His eyes brightened instantly, a smile breaking across his face, wide and brilliant, as if you’d just given him the best news in the world. He shifted the controller to one hand and reached out with the other, his fingers wrapping around your wrist as he gently tugged you back onto the couch.

"Thank you, thank you," he murmured, pulling you down onto his lap with an ease that made your heart flutter. He was always so strong, so effortlessly sure of himself, and the way he handled you made you feel delicate, cherished. His lips pressed against your temple, the kiss light and fleeting as he murmured another apology. "I'm really sorry, baby. You know I can't help it sometimes."

"Yeah, I know," you mumbled, the words half-hearted as you settled against him, your arms slipping around his neck as you straddled his lap once again.

He kissed your cheek, then your forehead, his lips soft and warm as they trailed along your skin. "I'll make it up to you, promise," he whispered, his breath hot against your ear before he pressed a quick kiss to the corner of your mouth.

You let out a small hum, your fingers toying with the flyaway hairs at the nape of his neck, the silky strands slipping through your grasp as you absently played with them.

You could feel his muscles shifting under your touch, the way his shoulders tensed and relaxed with every movement, every reaction to the game. His jaw clenched when something went wrong, a soft growl rumbling low in his chest, the sound vibrating through you as you pressed closer.

Your hands slid up from his neck, your fingers tracing the line of his jaw, feeling the slight roughness of his stubble as you leaned into him. He tilted his head slightly, giving you more access as he murmured something under his breath, his lips brushing against your hairline.

You sighed, letting your head rest against his shoulder as you snuggled into the crook of his neck.

From this position, you could hear every faint growl of frustration, feel the way his chest rumbled with each word he muttered. His arms were wrapped around you, one hand still holding the controller while the other rested on your lower back, his fingers drawing lazy circles against your skin.

It was almost mesmerizing, the way his body moved beneath yours, the way his muscles tensed and relaxed with every motion.

You could feel the power in him, the strength in his arms as they tightened around you, the way his thighs shifted under yours as he adjusted his position, trying to balance you and the game at the same time.

"Come on, just a little more," he muttered, his voice low and intense, his fingers flying over the controller.

You could see the concentration on his face, the way his brows furrowed, his lips pressed into a thin line. His eyes were focused, but every now and then, he'd glance down at you, his expression softening, his grip on you tightening just a bit, as if he needed to reassure himself that you were still there.

And you were—content for the moment, just resting against him, letting his warmth seep into you.

Your fingers slid back up to his hair, threading through the soft strands as you tugged gently, feeling the way his breath hitched in response.

You pressed your nose against his neck, breathing him in, the familiar scent of him making your heart flutter in your chest.

He let out a low, shaky breath, his eyes flicking down to you for a brief second, his smile a little strained but still undeniably sweet. "You okay, princess?" he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

You nodded, your fingers still playing with his hair, your lips brushing against his collarbone as you sighed softly. "Yeah, I'm okay."

And you were, even though you knew you'd be annoyed with him again later.

For now, you were content, wrapped up in him, feeling every rise and fall of his chest, every shiver that ran through him as you pressed closer, your face buried in the warmth of his neck.

The longer you stayed nestled in Satoru's lap, the more you became acutely aware of every little detail about him. The way his body seemed to mold against yours, the steady warmth radiating from his skin, and the soft hum of his breath against your ear.

The initial frustration that had simmered earlier was still there, but it had shifted, morphing into something else entirely as you tried to get comfortable, wiggling a bit in his lap.

Your legs tightened around his hips, and you couldn't help but notice how good it felt, the friction sending a small, involuntary shiver up your spine.

You tried to focus on something else—anything else—but it was getting harder and harder to ignore the growing warmth spreading through your body, the way your skin seemed to tingle wherever it touched his.

You shifted again, a little more deliberately this time, your hips pressing down against his. A soft, almost inaudible gasp escaped your lips, and you buried your face in his neck to hide it, biting down on your lower lip as you tried to steady your breathing.

Satoru's chest vibrated against you with a low chuckle, his head tilting slightly as he brushed his lips along your jawline. "You okay there, sweetheart?" he murmured, his voice a deep, velvety whisper that sent a jolt of electricity straight to your core.

Your heart stuttered, your breath catching in your throat as you felt his lips press a slow, lingering kiss just below your ear. He was still playing the game, but it was like he could sense the shift in your mood, the way your body was reacting to him.

The bastard always had a sixth sense when it came to you.

"You've been squirming an awful lot," he continued, his tone almost taunting as he nipped at your earlobe, his breath hot against your skin. "You trying to tell me something?"

You let out a small, frustrated huff, your fingers curling into his shirt as you tried to keep your composure. "N-No," you muttered, though the way your voice shook betrayed you.

"Mm, that doesn't sound very convincing," he teased, his lips trailing down your neck, kissing and nibbling along the sensitive skin as his other hand tightened around the controller. His voice dropped lower, a breathy murmur that sent a shiver through your entire body. "You're not still mad at me, are you? For being such a bad boyfriend?"

You could feel your heart pounding in your chest, each word he whispered making it harder to think, harder to breathe. "Satoru, you—" You tried to protest, but your voice faltered as he pressed a particularly firm kiss to the base of your throat, his tongue flicking out to taste your skin.

"What, baby?" he asked, his tone playful, almost mocking as he lifted his head to look at you. His eyes were darker now, a shade of blue that was almost dangerous, and the smirk on his lips was edged with something mean, something that made your stomach twist in a way that was both thrilling and terrifying. "I'm trying to focus here, and you keep squirming around like that. You making it hard for me on purpose?"

His words, laced with a teasing edge, made your cheeks burn. You tried to pull back, to get some space to think, but he only tightened his hold on you, his fingers digging into your waist as he kept you firmly in place.

"Aw, don't be shy now,” he murmured, his voice dropping to a husky whisper as he leaned in closer, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. "I know I've been a bad boyfriend, ignoring you like that. But you didn't make it easy either, distracting me while I'm trying to win."

You swallowed hard, the heat in your face spreading down your neck, your heart racing as his words washed over you.

There was a roughness to his tone, a sharp edge of frustration that made your breath hitch, and you could feel the tension in his body, the way his muscles were coiled tight under your hands.

"'Toru, please—" you started, but he cut you off, his lips ghosting over your jaw as he let out a low, dark chuckle.

"Please what, baby?" he purred, his breath warm against your skin as he nuzzled against your neck. "Ya'know, if you're so impatient, you could just ride me." His words were like a shot to the heart, and your whole body froze, your breath catching in your chest as you processed what he'd just said.

You pulled back, eyes wide as you stared at him, your face burning with a mix of embarrassment and something far more dangerous. "W-What?"

Satoru's eyes darkened, his gaze locking onto yours as he leaned forward, his hands sliding down to your hips, his grip firm as he tugged you even closer. "You heard me," he murmured, his voice low and rough, sending a shiver down your spine. "If you're so needy, you can just ride me. I won't stop you."

He shifted on the couch, his body curling in toward you as he caged you in, his lips brushing against the corner of your mouth as he whispered again, his voice dripping with that mean, teasing lilt. "Go on, baby. Show me how badly you want my attention."

You could feel your heart pounding in your chest, your whole body heating up as his words sank in, the implications of what he was saying making your head spin.

You tried to form a coherent thought, to come up with some kind of response, but your mind was blank, your body reacting instinctively as you pressed closer to him.

"'Toru—" you started, your voice trembling, but he just smirked, his hands squeezing your hips as he tilted his head, his eyes lidded and intense as he watched you.

"What's the matter?" he asked, his tone mocking, almost cruel as he leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear. "You were so eager to get my attention before. Did you change your mind?"

You shook your head, your breath hitching as his words sent another shiver through you, your fingers tightening in his shirt as you tried to find your voice. "N-No, I just—"

"Just what?" he pressed, his lips trailing down your neck, his teeth scraping against your skin as he whispered against your throat. "You said you were bored, didn't you? So why don't you entertain yourself, hmm?"

Your mind was reeling, the heat pooling low in your belly as his words wrapped around you, his voice a dark, seductive murmur that made it hard to think, hard to breathe.

He was teasing you, taunting you, and the worst part was, it was working.

You swallowed hard, your heart racing as you looked up at him, his face so close, his eyes boring into yours with that wicked gleam that made your pulse quicken. "I—"

"Come on, baby," he coaxed, his voice softening just a fraction as he kissed the corner of your mouth, his hands guiding your hips, pressing you down against him in a way that made your breath hitch. "I know you want to."

You felt like your whole body was on fire, your thoughts a jumbled mess as you stared at him, your heart pounding in your chest as he continued to watch you, his eyes dark and hungry, the corner of his mouth twitching up into a smirk as he whispered, "Don't make me ask again."

You bit your lip, your gaze fluttering to the side, a clear sign of your defeat. Satoru's eyes lit up with satisfaction, and a slow, almost predatory smile spread across his lips. "Good girl~" he purred, his voice a low rumble that made your stomach flip.

Without wasting a moment, his hands moving with an almost practiced ease as he helped you get situated on his lap. His teammates' shouts grew louder, their voices crackling through the headset as they realized he was barely playing, his movements on screen sluggish and inattentive.

"Gojo, what the hell are you doing?"

"Dude, focus! We're gonna lose!"

But Satoru didn't care. His attention was almost entirely on you, his gaze heated as he watched you with an intensity that made your skin tingle.

With one arm, he easily lifted you up, his strength almost dizzying as he held you aloft, giving you just enough space to quickly throw off your shorts and underwear.

Your cheeks burned with embarrassment, the cool air hitting your heated skin making you shiver as you tried to compose yourself.

You moved to straddle him again, your body desperate for the closeness, but he was quicker, his hands gripping your waist firmly. "Whoa, slow it down, babe," he teased, his voice light and teasing as he held you back, his grip strong enough to keep you still.

You gasped as he ran his long, deft fingers along your slit, the touch light and teasing, sending sparks of pleasure up your spine. Your legs instinctively tried to close, but his body was in the way, his hips and thighs keeping you spread open for him. "Babe—"

"Shh," he whispered, his lips brushing against your ear as he chuckled lowly. "Such a reactive girl. At least someone’s not mad at me." His words were laced with a smug satisfaction that made your heart race even faster, and before you could respond, he leaned in, licking up the side of your neck in a slow, deliberate motion that left you trembling.

His fingers continued their exploration, each movement deliberate and slow, teasing you with just enough pressure to drive you crazy. He found your entrance, his fingers sliding through your slickness, his touch almost reverent as he circled you with a gentle but insistent pressure.

You could feel the heat pooling low in your belly, your body already aching for more as he continued his slow, torturous teasing.

"Look at you," he murmured, his breath hot against your skin as he kissed your neck, his lips trailing along your collarbone. "Already so wet for me, and I've barely even touched you."

You let out a shaky breath, your fingers gripping his shoulders as you tried to steady yourself. "Satoru, please—"

"Hmm?" He tilted his head slightly, his eyes glinting with a playful cruelty as he slipped one long finger inside you, the motion so slow, so deliberate, that it made you gasp. "Please what, baby?"

You whimpered, your body arching into his touch as he added a second finger, his thumb brushing lightly against your clit in a way that made your vision blur. He moved with an easy confidence, his fingers curling inside you, finding that spot that made your toes curl and your breath hitch.

"More?" he teased, his voice a low, mocking whisper as he pressed his thumb down harder, his fingers curling just right. "Is this what you wanted?"

You could barely think, your body already unraveling under his touch. He made it seem so effortless, the way he played you like an instrument, each movement calculated to draw the sweetest sounds from your lips.

You felt yourself tightening around his fingers, the pleasure building with each swipe of his thumb, each curl of his fingers.

It didn't take much for you to come undone, your body shuddering as he worked you through it, his lips pressing against your jaw, your neck, his words a constant, filthy murmur in your ear that only made you fall apart faster.

You could feel the smug satisfaction radiating off him as he kept his pace steady, his fingers relentless as he coaxed every last bit of pleasure from you.

And all the while, his teammates were still shouting through the headset, their voices a distant, almost surreal background noise as you lost yourself in the sensation, in him.

But Satoru didn't care. He had you exactly where he wanted you—right in his arms, every breathless moan, every shuddering gasp his to command.

You slumped against his chest, your breath coming in slow, uneven waves as the satisfaction curled through your body, making you feel warm and languid in his hold. Your forehead rested against his shoulder, the rapid beat of his heart thrumming under your ear.

You could still feel the faint aftershocks of pleasure rippling through you, your body trembling slightly as you tried to catch your breath.

But your reprieve didn't last long.

You felt Satoru's fingers tapping lightly against your lower spine, the touch almost teasing as he let out a low, breathless chuckle. "Didn't forget about me, did you, princess?" His voice was smooth, almost mocking, and you could feel the underlying heat in his words, the need that was barely restrained.

He shifted under you, his hips rolling up slightly to press against your core, and you couldn't help the way your breath hitched as you felt the prominent bulge beneath you, the hard line of him pressing against your bare skin.

You lifted your head, meeting his gaze, his eyes dark and hungry as they trailed over your flushed face. You bit your lip, your hands moving to grip his shoulders as you tried to steady yourself, your body still weak and trembling. But he didn't give you much time to recover, his hands sliding down to your hips as he adjusted your position, his movements firm and insistent.

The friction of his sweatpants against your skin sent a shiver through you, and you could feel the heat radiating from him, the steady throb of his arousal pressing against your entrance.

Your fingers tightened on his shoulders, and you took a shaky breath, trying to compose yourself as you lifted yourself up slightly, giving him just enough room to free himself from the confines of his sweats.

With a quick, practiced motion, he pushed the waistband of his sweatpants down, his cock springing free and slapping against his lower abdomen.

It was impressive—long and thick, the skin flushed a deep red at the tip, a bead of precum oozing from the slit. A faint white trail of hair led down from his lower abdomen, drawing your eyes down the length of him, and you could feel your mouth go dry at the sight. It twitched against his stomach, the movement almost impatient as it stood proudly between you.

Your heart pounded in your chest, a strange mix of excitement and anticipation coiling low in your belly as you looked down at him. The sight of him like this, so exposed, so needy, made your own body react instinctively, your core clenching around nothing as you felt the heat building between your thighs again.

Satoru let out a low, shaky breath, his eyes never leaving your face as he watched your reaction, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "See something you like?" he teased, his voice a low, breathy murmur that sent a shiver down your spine. He lifted his hand, his fingers trailing up your thigh as he gripped your waist, guiding you closer. "Don't be shy, baby."

You swallowed hard, your hands moving to his chest as you shifted in his lap, your eyes flicking between his face and the length of him, your breath catching in your throat as you tried to process what you were about to do.

He was watching you with that same dark, intense gaze, his pupils blown wide with lust as he leaned back slightly, giving you the space you needed.

You took a deep breath, your fingers trembling slightly as you reached down, your eyes never leaving his as you positioned yourself above him. You could feel his hands on your hips, his grip almost bruising as he held you steady, his breath coming in quick, shallow pants as he watched you with a mixture of anticipation and impatience.

"W-Wait—" you started, your voice barely a whisper, but he cut you off, his grip tightening as he leaned forward, his lips brushing against your ear.

"Don't keep me waiting, princess," he murmured, his voice rough and needy as he kissed the side of your neck. "I've been patient long enough."

Your body shuddered at his words, your heart racing as you nodded, your hands moving to grip his shoulders as you slowly began to lower yourself onto him.

You could feel the stretch, the slow, delicious burn as he filled you, your breath catching in your throat as you took him in inch by inch, your body trembling with the effort.

He let out a low, guttural groan, his head falling back against the couch as his eyes fluttered shut, his fingers digging into your hips as he guided you down onto him. "Fuck! Yeah, that's it, baby," he breathed, his voice strained and rough. "Just like that."

You could feel every inch of him, the way he stretched you, filled you, the sensation almost overwhelming as you finally settled in his lap, your body flush against his.

He was breathing heavily, his chest rising and falling with each ragged breath as he looked up at you, his eyes dark and half-lidded, a small, almost dazed smile on his lips.

"There you go," he murmured, his hands moving up to cup your face, his thumbs brushing gently against your cheeks as he looked at you with a mixture of awe and desire. "Such a good girl for me."

You could only lick your lips, your own eyes dazed with lust as you stared up at him, feeling completely intoxicated by the sensation of him filling you so perfectly.

It was like he was made for you, every inch of him fitting just right, and you could barely think past the haze of pleasure clouding your mind.

You felt weightless, almost dizzy, and it took everything in you just to keep breathing, your chest heaving as you tried to steady yourself.

Satoru took a few more seconds, his thumbs brushing over your cheeks, his eyes drinking in the sight of you on him as if committing this moment to memory.

But then his entire expression shifted, his eyes narrowing, the gentle touch of his hands replaced by a firm grip on your waist. He suddenly jolted his hips up in a sharp, powerful thrust, his fingers digging into your skin as you gasped, your body arching in response.

With his other hand, he picked up the controller, his lips pulling up into a wicked smirk as he leaned back against the couch, his posture casual, almost lazy, despite the intensity of his gaze.

"Alright, baby," he murmured, his voice low and taunting. "Time to ride."

You couldn't even respond, your body moving almost on its own as you began to follow his command, your legs trembling as you lifted yourself up and then sank back down onto him. The sensation was overwhelming, each movement sending a fresh wave of heat through you as you felt him stretch and fill you again and again.

Your hands gripped his shoulders for support, your nails digging into his skin as you moved slowly, your body vibrating with every slight jolt of his hips as he met your movements with his own.

You could feel the heat pooling low in your belly, the pleasure building with each roll of your hips, each shift of your weight.

Satoru's reaction was almost maddening.

He was still playing the game, his eyes half-lidded as he focused on the screen, his fingers moving over the controller with a practiced ease. But his breathing was heavier now, each inhale a little sharper, a little more labored.

Every now and then, a small groan would escape his lips, his fingers tightening on the controller as he struggled to keep his focus. But he was still holding it together, still managing to play the game, his gaze flicking between you and the screen as if he were watching both of his worlds collide in the most delicious way.

It was almost infuriating, the way he could be so composed, so focused, even as you were falling apart on top of him.

You could feel the frustration and desire swirling inside you, the steady rise and fall of your hips turned into something more desperate, more needy.

You started to grind down against him, your body trembling with the effort, your breath coming in short, ragged gasps as you chased that high, the friction of him inside you almost too much, and yet not nearly enough.

You bit down on his shoulder, your teeth sinking into his skin just enough to muffle the sounds threatening to spill from your lips as you rocked against him, the pleasure continuing to build.

The warmth inside you was almost unbearable now, the pressure building with each desperate grind of your hips. Your thoughts were dissolving, your mind consumed by the need to reach the end.

But Satoru, damn him, was still so composed, so infuriatingly in control, even as his breath hitched and his muscles tensed beneath your touch. He was watching you with that same dark, intense gaze, his lips curving into a small, knowing smile as he leaned back, his fingers digging into your waist as he guided you, his voice low and teasing as he murmured, "That's it, baby. Don't stop. Show me how much you need it."

And you did, your body moving faster, more erratic as you chased that high, your eyes squeezing shut as the pleasure built to a dizzying peak.

You could feel the tension coiling tighter and tighter, your whole body trembling with the effort, and you knew you were close, so close, but you needed more.

You needed him.

Before you could say anything, Satoru's hips jolted up in a sudden, forceful thrust, hitting a spot deep inside you that had you letting out a sharp squeak, your entire body tensing as you clenched around him.

The reaction it pulled from him was immediate—a low, whiny groan slipping from his lips, his head falling back against the couch, eyes squeezing shut as he felt the tight squeeze of you around him.

That sound—it sent you spiraling, your mind going blank with the need to hear it again, to feel that desperate intensity between you.

You could barely catch your breath, your heart pounding in your chest as you watched him, his features twisted in a mix of pleasure and restraint.

The sounds of your bodies moving together, the wet, obscene noises of him thrusting into you filled the room, almost drowning out the distant shouts from his headset.

The headset he'd been wearing slipped down to his neck, hanging awkwardly as the commotion and shouts from his teammates on the other end grew quieter, almost like they were stunned into silence by what they were hearing. But Satoru didn't seem to care anymore, his grip on the controller loosening until he finally just threw it to the side, muttering a rough "Fuck it," under his breath.

He gripped your hips tightly, his fingers digging into your skin as he held you steady, and then he began thrusting up into you with a pace that left you breathless, his movements quick and forceful, each stroke long and deep.

You couldn't hold back the sounds now, your voice coming out in a series of warbled, wanton moans that felt too loud, too raw, filling the space around you.

You tried to bite down on his shirt to muffle the noise, but it was impossible, your whole body shuddering with each powerful thrust, your mind lost to the pleasure coursing through you.

In the back of your mind, a small, fleeting thought reminded you that his teammates could probably hear everything, but the haze of lust and pleasure had made it impossible to care. All that mattered was him, the way he was moving inside you, the way he was filling you so completely, so perfectly, that it left you trembling.

"Gods, you feel so fucking good," he growled, his voice rough and breathless as he leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear. "So tight, so wet... squeezing me like you never want to let go."

His words sent a shiver down your spine, your body reacting to the filthy praise, the heat pooling low in your belly as he continued to thrust up into you, each movement more desperate, more intense than the last. "You like that, huh?" he whispered, his voice low and almost cruel as he rocked his hips up again, hitting that spot inside you that made your vision blur. "Like being my good girl?"

You could only nod, your head falling forward as you gasped, your nails digging into his shoulders as you tried to hold on, tried to keep yourself together. But he was relentless, his pace punishing as he fucked up into you, his hands guiding you, keeping you exactly where he wanted you.

"Come on, baby, don't hold back now," he murmured, his voice dripping with that dark, teasing lilt that made your whole body thrum with need. "Let me hear how good I make you feel. Let me hear what a mess you are for me."

His words broke something inside you, your body shaking as you moaned loudly, your head falling back as the pleasure washed over you, overwhelming and all-consuming.

You could feel him shifting, his hand moving between your bodies, his fingers finding your clit and rubbing tight, quick circles that had you seeing stars.

Satoru's hips slammed into you, his thrusts fast and rough, his breath coming in harsh pants as he continued to fuck you, his fingers working you with a skill that made your head spin.

You could feel the pressure building, the heat coiling tighter and tighter until it was almost unbearable, your entire body trembling as you teetered on the edge.

"Gonna cum for me, baby?" he growled, his voice strained, his teeth grazing against your neck as he kept up that relentless pace, his hand never stopping its assault on your clit. "Come on, I know you're close. Be a good girl and cum for me. Let me feel you."

His words were your undoing, the last push you needed as your body tensed, your breath catching in your throat as you shattered around him.

You could barely hear yourself, your moans loud and desperate as you came, your entire body shaking with the force of it, your mind going blank as the pleasure crashed over you in waves.

Satoru wasn't far behind, his thrusts becoming more erratic, more frantic as he chased his own release.

With a final, deep thrust, he let out a low, filthy groan, his head falling back against the couch as he came, his body trembling beneath yours as he filled you completely.

You could feel the heat of him, the way he pulsed inside you, his breath ragged as he held you close, his hands still gripping your hips as he rode out his own high.

With nothing but your shared pants filling the room, Satoru shifted you gently, the movement drawing soft whines and groans from both of you as the overstimulation hit like a shockwave.

He carefully adjusted his position, cupping your face with one hand, his thumb brushing tenderly over your cheek.

You looked up at him, your vision hazy with the lingering remnants of pleasure, and saw the gentle concern etched into his features. His usually playful eyes were soft, almost vulnerable, as he searched your face.

"I'm really sorry for ignoring you earlier," he murmured, his voice barely more than a whisper, almost hesitant as if he were afraid you might still be upset. "I hope you aren't still mad at me."

You managed a tired smile, the corners of your lips lifting as you leaned up to press a soft, chaste kiss to his chin, the best you could reach in your current state.

Your body felt heavy, languid, the exhaustion of everything catching up to you. "It's okay, 'Toru" you whispered, your voice hoarse but sincere. "We both get hyperfocused sometimes. Just... let's try to plan days like this better, okay?"

This was just how Satoru was—easily distracted, but always committed to seeing things through.

You couldn't really fault him for it, not when it was one of the things you loved most about him. "I know you don't mean to ignore me, but just... talk to me. Let me know when you're in the zone like this, and we can work around it."

He nodded, his eyes soft as he listened, his thumb brushing over your cheek in a slow, comforting motion. "Yeah, you're right. I'll do better. Promise."

Before either of you could say anything else, a voice crackled through the headset still hanging around his neck, the sound startling in the quiet, intimate space.

"Shiiiit, the way y'all were fucking, I hope she still not mad either!"

The rest of his teammates erupted into laughter, their voices loud and boisterous as they teased and joked, clearly unbothered by the fact that they’d been privy to far more than they’d bargained for.

Your eyes widened in shock, your heart leaping into your throat as you stared at Satoru, his expression mirroring your own.

For a split second, you were both frozen, caught between embarrassment and disbelief.

Then, with a hasty curse under his breath, Satoru reached over, fumbling with the headset as he tried to switch it off, his fingers slipping in his rush. "Goddamn it," he muttered, finally managing to yank it off and toss it aside, his cheeks flushed with a mix of embarrassment and irritation.

You couldn't help it—the absurdity of the situation, the sheer ridiculousness of being caught like this by his friends, it all came crashing down on you, and before you knew it, you were laughing, the sound breathless and a little hysterical as you buried your face in his chest.

Satoru looked down at you, his lips twitching as he tried to keep a straight face, but the sound of your laughter was infectious, and soon he was joining in, his laughter a low, rumbling sound that made his chest vibrate against yours.

"I can't believe this," you managed to gasp between giggles, your shoulders shaking as you clung to him. "I'm never gonna be able to look at them again."

He shook his head, still chuckling as he wrapped his arms around you, holding you close. "Don't worry, baby. I'll just have to kick their asses next time we play.”

You snorted, your laughter finally calming as you rested your head against his shoulder, the embarrassment still there, but tempered now by the warmth of his embrace. "You're unbelievable."

"Yeah, but you love me," he teased, his voice soft and teasing as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head, his arms tightening around you.

"Yeah..." You sighed, your heart swelling with affection as you snuggled closer, feeling the steady beat of his heart under your cheek. "...I do."

"Good," he murmured, his voice a gentle murmur against your hair. "Because I love you too."

And for a moment, everything else faded away—the embarrassment, the laughter, the lingering heat of what had just happened.

All that mattered was the warmth of his arms around you, the steady beat of his heart, and the quiet, undeniable truth that no matter what, you'd always be his, and he'd always be yours.

A/N: y'all i think i'm broken, i can't seem to write straight forward smut without making a plot w/ it 😭😭💔 i hope y'all don't get tired of me doing it, but my mind won't let me get freaky until i picture it all like a movie 😔

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purplestanleypinkblanket · 2 days

Text

First Kiss With Logan:

Pairings: (DP3 Vers.) Logan Howlett x reader

Summary: After a shitty date, you seek comfort from Wade who threw you a ‘Cherry Popped’ party. It ends up making you feel worse, which leads you into the arms of a man who’s grown fond of you. Logan.

Warnings: Kissing, talking about bad date, cursing, brief mentions of drinking, innuendos to "cherry popping", use of the word virgin. Self-deprecating talk in some areas, from both reader and Logan.

Genre: Angst, Fluff

Word Count: 2,388

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You hated that you found yourself, seated across from a man who, frankly, hadn't asked you a single question about yourself all night. You also hated how much this man yapped. God, all he did was talk and talk without even the slightest breath. And you hated that you continued to stay seated. Perhaps you were too kind, or maybe you thought you had no right to leave. After all, the man was buying you dinner. It was hard to shake that kind of guilt. You knew you owed him nothing, that it's okay to leave a shitty date- but a part of you wondered if this was all you had going for you. A shitty date, with a shitty man on a shitty afternoon.

As you spaced out your thoughts drifted back to Logan, you wondered if dates with him were like this. What if they weren't? What if he was kind? Well, slightly kinder than normal. He didn't strike you as the pull-your-chair-out-for-you kinda guy, but you had a feeling he would ask you questions instead of yapping your ear off. Maybe he would ask about your day at work, or what you like to do in your free time. Possibly he'd like to hear funny stories about your family. No, that felt too intimate for a first date. Maybe on a third date you'd share those stories with him.

God, what are you even on about right now? You're on a date with a man buying you dinner and you're thinking about Logan! As your eyes looked over the man, you finally tuned back into what he was saying.

"My ex was fucking crazy! That bitch-"

Aaanndd, you lost interest immediately. The more this dude spoke, the more of a dick he sounded. You couldn't help but feel thankful when the date ended. However, the chime of your phone caught your attention during the walk back to your apartment.

'Hey, sugar tits.' Wade's text read. 'Come over, we're celebrating you getting your cherry popped!' That dick knew you weren't a virgin, he just wanted a damn reason to celebrate. What better way to celebrate then partying over your friend not getting laid? It was a cruel joke you really weren't in the mood for but the image of Logan blowing up balloons with Blind Al, a smile just barely tugging at his usually grumpy face...it was hard to say no too. And Wade knew that- its why he sent you the picture after all.

"Fucking dick." You murmured to yourself as you wrapped your cardigan around you tighter, pushing the front door to Wade's apartment open as you did so. The sight was ridiculous, balloons, streamers, wall decor, banners that read 'Pop That Cherry!' draped off the ceiling. You took a mental note to punch Wade in his smart-ass lip later. But, for now, it was nice being in the comfort of your friends. Yes, even the snarky teenager Negasonic and her girlfriend. You were a teenage girl once, but it still didn't stop you getting annoyed when she nitpicked your outfits. It isn't your fault baggy sweaters and legging were literally a godsent.

You trudged your way through the crowded apartment, hand adjusting your white sweater to cover the tank top under it a little better. As you approached Logan and Wade, you grew more aware of the length of your skirt. Was it too long? Too short? Would Logan think it looked good? God, why did you even care what Logan Howlett, labeled the worst wolverine, thought of you? You didn't think he was the worst wolverine. You'd never say it, of course not, because then he'd know you actually liked being around him! Perhaps it was selfish of you to keep yourself so guarded around him, but you couldn't shake the fear of letting down your walls and risking getting hurt. It was scary. Losing that much control. And over what, a feeling?

A hand extending towards you caught your attention, it was Logan, offering you a drink.

"Thank you." You spoke to him, voice quiet compared to the blaring pop music Wade was playing. He grunted in response, but you swear you heard a 'you're welcome.' You brought it to your lips, casually slow sipping the alcohol over the course of the night. It was fun to dance with Vanessa as Wade and Peter tried to convince Logan to join the group. You couldn't help the laugh on your lips when Wade made a snarky comment about Logan's panties being in a twist, earning a threatening unsheathing of claws from logan. You never fully understood the shame Logan felt, even though you tried incredibly hard to. To you, he was amazing, he was strong, he was...well, to say you only admired him would be a lie.

You wished you could show Logan the way you saw him, the way the world saw him. Sure, he was hot, unnecessarily hot, with large biceps and shoulders that went for days. But he was more than that. He was a grump who pushed people away out of fear of hurting them. And to prevent himself from getting hurt. It was ironic, really. Perhaps you and him were more alike than you thought. After a while in the overstimulating party, you slipped away, moving to stand on the balcony. You hadn't been there long, probably thirty minutes? It was nice, listening to your friend's party as you took a break to look at the city.

"Thought I'd find you here." Logan's rough voice spoke as he walked out onto the balcony, shutting the door behind him.

You hummed in response, flashing him a smile as you looked away. Logan could feel his heart skip a beat at your smile- it was always nice when you graced him with it. He'd give anything to see you smile. Hell, he wished he could make you smile and laugh the way Wade and Vanessa did. They matched your morbid sarcastic humor easily. Something he struggled to do. He approached you, leaning onto the railing beside you.

"Congrats on the...uh..."

"I'm not a virgin."

"Oh..."

The silence was awkward between you. You had to purse your lips to prevent you from bursting out in a laugh. You found it hilarious how just one statement suddenly made him go quiet.

"Wade had-" You spoke, trying to stifle your laugh with your hand. "Wade thought it would be funny to throw a 'cherry popped' party because it's been forever since my last date." You revealed, not able to contain your laugh any longer. "It's actually kinda sweet. In a weird way, ya know, Wades weird way." The corners of Logan's mouth lifted slightly at the sound of your laugh. It had always been his favorite sound after meeting you.

"Guess so." Logan contributed to the conversation, bringing the glass beer bottle to his lips. You looked at logan watching as he looked over the city, your eyes analyzing him. His jaw, his hair, the crow's feet by his eyes from his constant state of scowling. Maybe it was the liquid courage you had drank. Or you finally just decided to give Logan a sense of affection. You loved to shower your friends with affection, often times holding Wade as you two watched tv, or Vanessa sitting on your lap as you gossiped. Logan had seen it plenty of times. God, sometimes you even gave Peter affection. Each time he felt a twinge of jealousy, he wanted to be the object of your affectionate touches. Or the way you murmured praise directed at them after a task- he wanted that.

Your hand reached up, gently soothing out some strands of his beard that were in disarray. Logan tensed under your touch, and you immediately pulled away, guilt and embarrassment swarming you.

"Oh, sorry, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable." You adamantly apologized, face heating up.

"Don't worry about it." Logan roughly said, silently regretting the way you withdrew so quickly. He watched as you tried to subtly put some distance between the two of you- the sting of rejection clear as day on your face. He hadn't meant to reject you; you were reading too much into it. His mind sidetracked as he looked away, maybe he was the one reading too much into it? "How was your date?" He settled on asking, bringing the beer to his lips.

"Shitty." You sighed, frowning.

Logan nodded, waiting for you to continue. Silence falls between you two and he flashed you an expectant glance. You hadn't realized he wanted you to keep talking until he looked at you.

"Oh, uh, there isn't really much to say." You shrugged, looking away. "He didn't ask any questions, just talked about himself the whole time. Was super annoying too." Logan couldn't help the satisfaction that welled in his chest upon hearing your defeated words. It sucked for you, of course it did. But Logan was so glad the date was bad- that way no one could come in, sweep you off your feet, and away from him. He hadn't made a move on you, and he couldn't decide if he ever would. He didn't want to risk hurting you like he had done the others he cared for.

However, the glance of tiredness in your expression when you had looked at him momentarily...he hated it. He hated himself for being so happy your date was bad, and he hated that he wasn't the one you wanted to sweep you off your feet.

"Like...it isn't hard to make a girl feel special. To make her feel like a princess." You laughed with a shake of your head. "I dunno, maybe I'm just expecting too much?" You looked at Logan as you asked, a need for reassurance present.

Logan stared at you; brows furrowed as he analyzed you. The scowl on his features prominent. Believing you had said too much, or you annoyed him with your ramblings, an apology escaped your lips.

"Fuck, sorry, I shouldn't have-"

"Princess." Logan's comment snapped you from your rushed apology. "Relax." He had taken that brave step closer to you, facing you fully as his side and arm holding the beer leaned against the balcony railing. He was glad you were comfortable enough to unload that on him and he was determined to keep it that way. "I don't mind." You looked up at him, eyebrows furrowed, lips slightly pursed as your mind ran. That was another thing he liked about you. It was so easy to tell if you were thinking. Your eyebrows always furrowed, your lips pursed into a line, and your eyes always spoke a thousand words.

Despite his better judgement, his hand rose, gently flattening the skin between your eyebrows. The gesture was small, yet it held so much intimacy. You had always been picky about who could touch you. You loved to shower your friends with affection, but rarely ever let anyone reciprocate it back. Logan wondered why that was. What had affected you so much that you refused to let anyone even shake your hand. Here he was, though, thumb moving from the area between your eyebrows to his hand cupping your cheek. Your eyes were wide, your throat dry. You had never expected this from him. This gentleness, the way he had observed your furrowed brows...you leaned your face into his hand, unable to help the way you melted into it. It was a chilly night, and, God, was he warm.

Logan closed the distance between the two of you, now standing directly in front of you. His thumb caressing your cheek. As he stared into your eyes, his gaze couldn't help but flicker down to your lips, a red faded stain on them from the lipstick you had worn to your date. They looked so soft, so enticing. And he couldn't help but wonder if that peppermint chapstick you wore 24/7 worked. He had never been one for chapstick, but you seemed obsessed with it. Logan's thumb slipped from where it rubbed your cheek to your bottom lip, slowly tracing it. You subconsciously licked your lips as he traced them, your chest tight. Why was it suddenly so difficult to breathe? Your throat was beyond dry, your face paled under his gaze yet somehow it felt like your blush deepened. The way his eyes analyzed your lip, your eyes, your nose, that mark you had since you were a child...It was like he was memorizing you.

You wanted to say something, anything. Preferably something sarcastic and witty. No words came to your lips regardless of the fact that your mind was working overdrive. Time slowed as his thumb gently pulled your lip down, encouraging your mouth to part as his hand cupped your chin now, guiding you closer to him. He leaned down, face inches from yours. He paused there, however, waiting for your permission because he knew that you needed that variation of control to feel safe. He wanted to make you feel safe, he wanted you to know you were safe. That he had you. You brushed your lips against his, slightly closing that gap between you two. He took that as permission as he pressed his lips to yours fully. It was gentle at first, as if he was scared that at any moment you'd disappear. Or worse, break.

Your arms moved to wrap around his neck, pulling him close as you held onto him. His hands finally rested around your waist, the kiss growing stronger as he deepened it. People claim that you would feel fireworks during a kiss, but that wasn't the case at all. You felt electricity against your skin that was against him, but the most powerful feeling was how right it felt. Like you were meant to be there, in his arms, kissing him, holding him. He had broken the kiss, opening his eyes to stare at you.

Logan wondered if he'd ever be able to let another person get close to him. He was certain Wade would've been the only one- a victim of the circumstance's kind of thing. But he sure as hell was glad that today he was the one who held you attention as he pressed another kiss to your lips.

#logan howlett x reader #ansgt #fluff #kiss #wade wilson #wolverine #wolverine x reader #deadpool and wolverine

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canterbury-bell · 1 day

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Bunnydoll Writing Week Sept 23 - Sept 29

@beanandberry and I are excited to announce… Bunnydoll Writing Week!

Taking place this upcoming Monday to Sunday, 9/23/24 to 9/29/24, this is an organized opportunity to share some great fanfiction and showcase the Bunnydoll fandom’s wonderful creativity.

The goal of this week is to write Bunnydoll oneshots from start to finish in a few days, sharing whatever you end up with; no word count requirement or pressure to be perfect.

Timeline

Monday 9/23: Select or make up your first prompt and start writing!

Thursday 9/26: Post your first oneshot

Friday 9/27: Select or make up your second prompt and start writing!

Sunday 9/29: Post your second oneshot

Want to write, but need an idea? Feel free to use this community-written Bunnydoll prompt list. If you would like to suggest a prompt to add to the free list, we invite you to submit it through this anonymous form. You can submit as many prompts as you'd like. We only ask that any work or prompts submitted remain SFW since all ages are welcome in this challenge.

If you'd like to participate but prefer drawing, comics count! :D

Please reach out to @canterbury-bell or @beanandberry with any questions. We're participating, too.

Be sure to use the hashtag #bunnydollwritingweek24 so we can find and celebrate your work : ) Looking forward to reading and sharing some amazing fics this week!

#bunnydoll #bunnydollwritingweek24 #writing #tadc #fanfiction #the amazing digital circus #jax x ragatha #jaxatha #jax #ragatha #header art by bean and I! Bean sketched and I colored #my art

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harksness · 3 days

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Agatha Reader Insert Blurb (SFW)

Ok idk how many ppl are gonna read this but pls I would love for this to be a bit of a discussion for how people would apply this to themselves/their little pleasures.

Agatha is really good at staying up to date with things as the times change. She needs to make sure she fits in so she doesn't rouse any suspicion, right? So she has to, for survival. Fashion trends, politics, current events, and so on she's on top of.. But she's not good at staying up to date with music. She's horrible about it. You needed to explain everyone from Nirvana to Britney Spears to Billie Eilish to her.

When the 70s hit, she fell in love with that era and hasn't left it. The Cure, Elton John, David Bowie, Fleetwood Mac, (heavy on Fleetwood Mac), and she just hasn't really kept up since. She's listened to Rumors on repeat since it was released. (Just from vibes alone I feel like she'd love Dreams and probably crushed on Stevie Nicks.)

When you two start dating and you realize this, you think it's so cute. You listen to all of her favorite albums and songs, and love to listen to her stories from the concerts she's gone to. She ends up being a bit of a music dork, she loved going to concerts back in the day but as her favorite artists grew older and slowed down with touring she stopped going to shows.

So you introduce her to more music to bring that love back out of her. (Going off of my favorite musicians) she loves Weezer (Only in Dreams!!), Green Day (LAST NIGHT ON EARTH??), Bastille (Icarus, The Anchor, Warmth??) Chappell Roan, and unexpectedly, Britney Spears!! Also specifically Dragula by Rob Zombie. ("Dig through the ditches and burn through the witches" it should be her badass theme song lmao) (Feel free to add on in the comments w your favorite artists + songs you think she'd like!!)

She'll always go back to her old music taste, but you do notice her peppering in some songs you introduced to her and humming Pink Pony Club to herself.

You bought general admissions tickets to see your favorite artist and surprised her with them. And she's so excited, a wide smile on her face and eyes scrunched up in the cutest way. She looks up the set list to make sure she knows every song.

Because even though she's really good at staying up to date with most things, some stuff slips through the cracks. Or she doesn't have time for all of it. But it's easy for you to see just how much she enjoys discovering things she's missed out on, curiosity seeping through her voice as her wondering eyes light up with interest and it just really tugs on your heart. So you're always trying to find little things she doesn't know about yet.

Poptarts? She's like tf are those let me try them now. She loves the cookies and cream flavor but can only eat one because she thinks they're too sugary. You show her your old DS from when you were young? She gets addicted to Animal Crossing, Agnes is her favorite villager and she loves having you sit and watch her play. Tik Tok? She gets weirdly into Reddit stories. She tries to deny it and calls them stupid while she goes to find part two. Then continues to gossip about the story with you. Then points out everything that makes it obviously fake. (Add any more in the comments that relate to you or you'd just see from her!)

I just feel like Agatha has devoted over three hundred years to magic and big, huge things and adventures that she never gets to really indulge in the little pleasures in life. She has a lot of them to catch up on. While she tries to deny having any interest in it, she really does love when you show her the fun, pointless little things she's missed out on and just a sweet way the two of you really bond.

#agatha harkness x reader #agatha harkness/reader #agatha harkness reader insert #agatha harkness #agatha all along #kathryn hahn #harksness #wlw fanfiction

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chronosbled · 9 months

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{ I noticed that lots of people tend to forget that Dickson is a mentally unstable individual who will do anything that he deems necessary to get what he wants all because he speaks to their muses and such with nothing but smiles and compliments.

Dickson is NOT a kind or compassionate person, nor does he care about those that he isn't actively pursuing for the sake of genuine friendship or genuine obsession (love in his eyes). Being kind and compassionate is nothing but another mask that he wears from his various collection when he deems it necessary. As an experiment, along with his condition that makes him unable to properly form and convey emotions (which was only worsened by the experimentation he underwent), Dickson is almost 100% incapable of feeling genuine emotions that belong to him and him alone. He has a habit of using the things he's learned from others by watching them when he's trying to portray his own "feelings" towards others and that's the main issue. Those feelings aren't his ACTUAL feelings, they're someone else's, how someone else he observed for years would react.

If someone were to somehow have the ability to strip him of his masks (his "emotions" and "feelings" if you would call them that), they would find nothing but an empty and broken shell of a person who doesn't know how to do anything but obey someone's orders or someone who completely disregards himself (as in his own well-being) when it comes to endlessly toiling away at his own experiments — and despite his experiments revolving around people who have been fucked over by life, making his own attempts to somehow benefit them — his motivation for said deed was not 100% done out of his own desire to do so, but done because (once he was finally able to recall more about his parents from his childhood) he remembered how the both of them desired to use their skills for good and to help those who cannot help themselves. Thus he applied his parents' feelings to himself and uses that core fundamental as the basis of his entire existence (after his grandfather is finally dead and he doesn't have an actual purpose anymore).

Another reason why Dickson shouldn't be underestimated (and simply chalked up to be the sweet, handsome gentleman) is because of the fact he isn't afraid to use and abuse people for his own gain. He will hurt people. He will manipulate people. He will blackmail them and torture them just like he was. And above all else, he WILL kill people. Dickson is not afraid of getting his hands dirty nor is he afraid to take people hostage and brainwash them to do his bidding if he finds it too much of a hassle for himself (or simply because he won't get caught this way if others are watching him). Before Dickson was able to take care of himself and do things for himself, his grandfather had him work as an assassin of sorts (or rather a mercenary if that's what you prefer to call it), granted he wasn't great at it in the beginning because he was very clumsy and wasn't quite sure of what he was doing, but in the end, he still killed people and usually in various creative and cruel ways too if the opportunity to do so provided itself. Additionally, Dickson will also go to any lengths he deems necessary to make sure his target doesn't come out alive, such as the time he chopped off his own hand in order to free himself so he could proceed to kill his client's target.

Sure Dickson may have been more hesitant to do terrible things when he was younger, like when his late fiancée, Janus, wanted him to help her murder various people simply because she felt like it and he didn't want to participate, but that's Dickson was a lot more weak-willed and timid during his childhood. Back then, he didn't have almost any drive to do anything because he wasn't conditioned to be subservient yet. Granted he still would listen to his grandfather's orders without question, but Janus hadn't fully established that kind of FULL control over him since he'd only known her for a few years, thus that lack of control over him is what ended up leading him to kill Janus when she finally got fed up with him enough to begin beating him (that day anyway, considering she was always abusive towards him). That fear he possessed from his childhood years (something I've already established in posts before) had changed into anger (another thing I've already established in past posts) before he finally ended up snapping all together and stabbing Janus to death, regretting what he had done for only a few moments until that dissipated as well because he simply couldn't bring himself to care. The fact that he stored her body in a freezer within the basement of the Simmons Estate only serves as a reminder of how he started in his mind.

One of the biggest reasons why people should remember that Dickson isn't just a pretty face is the HUGE fact that he basically has his own servant (more like mind slave) that both he and Janus shared together when she was still alive, that he ACTIVELY participated in breaking on the days he had suffered himself (granted he was made to believe it was alright by Janus, but that's besides the point). This point here is a perfect way to represent just how broken and unstable Dickson is as well because normally Dickson was the one who tried to keep Janus from tormenting Belphegor (the name Janus decided to give the boy despite him already having a name) and was often the one trying to tend to whatever wounds Janus had created, be them physical or mental ones (though Dickson was only good at mending physical wounds). In Belphegor's mind, Dickson was going to become his savior at some point due to the fact he showed more compassion towards him than Janus did, but this sentiment ended up proving false the day Dickson murdered Janus. Dickson's once gentle and caring demeanor towards Belphegor ended up changing into something more deranged and it only proceeded to get worse once Carla died as well — gentle gestures of affection soon became more aggressive and agitated, once soothing and comforting words became accusatory and possessive, promises of better treatment and freedom became guilt-tripping and manipulation — eventually leading for Belphegor's mental state to be completely broken down to the point he became a puppet for whatever Dickson desired.

Now, you're probably thinking "but hey, doesn't this contradict everything you've posted about Dickson before? You know, the stuff about him not wanting to be like his grandfather and such?" And in a sense, yes, I did contradict myself, but at the same time... I didn't. Why? Because Dickson didn't want to become like his grandfather or Janus or any of the people who tormented him for the entirety of his life, but when you are basically a prisoner within your own home and are subjected to abuse for so long, you generally end up developing Stockholm Syndrome and that's basically what happened to Dickson. The abuse and torment are what lead up to Dickson basically becoming his grandfather and Janus, but he only realizes this once he joins the BSAA and meets Chris and his team. Why does he realize this? Well, that's because of the simple fact that they all treat him like an ally and not a tool. They slowly begin to make him realize that he isn't just an object for someone's desires nor is he just a toy that will be endlessly used until it's broken and tossed away. They made him feel something that he's never felt before: human. They made him feel like he was an ACTUAL human being and not a monster, that he wasn't some kind of murderous and heartless creature, but instead was their close friend and even a part of their little family, which is something that Dickson has always wanted so desperately deep down inside of his very being. Not his grandfather. Not Janus. Not his mother or father. Not Carla. Dickson. Something that HE wanted. One of the very first and only things he's ever wanted in his life. Granted he still wears his various masks around them, but that's because he doesn't know how to stop nor does he want them to know just how inhuman he really is.

^^^ And this whole above paragraph really does help to show just how broken Dickson is and how even just a little bit of love and care towards him can make him into a completely different person, especially if we jump back to this line here in the first paragraph: "Dickson is NOT a kind or compassionate person, nor does he care about those that he isn't actively pursuing for the sake of genuine friendship or genuine obsession (love in his eyes)." The only reason he cares so much about Chris and his team is because of the simple fact they tried to develop genuine friendships with him to the point he had become obsessively in love with each and every one of them (some in platonic ways: Chris, Philis, Finn, Jill, Steve, and some in romantic ways: Victoria and Piers).

But back to the topic of the mind slave, due to the fact that Dickson had finally come into contact with people who... understood him in a sense for lack of a better word... he began to think that he could actually be something other than a tool and because of that, he also believed that maybe Belphegor could be more than a tool as well. Of course, due to being completely broken by Dickson, there wasn't much that could be done for him in the ways of... fixing him so in the end, Dickson simply continues to use Belphegor for whatever he deems necessary but instead of treating him as badly as he had before, he now somewhat treats him as he used to (though he can still be rather harsh when he isn't in the greatest of moods).

So with all that being said, I advise you all (especially those of you with muses that are seeking out romantic affairs with Dickson) to proceed with the utmost caution when doing so because there may come a point where Dickson doesn't care about your muse anymore and simply chooses to discard them (minus Crystal of course because that's his wifey). }

#☣ [ ' Eʋҽɾყσɳҽ Lσʋҽʂ A Vιʅʅαιɳ. ' ] - ✡ Dιƈƙʂσɳ Gҽɾαʅԃ Rҽɠιɳαʅԃ Sιɱɱσɳʂ ✡#☣ [ ' Hαυɳƚҽԃ Ⴆყ ƚԋҽ ɯσɾԃʂ ყσυ ʅҽϝƚ υɳʂαιԃ. ' ] - ✡ Hҽαԃƈαɳσɳʂ ✡#tw; long post #tw; murder mentions #tw; abuse mentions #tw; obsession mentions #tw; experimentation mentions #tw; mental illness mentions #{ Jesus christ this got long as all hell. }#{ I only meant to write a few small paragraphs not a whole damn essay. }#{ But I had to go into detail about this issue because I've been getting a lot more people trying to woo Dickson. }#{ But none of them fully know or understand how dangerous his character actually is. }#{ This is also a nice post to have to remind people that do ship with him too though so huzzah! }#{ Feel free to read through this if you'd like. }#{ I'm dipping out for now. }

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kallypsos · 1 year

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top 5 football fanfics?

let me preface this answer by saying i dont read y/n fanfics so this is gonna be gay. amen lets go

You and Me by hpdm4ever: a leo messi/sergio ramos soulmate au that got me into football fanfics. i read this twice and i cant wait to forget about it a bit so i can read it again lmao

Wrong Door by bytheriverblue: this one isnt slash, its basically a long conversation between leo and kylian (about sexuality, motivation, football) and i love it

Heart on Fire by JamesJoints: neybappe, kylian isnt famous and they meet playing call of duty au. this fic made me feel joy and pure happiness like few others.

our horizons meet by crys_crys: neybappe coming together after the divorce era. if i remember correctly this takes place during one evening and it was like being there in the room for the whole time

Carnations by Chance by kyluill: neybappe time travel au. if i see carnations i cry and its bc of this fanfic so that should tell u everything

thank you for your question!! <33

(i have more but these are probably the top5)

#people are so talented. they really be out there writing like *that* for free. and i get to read it #ask games #(so yall can blacklist if u want to since im gonna go through a few of these)#ok the last 3 i think you'd need to at least like neybappe a bit to read i admit it #but the first two ill recommend to anyone #especially the second one since its literally just a “realistic” and SO well thought and written conversation and musings of a character #and theres no slash so if you dont feel like reading that youre good #but the whole slash rpf is a whole nother can of worms im not opening in the tags lmao

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autisticcassandracain · 1 year

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Free story idea I'll probably never write but am kind of obsessed with: Scott and Lightray role reversal where Scott grew up on New Genesis and Lightray was traded to Apokolips.

Basic set up: Scott, as a little baby child, was supposed to die when Steppenwolf killed his mother. He survived, narrowly, but Izaya hid that from Apokolips in fear of retaliation. So when the pact happened, Izaya's son, presumed dead, wasn't on the table; instead, (quite literally) the brightest child on New Genesis was traded.

So Scott grows up hidden on New Genesis as the son of Highfather, with his big brother Orion. And the thing is, he loves his home, his father, his brother, but by the time he hits young adulthood he's positively gnawing at the bars. He's going stir crazy from his limited movement; even in New Genesis he has to be careful, because after all these years, he's still hiding from Darkseid, who might change the pact if he hears Izaya's son is still alive, or even flat out kill him, breaking the truce in the process. It's not something anyone is willing to risk, least of all Highfather and Orion.

But Scott is not the type to accept limitations on his freedom, and on top of that, the longer he hides away, the more guilty he feels. He's not stupid, he knows that he should have, by all rights, been the one traded in the pact. But Highfather prioritized his safety and took the out that him being presumed dead offered, and another kid took the fall instead. How is that fair? It's not like Lightray is any less important than him. Scott may have been too young to make informed decisions or understand what was happening when the pact occured, but now, as an adult, he's becoming increasingly dissatisfied with being protected at the cost of other peoples lives.

If only he could help in some way – he's no fighter, but he's crafty and creative. Surely, even if he wouldn't he terribly useful on a battlefield (and has no real desire to enter it to begin with), he could at least do something for the kid that got traded in his place? Help him escape, perhaps? He's already capable of giving even New Genesis the slip, Apokolips can't be that much harder...

Meanwhile, Darkseid was fully planning on pulling the same basic gambit with Lightray as he would have with Scott: torment him until he decides to escape at all costs, breaking the pact. So Lightray was put in Granny's Orphanage, ostensibly a normal student, with Granny reporting back on him to Darkseid. And things would've gone roughly like they went for Scott, if it weren't for one thing: Lightray's intelligence.

Where Scott was, as far as we can tell, a perfectly average student, Lightray quickly proves to be exceptional. His fighting is largely mediocre (relatively peaking, of course), but he still wins a vast majority of sparring matches, even when his opponents far outmatch him in skill, resources, numbers, or all three. He does this by simply outsmarting them, figuring out positively brilliant strategies even under the effects of Granny's mind-altering drugs. Granny reports this back to Darkseid, baffled and annoyed, lamenting about cowardice and rebellion; children in Granny's Orphanage are not supposed to think, after all.

But Darkseid quickly realizes that the pact handed them far more than just a symbolical light, an easy way to end the truce; it handed them a weapon. Child of New Genesis Lightray may be, Darkseid reads Granny's reports of cunning, manipulation, underhanded and even ruthless strategy and sees himself. On New Genesis, Lightray may have been a formidable enemy, but now, Darkseid has the opportunity to mold him into a surprise weapon. A cunning strategist, perhaps even on a similar level as himself, completely loyal to Apokolips, but easily able to win New Genesis' trust if necessary. A perfect potential spy. Lightray still has some of that pesky New Genesis kindness, but nothing a little careful manipulation won't fix. But the brute force of Granny's Orphanage won't bend him into the right shape; a little more subtlety is required here.

So Darkseid takes Lightray from Granny's Orphanage and only lies to him a little bit. He tells Lightray about the pact, about how he was traded for convenience's sake; Darkseid even graceciously admits that he'd originally planned to use Lightray much the same way, but had realized his mistake and decided to give him a chance instead. Darkseid sees how special Lightray is, how much more he could be than just a bargaining chip; Darkseid could make him great, give him power and, more importantly, a place to belong. Lightray could be important, and important things aren't easily traded away, are integral to their home and respected as peers. He could have a place here if he just listens to Darkseid, and why shouldn't he? What has New Genesis, what has Highfather given him? At least Apokolips, Darkseid is giving him a chance, believes he can be more than a bargaining chip. Highfather sees him as nothing but a tool, but Darkseid gets him, believes in him, believes he is more. Between the two of then, who has earned Lightray's loyalty?

So Lightray grows up as Darkseid's adopted son, favored even over Kalibak for his merit, risen above his origins as a bargaining chip, and only feels a little weird about it all. Just a little bit. Somewhere in the back of his mind, there is an instinctive part of him that cringes when a hunger dog rebel begs for mercy while being tortured to death, but that's just his New Genesis weakness, and he's long since overcome it. It's nothing Darkseid holds against him, as long as Lightray fights it. His origins don't define him, and he's grabbed the knife and chosen Darkseid's strength over New Genesis' weakness.

They were planning on having him 'escape' Apokolips and slotting him into New Genesis as a spy, but a golden opportunity drops straight into their lap. A New Genesian manages to sneak straight into Lightray's room, in the heart of Darkseid's home. The only one they know with the skill to pull that of is Himon, but this is clearly someone else.

This is Highfather's son, remarkably alive despite all information to the contrary, and doesn't that just reinforce everything Lightray's ever been taught? Highfather had been unwilling to sacrifice his own son, as Darkseid had done, and had instead cowardly offered up Lightray as a sacrificial lamb. Well, joke's on them, this lamb has grown into a wolf, and is ready to earn his spot in the pack. Highfather's son is called Scott Free (which is really just salt in the wound, isn't it) and is here to break him out, take him back to New Genesis, and it's a little before schedule, but they can't possibly pass up this opportunity.

Scott returns home to New Genesis, having successfully rescued Lightray and feeling pretty good about himself, not understanding why Orion is so spitting mad at the whole thing. He knows this means war, and that's awful, but this truce was never going to last, and they all know it. And now that he's seen the horrors of Apokolips for himself, he can't help but want to do something about it. He may be no fighter, but he thinks he can work with Himon; Himon's methods seem to fit very well with Scott's strengths. He can help, but his father still forbids him to leave New Genesis, and Orion insists that Darkseid is planning something, that it's too dangerous. Scott is inexperienced, naive, and must be protected at all costs, and if they think they can actually successfully keep him in one place they're idiots. It's only a matter of time before he gives them the slip.

Orion knows this damn well, but that's not going to stop him from trying to keep Scott from walking straight into an enemy trap. He doesn't trust Lightray, not even a little bit; he still remembers what Darkseid is like, and he knows, knows that Lightray would never have been allowed to live as his son if he wasn't useful to him in some way. Orion would bet his astro harness Lightray is a spy, but what can they do? Highfather refuses to lock Lightray up without concrete proof that he's a traitor, and they obviously can't send him back to Apokolips. If Scott goes through with joining Himon, he'll be in the middle of enemy territory, with a spy to report back to Darkseid on it. Orion can't allow that to happen, no matter what. But he can't just babysit Scott, even if Scott would've allowed him to do that; with the war starting, Orion is needed on the front lines. He doesn't know how to balance the need to protect his brother with his duties towards New Genesis and the universe at large.

Lightray, meanwhile, is having a bit of a culture shock. New Genesis is, for the most part, exactly what he'd been told to expect: bright, soft, holier-than-thou, all-around fake and weak. But it's still a shock to go from dark Apokolips to bright New Genesis, and to his alarm he can feel the effects already. In the sunlight, he is physically stronger and much more comfortable. He settles in easy, feels content in a way he rarely (never) felt on Apokolips. No matter how much he tries to remind himself that these people betrayed them and he's here to destroy them, he fits on New Genesis in a way he never did on Apokolips, and that scares him, a little bit. Because he knows he'll never have a place here; he'd be a tool at best, and an interloper at worst. Orion's hostility, though a significant hurdle in the plan, is almost welcome; it's familiar, and makes it easier to remind himself that he does not, in fact, belong here.

And then, there is one more complication: Scott Free. Scott Free, Highfather's hidden son, for whose sake he was traded, who is naive and reckless and easy to manipulate, and genuine in a way that completely throws Lightray for a loop. Highfather lies, pretending to trust Lightray despite obviously agreeing with Orion's suspiscions, apologizing for trading Lightray even though he'd surely do it again without hesitation, claiming to respect New Genesis' youth above all despite how obviously untrue that is. It's easy to look at him and see confirmation of everything Darkseid told him about New Genesis.

But Scott tells Lightray he never should've been traded in his place and honestly seems to believe it. He defied orders to come 'rescue' Lightray because he believed it was more important than the continuation of the pact. He's weak, in many ways, but he sees the world how it could be, not the way it is, and has a bright resiliance to him, which Lightray stubbornly refuses to compare to anyone he's met, especially not one Aurelie, the Fury who'd been revealed to be part of Himon's rebels. Scott Free will either die painfully or waste the rest of his life away imprisoned, and Lightray finds himself making just a few too many excuses for why that bothers him.

When Scott Free finally escapes Orion and Highfather's watch to go join Himon, Lightray does not immediately report to Darkseid. He contacts Big Barda instead. It's not treachery, he tells himself. Big Barda is wholly loyal to Darkseid, the leader of the Furies, and will get the job done; besides, he'll report to Darkseid soon enough. He still refuses to think about Aurelie, and how closely Barda stuck to Lightray's side afterwards, drawn to him for reasons they both knew but refused to acknowledge. When he hears back about Barda's defection and her and Scott's escape to Earth, he is obviously very shocked and not even a little bit relieved the plan he didn't have worked.

Then the anti-life equation is discovered on Earth, and suddenly Lightray is told by Darkseid that discovering its location should be his top priority. Orion is sent to look for it as well, to protect it, and Lightray, seeing an opportunity, insists to go along. To his surprise, Orion actually agrees. Orion, for this part, just wants to get Lightray as far away from New Genesis as possible, and is working on a 'keep your friends close, but your enemies closer' logic. So off they both go, on the universe's most high-stakes and hostile buddy road trip.

#My posts #infodumping #Lightray #Orion #Scott free #Fourth world #I like this au bc it does what role reversals do best: force you to question which parts of a character are innate #Lightray is characterized as the kindest of new genesis but this is tied heavily to his sheltered upbringing on new genesis #We also see him mostly prioritize orion as his personal friend; this is unlike highfather and orion who are both big picture thinkers #Don't get me wrong lightray has a strong sense of justice but he's a little more prone to ruthlessness than you'd expect #And this au would rlly bring that out; some of his kindness is innate I believe but itd be duppressed like orion supresses his anger #On the other hand Scott's most defining attribute of fucking bailing on everything is still there its just twisted #Bc Scott in canon almost never seeks out danger and doesnt really feel responsible for fighting apokolips #But thats easily read as being bc he went through hell already so he jus wants to get away now #He already has a strong sense of justice in canon and is incapable of not helping ppl if they're in front of him #So in an au where he grew up on new genesis i DO think he'd be inclined to join himon in a way he didnt in canon #Bc that sense of justice would've been nurtured and never had to be stamped out or overridden for the sake of survival #Also sidenote I think a cool way for the plot of this au to go would be for barda + scott to join with the forever people #And find shilo norman as having the anti life equation #You could also have scott getting the equation if you want #I personally like the idea of thaddeus brown passing it onto him #Obvs both of those directions would be more AU than just the role reversal but I think they're Neat

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ddejavvu · 15 days

Note

this is depraved, but grinding on logan’s happy trail to get off 🫢

Hands Free - Logan Howlett x Reader

send me logan requests!

contents/warnings: smut, minors dni, mean!logan, drinking, don't like don't read.

You've caught Logan at a bad time. The surly mutant is a complicated man, and one with less psychological damage than him might be eager to whip it out whenever, but Logan isn't. He's busy brooding, and he's not to be interrupted when he's got a bottle in one hand and a cigar in the other.

But you need him. There's a pit in your belly that's only made worse by the scowl on his face, and your cunt aches beneath your now-slick panties for something to envelop. You're desperate for Logan to fuck you, but there's no way you'll convince him if he's not in the mood.

"I can feel you staring," He grumbles, eyes still cast to the floor as he takes another swig of burning liquor, "What do you want?"

There's no polite way to say you.

"Uhm," You shift on your feet, thighs clenched, "I'm just feeling- I'm a little, um, I-"

"Spit it out."

"I need you." You breathe, ashamed by the sentence, but Logan's face remains untouched, nothing moving but the lingering smoke from his smoldering cigar.

"I'm not in the mood." He grunts, like it isn't obvious.

"I- I know." You fall awkwardly silent again, rising onto your tiptoes and falling back to your heels. Up, down. Up, down. Up, down. Up-

"Don't make a mess." He shifts in the chair, lowering his hips until they're level with his abdomen, offering you the best seat in the house.

He's shirtless, which means that if you can't have his cock, or his fingers, you can get the next best thing. A combination of the friction from the waistband of his jeans, and his toned abs, blanketed with coarse, wiry hair.

You mount him eagerly, which isn't hard to do seeing as his chair has no arms. It's got a back so that he can lean against it, but your support system is his chest, where you firmly plant your hands in preparation to get yourself off.

There's a dark line of hair that trails from the bottom of his navel and disappears beneath his waistband, flanked on either side with a sharp line of muscle that tapers down towards his cock in a V. His body is a work of art, and you only wish his equally gorgeous face was pointed your direction.

No matter- you won't push. You're lucky he's letting you get off on his lap, you'll take what you can get.

"Easy," He grumbles, rocked by the sudden jerk of your hips. As you settle into a steady rhythm you realize you've already failed his one directive of not making a mess, but there's no way to stop or slow the steady stream of slick that's pouring from your weeping cunt. It's sobbing, slobbering, begging for a cock, but you drag it flush against Logan's abs and mat his happy trail down with your translucent arousal.

"One fuckin' job," He gripes, reaching down to swipe two fingers through the slick that's glistening on his stomach as you find better friction near the waistband of his jeans. The texture of the denim is rough, and you realize with giddy desperation that he's getting hard in his pants despite his insistence that he wasn't in the mood.

He sticks his fingers in his mouth for a taste, his cigar left behind in its ashtray on the side table. He doesn't relinquish the bottle, but he takes equal sips of that and of the mess you're making on his abs.

Finally, thanks to the sizeable bulge in Logan's jeans, you're able to hump your way to completion on his stomach. It's not hard, considering you'd been achingly horny before, but without something inside of you your release feels empty and wasted. You'd use your fingers if you could, but you can't move your hands or you'd faceplant on Logan's chest, and you don't want to invade his space any further in case he decides your privileges have been revoked.

"Poor thing." He murmurs when your hips slow and you're panting against his chest. You glance at his face but he's staring at your cunt, not at you, "She's so hungry."

It takes him one, two, three seconds to reach for his belt, "Well, c'mon. Up now, there y'go." As you shimmy up his abdomen, slicking his happy trail up with your release once more. As soon as he's able to free his cock he slides a hand under your ass, boosting you up so that you're finally able to sink down onto his red-tipped, leaking cock.

"Jesus, she's sucking me in," He grunts, his voice gruff and ragged, "How long were you waiting to ask me?"

"Too long." You whine, pussy already sensitive from your first orgasm, and now in utter bliss from finally being penetrated after all that teasing, "I- hnngh! My toys don't work anymore. They're- they're nothing like you, I can't use them. I can't ever finish."

Logan scoffs, still in a mood as sour as the liquor on his breath, but his hands find their place on your waist as he helps bounce you on his cock, "Shame. Those were supposed to keep you busy. Guess I'll have to do it then, hm?"

You nod vigorously against the crook of Logan's neck, your nose buried where his neck meets his shoulder, and where sweat accumulates sticky on his skin. You lick it up, and Logan hisses against the mouth of his bottle as he takes another swig.

"Fine." He grumbles, butting the bottle up to your head and forcing it against your lips, "Take this, take a nice big- there you go. That'll make you sleepy," He vows, and the head rush comes just like he'd warned. His hips begin shifting, circling slightly in gyrations that only add to the pleasure of bouncing on his dick, "And this'll knock you out, crazy."

#logan howlett x reader #logan howlett imagine #logan howlett fluff #logan howlett fanfiction #logan howlett smut #logan howlett x you #logan howlett blurb #logan howlett drabble #logan howlett oneshot #wolverine x reader #wolverine imagine #wolverine smut

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mollyrealized · 7 months

Text

How Michael Met Neil

original direct link [MP3]

(Neil, if you see this, please feel free to grab the transcript and store on your site; I had no easy way of contacting you.)

DAVID TENNANT: Tell me about @neil-gaiman then, because he's in that category [previously: “such a profound effect on my life”] as well.

MICHAEL SHEEN: So this is what has brought us together.

DAVID: Yes.

MICHAEL: To the new love story for the 21st century.

DAVID: Exactly.

MICHAEL: So when I went to drama school, there was a guy called Gary Turner in my year. And within the first few weeks, we were doing something, having a drink or whatever. And he said to me, “Do you read comic books?”

And I said, “No.” I mean, this is … what … '88? '88, '89. So it was … now I know that it was a period of time that was a big change, transformation going through comic books. Rather than it being thought of as just superheroes and Batman and Superman, there was this whole new era of a generation of writers like Grant Morrison.

DAVID: The kids who'd grown up reading comic books were now making comic books

MICHAEL: Yeah, yeah, and starting to address different kinds of subjects through the comic book medium. So it wasn't about just superheroes, it was all kinds of stuff going on – really fascinating stuff. And I was totally unaware of this.

And so this guy Gary said to me, "Do you read them?" And I said, "No." And he went, "Right, okay, here's The Watchman [sic] by Alan Moore. Here's Swamp Thing. Here's Hellblazer. And here's Sandman.”

And Sandman was Neil Gaiman's big series that put his name on the map. And I read all those, and, just – I was blown away by all of them, but particularly the Sandman stories, because he was drawing on mythology, which was something I was really interested in, and fairy tales, folklore, and philosophy, and Shakespeare, and all kinds of stuff were being mixed up in this story. And I absolutely loved it.

So I became a big fan of Neil's, and started reading everything by him. And then fairly shortly after that, within six months to a year, Good Omens the book came out, which Neil wrote with Terry Pratchett. And so I got the book – because I was obviously a big fan of Neil's by this point – read it, loved it, then started reading Terry Pratchett’s stuff as well, because I didn't know his stuff before then – and then spent years and years and years just being a huge fan of both of them.

And then eventually when – I'd done films like the Underworld films and doing Twilight films. And I think it was one of the Twilight films, there was a lot of very snooty interviews that happened where people who considered themselves well above talking about things like Twilight were having to interview me … and, weirdly, coming at it from the attitude of 'clearly this is below you as well' … weirdly thinking I'm gonna go, 'Yeah, fucking Twilight.”

And I just used to go, "You know what? Some of the greatest writing of the last 50-100 years has happened in science fiction or fantasy." Philip K Dick is one of my favorite writers of all time. In fact, the production of Hamlet I did was mainly influenced by Philip K Dick. Ursula K. Le Guin and Asimov, and all these amazing people. And I talked about Neil as well. And so I went off on a bit of a rant in this interview.

Anyway, the interview came out about six months later, maybe. Knock on the door, open the door, delivery of a big box. That’s interesting. Open the box, there's a card at the top of the box. I open the card.

It says, From one fan to another, Neil Gaiman. And inside the box are first editions of Neil's stuff, and all kinds of interesting things by Neil. And he just sent this stuff.

DAVID: You'd never met him?

MICHAEL: Never met him. He'd read the interview, or someone had let him know about this interview where I'd sung his praises and stood up for him and the people who work within that sort of genre as being like …

And he just got in touch. We met up for the first time when he came to – I was in Los Angeles at the time, and he came to LA. And he said, "I'll take you for a meal."

I said, “All right.”

He said, "Do you want to go somewhere posh, or somewhere interesting?”

I said, "Let's go somewhere interesting."

He said, "Right, I'm going to take you to this restaurant called The Hump." And it's at Santa Monica Airport. And it's a sushi restaurant.

I was like, “Right, okay.” So I had a Mini at the time. And we get in my Mini and we drive off to Santa Monica Airport. And this restaurant was right on the tarmac, like, you could sit in the restaurant (there's nobody else there when we got there, we got there quite early) and you're watching the planes landing on Santa Monica Airport. It's extraordinary.

And the chef comes out and Neil says, "Just bring us whatever you want. Chef's choice."

So, I'd never really eaten sushi before. So we sit there; we had this incredible meal where they keep bringing these dishes out and they say, “This is [blah, blah, blah]. Just use a little bit of soy sauce or whatever.” You know, “This is eel. This is [blah].”

And then there was this one dish where they brought out and they didn't say what it was. It was like “mystery dish”, we had it ... delicious. Anyway, a few more people started coming into the restaurant as time went on.

And we're sort of getting near the end, and I said, "Neil, I can't eat anymore. I'm gonna have to stop now. This is great, but I can't eat–"

"Right, okay. We'll ask for the bill in a minute."

And then the door opens and some very official people come in. And it was the Feds. And the Feds came in, and we knew they were because they had jackets on that said they were part of the Federal Bureau of Whatever. And about six of them come in. Two of them go … one goes behind the counter, two go into the kitchen, one goes to the back. They've all got like guns on and stuff.

And me and Neil are like, "What on Earth is going on?"

And then eventually one guy goes, "Ladies and gentlemen, if you haven't ordered already, please leave. If you're still eating your meal, please finish up, pay your bill, leave."*

[* - delivered in a perfect American ‘serious law agent’ accent/impression]

And we were like, "Oh my God, are we poisoned? Is there some terrible thing that's happened?"

We'd finished, so we pay our bill. And then all the kitchen staff are brought out. And the head chef is there. The guy who's been bringing us this food. And he's in tears. And he says to Neil, "I'm so sorry." He apologizes to Neil. And we leave. We have no idea what happened.

DAVID: But you're assuming it's the mystery dish.

MICHAEL: Well, we're assuming that we can't be going to – we can't be – it can't be poisonous. You know what I mean? It can't be that there's terrible, terrible things.

So the next day was the Oscars, which is why Neil was in town. Because Coraline had been nominated for an Oscar. Best documentary that year was won by The Cove, which was by a team of people who had come across dolphins being killed, I think.

Turns out, what was happening at this restaurant was that they were having illegal endangered species flown in to the airport, and then being brought around the back of the restaurant into the kitchen.

We had eaten whale – endangered species whale. That was the mystery dish that they didn't say what it was.

And the team behind The Cove were behind this sting, and they took them down that night whilst we were there.

DAVID: That’s extraordinary.

MICHAEL: And we didn't find this out for months. So for months, me and Neil were like, "Have you worked anything out yet? Have you heard anything?"

"No, I haven't heard anything."

And then we heard that it was something to do with The Cove, and then we eventually found out that that restaurant, they were all arrested. The restaurant was shut down. And it was because of that. And we'd eaten whale that night.

DAVID: And that was your first meeting with Neil Gaiman.

MICHAEL: That was my first meeting. And also in the drive home that night from that restaurant, he said, and we were in my Mini, he said, "Have you found the secret compartment?"

I said, "What are you talking about?" It's such a Neil Gaiman thing to say.

DAVID: Isn't it?

MICHAEL: The secret compartment? Yeah. Each Mini has got a secret compartment. I said, "I had no idea." It's secret. And he pressed a little button and a thing opened up. And it was a secret compartment in my own car that Neil Gaiman showed me.

DAVID: Was there anything inside it?

MICHAEL: Yeah, there was a little man. And he jumped out and went, "Hello!" No, there was nothing in there. There was afterwards because I started putting...

DAVID: Sure. That's a very Neil Gaiman story. All of that is such a Neil Gaiman story.

MICHAEL: That's how it began. Yeah.

DAVID: And then he came to offer you the part in Good Omens.

MICHAEL: Yeah. Well, we became friends and we would whenever he was in town, we would meet up and yeah, and then eventually he started, he said, "You know, I'm working on an adaptation of Good Omens." And I can remember at one point Terry Gilliam was going to maybe make a film of it. And I remember being there with Neil and Terry when they were talking about it. And...

DAVID: Were you involved at that point?

MICHAEL: No, no, I wasn't involved. I just happened to have met up with Neil that day.

DAVID: Right.

MICHAEL: And then Terry Gilliam came along and they were chatting, that was the day they were talking about that or whatever.

And then eventually he sent me one of the scripts for an early draft of like the first episode of Good Omens. And he said – and we started talking about me being involved in it, doing it – he said, “Would you be interested?” I was like, "Yeah, of course." I went, "Oh my God." And he said, "Well, I'll send you the scripts when they come," and I would read them, and we'd talk about them a little bit. And so I was involved.

But it was always at that point with the idea, because he'd always said about playing Crowley in it. And so, as time went on, as I was reading the scripts, I was thinking, "I don't think I can play Crowley. I don't think I'm going to be able to do it." And I started to get a bit nervous because I thought, “I don't want to tell Neil that I don't think I can do this.” But I just felt like I don't think I can play Crowley.

DAVID: Of course you can [play Crowley?].

MICHAEL: Well, I just on a sort of, on a gut level, sometimes you have it on a gut level.

DAVID: Sure, sure.

MICHAEL: I can do this.

DAVID: Yeah.

MICHAEL: Or I can't do this. And I just thought, “You know what, this is not the part for me. The other part is better for me, I think. I think I can do that, I don't think I could do that.”

But I was scared to tell Neil because I thought, "Well, he wants me to play Crowley" – and then it turned out he had been feeling the same way as well. And he hadn't wanted to mention it to me, but he was like, "I think Michael should really play Aziraphale."

And neither of us would bring it up. And then eventually we did. And it was one of those things where you go, "Oh, thank God you said that. I feel exactly the same way." And then I think within a fairly short space of time, he said, “I think we've got … David Tennant … for Crowley.” And we both got very excited about that.

And then all these extraordinary people started to join in. And then, and then off we went.

DAVID: That's the other thing about Neil, he collects people, doesn't he? So he'll just go, “Oh, yeah, I've phoned up Frances McDormand, she's up for it.” Yeah. You're, what?

MICHAEL: “I emailed Jon Hamm.”

DAVID: Yeah.

MICHAEL: And yeah, and you realize how beloved he is and how beloved his work is. And I think we would both recognise that Good Omens is one of the most beloved of all of Neil's stuff.

DAVID: Yes.

MICHAEL: And had never been turned into anything.

DAVID: Yeah.

MICHAEL: And so the kind of responsibility of that, I mean, for me, for someone who has been a fan of him and a fan of the book for so long, I can empathize with all the fans out there who are like, “Oh, they better not fuck this up.”

DAVID: Yes.

MICHAEL: “And this had better be good.” And I have that part of me. But then, of course, the other part of me is like, “But I'm the one who might be fucking it up.”

DAVID: Yeah.

MICHAEL: So I feel that responsibility as well.

DAVID: But we have Neil on site.

MICHAEL: Yes. Well, Neil being the showrunner …

DAVID: Yeah. I think it takes the curse off.

MICHAEL: … I think it made a massive difference, didn't it? Yeah. You feel like you're in safe hands.

DAVID: Well, we think. Not that the world has seen it yet.

MICHAEL (grimly): No, I know.

DAVID: But it was a -- it's been a -- it's been a joy to work with you on it. I can't wait for the world to see it.

MICHAEL: Oh my God. Oh, well, I mean, it's the only, I've done a few things where there are two people, it's a bit of a double act, like Frost-Nixon and The Queen, I suppose, in some ways. But, and I've done it, Amadeus or whatever.

This is the only thing I've done where I really don't think of it as “my character” or “my performance as that character”. I think of it totally as us.

DAVID: Yeah.

MICHAEL: The two of us.

DAVID: Yes.

MICHAEL: Like they, what I do is defined by what you do.

DAVID: Yeah.

MICHAEL: And that was such a joy to have that experience. And it made it so much easier in a way as well, I found, because you don't feel like you're on your own in it. Like it's totally us together doing this and the two characters totally complement each other. And the experience of doing it was just a real joy.

DAVID: Yeah. Well, I hope the world is as excited to see it as we are to talk about it, frankly.

MICHAEL: You know, there's, having talked about T.S. Eliot earlier, there's another bit from The Wasteland where there's a line which goes, These fragments I have shored against my ruin.

And this is how I think about life now. There is so much in life, no matter what your circumstances, no matter what, where you've got, what you've done, how much money you got, all that. Life's hard. I mean, you can, it can take you down at any point.

You have to find this stuff. You have to like find things that will, these fragments that you hold to yourself, they become like a liferaft, and especially as time goes on, I think, as I've got older, I've realized it is a thin line between surviving this life and going under.

And the things that keep you afloat are these fragments, these things that are meaningful to you and what's meaningful to you will be not-meaningful to someone else, you know. But whatever it is that matters to you, it doesn't matter what it was you were into when you were a teenager, a kid, it doesn't matter what it is. Go and find them, and find some way to hold them close to you.

Make it, go and get it. Because those are the things that keep you afloat. They really are. Like doing that with him or whatever it is, these are the fragments that have shored against my ruin. Absolutely.

DAVID: That's lovely. Michael, thank you so much.

MICHAEL: Thank you.

DAVID: For talking today and for being here.

MICHAEL: Oh, it's a pleasure. Thank you.

#neil gaiman #michael sheen #david tennant does a podcast with...#good omens #aziraphale #crowley #sushi #whale #the cove #oscars 2010 #coraline #mini secret compartments #howneilmetmichael #howmichaelmetneil

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clanwarrior-tumbly · 2 months

Note

Can you please do a part two of the Sebastian fluff where he lets his thoughts get the best of him and gets anxious that reader now sees him as a monster because of what they read on his document so he prepares extra good items and plans to give them heavy discounts and even some free but reader barges in like

"MANTIS SHRIMP??? PUNCH SOMETHING RIGHT NOW"

And after a bit of reassuring(possibly some punching too bc reader is too starry-eyed for him to say no to em) Seb realizes he trully never had anything to worry about and just, generally grows fonder of reader?

Ps. Adore your writing, keep up the awesome work!!

"God, why did I let them take it? Stupid, stupid, stupid.."

Sebastian couldn't stop beating himself up, even though he knew he shouldn't care about the opinion of any human sent by Urbanshade--especially one of the "expendable" class.

Yet because it was you, specifically--who was currently in possession of his document--he began to wonder what you'd think of him once you found out the truth:

That he was nothing but a horrible monster. Plain and simple.

If not the knowledge that he was a hideous chimera of several sea creatures' DNA...then surely the revelation that he caused the lockdown of the Blacksite would ultimately make you resent him.

He released all those creatures, who stopped at nothing to prevent you from reaching the crystal and had you running, fighting, or hiding for your life.

He was responsible for all the injuries you've sustained while crawling into his shop, desperately needing a medkit and a place to rest.

He would understand if you'd never want to visit him again after what they documented about him..but the image of your furious expression and overthinking the words you'd possibly say to him left him feeling incredibly anxious.

Suddenly, Sebastian found himself gathering more supplies. Medkits, code breakers, and every light source he had currently in the shop, trying to market down whatever he could. He was even willing to let you take batteries for free...which was something he'd never normally do.

Would it be enough to make up for everything horrific you discovered about him and the terrors he indirectly put you through? Absolutely not.

Was he willing to try it anyways just for the small chance that you'd keep visiting him? Maybe.

No other human has shown him a single ounce of kindness or gratitude for his services. Nobody except you, of course, and he refused to lose that.

-thump, thump-

"Shit.." He froze, hearing movement in the vent duct, hands trembling for his light to shine brighter. Part of him wishes he could stay in the dark, as he didn't wanna see your face and whatever hurt expression it could possibly hold.

But he knew it'd be rude if you actually needed to buy something, so he forced himself to look as your familiar figure crawled out of the small opening. You seemed out of breath, like you were just running from something, and stood up to dust the dirt off your pants.

"Sebastian..I need to know something, and you need to be 100% honest with me."

The moment you pulled out his document, the shopkeeper could feel his heart sink.

"Wh..What did you want to know?" He asked, already bracing himself for the worst.

You sounded dead serious, and he was convinced you were finally going to let him have it.

You were going to force him to explain himself and his actions, and tell him what a monster he truly was. Literally and metaphoric-

"Its it true that you have mantis shrimp DNA????"

Silence.

Of all the possible outbursts he expected from you, that certainly didn't cross his mind.

Sebastian just stared down at you, utterly dumbfounded. He blinked several times, unsure if he was truly seeing the wide smile and starry-eyed look on your face.

He had been waiting for a deep scowl, eyes full of anger and betrayal and sadness that he wasn't the "friend" he claimed himself to be when you first visited his shop.

Yet now? He saw nothing but pure delight in your expression.

"Um..yes. But of alllll the things you read about me, that shocked you the most?" He was still treading carefully.

"Well, it sucks that you were an innocent guy who got thrown into a shitty situation." You gestured to him, frowning a little. "And I'm sorry you never saw justice, but...it's just SO cool that you're part mantis shrimp!" A grin returned to your face. "They've fascinated me for years! I used to watch videos of them all the time. Did you know the velocity of just one of their punches is equal to a .22 caliber bullet-?"

"Stop." He put a hand up, huffing. "At least some part of you must resent me. I mean...helloooooo, did you skip over the bit where I'M the reason those monsters are after you?! There's no way you could've ignored that..unless your brain turned off the moment you read "mantis shrimp"."

"I read everything, Sebastian." You huffed back. "Look, if I ever had to go through what you did..I think I'd wanna rebel, too. And as much as those monsters scare me, they've probably endured the same experiments as you. They probably felt just as trapped and afraid. You must see at least a few of them as your friends, right?"

"Eyefestation and the PAInter are the only ones I consider "acquaintances"." He answered after a long pause, shoulders slumped. "The anglers are primitive, but they recognize me as the one who freed them, so they don't bother me or my shop. The only creature that tends to be an issue is-"

-thump-

Tensing, you looked over your shoulder to see a Wall Dweller emerge from the vent behind you, its mouth split open and drooling with hunger, standing on two legs.

"-that." Sebastian glared at the creature; and before it could run away, he blocked the entrance with his tail fin. "Oh no you don't." He swooped over to grab ahold of its head with his third hand, causing it to shriek and kick its legs as he held it up high. "You seriously need to stop eating my customers when they're trying to BUY SOMETHING!!"

The Dweller just growled at him, to which he ignored it and glanced down at you. "What should I do with this thing?"

"Punch it!" You grinned, your fists balled up in front of you as you hopped up and down. "I wanna see how fast you could throw one!"

He raised an eyebrow. "Really?"

"Pleeeeaaase?"

"..ugh, if it gets that stupid puppy-eyed look off your face, fine." He looked back at the Dweller, grinning widely as he cracked his knuckles. "You wanna eat something so bad? Try this."

"....grahh-?"

In a blinding flash, his fist went through the creature's skull, effectively turning its head into dust. Then he dropped the whole body onto the ground with a grimance. "Eugh..never done that before.."

Then he looked down at you again, seeing your smile brighten. "Hope that made you happy."

"It did, that was amazing!" You laughed, kneeling down to rip off a chunk of the Dweller's flesh. He eyed you strangely, his expression changing to a look of horror as you shoved a piece in your mouth.

"What the f...why would you eat that?!"

"It's okay! I've had this stuff before." You swallowed, feeling rejuvenated already.

"B....Before?! What you're eating is clay and acid-"

"Actually, it's fresh meat. Reminds me of poultry, almost. I found a document somewhere saying that it has regenerative properties." You explained to Sebastian, whose eyes only widened the more you talked. "I didn't believe it at first until I saw the Angler kill one. I was hungry and...eating it healed my electrical burn somehow."

".......why was that not in its actual document?" He muttered.

You shrugged, ripping out another piece and offering it to him. "Care for a bite?"

"I'll..pass. But thanks." Lowering his body closer to you, he frowned. "Are you absolutely sure that-?"

"I'm sure."

"..you didn't even know what I was going to-"

"You were worried about my reaction to your file. I could tell from the discount signs and how you were scared to even look at me."

"............."

"But I promise it doesn't change anything, okay? We're still friends, Sebastian, and I'll still swing by to do business with you." You reassured him, smiling as you patted the back of his hand, before noticing the bandage on his third arm seemed bloody. "Um..when's the last time you changed that?"

"...oh this? Erm..it's fine." He attempted to hide it behind his back. "Nothing you should be concerned abou-"

"Too late. It's my concern now. Let me repay you for saving my tail."

He had no time to protest, as you were already on your feet and running for the medkit that was on the table. You weren't worried about getting to the next zone right now.

Not that Sebastian planned on kicking you out anytime soon.

No.

Now that he was able to confide in you, he was genuinely beginning to enjoy your company--especially as you asked him to rest his arm across your lap. From there, your gentle hands went to work changing the bandage out for a fresh one, using an alcohol spray to keep the wounds from getting infected.

He hissed and cursed a few times at the stinging pain, but not once did he try to get you to stop.

Suddenly, it all began to hit him in this exact moment.

You were willingly playing nurse to a giant sea monster that has killed a man and was responsible for the terrifying things you had to witness down here.

He couldn't understand..but at the same time he felt relieved that all along he had nothing to worry about.

"Th-That's fine..thank you.."

Hearing a sniffle, you glanced up as Sebastian hastily took his arm away, "standing" back up and turning away from you. You just smiled and patted his tail comfortingly, not saying a word as you waited for him to collect himself.

For once, that snarky and sarcastic fish you've come to know was gone, and he was letting his walls down, finally realizing he could trust you.

Eventually he fell silent, and you wondered what to do now. You bought everything you wanted to earlier, so you didn't wanna overstay your welcome-

"Do you mind staying for a little bit longer?"

The question surprised you, but you smiled and nodded. "Sure. As long as you don't mind, shrimpy."

There was a pause, and he slowly looked back at you, pouting. "Big talk coming from someone as tiny as you, friend." He playfully sneered.

You just laughed and shook your head, glad to see him in better spirits.

Thanks to that scrambler on his back, you didn't have to worry about HQ getting on your ass about continuing the mission or threatening detonation.

You could definitely stay awhile and ramble about more mantis shrimp facts to Sebastian...if he was willing to hear them, of course.

#fluff is served <3 #clanask #anonymous #roblox x reader #pressure x reader #roblox pressure x reader #sebastian solace #sebastian solace x reader #fluff

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grouchydairy · 1 year

Quote

Those who don’t will leave. It seems silly for them to stick around simply to hate what you’ve created. I know, the internet fosters a space where people do sacrifice their living breathing moments to dislike and hate, but water the flowers, not the weeds..

#quotes

#poetry #poetry snippet #thank you to all who click through and read!#feel free to tip if you'd like #likes also appreciated though

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reilemon · 5 months

Text

🫧Love Don't Be Shy🫧

♡︎ pairing: Rafayel x fem!reader

｡°⚠︎°｡MINORS DNI (18+ ONLY)｡°⚠︎°｡

♡︎cw:unprotected sex (as always), there's only one bed, sex toys, pulling out

♡︎word count: 2.9k

♡︎synopsis: Rafayel finds your mini "neck massager" while going through your makeup bag.

♡︎a/n: I hope you guys like how I wrote Rafayel.

♡︎ special thanks to my beta reader ♡︎@its-de♡︎ for reading and helping me with this

banner by @cafekitsune

A defeated sigh leaves your lips. You have to share the bed with your friend (employee?) Rafayel. You just nod when Rafayel checks with you if it's okay, and of course you agree because you don't want to go around searching for another hotel.

The last time you had to share a room, and the bed, you barely got any sleep as he was tossing and turning all night, stealing the duvet in consequence. You couldn't be too mad at him as you know how messed up his sleep schedule is. Also, he was so sweet for remembering your comment how you wished to see a certain spot at that place.

This time is no different; he organized this little trip for you to make good use of your vacation days. He researched all the restaurants that you'd like, shops that he'd like, fun and interesting places to visit, and always takes the best seats in the airplane. But he always forgets to book two rooms in advance!

It's not that bad, you tell yourself. You're very comfortable around Rafayel; he makes you feel safe and he adores spending time with you. It's just that you have your own night routine. And you can't do it with him in the same room.

Oh well, the vacation will fly by quickly.

Even with this little inconvenience, you wish it won't. Not because you don't want to get back to work, but because you also adore spending time with him. And lately, with every meeting you hope to become more than just friends (more than just an artist and his bodyguard).

⋆ ˚｡⋆꒰ა 🪼 ໒꒱⋆ ˚｡⋆

After unpacking Rafayel and you go outside to grab a quick bite at the city centre. Of course that turns into an impromptu shopping spree because the two of you stumbled upon a vintage flea market.

You drag your feet as Rafayel almost skips next to you, bags with little trinkets in his hands. It's a beautiful summer afternoon, with a refreshing breeze. You'd enjoy it more if there weren't so many people around.

He glances at your 'energetic' walk. "C'mon Miss Bodyguard, we had a good time there!"

You chuckle. "Sure, if you can call 'talking you out of buying everything you see' a good time."

"But everything was so beautiful!"

"Yes, but think of the luggage!"

He shifts his bags to one hand and offers you the free one with a soft smile. "Give me your hand. I don't want to get lost."

He says that, but he's the one leading you through the crowd.

⋆ ˚｡⋆꒰ა 🪼 ໒꒱⋆ ˚｡⋆

You had to take a little nap after coming back to your room, because Rafayel had more things planned for this evening, and you needed the energy. You wanted to look and feel good because you actually looked forward to it. You might've even bought some new outfits that you thought he'd like, even though he gives you compliments no matter how much effort you put into your appearance.

While you were asleep, Rafayel took a long shower.

When you awoke, you found him in your room with nothing but a towel wrapped around his hips.

You blush and avert your gaze, opting to just not comment on it. "Are you at least wearing underwear?" You commented on it.

He looks down, like he forgot about his state of almost-undress. "I do. Wanna check?" His hand resting on the towel knot.

Your hand immediately shoots up to cover your view of whatever he's about to show you. "It's fine! I just didn't expect this to be the first thing I see after a nap!"

He laughs and strolls towards the closet. "You saw me in a bathing suit plenty of times. This towel covers more."

You can't help but sneak a peek at his toned back while he's picking out an outfit. For someone who claims to hate working out, he's more than fit. You can clearly see the way his muscles are carved under his pale still damp skin and the way they flex as he moves. As he turns around, you can’t help but crave to graze your hand over his defined abs and those veins leading down to -

"Like what you see?"

Caught red handed, you snap your head in the opposite direction, your face burning with embarrassment.

"I'll go take a shower." You mumble as you snatch your underwear and a nightdress from a drawer and escape to the bathroom, blushing even more as you catch Rafayel's mischievous laugh.

⋆ ˚｡⋆꒰ა 🪼 ໒꒱⋆ ˚｡⋆

Refreshed, and not at all embarrassed anymore, you emerge from the bathroom to get your makeup bag. You don't know whether to put the outfit on before the makeup, or the other way around...

Your brain short circuits when your eyes land on Rafayel holding your makeup bag in one hand - and your mini vibrator in the other.

He holds it up and studies it "Is this like a mini neck massager?"

You're frozen in place. Your body is discovering new levels of embarrassment.

Hearing nothing from you, his attention shifts to your figure. You don't register the way his eyes admire you in your little nightdress. "Well?" He presses the little button and the little buzzing sound hits your ears like crashing waves of sweat hitting your body.

He's teasing you. He has got to be teasing you. Like he always is. There's no way he thinks this is for his neck!

"Give it back." You croak, your throat dry.

"Why? You don't want to show me how to use it?" He's really going through with this little bit.

"Why were you even going through my makeup bag?"

He explains how he forgot to pack some cream and wanted to borrow it from you, or something like that, you barely listened because he was not letting go of the little bullet vibrator. He's put down the makeup bag, but not the toy!

The buzzing gets stronger as Rafayel's finger presses the button multiple times. "So, which setting is the best?"

He flinches as you basically hurl yourself towards him to take back what's yours. He holds it in the air, away from your reach.

"What's up with you?" his eyebrows knot, cheeks lightly red at the close proximity.

"Give it back!"

Finding your frustration confusing but at the same time cute and amusing, he continues to keep it out of your reach, letting you chase him around the room.

"Nuh - uh!" he laughs and turns to you, only for his face to be met with a white fluffy pillow.

You smacked him across the face, not too hard of course; you're still his body guard. You earn a little 'hey!' with a flushed face and to defend himself, he puts the toy in his pocket and grabs his own pillow. You didn't even notice how good his outfit looked.

The two of you end up in a brief pillow fight - mostly him taking hits while you managed to dodge most of them. But then Rafayel swiftly snatches your pillow, and pins you down on the bed, holding your wrists in his hand and resting his knees on the bed.

He asks, out of breath "Is it not a neck massager?" While you were in a pillow fight he caught on how red your face is and how that shape doesn't seem like it's for the neck.

You struggle under him, aware of how your nightdress lifted under the impact, and how your breasts are on the verge of spilling out. A small whine leaves your lips in frustration as he's so much stronger than you.

"Yes! It's my vibrator, okay?" you can't meet his gaze. You're sure you look so damn pathetic right now.

But you don't see the delight in Rafayel's eyes as he takes in your cute flushed pouting face. He can't help but take a peek of your figure under him, the way your tits are barely covered, the hem of your dress lifted to show off your plush thighs pressed together.

He releases his hold on you and sits back, still straddling you. "Is that why you were upset over one room? You could've just told me and I would've taken a walk or something. Maybe even get you a snack to replenish your energy."

You could not be more mortified. Your eyes are still fixed somewhere to the side and your lips don't move.

His fingers softly hold your chin and you muster the courage to look him in the eyes. You notice how messy his curls are. "There's nothing to be ashamed of." He reassures you with a soft smile, and hands you over the wretched thing.

And you loved that about Rafayel - he knew when to stop teasing and when it's time to give you reassurance.

Still, you needed your little revenge.

It doesn't matter that he's stronger than you, you still have your hunter skills, and in a blink of an eye, you switch positions, straddling his lap.

He opens his mouth to make some dirty joke but only a yelp gets out when you suddenly press the buzzing toy on his side while locking his wrists with your hand.

He pleads for mercy as you continue to run the vibrator on second to highest setting all over his torso.

A blush creeps up on your cheeks, and heat pools between your legs as his whimpers and gasps keep leaving his plump lips and his body squirms under you, his crotch grazing your bottom.

Flustered and out of breath, Rafayel had enough of the torture and pins you down again - pressing you in the same position you had him in, but with his knee so dangerously close to your clothed heat.

"You're being cruel, kitten." he breathes, his tone a little too calm for your liking.

He takes the toy from you and starts sliding it down the middle of your belly, the contact making you squirm and laugh a little. "I was being supportive here and you go and start torturing me."

"I was embarrassed!" you scream between laughs and pants.

He complains in his playful manner about how you attacked him while he was so confused, you can barely hear him over your involuntarily laughs. In your squirms and attempts to break free, your core grinds more than once against his knee and upper thigh.

And maybe he's inching his knee closer to you.

You open your eyes when you don't feel the tickles anymore. You're met with his soft hooded eyes.

"I want to make it up to you, darling."

He studies your face as his hand moves up and a gasp leaves your lips as it lightly grazes the underside of your breast over with the vibrating toy.

He repeats the same motion on the other breast. "Do you want me to stop?"

You sheepishly shake your head.

The grip on your wrists loosens, but you let him hold you down.

Finally, he gives attention to your already pebbled nipples, carefully rubbing circles around them. His eyes take in your flushed face - beautiful lips parted as you pant underneath him, eyes veiled with lust and desperation for more, sensitive nipples poking through the thin fabric of your nightdress.

Your panties are damp with the attention on your nipples and core grinding against his knee. And with Rafayel on top of you, with his cheeks flushed, messy hair and half lidded eyes gazing at you with adoration, you crave more.

He doesn't need to read your thoughts to know what you need. Your hips are desperately pressing against him, soaked panties leaving a wet patch on his pants.

A playful smirk stretches his lips, but he fights the urge to tease you. Instead, his hand trails down, avoiding your tummy this time, and presses the toy on your inner thigh, earning a jolt from your legs and a whimper from your lips. With his slender fingers, he lifts up the hem of your dress, exposing your panties.

You feel his knee move back, but still touching your clothed heat. Pressing the button for the lowest setting, he places the vibrating tip of the toy right between your folds, the familiar sensation of the vibrator making you moan. Only it's different now, because Rafayel is the one pressing it against you, the one making you feel so good, which makes you cream, your heart beating against your chest, your face and chest burning with need and desire.

With more confidence, Rafayel starts pressing and slowly rubbing your sensitive bud. "You like that princess? Does it feel good?"

You frantically nod, your pussy already throbbing with an impending orgasm. "Just like that!" You manage to breathe out.

His cock is painfully hard in his boxers, straining in his tight pants. He feels like he could cum just watching your beautiful face dazed with lust and listening to your sinful moans. Soft pants are leaving his lips "Fuck, you're so beautiful."

He releases your wrists to rest his elbow next to your head and he dips down, latching his lips with yours. You reciprocate immediately, wrapping your arms around his neck, relishing in the feeling of finally tasting his gorgeous pink lips.

Both of you are a panting mess, kissing sloppily, saliva dripping from the corners of your mouth as your tongue intertwines with his.

And all of this is becoming too much for you, and you already feel the coil in your stomach is about to snap any second. You snatch the collar of his shirt, probably ripping from how tight you're gripping it. "Don't stop, I'm cummin' - !"

He watches you in awe as you tremble and mewl underneath him, unable to kiss him back as the waves of your release overtake you. His lips latch onto your neck as he uses his thumb and knee to help you come down from your high. His breath is trembling as he sucks and licks the sensitive skin on your neck, his face burning and cock throbbing.

He almost whines in your ear "Please, please princess, I need to fuck you so bad..."

Your fingers interlace with his messy curls and he lifts up his head to meet your eyes. His cheeks and ears are burning red, eyes pleading and hooded with lust.

You softly whisper "I need you."

The same second he hears those words, his working hand frantically works his belt and the pants, a sigh of relief leaving his lips as his hot leaking cock is freed. He wants to take his sweet time with you, worshipping you, but he's already on the brink.

And you're so impatient; you pull your panties to the side and take his cock in your hand and tease the tip against your dripping pussy, the action making the man above you whimper.

"Fuck, princess!" He moves your hand away and squeezes the angry red tip. "Watching you got me so worked up, I don't think I'm gonna last long." He admits with a weak smile.

You pull him into a soft kiss "That's okay, you already made me cum so hard."

He kisses your lips and slowly starts sliding in, a gasp leaving both of your lips. He rests his forehead against yours, eyes squeezed shut as he eases into your sopping cunt.

You bite his delicious bottom lip as he buries himself to the hilt, your walls fluttering around his cock and you feel like you're about to cum again. You release his bottom lip and you move onto kissing his jaw and neck. Fuck, he smells so good.

He stays still as he tries to hold onto his sanity. His hot breath fans over your ear "You're squeezing me so hard, doll."

You wiggle your hips and press his lower back, urging him to start moving. Exhaling a shaky breath, his hips slowly start rolling, yours moving at the same pace. Mewls and moans are leaving your lips, as his cock keeps stroking the sweet spot inside you, glazing his length in your slick.

Rafayel needs to make you cum around his cock, but he’s already so painfully close, with your wet walls squeezing him so hard, your pretty lips on his neck and your bewitching voice in his ear.

He was so captivated by you that he almost forgot about the little toy lying next to you.

Your eyes widen when you see him snatch the toy and turns it on to a higher setting and props himself up, angling his hips to reach your swollen and twitching bundle of nerves. Intense shocks of pleasure take over your body as he starts rubbing the vibrator again, and in seconds you're a whimpering mess as his cock thrusts into you, repeatedly hitting that sensitive spot, and his hand pressing the toy on your clit.

"Raf - I -" Is all you manage to say before another orgasm overtakes you, your breath catching in your throat and for a second you think you're going to pass out. You can barely hear Rafayel's soothing and strained whispers of you how gorgeous you are and how pretty you sound.

But hear him whimper "I'm gonna cum, princess."

He tosses the drenched vibrator to the side and with a squelching sound pulls out of you, and your hips twitch as he presses the tip against your still throbbing clit as he jerks himself off, ropes of hot cum spilling all over your belly and drenched cunt. You’re thankful he pulled up your dress in the process, but you wouldn’t mind if he stained it.

After both of you take a moment to catch your breath, he puts his weight on you and you wrap your arms around his back squeezing him tight.

He peppers you with soft kisses all over your cheeks, your nose, your eyelids. His fingers caress your face.

He chuckles with that playful smirk on his lips. "I should snoop around your stuff more often."

#love and deepspace #rafayel love and deepspace #love and deepspace smut #love and deepspace rafayel #rafayel smut #lads smut #lads x reader #lads rafayel #rafayel x reader #rafayel x you

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eph3merall · 1 month

Text

. . . ( part 2 )

—

"nah, what the fuck is this— big bad wolf bullshit?" you can hear matt's voice falter for a second, your bare knees digging into the wood floor of his room. he decided to stream for a few hours tonight, both chris and nick away doing their own things.

for the first hour and a half matt just played some games until you got bored and snuck under his desk, his hand cupping your cheek to give it a light warning smack to whatever cheeky ideas that were brewing in your head.

deft hands slowly started tugging his sweatpants down, to which he just hummed and swiveled around gently in his chair for a second. settling back down, matt was leaning forwards a little to put some music on for the stream, shouting out names he was able to catch that were gifting.

he's fixing his headset and turning the music up a little, it's mainly just to hide any groans and sighs he lets out however. for a second, he steals a glance down at you to find you slowly lowering the hem of his boxers, and he responds by subtly lifting his hips.

matt didn't totally like this idea. one little mistake and the whole stream of.. fifteen thousand people would know what was going on, but he couldn't deny how painfully hard he was just by seeing you on your knees—a little cramped under the small space of his desk.

when you free his length to find pre already dribbling from his slit, your thumb reaches up to thumb at his tip and spread the bead of pre made lube down his shaft. you don't miss the way his thighs tense, hips twitching up a little as you listen to the way he scolds the chat for telling him to react to edits and read fanfiction.

one hand rests on his thigh while the other jerks up and down slowly, twisting your wrist up at the top as you lean forward. parting your lips, you let some saliva drip down the length of his dick and don't miss the heavy sigh he lets out.

soon you're hollowing your cheeks out and bobbing your head gently up and down matt's cock—one hand threading through your hair and digging blunt nails into the back of your head. you can't see his face—but you can hear the way his voice trembles once in awhile and how heavy he's breathing.

your nose presses into his skin, dick shoved all the way down your throat and you gag—only forcing matt to ball one of his hands up into a fist to pretened to cough because he was about this close to letting out a groan.

the noisy slurping and gagging noises of your mouth have him panicking for a second before he's quickly turning the volume of the music up, per chat's request and totally not because it put him just a little more at ease.

he keeps a hand casual over his mouth or on his face, pretending to cough or whatever. his other hand is leaving your head—fingers twitching to pull you off just so he can fuck your throat to his heart's content.

so far so good, right? the stream went pretty smoothly until you'd done something with your tongue and he felt his tip hit the back of your throat, and matt's head is tilting back against his gaming chair and a tortured groan is ripped from his lips.

oops?

notes. sorry if this has spelling mistakes / mistakes in general or anything doesn't make sense i am TIREDD... feel kinda insane w how good matt n chris looked on stream tho. anyways where the fuck did 75 followers come from? like? what??? thank u all i love u guys <3 know its not a lot but argghhb + i reached 100+ notes on a post like ugh <33

—

#ᶻz eph3merall #matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo prompt #matt sturniolo blurb #matt sturniolo smut #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo x reader #sturniolo triplets #the sturniolo triplets #sturniolo smut #fr tho what tf do i tag in my posts #still one of my questions tbh

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ghoulphile · 5 months

Text

wish you'd make me cry | c.h./the ghoul

➥ pairing | cooper howard/the ghoul x f!reader ➥ word count | 2.3k ➥ warning(s) | 🔞 smut; rough, dom!cooper, frottage, sitting missionary, dirty talk, degradation kink, pet names, teasing, dacryphilia, bareback, drug/chem use (jet), shotgunning, high sex ➥ summary | "You’re such a needy fucking brat." :3c ➥ notes | drabble (that's no longer a drabble lol) request for @tearueful, thank you bby!! this one really got away from me... i had to stop myself from writing lol. un-beta'd atm. masterlist | feel free to send in thots, questions, requests! | feedback is always appreciated ❤️

Setting up camp for the night in an abandoned warehouse, you and Cooper wait out a radstorm that blows in off the horizon. Because while he loves sitting outside with a smoke, soaking in the rads until he’s buzzing with frenetic energy, you don’t feel like hunting down RadAway tomorrow.

It’s quiet apart from the distant sound of super mutants and ferals roaming the city, the sporadic roar of thunder, and rain tinging off the sheet metal roof. There’s still hours left until daylight, and it doesn’t seem like the volatile weather will break soon.

Unfortunately, you’ve read all the Grognak comics you could get your grubby hands on three times over, and there’s not much else to pass the time besides scuff your boot along the concrete floor, and pluck at a stray thread hanging off your tattered sleeping bag.

Meanwhile, Cooper lounges on his side, unbothered. His hand - bare for once - props up his head, the unscarred skin of a commandeered digit stark against angry rad burns and ropey scars. Between the knuckles of his other hand, he rolls a vial of chem over and over in a mesmerizing flick of deft fingers.

A lantern sputters between you as the old battery struggles to keep it lit. Its jaundiced glow banishes the thick darkness; a fuzzy halo of light that elongates shadows and deepens the cuts of his face.

You kiss your teeth, and say, “Hey, you got any more Jet?”

Lazy eyes slide towards you. A hairless brow quirks. “And if I did,” he asks, the vial pausing between his fingers, “why you wanna know?”

“Dunno, I’m bored… wanna get high?”

“Well, shit,” he whistles, bares his teeth. A low, crackling laugh rumbles from his chest. “Why the fuck didn’t you ask sooner.”

You shrug and crack a knuckle.

To be honest, the idea hadn’t occurred to you at first. Now that it has, anticipation curls low in your belly. Not only has it been a long, long time since you last got high (the sensation a hazy, half-remembered dream of fuzzy warmth and whirling thoughts), you know Cooper always carries a top-notch stash.

The little chem fiend, you think fondly.

“So,” you prompt. “Wanna get high together or what?”

“Sure as shit, darlin’. Let’s party.”

He settles against the pockmarked wall beside you with a soft grunt, the grit of concrete digging into his back. Thigh to thigh, his body is a rad warm line of heat. A bloom of suffocating heat in the otherwise biting chill of a wasteland night. Gunpowder and smoke tickle your nose when he leans over to rifle through his bag, leather creaking.

Muted, mellow; everything fades into a silent companionship as you pass the red inhaler between you. With every puff, whorls of smoke curl from your mouths until a murky gray cloud hovers in the air; defining the edges of your crafted universe.

The acrid vapor of chem burns its way through your lungs and into your bloodstream. A bitter taste coats your fattened tongue, lips tingling as your palm smothers little coughs. A flood of static rushes down your nerve endings, sends your head spinning.

As your vision blurs, the tension leeches from rounded shoulders with a bone weary sigh. And with every slow clicking blink, colors spark to life in a distorted kaleidoscope. Head lolling to the side, you watch through heavy eyes as Cooper rattles the inhaler and takes a shallow hit.

When he exhales, little tendrils of smoke caress the plains of his cheek. Dance along the hollow nasal ridge. “Almost out.” He grunts, your fingers brushing when he passes the cartridge back. “Go on, now. Finish it.”

The kind gesture (for him) touches you.

Then a faraway thought flutters.

Snags - settles into a nebulous desire.

And before you can second guess yourself, a rumble of thunder shakes the building. Wipes away the last of your common sense, and reservations. After all, why not? He was nice enough to share. You can too.

To his credit, Cooper doesn’t startle when you slink into his lap - not that you expect him to, even without being chem-addled. He tracks your movements from beneath a heavy brow bone, the dark Nuka Cola of his eyes glittering like shattered glass in the wane light.

“Heh, this that kinda party then, darlin’?” he asks once you settle, your thighs draped over his hips and your ass flush with his crotch. “‘Cuz you’ll be wanting ta extricate yourself if it ain’t.”

—Before I do it for you.

Humming, you dip forward until your breasts brush over the wide expanse of his chest. Interest flickers to life behind your navel; cinders cracking and popping along your spine. While you’d never considered Cooper a sexual availability beforehand (what with his never-ending search for family), the laden weight of his gaze as it pauses on your chin before dropping lower sings through your blood.

Kickstarts your heart into a galloping stutter that thuds against your ribcage as longing hooks behind your navel, tugs sudden and sharp. The world spins.

Maybe, you think, peering at him from beneath the fan of your lashes. Maybe…

“Pervert,” you murmur, biting down on a small smile.

The knife-sharp smirk falls from his lips faster than a comedown from Psycho when your fingertips ghost over the curve of his jaw, turning his head towards you. Like this, you share breath, the scant space between you thrumming with energy.

So close you can see flecks of gold in the amber whiskey of his eyes.

Your forehead brushes over his; the rough drag of gnarled skin sending a shiver through your limbs. “Let’s share the last hit. S’only fair.”

Pausing, he considers you for several long moments.

His gaze bounces from yours to the playful curve of your mouth and back. A small eternity passes like this. And then - when you’re about to crawl away to lick your wounded pride - the most imperceptible of nods grants his assent.

There’s a hiss of aerosol, a lung burning inhale, and then you’re exhaling into the open gash of his mouth.

Wisps of smoke dance off your tongue onto his, the bow of your lips glancing off the swell of his top lip as you squirm closer. You feed him chem in a slow, steady stream until all the air has left you.

He groans - a wounded, low-throated sound.

Your eyes flutter open to find him already staring, his iris a thin ring around the Blackhole of his wide blown pupils. Hooded, hungry: a caged predator. You lick your lips, and in doing so, flick your tongue over his.

Your stomach swoops, “I --”

“You’re such a needy fuckin’ brat, y’know that, sweetheart?”

Whether it was an apology or some other retort stuck to the back of your teeth like hard candy, you’ll never know because in the next moment a rough hand knocks the Jet out of your hand. The inhaler cracks against the concrete with a plastic smack before skidding off into the darkness.

A burning palm curls around your wrist, calloused fingers digging into your fluttering pulse point. “Hey — hngg!”

He yanks you close, and you taste the violence in his kiss.

Harsh lips map out the softness of yours as teeth pinch and roll until your mouth is a swollen mess of tender flesh and smeared spit. Keeping up with the frenzied scrape of his tongue and the deep pulls of his kisses is like trying to weather a hurricane or fight off a Yao Guai with a single bullet.

“W-Wait,” you gasp, fingers twined through the lapels of his duster. “I don’t --”

“Shut up,” Cooper growls, worrying the swell of your bottom lip until a bead of blood bubbles to the surface. He sucks it away with a stifled moan, his hips kicking up against the plush of your ass.

“Shut the fuck up right now. You know what you was doing - trying ta act innocent when you’ve been gaggin’ for it.”

Flustered, you pull back, “No, that’s not true!”

It’s hard to keep your balance with chem pumping through your veins, and you sway to the side. The only thing keeping you upright is the bruising grip Cooper has on your wrist. “I haven’t been — you’re wr-rong.”

He spits out a mean spirited chuckle. “If that’s what you need ta tell yourself, sweetheart.” A critical eye drags down the pathetic sight you make, crumbled as you are in his lap. “But I know the truth. I felt you looking - pantin’ after me like a bitch in heat.”

“...”

Panic grips you by the throat, your pulse thundering against the thumb he strokes along the curve of your shoulder. You should’ve known better.

Of course, he’d notice.

He was The Ghoul after all - best bounty hunter from this coast to the next. It was his job to perceive everything around him, sus out friend from foe.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

“I’m… I’m sorry.”

What else can you say?

He brought you along (for whatever reason, fuck if you know why), and you’ve caused nothing but trouble every step of the way. It’s a wasteland miracle he hasn’t kicked your ass and left you bleeding in the dirt by now.

I have to fix this. Whatever it takes.

“I ain’t wanting you sorry.”

Gulping, you will away the sting of tears, and say, “Please, don’t kick me out.”

“Y’know, sometimes I think it’s a miracle you survived this long at all.”

“You don’t have to be so rude about it…”

“Listen good and well, sugar,” he says with a roll of his eyes, that tender hand brushing over your neck turning into a collar as he drags you close. His lips whisper over yours with every word. “I didn’t go through all of this bullshit just ta get rid of you. Now--”

Hips rut up into you, dragging the firm line of his growing erection along the soft globes of your ass. “Stop teasin’ and make yourself useful,” he says. “Or you will be sorry.”

Everything after that flicks in and out of focus like a zoetrope: the burning clasp of hands, the slick glide of hungry mouths, the frantic rock of your hips as you both chase after dry friction with a desperation that borders on madness.

Your hands don’t know where to settle, fluttering from the nape of his neck to the breadth of his shoulders to the rippling muscle of his stomach as he rocks into you. Bites at any exposed skin that he can until his teeth leave marks you’ll carry for days.

All the while the hard edges of his body crash into your softness like waves against an eroding shore. Liquid fire blazes in your belly like a raging wildfire, scorching you from the inside out until you’re dumb and dripping.

The chem snaking through your body enhances the littlest of sensations until you feel like one giant exposed nerve. Slick drenched and sweaty, you moan weakly and rest your forehead against his cheek.

“Please,” you slur, thighs trembling where they squeeze at his live-wire hips. “S’not enough - need more. Wanna cum. Please, please, please. Make me cum.”

Cooper bites out a curse, his fingers biting into the fat of your ass. “Yeah, s’that right, sweetheart - d’you think you deserve it for bein’ such a lil brat?”

“Yes, yes, please, I’ll do anything. Just - hhahh, fuck!”

The fabric of your panties clings to your folds, and your pants chafe.

Your clit throbs with every thud of your heartbeat, every firm grind of his cock and low husk of his voice. Want him seated so deep inside you choke - your poor pussy struggling to take his cock as he rides you so hard you cry.

“Anything?” he asks with a breathless chuckle.

The devilish gleam of his eyes rattles your bones, shivers of electric anticipation fizzing through your veins like Quantum.

“Well, shit. Don’t come cryin’ ta me when you regret it. Now, take off those fucking pants and ride my cock like a good girl.”

And when he bullies his way inside, those thick ridges dragging along gummy walls, you almost swallow your tongue. He’s so big - the biggest you’ve ever had.

Every inch is a struggle, a victory. He’s not patient, he’s not kind. You don’t want it any other way, spread so wide your pussy flutters pathetically, trying to push him out.

Then the fat head grazes past the rough patch of your g-spot, sliding home to kiss your cervix. Your knees lock around his ribs, your head tossing back as a high-pitched whine punches its way out of your throat.

“A-Ah! I can’t — oh shit — you’re so,” you babble. “Too much!”

An ache spears deep, roots behind your navel.

“Heh, you asked for it, sweetheart. Look at me.” A scarred thumb wicks away a tear as you peel your eyes open with a sniffle. “That’s it. Shit, you look s’pretty when you cry.”

He licks his skin clean, uses his wet thumb to reach between you and roll the pad over your abused clit. You jump, sliding up on his shaft only for gravity to drag you back down with a solid smack of skin, your limbs jello soft.

The motion slams him deeper and slick drips from you in a sticky gush to soak his balls. You cry out, reedy thin.

Cooper grunts, warns, “You keep doing that and we’re not stoppin’ til you’re dripping cum.”

Though the thick haze of chem and syrupy sweet pleasure, you cobble together a grin and lick your way into his mouth. Tangle your tongues and suck as your hips arch into his. “Please, ruin me,” you breathe.

A possessive greed glints at you from the depths of his hangman eyes.

“Don’t go sayin’ I didn’t warn you, sweetheart,” he promises.

#cooper howard x reader #cooper howard x you #the ghoul x you #the ghoul x reader #cooper howard smut #the ghoul smut #cooper howard #the ghoul #fallout smut #fallout fanfic

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