#-in the universe and i hope you get some rest!!!

[starkwlkr]

Not a request (at least, technically 🤭) but if you’d ever write something specific about Hugh and his wife sharing the screen in Deadpool and Wolverine, and their kid’s reactions, I’m absolutely down for that

i love you in every universe | hugh jackman

an: sorry for the long wait!! texas is freezing and i’ve been getting a bit sick :( but i hope you’re all doing well <3

New York

The Jackman kids were busy with their own lives, but when Olivia suggested a movie day, they all cleared their schedules for the rest of the day. Since you and the kids didn’t attend the world premiere of Deadpool and Wolverine and had yet to see it, your family decided it was a good idea to watch it together in the cinema.

As Olivia grabbed her popcorn tin that was handed to her, Reese and Alex tried their best at the claw machines in the small arcade. You were still deciding what type of candy to get while Hugh patiently waited.

“Look, peanut M&M’s, you love those.” Hugh pointed at the box of candy on display.

“Better grab two, Olivia always ends up stealing them from me.” You chuckle as Hugh does as he was told.

“I’m sad, they don’t have the wolverine popcorn bucket. I was hoping to use it for my Halloween candy this year,” Olivia joined the rest of her family, Reese and Alex had been unsuccessful in winning a prize. “It’s your head, can’t you call Kevin Feige and tell him to send me one?” Olivia poked Hugh’s arm.

“Sure.” Hugh playfully rolled his eyes and walked up to the counter to pay for his family’s snacks.

As he walked away, the kids began to whisper to you, asking if you were in the movie. And like always, they got nothing out of you.

“I’m not in this! I was literally at home with you guys!” You tried to tell them, but they weren’t convinced.

Once Hugh returned, your family made their way to the designated house and sat in their assigned seats. You always loved watching the previews so you made your family leave a couple minutes earlier than intended. After each preview, Olivia would say “I’m watching that” or “eh”.

There were a couple more people around you so when the lights dimmed, Alex made sure Olivia stopped talking.

For some reason, you were nervous and excited. This was the first time your family actually sat down together in the cinema and watched something you and Hugh worked on. The moment was too perfect, it was definitely a memory you never wanted to lose.

Olivia danced and bopped her head to the opening scene while Alex and Reese lightly laughed. You remember Hugh texting you something about a dance scene involving Deadpool.

As the film went on, you were excited to the reactions of your kids when your character showed up. It would be after Wade and Logan arrive to the cave and meet Elektra, Gambit, Laura and Blade. Your characters were from different teams, but that didn’t stop Deadpool/Ryan from making jokes about your real life marriage.

“Who brought us here?” Deadpool asked.

“That would be me.” A female voice said.

You and Hugh turned your heads to watch your kids’ reactions as Laura entered. Olivia was so happy to see Dafne back that she almost screamed of joy. The Spanish girl was like a sister to Olivia. Alex gasped as Laura revealed herself while Reese had the biggest smile on his face.

“Oh shit. Logan that’s her, that’s X-23,” Deadpool informed Wolverine. “She’s the one I told you about.”

Both Laura and Logan kept their gaze on each other. Olivia wiped a fake tear, whispering to her father that it was beautiful to see Laura back.

“Wait, is there by any chance a Mrs. Hugh Jackman back there?” Wade pointed to where Laura had just come out of.

“You have such a big mouth and irritating voice, red.”

The screen cut from Wade to your character, leaning against the doorway of the cave.

“Holy f—” Reese choked on his soda, popcorn tumbling from Alex’s lap.

“Mom?” Olivia whispered in disbelief.

“Oh my fucking mother of god,” Wade gasped at the sight of you. He slowly walked up to you and touched your face thinking you were a ghost or something from his imagination. You swatted his hand away immediately. “You’re real. Logan, it’s your wife!”

“I’m sorry? Who the fuck is Logan?” You asked.

“That grumpy old man back there, but this is huge for the social media edits! I can already picture them. Anyways, I’m assuming your three little ankle biters are running around somewhere,” Wade said in an Australian accent, looking around for your ‘children’. “Tell the mean one she owes me ten bucks.” He then turned to the camera and pointed at it. “You know what you did, you piece of-”

Olivia couldn’t help but burst out laughing. It had been years since she and Ryan made a bet and she had lost.

“Okay! Are you done?” You interrupted.

“No, but thanks for asking sweetie pie,” Wade patted your head. “This is an even bigger moment than the US government asking Steven Spielberg to direct the moon landing!”

Logan groaned. “Can you not do this right now?”

“No, I will absolutely do this right now,” Wade quipped. He turned back to you. “I mean, seriously, you and Logan? You’ve been dancing around each other for how many movies now? And Kevin Feige still hasn’t made it canon? Unbelievable!”

“He understands me!” Olivia whisper yelled. The small comment made the Jackman family laugh.

You sighed. “Please shut up.”

“You are being a negative Nancy! I’m giving the internet what they want!” He attempted to wink but couldn’t because he had his mask on. “I mean look at the tension, people! The chemistry! Forget will they, won’t they—they definitely already did. Three times!”

The kids laughed throughout the scene while you and your husband watched with smiles plastered on your faces. You couldn’t even remember why you were nervous in the first place. No matter what you did in your film career, the kids would love it.

[rosaeh]

writer!jason x actress!reader

kind of la la land au

words = ~ 1.800

Being Bruce Wayne's son, Jason should not have any trouble publishing his book. Hypothetically. But Jason wants his book to be published because it's his, not because it's Bruce Wayne's son's.

But he is really starting to consider this idea when his manuscript is denied for the fourth time. He does not understand what he is doing wrong. He truly thought his first manuscript was good. Flawless even. He graduated from the literature course of Gotham University with honours, meaning he knows to write. He does.

So why on Earth is he sitting with his head in his hands, the refusal email displayed on his laptop's screen ?

Being Gotham's daughter certainly did not help you in improving your acting skills. Or it seems to be what the people at the audition thought, at least. Working at a dinner since you were 17 in order to pay for your acting class, you know what making sacrifice means, what being hard-working means. And you certainly know your acting skills are good. Excellent even. You do your best to be in character, learning about them, taking notes, acting as if it were you.

Which is why you do not understand why the phone has not rung yet, as you are waiting for the call that could start your career.

He needs to change his mind. And even if he does not want to, he will -he also has to- go to this gala Bruce is hosting. Being with his siblings might soothe him. Being in an event that pisses him off even more than those stupid publishers, will definitely make him forget about it, even if it's just for a night.

So he finds himself standing awkwardly near a table on which rest a feast, a champagne glass in hand. He looks into the void, reminiscing about his book. Being at this gala did not actually help, because for once -once- no one is trying to bother him tonight, and his siblings are all caught up with someone. God, for once, he wished someone will talk his ear off about anything.

Crying in your bed tonight because of the rejection you feel within your bones, was not an option. You had promised your friend Esme you would work with her tonight as a waitress because she was afraid to go on her own among the socialite. You did not have the heart to tell her no one would pay mind to either of you, being only little people at their feet. So you had agreed.

Now here you are, pacing through this room, a plate full of champagne on your flat hand, hoping -praying- you won't drop it. A man even tried to put a tip in the pocket on your heart as if you were some kind of stripper for him to look at.

He needs another drink. If now one was going to make him forget about the book, then he will do it himself.

Barely even looking, he reached for a glass a waitress is offering. Rude. He looks up quickly to thank the person, knowing how shitty working amount socialite was. Hell, even just being around them was a pain.

As he was about to speak up, he looked at the woman and found himself scanning her face, feeling like he had seen her before. He still worded his gratefulness, "Thank you." he breathed out as he tried to figure where he has seen her before.

You were about to turn around and keep on pacing when the man's voice stops you.

"I feel like I've seen you before." he said, gaze fixed on you.

And you felt your cheeks getting hot and surely red as well. -Not only because this man is undeniably handsome, and you feel like a bug under is scrutinising green eyes.- But really because you know what he meant. You had been scared anyone would bring this up tonight, but the knowledge that no one would actually talk to you won out on the fear.

And here he is.

"Must've been someone else, surely." a polite smile is on your face, trying to play the perfect waitress. After all, playing pretend is what you do for a living, or at least try to.

His brows furrowed and his eyes narrowed, and your smile felt more awkward than anything now. It is as if he could see right through you, which made you feel even worse about your acting skills. You really should not have come tonight.

But, obviously, he had to figure it out.

"I saw your face on a poster, in the metro. The ads for-"

Jason decided to cut himself off because now she really looked mortified that he was talking to her, and he did not even notice since he was so focused on figuring out who she was.

The woman's cheeks were crimson, and now he felt bad.

"I'm sorry, I- Shouldn't have brought that up, you- Please, keep on going with...serving." Great. Now he felt even worse because he was so awkward as if he had never talked to another human being before that, and he was sure he made her feel worse by extension as well.

He dared meet her eyes again, and he was struck. -Not only because she is gorgeous, and that he was so set on trying to find her face in his memory to notice.- But really because she seemed less creeped out now. As if seeing him makes a fool of himself appeased her. Also because the woman's focus was now on him, and as if she were reading his mind, she said :

"There's no problem, really. It's okay." She offered a soft smile, that appeased him too.

"I didn't want to make you uncomfortable." He apologised again.

"You didn't, it's alright, I promise. And… I am, indeed, the girl from the whitening toothpaste." She sighted, as if the mention of the ads itself was a curse upon her.

You had no choice but to accept this ad, really. Because when you don't get any audition nor roles, and that you need to eat, you take anything. And honestly, at first, it did not bother you. It was just a simple ad, a picture of you holding the toothpaste in your hands with a bright smile. Easy. But they had to whiten your teeth.

And you can tell he remembered, because his lips were pressed in a thin line as if he was holding himself from grinning, God, maybe even laughing.

You knew you would not be able to take it if a man so handsome -and a socialite at that- laughed at you. You would just have to bury yourself 6 feet under.

"I'm not-" he cracks a chuckle, "I'm not laughing at you."

But you knew for sure this was a lie and knew you should feel ashamed, perhaps, but you do not. Because you felt like he was actually telling the truth, and was not laughing at you.

"What are you laughing for, then?

"My brother bought it, and his teeth were so white we could see 'em in the dark." He fully laughed now at the memory, and you were in awe at how gracious he made laughing seems.

You cannot help but crack a grin at his words.

"Thank God, I didn't actually have to use it."

He saw her smile before. A few times, when he would walk in the metro, the posters plastered on the dirty walls. But for some reason, seeing it for real was, actually, breathtaking. Like, breathtaking. Jason even stopped laughing at Dick's expense, to admire her smile. He hoped it did not come off as staring because he wanted to keep doing it.

"Are you telling me this was a misleading ad? Your teeth were not that white?" He smirked now, feeling weirdly more comfortable.

She scoffed, mouth agape, pretending to be offended. "I would never participate in that kind of masquerade."

He was amused. Actually amused, and the thought of his manuscript, of everything he had to change about it for the fourth time. But of course, fate was not on Jason's side -or so he thought- and a man approached the both of them. He said her name, and Jason kept repeating it in his mind, as if to carve it there.

"You can't speak to the guests, you have to work."

Her eyes widen, and she was red again, apologising throughfully to the man -whom she called Max- and turned her heels, not even daring to spare Jason a last glance.

And of course now that she was gone, someone came to talk to him. He should not have prayed for that before, he should have known it would come at him and bite him back.

There is a feeling of soreness in your arm for holding stuff all night long, but it was finally over. Max kinda scolded you for speaking with the socialite, but acted as if he felt bad for it and acted friendly again. You wondered if he was flirting with you. You were almost certain he was, but it was so badly handled that the doubt lingered.

It did not linger much longer, though, when he proposed to drive you home. And Esme was nowhere to be found. No excuse for you to avoid it, no matter how hard you tried to. You insisted on taking the cab, and he reminded you of how dangerous Gotham was. As if you didn't grow up in Crime Alley. You know how dangerous it is. But you are still testing your odds.

"It's really not necessary, Max. I'll be fine."

Max opened his mouth to argue with you furthermore, when you saw your light in the dark, your way out of this situation. The guest you talked to, and from afar you can now see how good his suit looked on him.

Not taking any chance to let this timing go to waste, you quickly cut off Max.

"Actually, someone's already driving me home." And with that you called him out, until his green eyes -that you were so grateful to see- were on you. "I'm here !"

He furrowed his brow in the exact same way he did when you two talked, and you cannot help but think it is cute. The man seemed to examine you, and when his eyes landed on Max, he finally understood what the look on your face meant. He nodded is head, telling you to come, and you obliged, thanking whatever deities were watching over you.

She quickly walked over to him, as if she was eager to come to him. As if. She was eager to get away from the other guy. Still, Jason felt a twitch in his stomach at the smile she wore on her face.

"My hero." She breathed out when she stopped right in front of him.

His gaze rested on her face for a moment longer, before he blurted out. "Jason."

She furrowed her brows as he suddenly speaked up, but the smile remained on her face. "Jason?"

God, his name on her lips.

"-Yes, I'm no hero. Just Jason."

considering writing this as a series tbh but i'll see i guess

[asheepinfrance]

uh oh.uh oh guys. guys she's doing that thing again. guys she's doing that thing where she talks about art. ruh roh raggy. anyway this is like barely an art thing but he's just so ... sigh. he's the sweetest (in my brain and no one else's). also thank you to @popcorntales for choosing who to write for for the day. anyways hope you enjoy <33

You really, really wish he wouldn’t look at you like that. Not right now. It makes it hard to think, and that’s just about the most important thing you could be doing. Or, maybe, it’s a blessing in disguise. A little sign from the universe not to let yourself think yourself into a hole. He looks at you with such fucking awe and it’s sickening. He’s still waiting on your reply, which you cannot seem to formulate. It’s not like you can’t say what you’re thinking, it’s that you’re thinking nothing. Your head is static, the soft, empty space tickling against the insides of your skull. 

“What?”

He chuckles, because it’s apparently very funny. All you feel is mortified. He’s still holding tightly onto both of your hands, which you’re sure are dampening his with newly formed moisture, knees bumping yours when he readjusts himself slightly on that dark brown armchair. He absolutely insists on keeping it, even though it’s an eyesore and doesn’t even remotely fit with the rest of the living room’s decor.

“I said I wanna have a baby. With you.” He says it so sweetly, like he’s trying to soften them up so that when they come down, the idea sounds like the best one you’ve ever heard. It’s not intentional, really, because he just tends to talk to you like you’re going to scurry off if he raises his voice above a murmur. In this instance, he’d be right. 

It’s not that you don’t want kids. It’s that you aren’t made for them. Of course, it’s entirely natural to question your own ability to parent a kid, it’s not like people get much experience until they’ve finally had one of their own. But they take that risk. They stare over the edge of that cliff of creating a new person to add to the ever-growing population, a person who they hope to raise to be lovely, and dive-head first despite their fears. You, however, are perpetually staring. And what stares back isn’t the face of a child with Art’s smile and your eyes. It’s the eyes of your mother.

“Art, I don’t-” You don’t have to finish the sentence. He knows. He tries to look calm about it, because he knows it’s a two-person thing, and he can’t be the only one to want it. But god, does he want it, and he thinks he might just cry. “I can’t do that to a kid.” He can’t understand that for a second. Do what, exactly? Be their mother? You could. You can. He’s seen you with his younger cousins at family gatherings, laying flat on your stomach while they’re sat criss-cross on the floor, rolling toy cars over the carpet. He’s seen you help little girls who get separated from their parents at the mall, wiping away their miniature tears with a gentle thumb and a gentler smile. You’ve got so much love to give he’s convinced you are love. And what a privilege it’d be to have his child experience that the way he does. 

What is a mother, really? Is it just the woman who has you? Or is it something more complex? Is it the woman whose eyes are in yours? The woman that everyone insists you have the humor of, even if you never laugh at the some jokes. The woman you look at old photos of and thank for putting aside that previously seen youth for your creation. You would qualify your mother as your mother, of course, but not your mom. Never mom. Moms are loving. Moms brush your hair when your fingers are too little to wrap around a brush. Moms put bandaids on scraped knees. Mothers just watch over you when they must. You cannot be someone’s mother. You cannot risk making a child so miserable that they walk into adulthood with just a mother. 

But then again, there’s Art. Art who sees the tears falling down your cheeks before you feel them. Art who’s wiping them away. Art who’s got the most beautiful eyes and you kick yourself for having just complained about them. Art who insists that you are the sweetest woman to ever grace his presence, if not everyone’s presence. Art who’s wrapping you into a hug that you’ve needed since you were five and your mother said you were told for them. 

Maybe you could do it. Not for him, not for you, but for the collective us you’ve made. After all, if Art Donaldson says you can do something, than you can. You could chalk it up to his being incredibly biased in your favor, of course, but why bother? Art is smarter than that. Art sees the world with clearer vision than most, right past their skin and into their brains. Into the meaning behind a smile, the twitch of an eye, the melting of a person against another. He’s smart enough to know that you are love, even if only he can see it. And he’s smart enough to make you agree with him, too. You’ll finish this conversation later, even if you’ve both decided on the answer. Just this is more than good for now.

[weirdocat83]

Canon divergence Arcane au!! Post-apocalypse AU!! (Ofc with a side of timebomb)

Based on the part of season 2 where Viktor is literally taking over the world and also the alternate universe where he literally succeeded.

I think it’d be interesting to see a jinx/ekko/jayce team up. Would they get along? Absolutely not. Jinx literally blew up the council room and Jayce created hextech which contributed to a loss of wealth for the undercity. Jinx and Jayce would kill each other if not for the fact that they’re probably the only people who have survived.

If you’re asking why jinx, Ekko and Jayce, it’s because Jinx and Ekko could conceivably avoid Viktor’s control (we literally see jinx avoid it and Ekko has the Z-drive) and Viktor straight up has a soft spot for Jayce and while the Viktor who is Actively Causing the apocalypse may not show it, AU Viktor could have shown him how to survive in the Apocalypse. Also Jinx and Ekko just have incentive to keep him alive considering he’s probably the one who would know how to kill Viktor best (considering the whole AU thing and being his partner for Years)

I think this kind of au would be an interesting way to dissect the darker parts of their characters.

We see a lot of that from jinx in the show and I do think she would struggle to find the will to Stay Alive when literally everyone else is gone. Tbh I think she’d mostly be there on spite and murderous intent for Viktor. She is in Survival Mode which, all things considered, isn’t a bad thing in the Apocalypse. To an extent, they all are. The apocalypse def made her crazy less strange and more helpful. The ability to make weaponry out of basically anything and a willingness to blow up anything that moves is useful all things considered.

Ekko is grappling with the fact that pretty much all the firelights are dead or won’t last long while also trying to keep Jinx and Jayce from killing each other (intentionally or not). He’s lost a lot of people in a short amount of time and is Not Coping Well. He’s always focusing on what’s in front of him but it’s all kind of really bad rn tbh. He’s more temperamental than usual and it matches up badly most of the time with Jinx. She knows this logically but also doesn’t really know what to do abt it. Sometimes to get their minds off everything they talk abt traveling far away from everything where Viktor hasn’t reached yet and living the rest of their lives peacefully. They know it’s practically a pipe dream but sometimes a dream can be all you need to hold out some hope. Ekko is usually the strategist, planning where they go and when. In battle/right before he can give brief warnings because of the Z-drive and has had to adapt to using more force than he’s used to in order kill Viktor’s minion things.

Jayce is… weird honestly. He just went through one apocalypse to get back to another which is arguably worse. He’s prepared and knows what this is like but sometimes the “rich kid” personality still shines through. Like, he’ll eat raw food and sleep on the floor but he’ll still complain abt how he misses his bed and the feasts the kirammans used to throw. I feel like he’d learn a lot abt the undercity from mostly Ekko but also jinx. Jayce being pretty useless without a proper lab would be pretty funny when Jinx and Ekko have always operated without one. Jayce is usually the one getting resources like food/shelter.

I think it’d be interesting to see them fight and interact together considering they’re all so different and we never really see them together in canon.

Ekko and Jinx spend a lot of time together in this au both out of necessity and because they know each other better than anyone. Sometimes their relationship reminds Jayce of his and Viktor’s ‘partnership’. Jayce would get closer to the two even if he’ll never truly understand them. I think Jayce and Jinx would go from “I am two seconds from murdering your ass” to a weird type of sibling-ish relationship. Meanwhile Jayce and Ekko would be bonding while planning what to do next. Also every time Jayce mentions Viktor, Jinx and Ekko both look at him in the “I Know What You Are” type of way. They know better than anyone that just because someone is your enemy, that doesn’t mean you stop loving them.

[isavulpix]

Eyes Don't Lie (Part 1)

Jason Todd x Fem!Reader

Eyes Dont Lie Materlist (Coming soon)

Part 2 | Part 3 |

Warnings: English isn't my first language so there will be mistakes, I haven't read a DC comic so the characters may be a bit OOC.

I hope yall like and enjoy it <3

isavulpix masterlist

It was one of those days in Gotham elementary school, the season flu was active, and some parents didn’t care about it. Sending their sick kids to school, it reminded you of your own school years. You weren’t the kind to get sick often, but when you did it was bad. Though, school and grades where way too important than a virus in your body.

So, you had double work, beside teaching and taking care of the kiddos, you had to make sure that the kids didn’t get to close to the sick kids. You can manage anything, from kids fighting about a toy to parents demanding their kids to have A’s. But you certainly didn’t want a full class of sick kids, the universe can’t be that cruel...

Jason’s was working on one of his bikes, his been doing this from very early in the morning. The same nightmares coming to hunt him, he learned that it was better to not fight it and just accept that he won’t be able to get drop of rest.

He cleans the sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand when his stomach remembers him that he hasn’t touch food since the day before. He takes the cue and gets ready for the day, taking a hot shower and heating up an instant food that will surely taste like shit. While the food does circle in a box with small amount of radiation, he looks at his phone for the first time in the day. He first looks at the hour it was 2:37 pm, he must have lost the scene of time while in the garage. Then he looks at the notifications, emails about subscriptions he always forgets to cancel, a news of Mr. Freeze again being beat up by Batman and Robin, and some messages from his family that he decided to ignore for now. They didn’t look urgent, what he does read is the only text he has from Roy.

>> Hey dude, I’m in a last-minute mission so I need you to pick up Lian from school. She comes out at 3 pm, don’t be late…she hates it and will make you pay.

Jason smirks at the text, Lian is the only little kid he can tolerate to be more than 10 minutes around. Maybe he will take her out for ice cream to win points for the best uncle title, he was sure he will win against Dick. Jason looks at the time again and his eyes widen, its already 3:00 pm he needs to move fast. He stops the microwave and prints to the garage; he was putting on his helmet when he remembers he can drive with Lian as a passenger and decides to drive to the Manor to switch from the bike to one of the SUV.

In the car he looks again at the time and curses, its 3:30 pm, he was more than late. Lian will not let this go for the end of times, and her old ass teacher most likely will scold his ear off about it. God how he hates teachers, really any form of authority…

You sigh as you look at the time for the million time, it was 3:46 pm and Lian dad hasn’t picked her up which was rare of him. Roy harper was one of the first to pick up his little girl, you where sure that if you let him, he would stay all day here with her. You often heard bad things about him, most things you only would classify as rumors from moms that where peak in high school and crashed in reality after it. God, how you hate parents like that, it was better to drink raw eggs than to deal with them.

Taking a glance at Lian to rest your eyes from the work you were doing in the laptop you see her drawing in a piece of paper you gave her earlier, so she won’t “Die from boredom”. “That a pretty drawing your making, who are the people?” You could pin pont that the red head stick was her father, but the rest was hard to say.

“This is Uncle Dick” Lian points at the black hair guy that was in a cable…in the air? “And this is Jay” She points at the bigger guy with white in his hair and a scowl on his face. Her grandpa? Wait no, if it was, she would have said it. Oh right, you heard some moms talking about a guy called Jason, maybe they are the same person? If you remember the rumors correctly, he was the partner of her dad. Maybe Roy harper likes older men? You almost laugh at the idea, obviously your mind being exaggerating and imagining Roy with a wrinkly old man.

The door of your classroom opens, and your eyes widen, it was a guy…a handsome one…too handsome, like crafted to be one of those sculptures. He is tall pretty tall in fact, surely 6’0 or a bit more, black hair with some white stripes…wait hold on. White stripes? Like Lian drawing? THIS IS JAY? JASON? ROY PARTNER? DAMN. Roy Harper is a lucky bastard.

You watch the man don’t even glance at you and beeline to Lian. No yeah, don’t even offer a good evening and sorry for being late man. Though you can find in your heart to late it slide this once because 1. The sole presence of that msn in earth is a gift, and 2. Lian looks to be ready to bring him hell.

Jason looks at the pouting Lian and knows he isn’t wining points today, but he does have to admit that she looks cute with the uncoordinated pigtails and the pout. After promising her some ice cream for his lateness and tickling her tummy so the frown goes away he and sending her to pack and get her stuff he prepares himself to face her teacher. He turns around to face you and the words he practiced in the car got stuck in his throat. You aren’t an old hag, not even close. Since when teachers are hot? In his time teachers were ugly.

But you? YOU ARE DIVINE, GORGEUS, like one of those people authors take reference to describe their protagonist. Wait...what’s happening to him? Is this some kind of spell? He can’t be thinking like this, well he can but this is Lian teacher he can’t…but then you smile at him, and he is goner. Fuck, pretty face and pretty smile, a killer combo.

You smile at the man feeling a bit awkward since he is just looking at you with a scowl in his face. Don’t tell me he is the time of parent that jokes that the time of the school ending should be 4: 00 pm or you will lose it.

Jaason finally arrives back to earth and clears his throat. “Uh sorry about the time..got stuck in traffic…” He looks at your eyes and something feels weird, not bad…but a sensation he can’t describe almost like his body…turning less tense?

You know the man is lying, the reason why pick up for the smaller kids is at 2:00 pm is to avoid traffic. “Don’t worry, I stay after hours anyways.” Usually, you would have been stricter about it, but for some reason you let it slide.

Jason thinks that teachers aren’t that bad after all, or maybe it only applies to you. Teachers like you where quite rare, he remembers that one of his English teachers where out of the school before the kids. He hopes you get paid well, maybe he can get Tim to hack Gotham’s School Bank account and raise your pay… “Thank, and sorry again. I um, my name is Jason” He offers his hand at you, and you shake it.

How soft. How rough.

He and Lian say your goodbyes and leave the cozy classroom, Lian talking his ear off about what she did that day, but he finds himself looking back at you and notices that something changed in your eyes...they seem less shining? Maybe he is finally presenting dementia.

Jason takes Lian to the nearest Carvel and lets her decide on her ice cream if she won’t tell Roy about his tardiness. He doesn’t want to get his picking-her-up privileges revoked…So, now he eats some brownie ice cream while Lian talks about random things like how your favorite color changes often because you like all of them. Thing that he found peculiar but cute.

[vigilante-3073]

Daddy's Credit Card

Cullen Family x Female Vampire Reader (Platonic)

PART 4

Summary: Bella's life is in danger and the Cullen family rallies around her. Feeling outmatched by the threat of an army and forcing themselves to work alongside the wolves, Edward reaches out to Y/N.

TW: Mentions of fighting, lack of regard for the feelings of others.

Graduation was fast approaching for the students of Forks High School and change was on the horizon. The student body was abuzz with conversations about future careers and top university picks. The Cullen family kept their involvement to a minimum, the less people knew about them the better.

Bella had her own ideas for her future and had been asking Edward to transform her into a Vampire. After the couple nearly became a Shakespearean tragedy in Italy, she had come to understand the fragility of their situation.

The Cullen family and Bella had come to a reluctant understanding that she would become a Vampire. The change would occur after graduation and Bella would be welcomed into their family with open arms.

Edward was pushing Bella to accept a marriage proposal before he would transform her, but Bella danced around the question every time.

Y/N had disappeared after she found Edward in Italy, he hadn't heard from her and he was reluctant to reach out.

Edward found himself missing her friendship, he had never been very close to the rest of his family and he wished that he knew how to fix things between them.

Y/N was a hazard to Bella. She was dangerous and Edward attempted to convince himself that they would be better off without her.

Carlisle was worried and he had been reaching out to his contacts around the globe to see if anyone knew where she could be. Edward wanted to assure Carlisle that Y/N would be fine on her own and she would return to them eventually like she had before. But something about this separation felt final.

She was gone.

Victoria had been returning to the area to hunt for Bella and the hypervigilance was beginning to take a toll on the family. Alice had been watching her decisions, but apprehending her was a difficult task.

Edward sat at his laptop at the table in the home of Bella's mother. He had taken her on a final trip before graduation while also allowing his family to hunt for the redheaded Vampire in Forks.

He watched Bella interact with her mother on the porch before his eyes returned to his screen.

'Y/N,

I don't expect you to read this, but I hope that you do. Carlisle has been searching for you and come up with nothing. If I were to begin looking for you, I wouldn't have any idea where to start and I suppose that would be my fault. I wish I had spent more time getting to know you, you have always looked out for me and that sentiment has not been properly reciprocated. I need you to know that I miss you and I miss our friendship.

The school-year is coming to an end and the family has made a choice about Bella's future. She wants to be like us and we have made the decision that she will join our family after graduation.

I am currently staying at Bella's mother's home in Florida. I brought her here in an attempt to get her to change her mind, but the trip also serves another purpose.

Victoria, James' mate, has returned to Forks in order to harm Bella. The family has this under control, but I thought that you should know.

I miss you and I'm sorry for the distance that I have created between us. I care about you and I hope that you return to us when you're ready.

Sincerely,

E.C '

His mouse hovered over the send button before he pressed it, slowly closing the laptop and returning his gaze to the porch. He hoped that Y/N would reply to his message, but he wouldn't blame her if she didn't.

...

Carlisle stood in his room, placing some folded dress shirts into his bag. Edward appeared in the doorway, "You know where she is?" He questioned.

"I heard back from one of my contacts in Milan. They seem to think that she's in the area," Carlisle stated, zipping up his bag and picking it up.

"I should come with you," Edward said.

"No, you should stay here. Bella needs you closeby in case Victoria returns," Carlisle advised, making his way out of the bedroom.

"What are you going to say to Y/N?" Edward asked, following after him as he moved through the house.

"I am going to ask her to come home," Carlisle stated simply.

"She's not going to come and you know that," Edward said.

"It's her decision and I can only hope that enough time has passed to soften her resolve. She went to you in Italy and it shows that there is still a part of her that cares for you," Carlisle said, opening the door and stepping outside.

He walked down the steps and opened the trunk of his car, placing his bag inside before closing it. Carlisle turned to his adopted son, "I will try my absolute best to bring her home," He assured, resting his hand on Edward's shoulder and giving it a gentle comforting squeeze.

"Tell her-," Edward began, the words died on his tongue. He gulped, "Tell her I'm sorry and that she was right," Edward said.

Carlisle gave him a small sad smile, "I'll tell her," He assured, stepping over to the driver's side and getting into the car.

Edward stood in the driveway as Carlisle started the car and drove off. He moved inside and found himself seated in front of his laptop again. His first email had never received a reply, but he still found himself composing a new draft.

'Y/N

Carlisle is coming for you. His contact in Milan told him that you were in the area and if you want to leave, now is your chance.

As a wise woman once told me, you have your own free will. Just know that I want you to return to our family more than anything and I hope that you will at least consider it.

I miss you and I'm sorry.

Come home.

Sincerely,

E.C '

He pressed send on the message, staring at his screen as he thought about how broken their relationship had become. Every time he thought that he could put the pieces together, another destructive part of him just continued to break them into smaller fragments.

"What are you playing at with this?" Rosalie asked from the doorway.

"I don't know what you mean," Edward stated, standing up and closing his laptop.

"I've seen what you're writing to her. I never took you as the type to grovel," Rosalie said.

"It's not like that," Edward snapped, exhaling in an attempt to calm himself.

"If you're telling her what you think she wants to hear, you're just setting her up to be hurt again. She's not stupid, Edward, she knows that you chose Bella over her. It still probably feels like she's swallowing broken glass when she thinks about it too hard, but she'll get over it. She got over it when Carlisle left her in the dust," Rosalie said.

"That's not what happened," Edward stated.

"You're right... Carlisle couldn't bear the weight of her affection and he offered you up to her on a silver platter before taking a wife, thinking that it would fix everything. He broke her heart and now you're doing the exact same thing, but without there being anyone left for her to turn to. She is alone out there and your fluffy little emails are keeping her stuck on you. Leave her alone and let her move on," Rosalie stated before walking off down the hallway.

...

Carlisle returned from Milan empty-handed like Edward had expected him to. A part of him still felt disheartened when Carlisle told him that he didn't even see her. There was no trace of her in Milan, but she never left anything behind when she moved along. She had pretty much perfected the skill of vanishing over time.

Edward attempted to refrain from emailing Y/N after his conversation with Rosalie, but there was no one that he wanted to talk to more.

A nomad Vampire had made its way into the area and Edward discovered that the person had been inside Bella's home. The Cullens put a protective detail outside Bella's home to keep her and Charlie as they searched the area. The Vampire was nowhere to be found, but the nomad being in Bella's bedroom and the rise in Newborn activity in Seattle was becoming a concern.

The Cullens quickly realized that the threat was palpable when Alice foresaw the Newborns coming to Forks in order to kill Bella. The wolves had agreed to fight alongside them in order to protect the humans of Forks, but they were still greatly outmatched. Edward found himself at his computer once more, fingers hovering over the keys before he shut the laptop.

He pulled his cellphone from his pocket, dialing Y/N's number and holding the phone up to his ear. Edward listed the line ring, fully prepared to hear that the number was no longer in service. He was almost shocked when the line clicked, no voice was heard on the end of the line but he knew that she was there.

"Y/N... If you're there, I need your help. Bella is in danger and we're going up against something big. I know that I have no right to ask, but your help could really make a difference for us. Please, I need you here," Edward said.

He waited for a reply, reluctantly hanging up the phone after another moment of silence and tossing it down on his desk.

He ran a hand over his face before leaning back in his chair, he heard movement in the room across the hall and slowly stood up from his chair.

Edward made his way over, watching Bella turn in her sleep, reaching out across the bed. His mother's ring glittered on her finger in the moonlight, he gulped before slowly approaching the bed. A part of him felt like he had lied to Y/N, but he also knew that she would never come if she knew of his engagement.

Was that why he'd done it? To give her a sense of finality?

It was unlikely that Y/N would ever return to the family, but news like this would absolutely destroy her. Edward knew that the real reason he hadn't told Y/N on that twenty second phone call was because he didn't know how to close the door on her. Y/N carried that unrequited love for him all these years and he had pretended not to notice it. Edward had been selfish, he needed her friendship too much to tell her that they could never be together in the way she wanted.

Some may call him heartless, but he could only hope to abuse that soft spot she had for him one last time. He needed to.

To save the woman he loved.

[moonpool-system]

Hi! We're a DID system that is both traumagenic and endogenic - that is, different members of the system have different origins - and we thought our perspective might prove useful! We're not diagnosed because we're in a very rural area and have been fighting to get a specialist that's even willing to look at us for ADHD, nevermind something more complex.

I realized while typing this out that i was answering everything paragraph style before even getting to the questions, so I hope this format is okay haha. I should have covered everything

We formed many different ways! If you mean originally though, we're not 100% sure. We've been showing signs of a plural identity since maybe our early tweens or a bit before - our current theory is our original plurality stemmed from autistic masking. One to interact and mask and socialize, and one to pull into ourself and be more objective/literal and analytical. And then things branched out from there? We don't consider it traumagenic because those early memories of our masking self don't bring trauma responses nor are they "bad" to us. In fact they're tied to many good memories. It's more... A result of a simple instinct of separation to us. It feels very much tied to our autism. (which actually is diagnosed lol)

As for other ways we have had members form: hyperempathy & intense connection with a character will often bring them around in our head (it's almost funny how many times some fictional character we cared about has died and then a fictive showed right up of them). Another way is intentionally via what is considered spirit work, as mentioned as an exception to DID in the DSM-5. Another way is tulpamancy, a process of willfully training an independent thought process to sentience by repeated interaction with it. It has spiritual etymology but is a psychological process that was rather separate from the rest of the plural community until recently. If you want a scientific resource on tulpamancy, here's a video on a recent study performed by Dr. Michael Lifshitz, an assistant professor working in the Division of Social and Transcultural Psychiatry at McGill University.

We have traumagenic members too, of course - our trauma built to the point of fracture later in life, so we noticed the transition from functional to dysfunctional as dissociative symptoms entered our life and built up gradually. We used to have such good communication, now the pool of people we can summon depends on so many factors and sometimes feels random. We used to have control of our headspace and not exploding in member count, but now both are insanely large and complex. We didn't used to get disruptive dissociation, memory loss, loss of sense of self, etc, but post the metaphorical straw breaking the back, now we definitely do. We've been able to manage it in many ways and have found a lot of helpful tips spread out across the various plural communities. Honestly I really don't think we would be able to share front or I would be able to let go of the body at all willingly if not for the guides I read whilst doing tulpamancy.

As for resources we can't access, well honestly it's mostly... petrifying fear of the psychiatric system. Despite the issues we've had plurality has saved our life/ves and we're terrified that if we divulge our non-normative presentation and non-trauma-formed members, we'll be denied care, forced into something unhealthy, or armchair labeled with another disorder the doctor doesn't even specialize in. We've had to do all our healing on our own because we don't want to conform, which is what we probably have to do if we want to stay ourselves.

The biggest difference we find between ourselves and other OSDDID systems... I mean there are a few glaring ones. We've chosen to create headmates, we believe to be contacting spirits for some of them, we believe we didn't start out traumagenic, many of us have a very strong sense of identity/self, we have no "collective identity" that even vaguely fits all of us... But honestly? Even among accepting spaces, the biggest and weirdest difference we see is the lack of the idea that you can learn to control front/co-con to an extent. Yes, it's a long and arduous practice, but it's so so worth it! I see so many other disordered systems lament over having no control over front or communication and I just want to send them guides from created systems because they're honestly how we kept stable and grounded when we got a Lot Worse!! Mental work is one of those things that you do over and over and you don't think it's working until it does, and it makes it easy to think that trying again is hopeless. But we can facilitate our own healing! There also seems to be a running concept that switching more always means something bad? But we've honestly found the opposite - having a lot of people coming and going whilst still remaining grounded makes us feel invigorated and helps keep our other mental issues at bay. We engage in more hobbies, feel the desire to do more things, view the world from different perspectives - it really gives us the stimulation we need.

As a small ending tidbit for the last one, many people experienced their trauma after their system creation, or they know where their system came from and it was something different than the traumatic event. Personally we just tell the difference by objective evidence. What were the circumstances around the new member showing up? Was there anything negative or triggering that just happened? What role does this member fill in our life, if any? Plus, if we intentionally created a headmate via psychological or spiritual methods, then we know what happened because we're the ones that put in the intent and all.

Anyways I hope this helps! Thank you so much for reaching out and listening to other plurals. If you have any questions please feel free to reblog or DM us!

Hi! My name's Rowan. I'm the host of The Orchard System, A traumagenic DID system. I'm posting to address endogenic systems and ask a couple genuine questions. None of these are intended to cause offense or in any way discriminate against any group of people.

How did you form (scientifically)?

Why did you form?

Do you consider yourself disordered?

Do you have similar symptoms to systems with OSDDID, such as dissociation, memory loss, loss of sense of self, etc.?

How do your alters/headmates develop? What do they develop due to?

I've seen this going around: What are some resources that would help you that you don't have access to?

Are there any other substantial differences you have noticed between yourself/yourselves and OSDDID systems?

And, lastly, if you don't mind (I put this one at the bottom because it is 100% optional) if you are traumatized but not traumagenic, how does that work?

okay thanks byeeeeeeee

[skeletoninthemelonland]

[zaynes-left-chesticle]

Okay I just read Zayne's "Still in Dark" anecdote, and now I'm crying and also my jaW IS ON THE GROUND, WHAT IN THE FUC-

----

enjoy the tags, I just needed to vent....

And I'm scared 🤣

[eldritchamy]

What the shit. Fighting a god in hand to hand combat as a gold dragon using immovable rods goes so fucking hard and it’s the backstory for a character that’s just in the main backstory???????? AMY???

You know how a lot of people, when making DND characters, make the mistake of having their level 1 PC have an elaborate backstory where they're super badass and already recognized as a hero?

When I made Ash I did the opposite. Her backstory is elaborate, yes, but in very mundane ways that inform her personality and how she perceives the world around her, and build up the logic of how she makes decisions.

I made everyone AROUND my PC a super powerful character who had done incredible things, and I gave Ash anxiety about it.

She feels, constantly, that she is inadequate by comparison. Her entire frame of reference is shaped by a bunch of women in her life that are outstandingly powerful, and she's just a quiet girl who makes leather goods and sells them for a living. She thinks of herself as the NPC in other people's more impressive lives.

Her mother, Lailah, is a nearly seven foot tall divine warrior created in Elysium to destroy Pit Fiends. She's an angel of lightning built like an MMA fighter, and she wields a weapon like piece of a lightning bolt (not stylized, I mean a real, glowing crackling arc of electricity that she holds like a staff and can be used like anything from a polearm to a spear to a whip, and when thrown it acts like a Lightning Bolt spell). She is built, both narratively and in game stats, to be an unkillable holy destroyer, capable of fighting MULTIPLE PIT FIENDS simultaneously, and winning. She's a CR 10+ magical creature (she's a homebrewed mix of Deva and Erinyes stat blocks with some unique flavor) with eighteen class levels, 16 in Zealot Barbarian and 2 in Fighter. She has a strength of 27 and a constitution of 25. She's designed to deal HUGE amounts of damage, tank unfathomable amounts in turn, NOT DROP WHEN SHE HITS ZERO HITPOINTS, and keep swinging until every devil in her way is a pile of dust, then use bonus action Second Wind to bring herself back above 0 so she doesn't incur the auto-death caveat on Zealot Barbarian's Rage Beyond Death ability. One of her attuned items is also the very simple uncommon item "Periapt of Wound Closure" which automatically stabilizes you at the start of your turn, thereby resetting the death saving throws she would theoretically have to make each time she gets hit below 0. Also, as an angel, she's innately immune to auto-death effects like Power Word Kill, which closes almost all loopholes that get around her build. She is UNSPEAKABLY badass. I ran a simulated round of combat with her once, and she could potentially one-shot a CR 15 Skittering Horror (228 HP) in a single turn. Her theoretical maximum damage output is like, 456 damage in a turn (granted this assumes all crits and rolling max damage).

So that's Ash's mom.

Aria is interesting. She was always strongly attuned to the forces of nature, and her magic grew quickly. Where Ash grew up with someone she knew would always be there to protect her from anything, Aria did NOT have that safety net, and spent her formative years learning to be more self-sufficient in terms of relying on her own power. So eventually she got sucked into an adventuring party consisting of herself (a tiefling Witch subclass with very strong druid flavor), a tiefling zealot barbarian, and a couple of elf twins who were an Arcana cleric and a Celestial Warlock. Sometime after they had made a name for themselves, they were tasked with stopping a suspected fledgling vampire who had been kidnapping girls and killing a bunch of people. When they arrived, they met Cass, who was very much NOT a new vampire. She was almost 150 years old and had been protecting women from abusers and overzealous debt collectors, and things had gotten a little messy with one or two of them, leading to a lot more attention than she normally got. They start off fighting Cass (Aria polymorphs herself into a dire wolf and lunges directly for the throat, which Cass found amusing and impressive) but realize in the banter that Cass wasn't the real problem, and she ends up being a sort of a lesson for the group in terms of whose word they trust and who they take jobs from (YES THE BACKSTORY'S BACKSTORY HAS NARRATIVE ARCS AND MORAL LESSONS THAT LEAD TO LONG TERM CHARACTER GROWTH OKAY I CAN'T HELP MYSELF). Cass, having a particular rapport with Aria, ends up joining their party as a dhampir Soulknife Rogue/Shadow Monk.

Yes, that's all backstory that I made up for an imaginary campaign that exists entirely as a set piece for Aria as one of Ash's story NPCs. This doesn't even touch on the fact that I liked Cass so much as a character that I gave HER an entire backstory of her own. I DON'T HAVE A PROBLEM.

Anyway the team only makes a bigger name for themselves for handling things that other groups can't. Eventually, they just happen to be in the Tenth District when the War of the Spark happens (major established event in the MTG canon), and I basically added some extra "scenes" to it that didn't violate existing canon so I could have that be the climax of their imaginary campaign. One of Aria's partners was a new planeswalker at the time and her spark got harvested by the Dreadhorde, specifically by the god eternal Bontu.

Gods in Magic The Gathering aren't honestly that special? They don't seem to have THAT much power, all things considered. Ravnica's gods are mostly powerful magical animals, and in the most recent Magic Story one of their gods (Anzrag the Quake Mole) was captured in an "evidence capsule" (basically Magic's version of a Pokeball). The most powerful god in MTG is probably the Ur Dragon honestly, unless you count the Eldrazi, but that's a whole other conversation since neither of those actually have the "God" creature type.

Anyway, Bontu was one of the gods of Amonket (basically a plane based on ancient Egypt), which had been conquered by an Elder Dragon planeswalker named Nichol Bolas. HE was the one who actually killed all but one of Amonket's gods, and then another planeswalker named Liliana Vess (extremely powerful necromancer) raised them as zombies for his army, because Bolas had a ton of complicated leverage over her (magical contract that he could invoke to kill her if she betrayed him). So Bontu was a god zombie.

Here's a reference:

Well, Aria was a level 18 Witch at this point since this was the climax of their campaign, so she had access to the Shapechange spell, a 9th level transmutation that lets you become any creature with a challenge rating equal or lower than your character level. And the best candidate for that was an Adult Gold Dragon (CR 17). So Aria goes full berserk and stands up on her dragon hind legs and picks a fight with a dead god that she's determined to make deader, and has a Godzilla vs King Ghidorah standoff with her.

So how do you fight a god that can suck your soul out and instantly kill you with a single touch? You don't let it touch you.

What Aria did was basically inspired by this gif of a Wildebeest trying to charge at a lion:

Or this:

And to be clear, yes, I'm saying Aria was the lion in that situation. She basically did a big dragon threat display to get Bontu's attention, and used the Gold Dragon's weakening breath to give Bontu disadvantage on Strength checks and saves. Bontu charged at her, and at the last second Aria dropped to the ground and then shot back up, clamped her teeth around the god's throat, and used her weight to throw Bontu around and knock her off balance, and her superior strength to grab her by the wrists and wrestled her to the ground so she couldn't get a grip on Aria. She had every part of the god that could have killed her pinned, and used the claws of her wings to pull Bontu's armor apart and tear at everything she could reach while thrashing her around. It was Fen, the Arcana cleric, who thought to use Immovable rods to pin Bontu down so that even if Aria lost her grip, Bontu wouldn't be able to immediately one-shot any of them. So Athena (barbarian) and Cass (rogue/monk) as the two martial classes were the ones who got close enough to handle that while Fen and her sister (Gwen) used whatever holy magic they could to help from a distance.

Now CASS had a problem, because she's a DEX based martial class, not a strength based one. She needed a boost to be able to get this job done. So she drank some of Bontu's blood from one of the wounds Aria had left on her arm to give herself a burst of strength. Except. She had to get real close to do that. And Bontu managed to get a loose grip on her, and tried to suck out her soul.

The magic that makes Cass what she is is very old and very powerful. It binds her soul to her body in a much stronger way than any living creature, fusing the two together to prevent her from dying (i.e. by having her soul separated from her body; Cass can recover from almost any conceivable physical injury as long as there's life energy, in the form of blood, for the magic that keeps her alive to feed on and maintain the seal between her body and her soul). BECAUSE SHE WAS FEEDING ON THE BLOOD OF A GOD AT THE TIME, the magic holding her together basically fought against the magic that was trying to rip her soul out, and it had enough fuel to hold on until Aria's thrashing forced Bontu to let go. So Cass survived the Elderspell thanks to a very weird and unrepeatable set of circumstances (which allows something narratively impressive and legendary to happen without being gamebreakingly overpowered and violating the established rules of the world).

Because of how her magic draws energy from other things, though, there was a side effect: she also accidentally took in one of the planeswalker sparks that Bontu had harvested. So when Cass had healed enough for her soul to no longer be dislocated, her spark activated and she became a Planeswalker. (I imagine a soul is connected to a body mostly through the nervous system, because that's how a brain holds consciousness in it, so a "dislocated" soul is like something glued to every nerve ending in your body being pulled on with an enormous amount of force, trying to sever that connection; imagine trying to pull yourself off the ground when every nerve ending in your body is superglued to the floor by something akin to the Strong Nuclear Force. It SUCKED.)

The team ended up being forced to retreat because of Cass' injuries, so Aria didn't actually manage to kill Bontu personally (or die trying, which in her grief-rage she was fully open to). Right about this time, my bottle scene ends and Magic canon comes back into play: Liliana betrays Bolas and turns the Dreadhorde against him, and Bontu ends up being the one who bites him and rips out HIS spark. Due to the enormous rush of energy of consuming all of Bolas' stolen Planeswalker sparks (tl;dr he was trying to become a god), and with the added bit of lore that it was Aria's team that heavily injured Bontu just prior to this, Bontu exploded in the process.

This resulted in Ravnica playing a game of telephone in the chaotic aftermath of the War. Aria fought a god. She's still alive and that god is dead. Rumors spread and now Aria is misremembered as the one who killed Bontu. Half the plane thinks of her as the "god killer." All she wanted was to avenge her lover or die trying.

Neither outcome happened, and now she's credited with the very thing she sees as her greatest failure. And that trauma has haunted her ever since.

[david-watts]

it's a bit rich coming from me. so fucking useless that I haven't managed to do anything worse than leave words that appear on my arms when I get out of the shower and some cognitive decline in so many years of trying and threatening. but I genuinely believe it would be better for everyone involved if I weren't here

[momenalmdhoun]

Desperate Plea: A Call For Relife‼️ 🥀

Hello, It's Momen Al Madhoun, writing from the most miserable area in the whole world, I am deeply thankful to all of you. Your support means the world to my family

🍉🍉🍉 I urgently plead you to keep sharing our campaign with your friends, family, and acquaintances

15 months have passed as if it were 15 years, and suffering increasing day after day 😔 Our health is decaying, we have NO IMMUNITY to fight diseases. No healthy food to feed our worn cells. Finding a quiet, clean place for us to get some rest is IMPOSSIBLE! I'm in urgent need of serious financial support so that I can take action and save my family! Our faces speak the misery we're going through! my children can't bear the ruthlessness of war life… pain and cold does not allow either of them to sleep 💔

I found in drawing a way to relieve stress and describe what we are experiencing, but even this i was deprived of, due to the difficulty of obtaining good internet and electricity for a sufficient time If you are interested in art, you can check I my blog I and find my artworks, i hope you will share them and support me to continue fighting and trying Every share and donation brings us one step closer to saving my family's lives. Your support, no matter how small, holds the power to rescue my loved ones from grave danger There are no words can describe how many times we have been displaced The situation we're living now is really hard to imagine Where do we Go?

Imagine the vastness of this universe, we cannot escape to a safe place far from the war

🍉🍉🍉 We rely on your donations to have a shelter and provide basic daily necesseties. We need your contributions and support with us, no matter how small it may be for you, but it makes a difference for my family 🙏🏻 Please, Support us with 5$, 10$, or any donation you can make and it will be really appreciated 🙏🏻

🌟 Our campaign is vetted by 🇵🇸 @/gazavetters List at #291

Donation link 🙏🏻

[maraczeks]

+

[tonycries]

Cake or Fake - G.S.

Synopsis. The only birthday gift your brother’s best friend wants? You. And not just for fake-dating…

Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, brother’s best friend! Gojo, annoyances to lovers, fake dating, PINING, jealousy (Gojo’s side), past Sukuna x Reader, matíng presses, vírgínity loss (Gojo), oraI (fem rec.), PÚSSYDRÚNK GOJO, size kínk, cervíx kíssing, he’s such a tease, cúmplay, p talking, making him WHÍMPER, spítting, pánty-steaIing, slight chokíng, reader is Geto’s sister, matchmaking, pet names, swéaring.

Word count. 11.1k

A/N. In honor of my hubby’s birthday!!

“Wait, who’s coming to your party?”

“It’s not just a ‘party’, it’s my surprise party-” 

“Satoru, it’s not a surprise party if you’re the one organizing the surp-” You’re cutting yourself off with a heaving sigh, massaging your throbbing temples. “Anyway- continue.”

Growing up, you didn’t suffer through years of endless torment from Gojo Satoru to hope that he’d ever use logic. No, of course not. 

Instead, he’s brandishing the oversized birthday banner he’d bought himself, softly smacking the top of your head. “Besides- it’s not like everyone’s going to be there. Just our group, Nanami’s troupe, some Kyoto people, I invited Yaga but he kicked me out of his office- oh- and Sukuna.”

Ah, there it was. 

The one person you didn’t want to see just as much as you didn’t want to be roped into your brother’s best friend’s “surprise” party planning for his own birthday. But, alas, here you were. 

And here tumbled the next few words that would likely haunt you for the rest of your life. 

“I need you to date me.”

“Oh? Okay.”

“Listen I know it’s stupid and I know-” Wait…what? Cutting yourself off with a choked-up wheeze- for the first time since he’d barged into your life, Gojo had truly and absolutely stumped you. “Wait- you agreed?”

He’s shrugging one broad deltoid, tinted glasses that you’d bought for his last birthday sliding down that high nose bridge of his. And the grin you’re graced with is blinding. “Well, I knew it was about time before you fell for my charms~” Before one strong arm swings its way around your shoulders, manhandling you against the thin black t-shirt wrapped around his sculpted body. He wiggles his cloudy brows, “What was it- the hair? The eyes? The body? Y’know I’ve been hitting the gym more-”

“Gojo Satoru.” you’re gritting out through tight lips. “I need you to date me- just for one night.”

“So it was the body-” he’s gasping dramatically, beefy arms frantically wrapping around your middle. You could feel the curves of his washboard abs against your palm. Purring voice pitching up into what almost sounded like a whine, “At least take me out to dinner first–! To think that you just want me for a one night stand-”

In a split-second, your palms slap over his nonsensical mouth - hard enough that you almost spy a stinging stamp of red on his skin. 

And yet, Gojo doesn’t complain. Doesn’t display anything but a brazen gleam in his gaze that practically screamed out kinky~! 

“Shut- up- my brother’s in the next room.” You’re hissing, eyes flickering behind Gojo’s toned figure and towards the kitchen door for any looming sign of Geto. “I need you to date me-” Your digits tighten over his mouth as soon as you feel it moving to prattle away once more. “-just for tonight- no, not as a one night stand, put that banner down- We just need to ah- pretend?”

Damn, it sounds more of a garbage idea out loud - and you didn’t even know that was possible. 

At the question in his summer blue eyes, your hopefully explanatory words spill out a mile a minute. “S-so Sukuna has been getting around since our little break-up a few months ago- if you can even call it that…”

Ah, melding into such a big group with your brother’s friends and your own in university had always meant that there would be a few bumps along the way. 

From explaining to an overeager Haibara that no, you and Gojo were definitely not dating, to making sure that your brother and his best friend didn’t make Nanami suffer from an aneurysm too early in life, to perhaps the biggest of them all - your fiery, yet short-lived fling with Ryomen Sukuna. 

The most dramatic bump, according to Shoko.

Sukuna wasn’t a close friend, but it’d taken work to get over the worst of the awkwardness after he’d dumped you without a moment’s notice. And you weren’t exactly dreaming up a wedding with him…sort of, but you certainly did skip out on a few invitations to hang out if you knew that he’d show his smug face.

And right now it left you ironically wishing you’d heeded Gojo’s words when he’d first warned you that Sukuna “wasn’t right for you.” 

Though, you think part of it came from his own unexplainable love-hate animosity with the man.

“-but I’ve still been painfully single since the last time I saw him, and you know how he is. I can’t face him like this.” You, in particular, knew too well. “You two still have that weird rivalry thing going on, right? So help me show him up just for tonight- then later we say it fizzled out and everything goes back to normal. It’s a win-win really if- eugh!”

You snatch your hand back as far as it would go the very second you feel the sodden drag of something against your palm. Staring in horror at your clammy skin…he licked you.

And Gojo almost winces at the loss of your touch - he almost drags your hand back himself. 

But oh, it was worth it just to see the way your gorgeous features get scrunched up into an even more gorgeous glare - one that said if looks could kill, then he’d already be six feet under and having his surprise party thrown on his grave already. 

Truly the way to a man’s heart, he swoons internally. 

“Fine.”

And when has that particular tone from Gojo ever boded well for you?

“Fine?”

You find yourself gulping at the slight bob of his smooth Adam’s apple, the flex of his back muscles when he hunches downwards to crowd your space. Mere inches away. Somehow, he seemed too close and too far away at the same time. Too intoxicating with his cold, pinewood scent.

“Fine I’ll let you- heh, use me for my body.” Tone intentionally dipping into a low, rumbling territory. Gojo’s batting his long snowy lashes in a way you’d almost deem innocent - if it wasn’t for the next few words that tumble urgently from his mouth. “-only if you give me something back. A kiss.”

You jolt, “What?”

“I’m the birthday boy, and I say-”

Cutting him off with a thoroughly practiced scoff, “Well, I have common sense. And I say I should just ask Nanami instead-”

“Is the common sense in my five-star getaway cabin with us right now?”

“Okay! You two!” Geto’s roughened hands clap down on your shoulders with a little more force than necessary. His voice is patient - used to this. “Please try not to make this a funeral before we can make it a birthday party, Satoru’s decorations are non-refundable.”

Oh, shit.

How long had he been standing there?

Judging by Geto’s slight shake of your shoulders as if scrambling the practical part of your brain back into functionality - and the way he wasn’t lecturing your ear off just yet - you guessed that the two of you had been lucky this time. 

Face burning, you pray you didn’t look as guilty as you were. Swatting your older brother’s well-meaning hands away. “Speaking of, for a busybody hosting his own surprise party, I’m shocked you didn’t want any gifts.” Quirking a brow, “Is there even anything you want? Anything else?” 

Gojo knew what you meant - you weren’t just talking about the party anymore. 

And, well…he avoids your eyes. Yes. Yes, there is .

You. 

But, woe, even the utterly shameless Gojo Satoru couldn’t possibly say that out loud - especially in front of his best friend, and your brother - so he settles on an obnoxiously dragged-out, “Awww- Trynna make my birthday special f’me, sweetheart~?”

And even that was toeing the line.

He can’t help the way his rosy lips curl smugly at the edges when you’re hissing out a heated, “S-see if I try and have a civil conversation with you ever again, Gojo.”

“Ouch!” Gojo’s clutching dramatically at his heart with a willowy faint that leaves him hanging off of Geto’s shoulders - and it wasn’t too hard to fake with the way his heart lurches uncomfortably at the sound of his last name on your pretty tongue. “Right for the jugular- is this your way of throwing the towel on our truce?”

Truce…is that what he’s calling it?

You catch your own brother - that traitor - stifling a bout of laughter behind his hand when his towering best friend seems to cower in your mere presence. Because, really, who was Gojo Satoru against you? 

Sighing with that slightly infuriated pout you haven’t lost since you were a whiny, teary-eyed brat meeting him at his Digimon-themed birthday party many, many years ago. 

Gojo takes the moment to truly appreciate how you’ve grown since.

He hadn’t technically invited you back then - but what else was there to do when your older brother was off making friends in kindergarten already and being invited by his “new best friend”?

You’d been pouty the entire evening at that, he remembers, and his mother had gotten a ton of photos just of your bickering duo. A year younger and just barely an inch shorter than him, but to a freshly six-year-old Gojo that made all the superiority - enough to tease you badly enough that you’d left him with a tiny, throbbing pink handprint across his cheek, and his poor heart in your palm.

“No.” Your voice rips him out of his reverie, as it always seems to do these days. “So you better k-keep up your end of the truce, too.”

With you stomping your way back to your cabin suite, Gojo finds his twinkling eyes straying right after. Hot on your heels. Unable to tear away. You really have changed since then, all grown up - as is he - and yet-

“That’s after a truce?” Geto wonders out loud for the both of you.

Well, he’s eyeing his best friend. And Gojo was nothing if not a good- well, he was good at everything, quite frankly. Everything except for when it came to you. “Suguru, we might have to plan a surprise engagement party tonight instead of a surprise birthday party.”

“Huh?”

“Huh?”

Because he still feels as much the bumbling six-year-old with his first-ever crush as he was back then.

---

“Matching colors?”

You sigh, “Check.”

“Matching backstories?”

“Check.”

“Kiss me?”

“Ch- wait not yet-” you’re managing to shrill out, fingers curling even tighter around where Gojo had insisted you latch onto his bicep. And you feel him flex boastfully under his velvety button-up, “And do we really need to make some grand entrance? You literally planned the entire party.”

He’s flicking your forehead - softly, you’ve seen Gojo roughhousing with your brother before and he didn’t use even half his strength on you. “Surprise party- the birthday boy has to make a dramatic entrance with his girlfriend. How else will we make a statement?” 

You’re grumbling to yourself about why you needed to make a statement at all - but you can’t argue, this was your idea after all.

And Gojo seemed well and fully intent to excel in his role…perhaps too intent. 

Now, you always knew that his family was disgustingly wealthy; but Gojo practically dragged you to the nearest high-end mall this morning. Insisting on the latest twinkling bracelets and bejewelled necklaces to match his fitted shirt. Cooing that you looked “absolutely gorgeous” in every single one. 

Was this official girlfriend treatment from Gojo Satoru himself? You’ve never known him to have had a long-term relationship in all the years he’s been your brother’s friend but…but it was all so much for just one night of acting. 

And when you’re twirling that flowy silken fabric of your dress around your fingers, you wonder if that’s all he was thinking. 

“Hey?” The rounded pads of his fingers skim over your cheeks, “Nervous?”

“A little.” you admit, trying oh-so-desperately to escape from his blazing sapphire gaze. 

And Gojo crushes you close to his body, one massive palm resting firmly on your hips, hardened front pressing up against yours. Warm. Steady. Voice so close now that you could catch every slight crack towards the end, the heat of Gojo’s feverish breath - practically burning - against your ear. 

You wanted to feel his hands more - everywhere. 

Woah. You’re shaking your head, thankful it simply looked like you were gathering your wits. Maybe you were more tired than you thought.

“We’ll be alright. Trust me, it’ll go smoothly.” Was- was Gojo Satoru comforting you? He’s cracking a smile, like the thought just occurred to him, too. “And if it doesn’t then I can beat up that b-”

SLAM!

“Why are you taking so lo- What. The. Fuck.”

Your first instinct is to wrench away from Gojo’s hold - but unluckily for you, his first instinct is the exact opposite. And you find his firm digits tensing to dig into the plush of your hips, both of your heads snapping towards that gravelly new voice. 

Catching a jaw-dropped Shoko with her half-burnt cigarette dropped to the floor, she looked nowhere near even thinking of picking it back up. You could practically see the gears curdling around in her head.

“Ah-” You’re gasping out in what you hoped was believable scandal, fingers latching around Gojo’s own cold ones. Not to remove - no, Gojo almost has a heart attack when you intertwine them with yours. “Hope we’re not too late, Sa- Toru here wanted to go shopping.”

“Wait-” Shoko runs her hands through her silky locks like she was pleading to the skies above. “Wait wait wait- wait- when did this happen no-” She’s baring you with her most aghast look, “Why did this happen?”

Gojo comes to your rescue, face falling into the crook of your neck with a grin. “Told ya she would fall for my charms eventually~”

“Yes, but I didn’t think she was that stupid-”

Yes! You have to fight to hide your smile, despite the blatant insult. One down - if you could get everyone at this party to believe in your little act, then Sukuna would have to. 

“Still here–” You’re deadpanning, hoping that your friends didn’t catch the slight tremors in your voice. Damn- why did Gojo have to be so warm. “-and uh- maybe we should head inside? After it is a certain someone’s-”

“Shhh! You’ll ruin my surprise.”

It all goes according to script - well, your entrance with Gojo and his entrance into the party. 

As soon as your duo steps in, the dim lights flicker on and you’re deafened with the cheery yell of surprise! Blinking your startled gaze to adjust to the blinding decorations upon decorations that Gojo himself had put up, you can’t help but let out a chuckle at the smiling faces that meet you. 

Geto and Haibara holding exploded party poppers, the rest of the group from Kyoto standing around a brightly lit cake you’d baked, Nanami the one turning on the lights - the farthest away from the birthday boy. Purposefully so, you imagine.

And there - in the center of it all - Sukuna. 

Arms crossed, a pink brow raised as he drinks in the sight of you - all of you. 

As was the rest of the room, eyes widening in true surprise. 

Gojo’s clutching the front of his shirt with almost-frightening theatrics. “You guys- You did this all for me? You’re the absolute best-”

“Eugh.”

“What did you blackmail her with?”

“Congratulations on your relationship!”

Your eyes latch onto Geto - who only takes a long look at you and cackles. 

Gojo’s huffing ever-so-slightly as he gets cut off, and that’s what it takes for you to realize that you still had his fingers looped undeniably with yours. In fact, he’s tugging you even close to wrap one heavy arm over your shoulder, the very picture of sappy devotion when he nuzzles his cheek into your own. “They’re bullying me~”

He was laying it on thick.

He’d barely steered you into the living room before you catch a flash of white and two firm arms curled around your neck - away from your supposed boyfriend. 

“My lovely!” Utahime cries, cocktail abandoned somewhere to wrangle you free from Gojo’s treacherous grasp. She’s cupping your face with visible concern, “Is your head okay? Did you knock it somewhere? I know a good doctor that can help with-”

“Hey! She’s my lovely-”

“I’m fine, Utahime.” You’re subtly stepping on Gojo’s toes before things can escalate any further. Eyes meeting red ones from across the room, “-I promise. We’re just ah- giving it a go. It’s very new and we didn’t want to make such a big deal out of it, honestly.”

Lies. The entire point is to make a big deal out of it. 

Shoko crosses over in a flash, droopy eyes flickering between you and a sheepish Gojo. “Giving it a-” Slicing their way over to the decorative blush on his cheeks, “-go…huh.” 

And as you’re surrounded by the tittering crowd, you’ve never felt more like one of those cell samples that Shoko would dissect in medical school and proudly show your reluctant self pictures of. 

Ogling everything from the weight of Gojo’s hand on your shoulders to that soppy smile on his face when he smushes his cheek into yours like some overgrown cat. And you can’t help but wear a grin of your own.

Can’t help but feel relief when she cracks a wicked smile, “Fucking finally.”

Haibara gathers your hands in his own, “I-I’m so proud of you two! Nanami and I have been hoping for this for the past five years-” Flitting his strangely wet eyes to a Nanami who couldn’t have looked more disinterested if he tried. “-isn’t that right Nanami?”

“No it’s not.” he’s rolling his eyes, but you catch the slightest hint of a twitch at the corners of his lips. And it hits you that he’s happy for you. 

Really, truly happy.

“Right right!” Haibara plows on, and you have half the mind to wonder if the obliviousness was a skill. “It’s been more like the past seven years-”

Geto slaps! his hand on Gojo’s shoulder, a knowing smile playing on his lips. “So he finally grew the balls, huh?”

“Eh? I mean-” you’re strangling out at your brother’s sudden comment. “-I mean of course. Had to practically force it out of him though, y’know?”

Shoko nods, eyes far away like she’s remembering something you can’t. “Of course, you did- pining fool.” And in the corner of your eye, you sneak a glimpse at the way Gojo���s sharp jaw clenches. Grinding ever-so-lightly as she calls out, “Well, I was almost at my wit’s end with your horrible taste in men. No offense, Sukuna, not that this one’s any better- let me know if you ever need his balls chopped off in his sleep–”

Utahime’s narrowed glare stays locked on Gojo, “Hurt her and it’ll be more than your balls.”

Sukuna, notably, says nothing.

.

.

.

Gojo Satoru was a liar. 

The guestlist for his birthday wasn’t simply your friends - it was damn near the entire campus by the time the cake had been cut and you’d all settled into your usual conversations. 

Body after body filtering in through those towering mahogany doors of his. Invitation or not. Rapidly and steadily, it was growing into another one of Gojo’s famed parties. Honestly, you wouldn’t even be surprised if you’d actually bumped into Professor Yaga somewhere in there. 

“Eheh- whoops.” His apologetic words hit hotly against your ear over the thumping music. Your body jostling precariously where you were sat all prettily in his lap on the overpriced living room couch. “I don’t even know half these people.” 

And, yet, more than half the people seemed to know you - or, at least, your relationship with Gojo. 

Sure, you were aware that your brother and his best friend were amongst some of the most popular students on campus, but this was ridiculous. You couldn’t pass two minutes without a few guests sauntering up to wish the two of you well and leaving Gojo with a “congratulations for finally growing the balls.”

“They sure know a lot about your balls, huh?” You’re raising a brow, back pressed up against the massaging ridges of his abs. And some part of you felt guilty for deceiving all of these people - they really did look curiously happy for the two of you. 

Gojo’s bemoaning, “I can assure you that you are the only one allowed to talk about my b-”

“Ugh, couples.” Comes your brother’s voice to the side of you, the cushiony couch dips as he takes his seat. “Though, it is much better than having him mope around.”

“Suguru…” Gojo murmurs. Low. 

“What? Scared I’ll embarrass you in front of your girlfriend?” Geto was such a provocateur despite that serene expression he’d constantly wear on the outside. Taking a long swig of his beer before musing, “Remember, she’s my sister, Satoru. And I think she should know about that book of pick-up lines you bought for her. And that picture in your-”

Immediately, two engulfing hands find their place on either side of your head, covering your ears so blatantly. Gojo’s strained screech is only slightly muted when he drags out, “W-we haven’t gotten to that stage yet!”

“Oh, I see I see-” And Haibara - dear, sweet Haibara - always chooses the worst times to pop up from behind the two of you. Ringing voice commanding the attention of about half of the room nearby when he’s humming, “So you two are still in the honeymoon phase, then? How romantic!”

“No.”

“Yes.”

There’s such dangerous possessiveness in Gojo’s limbs when they tangle in a mess with yours. One arm wrapped tight around your waist, the other gliding its lecherous pathway up and down your exposed thigh. Slowly. Savoring. 

Gojo’s fingers twirl over the short hem of the dress he’d bought, lips pressed up against your throat as he mutters. “Aw, c’mon– no need to be shy, sweetheart.”

And you’re sure whatever strange little flip your heart did showed on your face - because immediately, you’re being showered with awww’s and squeals from all around you two- when did you even draw in a crowd?

“Then why dontcha give ‘er a pretty peck to prove it.”

But of course, Sukuna was in it, too.

“What?” 

You try not to let your true feelings bleed into your words when you take a long look at that unchanged smirk, the way he’s tilting his tattooed neck in defiance. Shrugging up sculpted shoulders, “M’just saying. If you were my girl, I’d want to prove it to everyone here.”

Damn.

Geto nudges his best friend, and you grit your teeth - because proving it was exactly what Sukuna did when you two were dating. Often these parties found you sneaking away if he felt generous, and Sukuna’s lips hot against yours right on the dance floor if he didn’t. 

All in front of a fuming Gojo.

And, hell, if he could be petty then so could you. 

You’re ignoring the boiling in your veins to run a few stray fingers through Gojo’s angelic hair. Soft. It drags his steely gaze from Sukuna over to you with a gulp, “S’that okay, Toru–” Oh god, that nickname has Gojo wondering whether he’s in heaven. “-wouldn’t wanna make you uncomfortable.”

“Tch, are you kiddin’ me-” He recovers quickly, and you didn’t know whether the raw awe in his voice was part of the acting or simply just Gojo being himself. “-provin’ to losers than I’m yours is the best birthday gift I could get.”

The last thing you see is that tiny, curvaceous dimple at the end of Gojo’s grin before he’s smashing his lips onto yours. It’s messy. Disorganized. The very beginnings of a sodden French kiss. 

Sheer teeth and lips and need as he suckles lightly on your lower lip, pearly white canines sinking in ever-so-lightly until you keen. Lost into the wolf whistles erupting from the party-goers - it seems to knock some sense into you two.

And Gojo breaks the kiss with a panting pah! sugary sweet taste of his birthday cake lingering on your tongue - over as soon as it started. “Happy birthday to me.”

“You are so corny-” you’re croaking, more so because you didn’t know what to say than anything. Because all your mind was whirling with weren’t words - it was the feeling of wanting more more more-

Shit. Your eyes widen, peering down at Gojo’s half-drunken gaze - even though you’re sure his lightweight self hasn’t had a single drink tonight. You wanted to kiss him more. 

“I-I think I’m going to get a drink.” you’re mumbling out, hastily standing on two unsteady feet. Mere moments away from stepping into the kitchen - from making your escape - before long digits clasp around your wrist. With a plastered smile, you turn to Gojo, gaze flickering down between his begging eyes and that vice-like grip of his. “You need anything, babe?”

“Ah-” Gojo lets you go as if your skin scorched him - as if he didn’t even realize that he’d been holding onto you this way. “No no, nothing for me- don’t take too long, m’kay~”

Every step you take, Gojo’s watching after you like it couldn’t be fast enough.

Because after that? That kiss that had him feeling like a pathetically melty puddle of teenage hormones? Shit, he’s almost on the verge of getting out of his seat and running after you like a maiden himself-

“So…ugh- was that part of the truce?”

“Huh?”

“Was that- dammit, Satoru fuckin’ look at me- she’s not even in your line of sight!”

“Oh- what?” Gojo’s veering his eyes over to his best friend, gaze still trailing after you like a lost puppy even when he registers the other man talking to him. Your little audience had mostly dissipated by now, leaving him to act as much of a fool as his idol-like persona on campus didn’t allow. 

Geto lets him stew in the strobing silence of the party music for a little longer, before heaving out a sigh that was much too worldly for a young man of twenty-something. As a younger sister, you really did give him grief - and he finds himself almost wishing he hadn’t interrogated Gojo after overhearing your strange agreement earlier today. “Man, you really are stupid, huh?”

“I know.” 

“And this charade of yours is even stupider.”

“...I know.”

“And you realize that you might just be helping her back into the arms of that Sukuna all over again, right?”

“WHAT?” He’s so desperately loud that a few guests in the vicinity jump. But Gojo didn’t care - he didn’t give a shit about anything other than grasping onto Geto’s collar, shaking him stupid. “Have you lost your mind- I’m supposed to be the nonsensical one in our duo-”

“I-I’m just saying.” Geto’s putting his hands up as if a shield, “Getting an ex-boyfriend jealous using the same man he was threatened over when they were dating? Sounds like the textbook recipe for jealousy sex if you ask me.”

Oh, Gojo Satoru was going to kill someone. Brows marrying together, he only wobbles his best friend harder. “B-but no- that can’t be- they hate each other, don’t they?”

And, ah, he hated how Geto always knew what to say. 

Hated how he already knew by the devilish curve of Geto’s lips that nothing that was about to fall out of it was going to do his sanity any good. 

Gojo flails, “No wait-”

“Don’t you two claim you ‘hate each other’? And yet, here you are.” Geto’s patting his best friend on the back as if consoling him, shaking his head with the patience of a mother with a few problem children. “There there, you complete imbecile. Now you might want to stay here sulking with a singleton like me, or- you might want to go over there and avenge the honor of your fake relationship, because I see an ex-boyfriend coming in hot.”

“What?”

He’s jerking his head around so urgently that Gojo’s vision blacks out for a bit - and that’s exactly the excuse he’ll use for years to come when he shoots up to his full height. Snatching a glass of liquid courage from Geto-

“Satoru, that’s-”

Knocking it back within seconds before storming off to just where he could just peak your beautiful self in the kitchen being crowded by Sukuna. That adorable furrow in between your brows betraying your thoughts, lips moving furiously with a frown.

“Do you think he knows that what he drank was just water and not alcohol…” Geto tilts his now-empty cup at a lounging Nanami nearby, head bowed like he couldn’t give a single fuck if this party burned with him in it. 

“No.” 

“Do you think he realized the ‘jealous sex’ was a bluff?”

“No.”

Geto lets out a slight huff of laughter, “And do you think he realizes that more than one person in our group knows it’s pretend?”

“No.” Nanami didn’t care if he risked sounding like a broken recorder, after spending almost a decade with you two dancing around each other, he thinks he’s owed that privilege at the very least. “I don’t think he realizes that had your sister so much as looked his way, let alone date his sorry self, then the entire campus would have been hearing about it for the past month.” For the first time since he’d found himself accidentally dragged into Geto’s conversation with him, Nanami raises his head to catch the tail end of Gojo’s lanky legs disappearing into the kitchen. “After all, Sukuna did break up with her because they were in love with each other. Just too stupid to see.”

Now, you might not exactly be his yet like he’s wished on every single birthday candle since he was six - but Gojo Satoru was to be damned if was going to let any other bastard steal his fake girlfriend.

“Sukuna-”

“Awww…what happened to ‘Kuna’, baby?”

You snort, arms crossing over each other while you fixate your glare on Sukuna’s leering form. God, the kitchen just seemed too small for the two of you. “I think you lost that privilege when you dumped me.” Attempting- failing - to sidestep, “Now if you’d excuse me, my boyfriend is-”

Scoffing, “Girl- what boyfriend?”

Sukuna looked to be on the very verge of laughter, and you were on the verge of breaking into a nervous sweat. He’s rasping out a rumbling snicker at that look on your pretty face, “Oh come on, now- you can’t really expect me to believe that sorry excuse of a kiss came from the same man that’s been wantin’ you for years, right?”

Shit. 

Wait…years?

Your fingers curl tighter around the beer bottle, “I-I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

And you watch as Sukuna’s mouth drops - now fully laughing in your face. “Damn- not even a hint? You really did downgrade after me, ma. At least I was honest.”

“Honestly an asshole, that’s for sure.” 

But the rest of your fire swims down the drain as he inches closer. And closer. Heat radiating off the rippling muscles of his body when a big, beefy arm of his cages you against the polished marble counter. Head inclining slightly towards the door, “Well- why don’t you and I-”

“Take your fuckin’ hands off my girlfriend.”

“Satoru?”

But the sight you’re met with seems anything but - gone is that softly teasing demeanor, vanquished is Gojo’s easy smile. His pretty features are twisted into such a feral snarl; and where his tone was ice-cool, his eyes were blazing with raw fury.

Gojo looked like he didn’t even hear you as he echoes, “I won’t say it again.”

“Well alright then, Mr. Boyfriend.” Sukuna lets go of the cool counter surface with a knowing chuckle, walking horrifically towards a seething Gojo himself. The two stand eye-to-eye, glare-to-glare. “Are ya sure you and your third-rate acting wasn’t interrupting anything between myself and my girlfriend?”

“Satoru, ignore him–” You’re pleading, trembly voice jolting Gojo out of his hypnotized stupor, and making him drag his heavy legs around to you. Fuck, that was close. You didn’t know what-

“That’s right. Comfort your friend the only way you know how- s’not like you can do anything other than pine for decades until the next one comes around to steal her away, anyway.”

CRASH!

In a split-second, Gojo has Sukuna pinned against the wooden cabinets by his cotton shirt. Ego and desperation wafting from the two men as his feet dangle a few centimeters off the floor. Gojo had his teeth bared - eyes wild, looking like he was seconds from foaming at the very mouth. And Sukuna’s own lips quirked upwards into a grin. 

“You better watch your fucking mouth.” Gojo hisses. 

“You wanna tell her or should I-”

“What is happening here-” Shoko’s sharp voice snaps the three of you from your little bubble of violence, and it’s like all of a sudden the music and the party comes pouring back into the kitchen. Strangers and friends alike hot on your heels to watch the drama unfold, being pushed back by a frantic Haibara. “You’re acting like children.”

Sukuna shoves the other man off of him, and makes his way out. “Well, I know one of us hasn’t grown up.”

And Gojo is just about to stride forwards- until you catch him with a hand hooked around his elbow. Feeling the washing sense of deja vu from not too long ago. Hastily spitting out, “N-now- oh! Look at that, let me get that bruise cleaned up-” There was no bruise, and there was no reason for you to drag Gojo from the kitchen as fast as you did. Yet, you did anyway. “We’ll be upstairs–”

“Man…Sukuna.” Geto whistles lowly, watching you lug his 6’3 mess of a clingy best friend up the stairs and into what he assumes to be Gojo’s bedroom. “I know you wanted to set them up together badly but wasn’t that a little much?”

“Oh shut up- I don’t give a shit if they get together or- or if she’s happy or not.” he gruffs, stalking off. 

Yet, Geto guffaws at the angry rouge that colored the very tips of his ears, and the slight wobble in Sukuna’s lower lip when he stops to watch you two make your escape.

Yeah. “Didn’t give a shit” his ass. 

“Ugh.” Utahime rolls her eyes, signalling at the DJ to raise the volume on the music just a tad louder. She had a dreading feeling they’d strangely need it. “Men.”

.

.

.

Ugh, men. 

You roll your eyes, the soft pads of your fingers tracing over where Gojo’s knuckles were slightly reddening after knocking against the cabinets. You were only glad that it didn’t escalate into something even worse - damn this stupid idea. 

“I’m sorry.”

Gojo breaks the thickened silence between you two, his sullen voice echoing across all four wide corners of the master bedroom. But all you can hear is the thundering of your own pulse when he blinks his eyes up at you, “I didn’t…didn’t think it would go this far.”

The two of you are sitting on the edge of his king-sized bed, practically sinking into the plush mattress. And you can’t help but notice how much the room smells like him.

“Ah, well- y’know…” you’re trailing off, and the way you look at him - so soft and raw will forever be etched into his honeyed mind. You were comforting him…what a night. “Play stupid games, win stupid prizes. B-beside- it’s over now, isn’t it?” 

He can only nod.

And you feel your fingers twitch where they were cradled in his much larger ones. Fuck. Here goes nothing…

“So that means I have to hold up my end of the bargain now, doesn’t it?”

Oh. 

Gojo blinks.

Oh.

“Wait- so was it the body or the char-”

“Unless you finish that sentence right now. In that case I’m never speaking to you again.”

And shit, if you knew that this was the way to shut Gojo Satoru up then you’d have been wielding this power much, much sooner. Breath hitching when his plump, pinkish lips instantly zip shut, and he’s scrambling off the bed to kneel in front of you.

Kneel.

Gojo was kneeling in front of you, knees clacking to the floor so hard that you think it must hurt. But all that he wears on his expectant face is the rosiest of blushes, and the slight pucker of his lips when he leans in. “I-I’ll shut up- but can I have my kiss now?”

You couldn’t gift an answer even if your dizzy mind could somehow conjure up one.

Because with the slightest nod of your head - barely motioning even a few millimeters - Gojo’s crashing his lips onto yours like he was starved. 

Like he didn’t want to breathe - didn’t need to - when his mouth was meshing against yours. Addicted from that faux kiss downstairs. Keening out a low whine at the very back of his throat, he’s gulping in steady heavals of your essence. Greedy hands circling your body-

“O-oh shit.” he kisses, mouth parting from yours ever-so-slightly because fuck, he had to breathe. But he’s completely and utterly sure that he could die happy right here and right now, lips firmly pressed against yours. 

You’re half-heartedly sputtering, “We should– the party–”

“D-don’t talk to me about a fuckin’ party, pretty.” His teeth pull lewdly on your lower lip, “One more- that was a practice run. O-one m-”

This time, it’s you cutting him off. 

Swallowing up the rest of Gojo’s sentence and forcing his body to wreck with a sudden bolting of lightning. And Gojo swears he tastes heaven on your lips, thumbing open your jaw further to pry out your lolling tongue and suck. 

You moan out what sounds like a slurring string of his name over and over - praying that these walls were as soundproofed as they looked. 

Fingers nimbling their way over to the first few open buttons of his shirt - the very graze of your skin down his burning one sends shots of electricity down Gojo’s body. It makes him jolt. It makes him drag in a heaving lungful. It makes his heavy palm drop its way to the curve of your ass and squeeze. 

“Wait-” he’s drunken. Seething. Silvery strings of rope snapping in the heady lack of space between you two when Gojo pulls away. “-what’s it that they say- one more for luck?”

One more. And another. Another. Another and another and it’s still not enough even when Gojo’s mouth was throbbingly red and raw from crashing against yours, whimpering at the slightest wet glide of your candied lips across his.

Meshing in a sodden pucker he’s trailing his plumpened lips down the splatters of dribble that’d made its way down the corner of your mouth. 

As lazy as his hands were, long digits drawing circular massages up, up, up your thigh. You’re gasping when the fat curve of his thumb nudges in through your drenched panties, drawing a sopping wet line down your teary slit. 

“I think…” Cutting himself off to let his tongue slide out and lick a languid stripe down your drivel. “...think I needa hah- kiss those other lips of yours for good measure, sweetheart.”

Oh.

Fuck.

He looked like he was seconds from drooling at the very thought. Nervous energy bleeding into his words, making them sound almost like a whimper. Gojo Satoru wasn’t asking - he was begging on his knees right before you to eat out your pretty cunt.

Sharp inhales being sucked through his drunkenly parted lips when you slide your fingers through his sweat-soaked hair and pull. “Th-then you better make it worth all the trouble, Toru.”

Oh, his head tumbles backwards at the sound of that nickname on your lips once more.

Chuckling - chuckling - all humorless and crazed. Bleary eyes locked on you and only you, he doesn’t move them a singular inch once all the while dipping his fingerpads into the hem of your panties and pulling. Dragging out the drenched excuse of your panties, they’re splotching a glistening coating of your sweet, sweet juices down your thighs. 

And Gojo only turns to look once he brings them eye-level - up to his face and-

“Toru, you’re so nasty–”

“Ya think?” Gojo huffs out through the slicked-up fabric of your underwear, breathing in your essence like it was his favorite scent. And you swear you catch him sneaking in a few droplets of your syrupy juices that splatter onto his mouth. Groaning, “Oh, sweetheart- m’gonna make you realize just how nasty I really am.”

Without any apologies, without any warning, your thoroughly hypnotized self is being shoved down roughly onto the mattress. You bounce a few times against the navy sheets, legs hiking up on autopilot - exactly the way that Gojo wanted them. 

You really were made for him. 

Mewling, “Wh-what-”

“Shhh sh sh-” he’s whispering out in ragged rasps, still pressing a few pretty pecks against the mound of your translucently glossed panties. It was taking everything in him to part- to set them down…Well, perhaps not that far. Gojo stuffs your panties mindlessly into the back pocket of his pants, tongue swiping a moisturized coating over his lips when he takes back in the sight of you. “M’talking to her.”

All splayed out on the bed for him - it was like all his dreams materialized into real life. 

Literally. 

“Oh, look how wet she is–” His creamy fingertips push up your dress to make such a slurring mess all over your pursed lips. On purpose. Swirling the edge of his manicured thumb over and over in the tiniest of circles over your pulsing clit. And Gojo snickers at how greedy she was for his attention…how cute. “-whaddaya think she’s ngh- tellin’ me, pretty?”

Rubbing your fists over your eyes, you’re seeing stars when Gojo’s rude digits give your clit a sudden pinch. “I-I don’t know–”

“Awww- are you sure?” You’re being showcased the most innocent pout you’ve seen him plaster on his entire life, lower lip jutting out and looming so dangerously close to kiss the drizzling trail at your puffy folds. “Because she’s so talkative to me- might jus’ be nicer than you.”

You wish you could snap back as you usually would - oh, how you wish. 

But you’re sure that any and every noise that showers out from your dazed mouth wouldn’t even be heard. Because for one infuriating time in your life, Gojo was right. 

Those sugar-coated squelches from your dripping cunt replayed in your ears over and over. Every teasing pattern of Gojo’s fingertips has you rambling in a saturated song that sticks to your ears like cotton. And Gojo couldn’t get enough.

He couldn’t stop.

He couldn’t falter no matter how much he wanted to keep up this ever-cracking facade of being suave. Heeding to practically every word from your pretty pussy when his heated mouth gruffs closer and kisses you.

Slow. Filthy.

“T-Toru–” you’re whining, your fingers entangling with his snowy locks. And no matter how hard you tug, Gojo doesn’t move even an inch. “-make sure you ngh- b-breathe- fuck-”

“Don’t need to..don’t- don’t need it…” Gojo’s slurring out into your saccharine pussy lips, intentionally dragging out his words so that they vibrate all down your spine. 

Button nose massaging against your ample clit, the decadent room rings! with a sultry squelch. And you’re peeking down at that sinful sight of Gojo’s tongue smearing your puffed-up pussy lips agape. Swiping around and around the circular hole of your entrance before plunging in-

Oh.

Gojo looked like he was so in bliss. 

Eyes sliding all the way to the back of his head with one taste of your bawling cunt on his tongue- shit. Shit.

Shit shit shit. He’s out of control when he gasps, two hands curling under and around your thighs to haul you down the bed. Maw hanging ferally open when he’s gashing your poor pussy with the most sodden French kisses - Gojo’s never kissed a person like this before. And he doesn’t think he ever will - other than you. 

Doesn’t think he’ll ever feel as feverish as he does right now when he’s craning his deft fingers into his mouth. Sucking. Tasting. Each and every one with a messy pop! pop! pop! 

He really was nasty.

You gape at the way your slick hangs all down his lips and coats a sparkling glaze that drips down his chin and forms a little pool at his neck. His collarbones. Trickling down with pearly beads of sweat that sift between his perky pecs so mouthwateringly.

“F-fuuuuck-” Gojo’s hissing, brows scrunching together like he couldn’t even believe what he was seeing. “You jus’ got ngh- wetter. S-so much wetter…”

It’s said like a prayer. 

Like a plea because your cunt was driving Gojo crazy.

“It’s all because of ah- you–” You squirm at the way that these were the words tumbling from your mouth. And you already know that Gojo was about to tease you for this for the next few years - if he even remembered, that is. 

Because just about the only thing that he can do right now is twirl the edges of his fingers over your winking hole. Once. Twice. Before feeding you inch by long inch of his middle finger - in your lusty haze you think you manage to count about six inches from his staggering size. 

And it only had you imagining his size down below. 

“Don’t squeeze around m-me- fuck who am I kidding-” Gojo’s sleazy pumps of his hand has your cunt slobbering all down to his working wrist. Adding in one more, two. “-drool all over me- make a mess- hah- fuckin’ ruin me.” Mouth bumbling a mile a minute when his drives build up sloppily, swiveling around your gummy walls to nudge over all your tenderized sweet spots. “Yeah- heh- yeah suck me up like that. S-such a slutty girl, aren’t ya?”

“S-stop being so-”

So what?

Talkative with your cunt? So greedy when he shovels his face back in between your tottering thighs? So heated when he utters. Like a death sentence. All that he could. “I-I can’t stop- do you know how long I’ve ah- imagined this? Dreamt of this?”

Your palm constrict on his silky strands and Gojo’s so pliant when he lets himself be rummaged even deeper against your pussy. So ready to be used. “Th-think I like you better when you ngh- shut up–”

And even through it all, Gojo finds it in himself to roll his eyes - though, you think it’s a way to disguise the way he’s agonizingly swimming in euphoria more than anything. Chuckling out wetly, “Th-think I like it better when you’re ah- actually on m’tongue and n-not jus’ in my fuck- dreams when I have my cock in hand.”

Shit.

He’s so shameless. 

Fingers jackhammering in and out in and out in and out- 

“Where is it-” he’s spitting out into your squirming pussy, the lower half of your body being pinned to the mattress with one of his strong arms. You’re feeling the way his biceps bulge against your skin. Getting faster. Faster. “-where is it where is it where-” 

“What are you even ngh- looking for, Toru?” you’re crying out - it was all so much now. So close. 

But the only answer you get are your ankles being tugged to wrap around Gojo’s fervent head, pinned with one hand behind his back. “Lock it.” Keeping you held there until the ends of your feet knot as vice-like as possible to mash his face into your drooling cunt. 

Gojo wraps his rose pink lips around your weepy clit and sucks through furrowed brows when his thorough digits surge upwards at a bruising pace into a bulbous magical spot. That spot. 

“Found it.”

And you find yourself cumming with such a loud yelp of Gojo’s name - throat rubbing sore with every peak of your high. Your orgasm crashes into you over and over as he laps up every bead, every splatter, every drop that you’re giving. 

And he’s still parched. 

Spitting out a wet slew of saliva into your quavering hole, Gojo’s making such a mess of you. Absolutely ruined when he sucks up every wet smear that waterfalls from your cute cunt - so thirsty. 

It’s only when your high has died down to a few tingles, when your limbs twitch with overstimulation, that Gojo finds himself pulling away. His lips stinging rawly, nose slicked and dripping with your sweet, sweet juices - you’re hearing the most pained grunt from between your legs as he pulls away.

It hurt him to.

“Oh, w-would ya look at that—”

You weren’t sure if you trusted him enough to look - already knowing that whatever it was would have your mind reeling.

But how could you not when Gojo’s fat fingertips squeeze your cheeks together into a pathetic pout, opening your glazed mouth just wide enough for him to salivate. A thick wad of spit hitting your lolling tastebuds, his thumb swipes over the stray slops that’d made their home on the corner of your slack jaw. 

He grins, “I said look, sweetheart…”

Groaning, your eyes blink downwards - and you weren’t even sure what you were witnessing at first. Not even sure if you were daydreaming - because Gojo had his black dress pants unbuttoned. Shoved down until his thick, milky thighs just enough for you to witness his massive length.

Yeah, his fingers were definitely an indicator of something.

Because Gojo was so big that you felt nervous. His length swollen and thickened to an incredible girth. All pretty with a red, rotund ruby tip that blushes a cute strawberry pink all the way down, down, down until neatly trimmed tufts of white at his base. Saddling his tight, hefty balls that looked much too heavy.

He made your mouth water. 

But that wasn’t all - no, what really catches your eye and snaps you from your orgasmic haze and into a half-lucid state were the creamy rings upon rings that laminated his shaft. Frosting-like dredges of cum sliding lazily down his angry cock, spurting out a few more from his weepy divot at the very end at your unwavering attention. Did he-

“Yes.” Gojo gasps out in a condensed puff, his voice sugary and embarrassed. Shit, did you just say that out loud? “I-I came just from…you’re just so-” 

Damn, he curses his stupidly babbling mouth. So drunk on you that he can’t voice all the sinful thoughts sprinting through his melty head right now - all the thoughts that have been already for years now. 

It was impossible - even for his big fat mouth.

So without another word, Gojo tuts as he’s rolling his shoulders as if on instinct to pop a few joints; in one, fluid motion your body is being sidled into such an easy princess carry. 

Patting you down right into the cushiony middle of the bed, he looms over you - stalks over to you. And you can’t deny that the absolutely feral smile twisting his features makes your cunt twitch. 

“Too many clothes.” Gojo tugs on your dress - that darkened glint in his eyes not boding well for you or-

RIP!

-for this dress.

At the sight of your jaw dropping in adorable surprise, he chuckles out a rough, “Don’t worry- I’ll buy ya that again. I’ll buy ya the ngh- whole fuckin’ store jus–” And oh with a few masterful flicks of his fingers on your bra, you’re left in nothing underneath him. Nothing to hide your perfect body away from the way he was fucking you with his half-lidded eyes. “-just let me f-fuck this cute cunt, please?”

It takes you a few sloppy seconds of Gojo nibbling down your neck for you to realize that he’s waiting for you. For anything. 

Huffing, your shaky fingers clench around the glaringly open lapels of his button-up. “S’unfair th-that you’re the only one in clothes-”

And, well, who was Gojo Satoru against you?

You’re demandingly helping him shrug off that branded shirt, buttons hitting the ground, his pants hitting the floor-

“Whoops.” Gojo grins sheepishly when his pants and those tight boxers collapse onto the floor in a tatter of fabric and your panties. “Jus’ consider it a uh- birthday gift, pretty–”

No longer having his flaps of fabric to reel him in by, your fingernails dig neat little patterns of crescents on his heated skin as you drag him down to you. Heady breaths mingling with one another, “You said no gifts, remember? If you ngh- really want those panties- y-you’re gonna hafta earn it, Toru.”

And earn it he will. 

Because as soon as the bulging spherical shape of his fat head swipes a sopping kiss down your pussy lips, you feel yourself already moan. He was so hot. 

Already so pussydrunken when he says, “Hope ya don’t mind–” Teeth sinking into your tender earlobe, “-this is my first time.”

Fuck.

Fuck.

You barely even have the mindpower to register those words before you’re being split apart - gasping at the almost-unnatural feeling of being so thoroughly full. Of having our steamingly hot insides being fucked open with just the simple tip of Gojo’s staggering cock. 

“C’mon- c’mon–” He’s lunging up in slow, mindless gyrations trying to force his thick length inside. Powerful arms keeping your wrangling legs spanned wide open for him, they barely even let you budge. Biting down on his lip in frustration, “F-fit inside- shit, your pussy’s so tight, sweetheart– s’it too big for you?”

Stubbornly, “No-”

And Gojo only has to glissade the curves of his palm down to that inflationary nudge of where he was drilling into your cunt. “No?” 

“...no.”

Pressing down. Hard. “No?”

“Fuck- yes- you’re just too big-” And you meant it as a complaint - you really did. But those words only have every ounce of blood remaining in Gojo’s shivering body galloping down to his gluttonous cock. Pushing at the seams to make him expand even fatter, bigger- “Why are you getting bigger?”

Shit, you really needed to watch that mouth of yours. 

Because it has Gojo’s hulking body falling onto two elbows on either side of your head, like a heavenly cage you didn’t ever want to get out of. 

Sweat-simmered forehead bumping into yours, you feel his large fingers interlace dangerously on top of your head. “You need to-” He’s crashing his lips against yours in such a filthy open-mouthed kiss. “-s-stop talkin’ outta ya ngh- pussy. Leave that to her.”

Her. 

And you’re so utterly distracted by all his little ministrations that you didn’t even realize the way he was snugly fitting himself into your cunt. 

The stretch is impeccable when it hits you like a train at full speed, feeling the tiny nooks and crannies of your magical spots being brushed up against the thrumming upright curve of Gojo’s cock. He’s leaving no millimeter of your elastic walls unturned, unstretched. Untainted. 

Gushing out a sweltering hot wave of buttery pre that sloshes all the way against your womb. “Oh- oh what the fuck-” Gojo hisses, chest heaving. And if you didn’t know any better you’d have wondered if he was in pain. “-what the fuck- th-this is what you feel like?”

Right - shit. In all the chaos, you’d forgotten those words he’d confessed just earlier - Gojo Satoru was a virgin. Because of course, he was. Don’t make him laugh, who else would he have ever wanted to see him like this other than you? 

A virgin that was currently pacing his slender hips back and forth to instrument the most syrupy squelches from the very gooey bottom of your cunt. His drooling mouth spreading wider and wider with every sultry half-thrust. 

You mewl, “H-how does it feel, Satoru?”

“I-I feels so- so–” But the words are failing him - the words are escaping him with every gummy squeeze of your walls like you wanted to swallow down more and more of his solid inches. And hand on your hips swirls your hips around ever-so-slightly to feel his sobbing tip paint tiny circles of gluey precum inside you. Gojo snaps his eyes open - wild. “-is it even l-legal to have ya cunt feel this good, sweetheart? This- oh! Heavenly?”

And he was sounding genuinely concerned. Genuinely worried for his sanity once Gojo manages to feed your needy cunt all of his length. 

Now in.

Fully.

And it feels too good - too blissful to have almost every single prayer in his life finally answered that Gojo can’t help but scrunch his eyes shut and cum.

Loudly. Pathetically. 

One hand dancing downwards to give your plump clit a punishing little squeeze as if it was your fault. The other curling around your throat to have you meshing your mouth with his panting one, you can feel it in the vibrations how his voice cracks at the very same second your gooey cunt is filled with such copious dumps of his seed.

There’s so much. 

As if he’s cumming and cumming harder than he has in his entire life, every splatter of stifling hot cum managing to paint the bullseye of your g-spot in pure white. Ounces of his seed creaming around his hefty base, it smears and slide around your thighs as Gojo continues to fuck you into the mattress. Pound after pound that make him see overstimulated stars. 

And it makes Gojo giggle - giggle - head lolling deliriously into the crook of your neck, now covered in a slather of his drool. Every slow ram into your splurging cunt has him grunting out the tiniest ah! ah! ah! 

“Shit- fuckin’ embarrassing-” You hear him groan into your neck, licking a languid column from his tongue before biting. Hard. Hard enough that you’re wondering whether he’d draw blood, “Can ya believe- s-saved my virginity for the ngh- girl of my dreams n’ m’cumming already~?”

He leaves a few final pecks against your lips, “Th-this pussy’s got me too haaaah- addicted, pretty–” As he’s moving to part sloppy ways, you’re gasping at the splatter! of something warm. Wet. And only then do you register the literal tears crinkling at his eyes from overstimulation. Crying. 

“A-are you okay– Satoru?” You’re whining, limp fingers skimming away the strands of white that cling to his prespired forehead. 

“No.” Comes the answer, comes the heaving gasp when Gojo’s fatigued limbs force themselves through his trembling muscles to heave back upright. “One m-more. That was a practice run.” Throwing your legs over his broad shoulders, you feel his flexing deltoids underneath you when Gojo brings one ankle up to his mouth and kisses. Muttering - more to himself than anything. “B-but m’gonna make y’feel good- oh- fuck- m’gonna make you t-take this big cock.”

His words have you just as stupidly fucked as his fat shaft does. 

Those lightning bolts of his veins thump down the upperside of your goopy channel, massaging your sweet spots over and over and-

“Th-think it was here-” Gojo’s palms feel everywhere and anywhere down your tummy for the vicious back and forth of him inside you. To feel that bulging opening, the way your snug channel clenches every time his bouncy tip recoils back from your cervix. Wanting more more more- “-or w-was it- here.”

“Fuck!” The entire expanse of your spine arches off of those thoroughly and filthily dampened sheets now, meshing up sluttily into Gojo’s body until his prespiry-glossed abs cushion your front, plush pecs so comfortably collapsing on top of you. “There- there there hngh- more-”

“More-” Gojo chuckles, hitting that precious spot over and over. His chubby head mashes in slurping soppy collisions until he was out of breath. Dizzy. “More she says- Greedy girl, wh-when you have me already ngh- dripping out of you. Shit- squeezin’ me so. Oh-”

And his vigorous fingers scoop up such lecherous volumes of his own milky cum, toying with the gushing waves of white your poor pussy leaks with every pound. 

He’s bullying them between your lips - cerulean eyes dilating, mouth sagging unsealed when you eagerly suck on his digits. Tasting his candied self, tasting you. Somehow managing to muffle out, “M-m’not greedy.”

Gojo can only grin, “S-say that to me when this oh- cunt of yours isn’t sucking the fuckin’ soul outta me.”

And Gojo would love to tease you more for this - to mouth away for hours on end into your ear about how drenched you were getting and muse out loud whether you’d dreamt of this just as much as he has, too. 

But instead, he’s pecking a flurry of lovely kisses all down your face. Gasping into your lips, “M-move that pretty hand f’me-” So rudely swatting those fingers of yours that’d snuck their way down to toy with your neglected clit, Gojo’s taking over himself to rub steady, methodical circles. Thumb peeking pressure on the hood of your clit just the way he’d read online. “-I’ve always w-wanted to ah- do this. To fuck you raw. T-to ruin you and ngh- fill you up-” As his words spill, so do a few ropey wads of pre. More. Frequent. “-a-and eat you out all over again. See how you taste like mine…”

“Y-you’re gonna-” You can’t even bring yourself to say it. “Again?”

“Of course, sweetheart- why? Scared I- oh.”

That’s when he does it - the mistake of peering his barely-open eyes down.

His weightily smacking balls that smooch against your ass with each thrust clench oh-so-painfully at the vision of your puffed-up pussy lips gaping around him. Drooling. Swallowing. Accommodating his ruthless cock for all you can, practically broken in half and still yearning for more.

Shit, the sight’s so hypnotic that Gojo doesn’t even realize when he’s letting his thoroughly overwhelmed body lock into yours like a puzzle piece. So hefty and sculpted. 

His abs practically melting into your body, and his sloppy hips pistoning into you even deeper. Harsher. Every raring grind of Gojo’s lengthy shaft probes into your g-spot so hard. Like he wanted to leave widely battered bruises of his circumference on your sweetened spots, your cervix, anywhere and everywhere he could reach. Like he couldn’t stop. 

Doesn’t even know the very word right about now in this filthy, filthy mating press. “C’mon- c’mon one more for ah- luck?” Whimpering, “My sweetheart, I-I’m gonna-”

Gojo sees white when he cums once more this night - and you do, too. 

You’re not sure if it’s because of the violent streaks of electricity that run down your entire body, or because of the treacly spurts of cum that overspill from your poor cunt. But fuck- did it feel so good. 

Your entire body tingles all the way down from your toes up to your bleary head - and the entire room feels like it’s fucking spinning at this point. 

Black tinging your vision with ever overfilling thwack! of Gojo’s tight, cum-filled balls as they empty out, out, out into your depths. It’s coating your insides like a sticky second skin, leaving stringy drizzles of seed seeping from between your slit. Adding to the ever-growing puddle before. 

You’re feeling it swashing around you with every drivel of his hips. Overstuffing your elastic walls until you felt like they were about to burst. 

And all you can do is simply grapple your nails into the bulging muscles on Gojo’s back, whimpering out a broken, “T-Toru–”

“M’here I-I’m here–” Yet his voice sounds airy, hitching like he was on cloud nine. A beefy arm wraps around your body and manhandles you close to him like some sort of ragdoll, “M’here- shit-” His lips graze against yours in what you assume must be a kiss, too oversensitive to even perk his head up and peck you senseless like you knew he wanted to. “Never lettin’ ya go- haaah- never- ah-”

Whatever promises Gojo always imagined whispering into your ear can be said and done later. 

Right now, the only thing he can streamline his body into doing for him is to search blindly for his discarded pants by the side of the bed. Searching for that bulge in the back pocket- no, not the panties he’d swiped right in front of you - instead, he’s feeling for the shape of his wallet. 

Pulling your tired body back into his, Gojo’s carding it lazily open to show you that. 

Exactly what they were talking about.

Splayed out proudly in the front and center of his wallet was a picture of the two of you. Years and years ago exactly on this date, the aged photograph showed a smiling Gojo Satoru in front of a candlelit birthday cake, tiny cheeks all pinkened. A small, surly you standing by his side - eyeing his Digimon hat more than you were eyeing the camera. 

But that didn’t matter, because Gojo wasn’t looking at the camera, either. 

He was looking at you - exactly the way he was right now.

Glowy eyes half-lidded, a mysterious little smile playing on his lips. Gojo nuzzles his face against yours and breathes out a tiny, “I…I might have loved you ever since then, y’know that?”

You’re gasping, eyes shining with…something. And Gojo’s heart stutters as he wants to find out. Wringing your hands to wrap around his broad chest, you’re coiling your legs together until you’re unsure where one ends and the other starts. 

Whispering three lovely words into his ear - and three more into the honeyed  air. 

“Happy birthday, Satoru.”

---

Gojo’s one wish was to wake up next to you - like this. Under soft blankets, with your sleepy breath puffing softly into his collarbone, your body tucked safely into his. 

And he never wants to let go - could never even dream of anything that could ruin this precious moment-

“Mind explaining who ordered wedding decor last night on MY account?”

Ah, that would do it. 

Bleary blue eyes wrench open, taking Gojo every shred of will in his body to not jolt at the unwelcome greeting of Shoko peering down at him…while he was all wrapped up with his best friend’s sister in a bedroom that could almost be mistaken for a crime scene. 

Would it really be too late of a birthday wish to hope that she hadn’t noticed your tattered clothes on the floor, the ruined state of the sheets, and the way that the bedframe sagged suspiciously on one side?

Gulping, he’s pressing your body even tighter into his, careful not to let you stir - well, at least it couldn’t get worse than this-

Footsteps. 

Close.

And an unmistakable few voices - and laughter. “Is that my sist- SATORU, YOU BASTARD-”

“Eugh.”

“WHAT did you blackmail her with?”

“Woahhh- congratulations on your relationship!”

A/N. Lowkey has the spirit of a crackfic, I fear. This was SAUR fun.

Plagiarism not authorized.

[flowersforbucky]

i got it bad

logan howlett x reader (worst!logan x reader)

word count: 4.9k

summary/prompt: logan can't help that he has super hearing and overhears you - wade's seemingly sweet, shy neighbor - telling vanessa what you fantasize about doing to him. believing that you won't ever act on it, he takes matters into his own hands.

or - getting yourself off on logan's abs

warnings/tags: smut, 18+ only mdni, reader is afab, no use of y/n, logan's pov, porn with a little plot, male masturbation, teasing, nipple/breast play, some tit slaps, multiple orgasms, unprotected p in v, cream pie

Ever since Logan first met you, he hasn’t been able to get you out of his fucking head.

Which is really unfortunate for him, considering you seem indifferent to his existence.

Wade says that you're just an introvert, and that it takes you a while to get comfortable around new people, but after living across the hallway from you for the last few months, Logan is sure that you have no interest in him outside of simple, polite conversation whenever the two of you run into each other.

He first notices you from across the room when you enter Wade and Althea's apartment – his apartment now, too, he supposes. The small space is crowded, but you're impossible for him to overlook. He instantly recognizes you from the polaroid picture that Wade had showed him in the Void.

You’re greeted by Vanessa, who kisses you on the cheek and shoves a drink in your hand before dragging you over to where Logan is listening to Wade and Althea bicker about – what were they bickering about again? All he can focus on is the way your dress hugs your curves and the lipstick imprint that you’ve left on the champagne flute in your hand.

He needs to get out more. Go to a bar, get a job, maybe even try out one of those dating apps that Vanessa has suggested to him – something to get him out of this fucking apartment that he's stayed holed up in since arriving in this universe, because he should not be this flustered by a complete stranger.

“Earth to Peanut,” Wade snaps his fingers in front of Logan’s face. He barely processed anything Vanessa had said while she introduced you. Blah blah, neighbor, something something, lives down the hallway. “Jesus, did you get into the white powder under the floorboard? Your pupils are as big as saucers right now.”

“Oh, go easy on him, Wade,” Althea scolds. “It’s natural for pupils to dilate when looking at a pretty girl.”

The expression on your face matches how Logan feels – surprised, embarrassed, slightly mortified.

“You don't even know what she looks like. She could look like me for all you know,” Wade snorts.

“She brings me homemade cookies and she always smells good,” Al retorts. “I don't need to be able to see her to know that she's pretty.”

“Nice to meet you,” Logan finally speaks up with a forced smile. Leave it to his two roommates to make a simple introduction as awkward as possible. “And no, I am not high on cocaine,” he adds with a pointed glare at Wade.

“It’s nice to meet you too, Logan,” you return the sentiment with a chortle and shy smile. “And don’t worry, I never pay attention to anything Wade says.”

Yukio and her girlfriend with the long ass name that Logan has yet to memorize then walk up and gain your attention, leaving Logan wishing he could redo the entire interaction.

He spends the rest of the night hoping for an opportunity to talk to you again, and feeling disappointed when that doesn’t happen.

The next couple of months go similarly. He runs into you frequently – in the elevator, and the communal laundry room of the apartment complex, and when you’re both checking your mail at the same time.

You always greet him with a smile and ask the typical casual conversation questions – how he's liking his new job (he’s not, but he tells you it’s going fine), if Wade is staying out of trouble (no), and how Laura is doing (she’s doing great, actually), but it never progresses much past that.

As soon as the conversation starts to venture into more personal territory, you seem to shut down. You’ll make some excuse about having somewhere to be, wish him a good day, and then you’re gone.

He can’t help himself. He sees how carefree and talkative you can be with Vanessa and hell, even Wade – and he wants that. At least then he may feel a little less crazy for spending so much of his free time racking his brain for ways to get closer to you.

Maybe it’s because it has been so long since he’s had a crush on anyone, but sometimes he thinks he might be losing his mind with how often he thinks of you – your smile, your eyes, your scent, your voice, and the way that having a five minute conversation with you always leaves him feeling for the rest of the day.

That’s why when he’s walking to his apartment one evening, and hears his name come from inside your apartment, he stops dead in his fucking tracks.

God, he knows he shouldn’t listen. He knows he should keep walking, go into his apartment and close the door.

But it’s not like he has his ear pressed up against your door. It’s not his fault that he has super hearing and that the apartment building has paper thin walls.

His brain is yelling at his feet to move but they stay planted firm right where they are.

“He thinks you don’t like him, you know,” Vanessa says. Logan doesn’t need to be able to see to know that there’s a smirk on her face.

He’s tempted to cause some kind of commotion in the hallway and then dash into his apartment, just to stop Vanessa from saying whatever the hell she’s about to say.

“Logan?” You sound appalled. “Of course I like him.”

“I know that you like him,” Vanessa chuckles. “But I can see why he would think otherwise. You act like you can barely stand to be in the same room as the guy for five minutes.”

“That’s not true.” Your voice shoots up several octaves higher than normal.

Logan sends a silent prayer to whoever the fuck is listening that no one walks down this hallway in the next few minutes and sees him standing still as a statue next to your apartment door.

“It’s not that I simply can’t stand to be in the same room as him,” you continue, lowering your voice back down to its normal volume. “It’s that being in the same room as him makes me want to jump his adamantium bones.”

For a second, he really believes that his two hundred year old heart might stop beating.

“I’m fucking pathetic around him,” you huff. “Last week, I saw him pull his t-shirt off in the laundry room to put a clean one on, and ever since then I haven’t been able to stop thinking about grinding my pussy against his abs. Something is seriously wrong with me, Nes.”

But Logan doesn’t hear Vanessa’s response, because he speed walks away while she’s still cackling. By some miracle, Wade isn’t home, so Logan darts past Althea and locks himself in the bathroom.

What the fuck, Jesus Christ, and holy shit all play on a loop in his mind while he tries to ignore the bulge that has quickly formed in his jeans.

The last words he expected to hear anyone say today were jump his adamantium bones and grinding my pussy against his abs – but the fact that he heard those words come from your mouth in your sweet voice has his cock throbbing so hard that he can't think of anything other than you doing exactly what you’ve been fantasizing about.

Images of you straddling him with your bare, wet cunt rubbing against his happy trail, getting yourself off on his body as he plays with your pretty tits –

He let’s out an audible growl and rips the shower curtain open before turning on the water – straight to his normal hot temperature, too. He knows a cold shower isn't going to do him any good right now.

Standing beneath the hot stream, he thinks of what has transpired in the last five minutes and strokes himself in his hand until warm, white liquid follows the water down the drain.

When he finishes, he stills hears your voice in his mind and gets hard again within minutes.

••••••

Logan hasn’t seen you in three days. Three days might not seem like a long time to go without seeing your neighbor, but it feels like a long fucking time for him. In fact, it’s the longest he’s gone without casually running into you since he first met you months ago.

There’s a reason for this, though – he hasn’t checked his mail in days, hasn’t taken any of his laundry down to the basement in days, and has generally tried to avoid leaving his apartment as much as he can out of fear that he’ll see you. He even went as far as to pretend to be napping when you came by with some fresh baked brownies for Althea yesterday.

He wants to see you, of course. Goddamn, does he want to see you. But after overhearing your conversation with Vanessa earlier this week, he doesn’t know if he’s strong enough to look you in the eye and pretend like he hasn't been making himself cum to the thought of you on top of him every time he takes a shower.

But after three days, he finds himself missing you too much to keep up his attempt at distancing himself from you.

What if he’s being ridiculous, staying cooped in this apartment to avoid you? What if you’re just down the hallway, thinking about him at the same time he’s thinking of you?

He's tidying up the kitchen when he sees the pink Tupperware container that you’d brought the brownies in yesterday sitting in the sink. The brownies were long gone – they’d all been eaten by him, Wade and Al within the same hour that you brought them over.

Taking the Tupperware back to you would be the nice, neighborly thing to do, right?

With Al already retired to her bedroom for the evening, and Wade out with Vanessa, he takes it upon himself to wash and dry the container.

It’s a Friday night, so he knows there’s a chance that you’ve got plans and might not even be home, but he still takes a few minutes to fix his hair and swipe some deodorant on before walking down the hallway towards your apartment.

As he approaches your door, he realizes that you are home. There’s light spilling from the crack at the bottom of the doorframe and he can hear low music playing inside. A mix of anxiety and anticipation sets in, but he clears his throat and knocks on your door before he can chicken out.

He hears your footsteps approaching and attempts to wipe any sign of nervousness from his face – he’s just returning your Tupperware, for Christ's sake.

“Logan,” you breathe as you open the door. “I haven’t seen you in a few days,” you greet him. He can’t help but relax at the smile that grows on your face when you realize it’s him. “What are you up to this evening?”

You lean against your doorframe, and Logan has to force himself to maintain eye contact. You’re wearing a matching pajama set – a cute pair of velvet shorts and tank top that shows more of your skin than he’s ever seen before.

“I – uh,” he stammers, holding out the Tupperware container to you. “I just thought I’d bring this back to you. They were great, by the way.”

Your smile spreads to your eyes at his compliment.

“Oh, thanks,” you beam. “I’m glad you got to have one. Wade told me that you were asleep when I came by yesterday so I figured he’d have them eaten by the time you woke up.”

“I’m sure he would have, but Al made him save one for me,” he laughs.

He tries to focus on the conversation at hand, but the fact that you look fresh out of the shower definitely isn’t fucking helping. Bare faced with the scent of your body wash and lotion on your skin, his thoughts begin to stray into dangerous territory fast.

“I don’t wanna interrupt your night, though. I’ll let you get back to—”

“You’re not,” you say quickly as he begins to step backwards. “You're not interrupting. Are you doing anything tonight? I just ordered a pizza and there’s plenty. I was gonna watch a movie, if you want…” You trail off, glancing back and forth between him and your apartment behind you.

He can't help but notice that your voice sounds hopeful.

The invitation excites him more than he cares to admit. Sure, the two of you have hung out plenty of times, but it's always been in a group setting – at one of Wade’s get togethers or movie nights, surrounded by other friends.

But never just the two of you – definitely never in your apartment.

He could never think of saying no to you. Especially not when this is what he's been hoping for since he first me you.

“Yeah. Yeah, I'd really like that.”

You hold the door open for him, letting him enter your apartment. Right away, he notices how different it is from the one that he lives in. Then again, there’s three people cramped into Althea’s – you're the only person who lives here, so you're able to make it entirely your own.

It’s cute, and cozy, he thinks. From your furniture adorned with throw pillows and blankets, to all of your shelves stocked with books, knick-knacks and candles, to the various plants occupying space throughout the living room, it feels endearing and welcoming right away.

“So, where’s Wade at tonight?” you ask as he ventures into the living room. He notes a large cardboard box with an untouched pizza in it on your coffee table. His stomach growls at the sight, and it hits him that he actually is fucking starving.

“He’s out with Vanessa. Fourth time this week,” he answers, turning to find you retrieving two plates from a cabinet in your kitchen. You're angled away from him, and when you raise your arms to grab the plates, your tank top lifts enough to give him a clear view of your midriff. He quickly averts his gaze, pretending to find something on your bookshelf particularly interesting.

“I’m just really glad that they’ve worked through things and seem to be happy now,” you sigh. “He wasn’t in a good place after their breakup. Barely ever left his apartment for the longest time.”

“They’ve got something special, that’s for sure,” Logan agrees.

You hand him a plate, walking past him to your couch. You toss some of the decorative throw pillows to your recliner, making room for him on the sofa. You pat the empty space beside you, an invitation for him to make himself at home.

“Who knows, maybe they'll even get their own place soon and I won’t have to share the living room with him anymore,” he says as he sits down beside you.

It’s a pretty small couch – really more like a loveseat – so it’s a snug fit for the two of you. The skin of your exposed kneecap brushes against the fabric of his jeans as you lean forward to grab yourself a slice of pizza.

“Sounds like you just want Blind Al and Mary Puppins all to yourself,” you tease. You hand him a piece of pizza and close the box before propping your feet up on the table. You lean back, looking at him with a smirk and raised brows.

“If he moves, that dog is going with him and you know it. There’s no way he’d leave her behind,” he shakes his head.

“There’s no way Althea would let him take her. She's grown to be as attached to her as Wade is. I think even you like her more than you care to admit.”

“What can I say? She has a way of weaseling herself into your heart,” Logan sighs.

“Oh, it’s definitely the tongue,” you shrug through a bite of pizza.

Logan grimaces as a vivid image of Mary Puppins French kissing Wade awake flashes through his mind, but he can't help but laugh.

You turn on some action-comedy that Logan has never heard of, and the two of you eat and take turns making comments about whatever is happening on the screen for the first half of the movie.

He tries to stay focused on the film, he really does, but every now and then you readjust your position on the couch, causing him to catch a whiff of your perfume or your thigh will brush against his and he'll have to force his attention back to the characters on the screen.

No matter how distracting he may find your mere presence beside him, he's enjoying himself. This is by far the longest the two of you have hung out together, without the additions of his roommates and other friends. He dreads the moment that the movie ends and he’s obligated to tell you goodnight before reluctantly going back to his own apartment.

During the second act of the movie, he wonders what you’re thinking - if you could possibly be feeling the same way as him – when you randomly sit forward, grab the box of the leftover pizza off of the table in front of you, and stand to take it to your refrigerator.

It's then that he picks up on an odor – not the light floral aroma of your perfume but something new. A scent that answers the question of exactly what you had been thinking about. It’s musky and pheromonal, and even though it’s been a while since Logan has been intimate enough with a woman to smell the scent of her arousal, he recognizes it right away.

When you sit back down beside him, the sweet smell washes over him again and he bites the inside of his lip so hard that he tastes blood. The wound disappears as quickly as it’s formed, but the same can’t be said for the erection that begins to strain against the confines of his boxers.

He eyes the pile of small, decorative pillows that you had tossed to the side and wishes that he could grab one to place over his lap.

The words that you’d said to Vanessa a few days ago begin replaying in his mind for the thousandth time since he’d first heard you say them, reminding him this isn’t one-sided. He may be sitting here attempting to conceal a raging hard-on by shifting his position and subtly adjusting his pants, but Logan’s heightened sense of smell tells him that your underwear are probably starting to feel as uncomfortable as his do at the moment.

Without turning his head, he risks a glance at you. Your eyes are on the movie, and your face is neutral, but your posture gives you away. Your arms are crossed over your chest, the tips of your fingernails digging tiny crescent shaped indentations into the flesh of your upper arm. You have one of your thighs crossed over the other, locked together tightly but that doesn’t stop him from being able to smell how fucking wet you are.

“You know, if my sense of smell is as good as my sense of hearing, then I think I have a pretty good idea of what you’re thinking about right now,” Logan starts, his voice low and gruff. He watches from his peripheral vision as you freeze, your form going rigid.

“But I’d really like to hear you say it.”

You turn to him, your eyebrows quirked but your face otherwise impassive.

“I’m not sure I know what you’re talking about. What exactly is it that you’d like to hear me say?” you ask innocently. You give him doe eyes that make his cock finish filling with blood.

He huffs a laugh, picking up on the way that your heartrate accelerates when you look at him.

“I'd like to hear you say what you said to Vanessa a few days ago,” he hums. “I can’t remember exactly, but I think it had something to do with you rubbing your sweet little cunt on my abs. Does that sound familiar to you?”

“Hm,” you feign contemplation. “That doesn’t really sound like something I'd say.”

He knows you’re trying to play it cool, but there’s certain things that you just can’t hide from him – like the way your heart is beating a mile a minute and the way your nipples have pebbled beneath the thin material of your tank top.

“You’re right. It doesn't sound like something you’d say,” he snorts, and leans in so that your face is just a few inches from his. “So imagine my surprise when I walked by your apartment to hear you talking about jumping my adamantium bones.”

He doesn't miss the way your breath catches in your throat or how your eyes flicker to his lips.

“You gonna do it? Or you just gonna keep thinking about it while you're sitting beside me?”

For a second, you say nothing and Logan struggles to read your expression. Then, without taking your eyes off of him, you slowly stand in front of the couch. You reach for the hem of your tank top and pull it over your head, leaving you naked from the waist up.

Logan's mouth goes dry. Suddenly, he's all out of smart remarks.

You hook your thumbs into the waistband of your pajama shorts, pushing them down your thighs along with your panties, and let them both drop to your feet all while holding his gaze.

With you now stark naked before him, he leans forward, grasping you by the backs of your thighs and pulling you onto his lap. You straddle him, gently pushing him back against the sofa.

He tugs his own shirt over his head while you undo his belt buckle and pop open the top button of his jeans, your hands fumbling when he sheds his shirt.

Logan doesn’t typically think too much about his physical appearance. He knows he’s in good shape, and thinks he’s conventionally attractive enough. But he could see himself getting a bit of an ego, if he had someone looking at him the way you are right now on a regular basis.

You help him shimmy his jeans and boxers down far enough for his cock to spring free. You take him in your hand, using your thumb to smear the thick bead of pre-cum across the head.

“You should be careful listening to people’s conversations outside of their doors,” you hum as you pump him in one hand. You hunch over, lowering your mouth enough to spit down his shaft, lubricating the length. You smirk, glancing up at him from beneath your thick eyelashes. “Other people might not react as happily as me.”

Fuck, he knows it’s been a long time since he's even felt anyone’s hands on him, but he feels a little pathetic at the way his balls are already tightening and feeling so heavy just from the way you’re languidly stroking him.

And as much as he’d love for you to keep your hands on him, there’s time for him later. Right now, what he wants more than anything is the feeling of your pussy on him.

He pulls your hand off of him and then tugs you over his erection, trying his hardest to ignore the way the wetness between your legs glides against the tip of his cock, until you’re flat against the hard expanse of his lower stomach.

“This is what you wanted, yeah?” He grunts. You whimper in response, tightening your thighs around his sides and rocking back and forth with the smallest amount of friction. “Don’t be holding back, wanna feel you make a mess on me.”

His words seem to erase any remaining reservation that you may have had. You brace your hands on his chest and begin dragging your center across his lower stomach, your slick coating the thick trail of hair that goes from his belly button to his waistline. With every backstroke, the head of his cock juts against your ass.

You glide across him easily. Soft, wet, and warm, Logan thinks that if you feel this good on his fucking stomach then there’s no way he’ll be able to handle being inside you.

He leans his head forward, capturing one of your nipples in his mouth. You hold his head in your hands, tugging on his hair with your fingers as he teases your nipple with his tongue and teeth.

He pulls his mouth away from your breast with a wet pop. “You like this? Using me to get yourself off?”

“Mm-hmm,” you nod frantically, your answer coming out as a moan. He gives a quick, firm slap to your other breast. Judging by the sound it draws from you, you like it, so he does it again.

He'd pictured this exact scenario a shameful number of times in the last few days, but his thoughts hadn’t done you justice. Every little noise you make, every little whimper and moan as your clit brushes against the thick bulges of his muscles again and again, sounds sweeter than he could've dreamed.

He places his hands on the meat of your hips, guiding you forwards and backwards across his abdomen at a fast pace.

“Fuck,” you gasp, clenching your thighs around him as tight as you can. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum—”

“That’s right,” he coos. “Come on, cum on me.”

You dig your fingernails into his shoulders, drenching the hair on his stomach as you ride out your orgasm on him with a cry of his name.

You collapse against his chest, going still with your face in the crook of his neck as you steady your breathing.

“Look at me,” he whispers after a moment. It hits him that despite the fact that you just humped him until you came all over his abdomen, he somehow hasn’t even kissed you yet.

You pull away from his neck, looking down at him with a dazed expression. He brings your face to his mouth by the back of your neck. He wastes no more time, instantly slipping his tongue past your lips.

He holds you by the globes of your ass, which hovers just above his erection. You grind down, causing the tip of his cock to nudge against your entrance. He groans into your mouth, his cock past the point of feeling like it’s going to explode if he doesn’t fucking feel you.

“We can stop here,” he murmurs against your lips when he breaks the kiss, even though the thought kills him. He doesn’t want to stop kissing you, touching you, tasting you. It’s only been a few months, but it feels like he’s been waiting a lifetime for this and the last thing he wants is for it to come to an end. “Don’t have to go any further if you don’t—”

“No,” you exclaim with a breathy laugh. “No, I don’t want to stop. Do you want to stop?”

He grins up at you, taking his length in his hand and teasing it through your folds from below you. He coats the head in your juices before nudging it against your hole.

“Definitely don’t wanna stop, sweetheart.”

You sink down onto him at the same moment that he tilts his hips up enough to slip inside you, causing the entirety of his length to fill you at once.

You both go still, adjusting to the new sensation of each other. Your walls, velvet soft and so warm, constrict around him like a vice. He knows you’re likely tired from riding him through your first orgasm, so he begins thrusting his hips slowly, the tip of his cock nudging against your cervix.

“You’re big. So, so big,” you moan – something between a whine and a praise.

“I know, but you’re doing so good, honey,” he encourages as he eases himself in and out of you. “Don’t worry, I got you.”

You latch your lips to his again, and it’s hard for him to hold back. The feeling of your tight, perfect cunt around him and the taste of your tongue in his mouth is overwhelming. He wants to memorize every movement, every sound you make.

You snake your hand between your bodies, your fingertips finding your swollen clit and massaging languid circles. He feels you flutter around him as you start meeting his thrusts with movements of your own, and he knows you’re close.

“Not gonna last much longer, honey,” he grunts with a sharp thrust. “Feel too fucking good.”

“Cum with me,” you murmur against his mouth.

Your command causes something in him to snap. He releases a throaty growl, pistoning his hips upwards at a harsh pace as he fills you up from below. You constrict around him, crying his name into his ear as you ride out your climaxes together.

You collapse against his chest once more, his cock still nestled inside you. He loses track of how long the two of you stay like that, neither of you wanting to be the first to move.

“Remind me to eavesdrop on your conversations more often,” he huffs a laugh, still slightly out of breath.

You bring your lips to his, smiling as you give him a light kiss.

“I’ll know if you do. I have a doorbell camera. You didn’t notice that?”

thank you so much for reading <3 comments and reblogs are super appreciated. here are a few more of my favorite logan pieces that i've written ✨️

for always and ever is always for you - old man logan x healer reader

diet pepsi - old man logan x reader limousine sex

lavender and velvet - worst variant logan x neighbor reader

[long-live-astronerd-ghost-king]

DPxDC prompt: Danny is Chronos' first child.

Well, not his first child biologically, to be completely honest.

It just so happened that the Phantom very often helped/helps/will help Clockwork at different times and his presence next to the titan required an explanation.

And the opportunity to call Zeus a little brother is worth a lot, right? So when the Ancient came up with this idea Phantom did not resist just to have such a pleasant bonus from their cooperation.

However, in the time of the gods and heroes, such a solution was not a problem. But in modern times, when Phantom tries to attract as little attention as possible in order to graduate from university, such relatives are more likely to cause a lot of problems.

~~~~~

Wonder Woman: Uncle Danny?

Superman, who wanted to chase away a teenager serenely strolling through still smoking battlefield, turns to Wonder Woman, who is waving affably at excactly this guy.

Well, Fenton honestly happened to be in Fawcett City by accident, and it just so happened that by chance it was on this sunny and cloudless day that the villains decided to cause riots worthy of the attention of the founders of the Justice League.

Danny: Diana! My dear, it seems like we really haven't seen each other not for a long time! In what century was it? Ah, I honestly, I barely remember it... The speed at which children grow up defies the laws of time. I mean, look at you! Your mother must be so proud. How's Dad? Still not paying child support, arrogant bastard?

Wonder Woman: Oh, uncle, please. I'm all grown up now, don't worry about me.

Danny: Hm, well, let's get back to this question later. I didn't want to embarrass you in front of your friends. Anyway, would you like to introduce them, little princess?

Wonder Woman: Of course, meet Kal El, Batman, and Shazam. The rest of the guys have already returned to our base. Would you like to...

Danny: Ooh, you're talking about, um... What do you young people call it? The Justice League, right? During my youth, the heroes rarely united and mostly performed all the feats alone. It's good that you help each other, kids.

Danny flies up a little to pat Superman and Batman on the head.

Under the Diana's gaze full of hope that they will get along with her uncle, the men do not move.

In the background:

Red Hood and Robin who used to hang out with Danny near the Lazarus pits: *sounds of seagulls dying of laughter*

~~~~~

Flash: So you're Diana's uncle?

Danny: Yes, call me Danny.

Flash: Cool, cool...

Danny: What does the temperature have to do with it? Do you need ice? Let me make some for you.

Flash: No, it's like,um, I didn't know that Zeus has a younger brother with that name. So, it's good to know?

Danny: Hmm, thanks. Many people tell me that I look quite young, hah. But actually I'm his older brother, so...

Flash: Older? Oh, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to disrespect.

Danny: No, it's all right. It's "cool". I rarely appear on the pages of your human myths and legends, I know it. After all this business about Chronos devours his own children, my father punished me for a long time. So, yeah...It's a funny story.

Flash: Punished for what? How?

Danny: Uh, sitting in a room at a time when there is no Internet or electricity is not fun at all. You see, I just didn't want a younger brother or sister because I was afraid that my parents would pay less attention to me. So, I made up this stupid prophecy and persuaded Gaea to tell it in order to remain the only child in the family. My father would never have thought that I would decide to kill him, that's why...Phah, it's just a bad family story. In 10 thousand years, we'll all laugh about it.

Flash: Yeah, that's... funny.

~~~~

Danny *is woken up by an emergency call from the League at three in the morning, although he fell asleep at two o'clock* (he gave his contact so as not to upset his niece): I knew this would happen! I knew it!

~~~~

Billy Batson *stands in his human form in front of the Justice League and doesn't know what to say*,*sweating nervous*.

Danny *enters the hall*: What's up, mortals, Diana and...Batman? My father said that there is something that I have to be here for. Oh! Well, at least someone in this family is also a shapeshifter. Have you decided to make a younger form so that your uncle doesn't feel lonely? What a good boy! Usually everyone is so afraid to seem like children, once they turn a couple of centuries old. Ah, youth~

Billy: Yeah, I decided to..experiment? and it seems I got stuck by accident.

Danny: It's okay, Uncle Danny will help you. Come on, let's go...

~~~~

Danny *teleports them to the Fawcett City*.

Billy: ....

Danny:

Billy: Hey, I'm still stuck!

A new portal opens and a man in a purple cape hands Billy a note. "Go to Constantine. P.S., my son always completes all assignments only by half, sorry." written on it.

Billy: Oh... OoOhHh!!!

~~~~

Meanwhile, Constantine, who is forced to do additional work: Son of a bi... beloved and respected Master of Time.

Danny: Yeap, that's me.

Constantine: Damn it. Couldn't you just let Batman adopt him like in other timelines?

Danny: And where's the fun in that?