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ecneremili · 3 months

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The One With The Proposal

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!OC

Warnings: smut, fingering, oral sex (m receiving), slight BDSM (use of cuffs), delayed orgasm, P in V sex, unprotected sex (people pls be safe), creampie, no use of Y/N

Word Count: 4.1k

A/N: Well... Okay. There's a few things you need to know about this piece of work you're about to read. This is actually a part of my series that I'm writing on Wattpad. I will put the link below in case you want to read the whole thing. It's not finished, I'm still writing it. This chapter, however, can be a standalone and can be viewed as a one-shot, so I decided to post it here, too. I wish you an enjoyable reading. Oh, and this is not read through, so if you find some mistakes, pretend that you didn't.

Wattpad acc link: here

Spencer Reid. A man known for several things. His knowledge. A brilliant man, whom the FBI owes many thanks. Uncountable cases that he helped solve that would probably stay unsolved without him. His blabbering. He had a whole paragraph ready to shout out on anything you say. The sky? Fun fact... The book you're looking at? Fun fact, the author actually... A specific person who's dead or alive or never surfaced for something they did? Fun fact about them...

You will never see him wear anything outside of professional clothes. Comfortable professional clothes. Sweaters, cardigans. He sometimes reminds me of older women who wrap themselves in their cardigans. You will never hear him swear. Not in public, anyway. The most he said once was goddamn it. The entire team was left in shock. Penelope was even scared of him that day.

He will stutter in conversations and situations that make him even slightly uncomfortable. He has a germ thing. He never shakes hands or hugs with random people. He makes contact with his friends, me, and some close people like his mother, Diane.

Now put all that into an image and try to picture that man. A shy, uncomfortable, boyish man. Stuck reading books when he has free time. No, no. He cancels plans to stay indoors and read books. Even re-read them.

That same man proposed to me half an hour ago. It was small, intimate, and sentimental. We walked by the restaurant where we confessed we loved each other. He let my hand go and I took a few steps ahead. When I turned back, he was down on one knee and held a small box in his hands.

I said yes.

I said yes more than once.

He was the sweetest man. He was mine. I loved to be loved by him. Delicate, heartwarming, caring and sweet. The man I just described above.

That same man was driving us home at the moment, his dick hard, bulging in his pants, one hand or the wheel, the other deep in my cunt while curving his knuckles at a new angle as he fucked me.

Every person has two sides.

And boy, oh boy, did I love his other side.

Everything anyone knew about Spencer, they would say he would be a sweet, whiney, submissive man during intimacy. I beg to differ.

His fingers twirling inside me, I huff as I refuse to moan just yet. I hated the way he could make me fold so, so easily. Deep breaths. Deep breaths. My mouth is open and I can't hold in pleads from him. His fingers are long. I love his fingers. But his cock is bigger.

He pulls into our parking space and he removes his hand from under my dress. He walks out and comes around to open my door. I begin to come out when he stops me, picks me up and tosses me over his shoulder. I yelp, feeling almost powerless. He slams the door and locks the car and continues to carry me up almost three flights of stairs. The apartment door flies open before we go in. He closes it with his leg and heads directly to our bedroom.

I can't help but blush. I felt like a tiny girl. How disgusting that the tiny girl imagined all the things he would do to her in a few moments. He slides me down and steps back to look at me. His eyes scan me, from the smallest hair on the top of my head all the way down to my toes. There's a devilish desire in his eyes, his mouth parted ever so slightly. His eyes come back to mine and he, almost growling, says, "I kneeled for you, now go ahead and kneel for me."

Tingles run down my entire body. I don't hesitate to obligate his request. Not a request. He demanded. And I wasn't going to defy this. I wasn't going to defy him. Not breaking eye contact, I slide down on my knees, perfectly aligned with his belt. I look ahead, seeing him painfully hard in his pants. I slide my hands up his legs and start undoing his pants. Every clank makes me tingle between my legs.

There was a specific time when a powerful, strong and independent woman only wants, no, only needs to be told what to do. I raised myself from nothing. No one helped me. I could only thank myself for everything I have accomplished in my life. I would listen to no man. No man had the power over me. No man could take nothing from me. Except him. He had all of me wrapped around his little finger.

And I didn't mind.

Being submissive to someone means so much more then people think. It means trust. It means love. Truth be told, not every submissive person tends to be like that in everyday life. Don't get me wrong, I know what comes to mind when you think of someone like that. Porn taught us so wrongly. And this? This was so much more intimate then just porn. This was desire, lust, and pure neediness.

After undoing his belt, I pulled down his pants, tugging his underwear to, removing them to. I would skip everything just to feel him. Being released from his clothes was hitting him sweetly as he took a sharp breath when my eyes fell to his dick.

I look up, almost lustful, maybe waiting for him to tell me to touch him, maybe even to beg me, a whole 180 to what I just described myself as. His eyes were dark and watching me from a high. He simply smirked, almost reading my mind and what was going through it.

"Go on," he half whispered, voice deep just like the darkness around us, "be the slut the outside world has no idea you are."

And that was all it took. My hand takes his base before I stick out my tongue and slide it up his entire length. There was a lot of length. He inhales, pushing a groan down his throat at the first touch I plant on him.

This was going to be a long night.

The kiss I leave at his tip as I start stroking him with my hand sends his head falling back. The motion pushes his curls off of his forehead. I loved when his hair fell on his face. It made him look messy. It made him look more flustered. And the image of him like that made me throb between my legs.

After enough slow-play, I stick out my tongue and take him in my mouth, slowly, reaching as far as I could before I feel him touch my throat. He feels he reached far and he groans. The funny thing is I had taken only half of him. He looks down again, his hairs flying back to his face. His fingers twist around in my hair and tug slightly, almost like he was checking the grip he had on my head.

But I soon found out it wasn't the grip why I thought he wanted it. He held my head in place as he started to rock back and forth. He was using me. Using my mouth to be precise. And he started fucking it. At first it was slow, almost shallow thrusts, reaching where he first did. But as time passed, he became more fierce. He started going deeper, hitting the back of my throat with more force making me gag. My eyes started to water as I had no control over anything. His hand held my head in place as he now almost pounded into my mouth.

As he continued, I could feel him twitch on the top of my mouth. And so did I. I felt my panties dampen with every second that passed. I was horny because my boyfriend, my fiancé, was fucking my throat like it was just something for him to use.

Muffled moans and occasional groans escaped his mouth. He was about to finish. I could easily tell by the increased speed of his thrusts and their force. Finally, he pushed himself almost the whole way, deep into my throat and let himself release there. I gagged pretty hard, trying to keep him down and not throw out his cum.

He pulled himself out and let go of his grip on my hair. His hand slid from behind to my chin and he lifted my face up. He was taking deep and long breaths, his chest falling and rising every time. His eyes scanned me, a fucked mouth, watery eyes and bright red cheeks. Must have been quite a sight.

"Swallow, baby." he said and left his mouth slightly opened, watching as the small bulb went down my throat and he smiled in satisfaction. "Good girl. Your turn."

He bent down and picked me up to carry me to the bed. Back facing the mattress, he climbed on top and roughly kissed me. I loved when he did that. After what I just did, he didn't hesitate to kiss me. He didn't get disgusted to do so. His fingers hooked around the hem of my dress and he pulled it off in one quick motion. I was left in my bra and panties that were already soaking wet. Every time he saw me like that, dressed but not dressed, I'd get shy.

I never liked my body. And yet he worshipped it.

"God, you're so gorgeous." he hovered over me, his eyes trailing over every inch of my body. I shivered from his words that sounded like a prayer. It was half whispers. Like he was afraid that if someone heard what he had, it would be stolen from him.

His lips come down and start kissing my neck, my weak spot. Just the warmth of his kiss makes me moan, eager for more as I buck my hips up towards him. I feel that I caress his cock against my thigh, and as soon as he feels it, he pushes my hips down with his hands.

"Needy, are we?" he chuckles against my skin as he now slowly moves lower and leaves a trail of kisses at my collarbone.

"I hate when you do this." I whine, my fingers roaming through his hair.

"You hate when I kiss you?" he says between kisses, one on my shoulder, one at the base of my neck, one directly in between my breasts.

"No, I-" my words get interrupted when I moan. I feel him smile when he hears me. "I hate when you make me wait. You tease. Every time." I take a deep breath in between every sentence to take in his kisses. As much as I did hate the delay of the actual sex, I loved feeling him everywhere. I didn't know what I wanted more.

He continues kissing, his lips reaching my stomach and he stops. I look down to see him slightly smirking as he is settled just between my legs. I feel shivers. He lets go of my hips and slowly pulls down my panties, sliding his fingers down along my legs in the process. He is continuing to tease me with every touch he leaves on my body.

When I finally think that he is going to stick his tongue at my cunt, I am yet again met with disappointment. He comes over me and trails his hands, slowly, around my back as he keeps looking me in the eyes to catch every whiney face I make as I plead him to fuck me already using no words. But he knows. Oh, he knows that's what I'm asking of him.

He unhooks my bra and I am completely naked. His shirt comes off as he makes us even. Again, I hope that he will now go down. It doesn't have to be his mouth, I'll be happy if he would just stick his fucking fingers into my pussy and rummage through it. But, no. He bends down and kisses my breasts, moving from one to the other. Kissing it, sucking on the nipples, squeezing them with his hands.

If he was kissing and/or sucking the right he would be squeezing the left. There was no space left for me to catch a breath. Then, he bit down on one, just enough to make me squeal. He chuckled with my tit in his mouth. I had enough. I gripped his hair and pulled him up to my face.

"What do you fucking want from me?" I say with a whiney voice. I sounded desperate. I hated it. I loved it, too.

His face had a drunk smile across it. He was enjoying this. My torture was satisfaction for him. Fucking great. "I want you to beg." he said through a whisper. His head was tilted back as I was pulling his hair.

I hated to beg him. Especially to do what I wanted. I knew he knows what I want, but he loves when he makes me break and I have nothing left but to fucking beg him to do the most unholy things to me.

I roll my eyes. "No." I simply say.

He smirks and bucks his hips so his dick slides over my dripping cunt. My entire body arches and he smiles again. "Beg, my love. Use that mouth for something else then a place for me to dump my cum."

That mother fucker. "You assh-" he bucks his hips again and breaks me mid-sentence. I growl at him.

"I don't think that's how begging works. C'mon. Beg me to fuck you. I know you want to."

It was weird hearing him swear. Not just swear, but use vulgar words in general. I used them everyday. It was like saying 'hi' to someone. But Spencer? Noup.

I gave up. I close my eyes and just make peace with my fate. "Please, Spencer."

He bends down and kisses my lips. "You have to be specific, my love. What do you want from me?"

I'm boiling at this point. Do I have a choice? If I want to be fucked, not really. "I want you to fuck me, please me, make me cum. I'm fucking tired of being teased." I practically cry out the last part.

He smirks and I let go of my grip on his hair. He doesn't move, he is still looking me directly in the eyes as he slides one hand down and caresses my inner thigh. He goes over my cunt with his entire hand and I loudly gasp. He watches, enjoys the reactions he gets as he touches me. He brings his hand up and licks his two fingers and then slides them down again.

Baby, you don't need no more moisture, I'm wet enough.

His hand finally connects to my core and he starts making circles around my clit. My body erupts. I no longer have control over my reactions. My eyebrows furrow, my mouth is wide open and it's letting out moans, whines, sounds I didn't even know I could make. And he simply watches. From time to time he would bend down and kiss my neck, maybe even bite down on it, making me buck my entire body up.

"God, you're so fucking wet." he says and starts rubbing up and down my entrance. "You're so pretty. My pretty girl."

I'm melting. Melting into his sinister hands that are touching me in the most horrid ways. And I wouldn't stop him even in a million fucking years.

He slides the fingers in, gently, slowly, caringly. I let out a loud moan, slapping my mouth after I do. Just as I did, his other hand takes my wrist and pulls it off. Holding it, he collects my other hand and pins both of them above my head. "Why would you do that?" he asks. But I don't answer, it's a rhetorical question. "You sound so beautiful when you moan for me. You sound so pretty."

His knuckles are now buried deep inside my pussy and he starts to pump them in and out. When he slides them back in, his thumb hits my clit and he curls his fingers inside just enough to hit that little spot. Every movement he made was followed by that wet sound. I just knew his fingers were drowning in my arousal, and I just knew he was so eager to put his cock inside there too.

He kisses my jaw, my neck, my cheeks. He is enjoying this. Pleasuring someone you truly love is pleasure to you as well. His other hand in on my thigh, pulling it away so he has better access and can slide in deeper then he usually could. In between my own sounds, I can hear him groan whenever I jerk my hips upward and slightly stoke him against my leg.

I want more. Now, I'm just desperate because I don't want to finish now. I want to cum over his cock while he is buried all the way inside. I want him to see that little blub in my stomach appear and disappear as he fucks me.

Like on cue, as if he heard me, he pulls his hand away and climbs the bed again. Pushing my legs fully apart, he aligns himself at my entrance. He pushes, but purposefully jerks himself up so he slides against my clit. I see him place himself on my abdomen as if he is looking how far he goes when he's inside.

"Look at how deep I can bury myself in you, love." he admires and glides his fingers over my skin. He pulls back and leans over to the drawer next to our bed. For a moment he rummages through it. "Shit."

I look over, trying to figure out what was going on. "What is it?"

He pauses and looks at me. "We don't have any condoms."

Well shit.

But I put on my big girl face. "And?"

He looks slightly surprised by my reaction. "No protection?"

I shrug. "What's the worst that can happen?" I smirk, moving myself lower on the bed and connecting myself with him. He really was hard.

He says nothing and just enters. He pushes in with quite a bit of force. I let out a quiet scream at his motion. I still needed time to adjust to his length. But he didn't care. He was already in full force, starting to pick up the pace of his thrusts. His hands go down and wrap around my hips and he uses them to pull me on himself as he continues to pound me.

The room is filled with my whines and moans, the sounds of our hips connecting and slamming against each other, and his groans. I love when he groans. I know he feels good. I make him feel good.

"You're so tight. It's so warm inside." he says through rough groans.

His fingers are diving inside the skin of my hips. I feel pain as he squeezes them. I push the feeling away, I even don't have to. The feeling of his dick hitting my deepest point is strong enough to push it away almost instantly.

The repetitive slamming into me lures my finish to approach. It's forming in my gut and I feel it slowly coming as he continues fucking me mercilessly, rough and fast thrusts.

"I'm gonna cum- Oh, God, Spence." I saw, although I'm not sure how I managed to.

Just as I said that, I felt my climax get at its highest point, and I was about to finish-

He pulls out.

What the fuck?!

"Wha- what are you doing?" I stutter, the high still in the air but it's fading away.

He looks down and has a wicked smile on his face. His cheeks are deep red and his hair is damp from his sweat. "I'm not done with you. Turn around."

I'm mad. Furious. I want to defy him so badly, I want to say 'no', maybe even flip him off. But I want to finish. I was just about to. So I do as I'm told. I prompt myself up and turn around and stand on all fours on the bed. Might I add that this is my favorite position.

I expect him to align himself again and continue to thrust like he did, but he gets off the bed and walks over to the corner of the room. The corner where he keeps his bag for work. I hear a clank before he walks back behind me. He places his hand on my upper back and slightly pushes, indicating for me to lower myself even more. My face and chest lay on the mattress. My ass is now the only thing in the air.

This position gives him more access. I am ready for it to hurt before I can adjust myself to his length again at this angle. Yet again, I don't get what I'm expecting. He takes my wrist and places it behind my back, then the other and connects it with my other one. I hear that clank again. He takes one of my wrists again and puts the metal around it.

It's his fucking cuffs.

He puts his cuffs on and thugs on the chain between them to pull my arms back. He pulls so much that I have to lift myself slightly off the bed. I tremble. Out of excitement. Our of slight fear. Out of horniness, simply.

I feel him bend down and kiss my back. He knows I love that. It feels very intimate to me. He kisses down my spine and then slaps my ass. I yelp, not just by the sudden contact, but also because he slapped it pretty hardly. Not enough to leave a bruise, but it will definitely go red in a few seconds.

"You ready?"

There are certain points in our sex life when he asks, or even simply warns to hold on tight to anything. Since I was obviously restrained, he's asking. That is enough to know this was going to be really good.

"Yeah." I whisper, my face buried back into our bed.

"You know I love you, right?" he whispers again and pushes his tip into my cunt.

My breath trembles since I was still sensitive from the high I missed a few minutes ago. "I know."

"Good. Because for the next few minutes it might not look like I do."

He didn't give me time to respond. He slammed himself inside, making me scream out. This was enough for the neighbors to hear. He started thrusting. I still wasn't adjusted to this position, and his cock was hitting from a new angle that allowed much better access. I felt pain. But, God, was it good. My eyes started watering from the pain as I couldn't take it. I prayed that my pussy would stretch just slightly so I could take him a bit easier.

After a short while, I did. The slight pain was still there. It couldn't really go away from the force he was driving himself in. And then it happened. He slapped my ass again. It was a strong slap. His hand was big enough to cover my entire cheek. I yelp at the sudden pain.

As he continues to thrust, I feel him occasionally twitch. That can mean only one thing. He is about to cum again. Just when I realize that, he speeds up. He pulls on the cuffs and makes me get up from the bed. He's pulling hard enough to hold me in the air.

He hits again, going back to squeeze after. I feel the slight burn of his slaps. Another one connects to my skin and with it I feel that high again. I don't want it to escape again, so I bend slightly so he feels me letting him slide even deeper.

Spencer quickly realizes what I'm trying to tell him, but there's not much left before I feel him hammer himself once, then again, just as I feel my climax release. I scream out, and I feel him empty himself inside.

It takes him a few seconds to calm down before he lets me fall down on the bed again. I'm a fucking mess. He takes off the cuffs and places my hands on my sides before he bends down and removes my hair from the back of my neck and kisses in that spot.

"My perfect girl." he cooed. "You're so fucking special."

I breathe deeply. "Well..." I begin as he lays down next to me. "That was fun." I feel his cum drip down out of my cunt.

He chortles. "That's one way to put it."

I was about to marry this man. I loved every inch of him. Every version there was of him. There was nothing that could take that away from me.

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neil-gaiman · 4 months

Note

“Two Minutes to Run”

Thank you. But (or maybe And). . . .

“What will you take you?” is a question people think they can answer, but can’t until it happens. It’s like being faced with the danger of death - some people freeze, some people run, some people laugh and charge. But you don’t know which you will do until faced with such danger. Same with the moment of fleeing. People don’t think, they react.

Some people react practically. They grab official identification and jackets and water.

Some people react sentimentally. They grab stuffed animals and photos and books.

Some people react frantically. They grab the coffee grinder and. . . .and. . . .time’s up. They have the coffee grinder.

I am a professor of archaeology who studies diaspora and immigration and identity through the things people keep and collect and move with them. I have found bodies of refugees who have died along the US border fleeing to a better life. Many of my fellow archaeologists have too. And our graduate students - one who did an exhibit on the objects found in temporary camps and on the bodies of the dead. So we know what people take, but we also know what people shed as they flee and it gets harder and harder and harder to stay alive. But you know what the bodies of those who didn’t make it almost always have on them? Identification. Sometimes in a pants pocket, sometimes sewn into a coat, sometimes grasped in their hands. A final plea. Do not forget who I am. Tell my family.

My point? I don’t know. You are one of my few remaining living heroes, your writings have been a companion to me since I stole my ex-boyfriend’s Sandmans from him in 1990 when in college. And I know I am not special in this (well, the stealing of Sandmans maybe). Your words have a power that mine do not. Whether fiction or non. So I guess I just wanted you to have more information so you can continue to make the world an even better place.

I guess that is my ask - continue to make the world a better place, which is response enough to my inquiry.

Thank you for writing this.

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kysuguru · 8 months

Text

two out of three. that’ll work — stsg x fem!reader

synopsis : gojo still doesn’t take to you, but in the throes of your eyes geto’s smile is prettier and shoko’s personality is much more welcoming. you’ll live.

all mine masterlist

includes / cw : nothing ^_^

a / n : i’m sooooo sooo so sorry for such a long wait, truly. i nitpick HELLA. and i want everyone to remember this book was made on a whim. an impulse book if u will. so even though i have concrete ideas and outlines for the main plots, i’m writing as i go while making my way there. I trashed this about three times before finally coming to a conclusion i was somewhat satisfied with. please enjoy

You lay awake, staring at the ceiling of your dorm absentmindedly. Your alarm has yet to ring. It’s presumably thirty minutes before you have to get up and prepare for the day. Your eyes are burning and it hurts to blink, your throat feels dry and scratchy; aching for its thirst to be quenched, and your body is exhausted beyond belief. Your brain craves rest more than anything, but you still aren’t able to succumb to that sweet sleep you crave. It’s been about 15 minutes already, you think. If the steadily rising sun is anything to go by. Time passes by fast when you need it to be slow. Maybe it’s the nerves. Or the fact that it wasn’t until midnight that you returned to your dorm.

Five hours of sleep was the minimum you could get, your brain didn’t let you rest long. But you figured you’d be alright. Whenever curses were near your house, one instance of one being in your bedroom, you remember not sleeping at all if not at least 30 minutes. You got in trouble that day and scolded by your mother for sleeping in class.

As of now, your eyes are droopy and red and your body feels cramped. But the accomplishment you feel after understanding more of this foreign world of curses overrode your exhaustion. You’re not sure if you feel that same sentiment now though. You cursed your past self for putting you through such strain. Your thirst for knowledge occasionally brought you one step forward and two steps back. Being all knowing was the only way you felt significant.

As of the moment, it was one of those instances where your yearning hurt more than it nourished. Though, it was all really fascinating. Cursed energy, cursed techniques, and how they worked and came to be, there wasn’t a second you could bring yourself to put the books down. To believe the negative emotions of people fester into those horrid creatures…

It’s no wonder they were around every single corner of your school.

You’re embarrassed to say you still have no idea what your technique is, or the innate technique you were born with — or if you had an innate technique for that matter. From what you know being born with an innate technique isn’t all that likely. They manifest from ages 4-6 yet no matter how much you shuffled through your memories to see if there were any instances where you were forced to use your technique, you’re left with nothing. Maybe you did and just don’t know or don’t remember — that’s the most irritating part. You grip your hair slightly, eyes burning into the white of your walls.

There are bags forming under your eyes, you think. It hurts a bit to blink, since you got accustomed to keeping them open while flipping through books, the intrigue not allowing you to divert your attention from the pages for even a second. But to you, it was worth it. One more step to learning about this and making your way back home. To where your mother was (hopefully) missing you just as much as you do her. Maybe you should get up and attempt to cover up the evidence of your lack of sleep.

You turn to lay on your side, staring at your open palm. If you look close enough you can see a faint scar. You clench your fist closed, blinking groggily. Your breathing starts to get steadier as you stare at your knuckles, your eyes feel as if weights are pulling them down, your mind wanders to random things you don’t remember thinking about a millisecond later.

Before you know it, you’re falling asleep.

Though the three seconds of bliss was nice while it lasted, before the familiar obnoxious beep of your alarm clock rang through your ears.

You sigh. You should’ve expected that. Your mind slipped once you woke and you forgot to turn that damned thing off. Though maybe that mistake was a blessing, being late to your first day of class would be a horrible first impression. Or would it be second..?

Now you stand in the mirror and eye your uniform with intense uncertainty. You have an inkling that you look stupid. So you tug your skirt down a little bit. Ok, now you look 12. You pull up the hem.

…

Maybe you should add stockings.

The addition is better, you deduce. You’re content with this. You smile at your reflection, speaking encouraging words to yourself internally. You feel your body shake a bit at the idea of entering the classroom, the thought of four pairs of eyes glued to your form, but your body relaxes slightly at the memory of Shoko. She called you her friend, whether or not it was genuine, you’ll take what you can get. There is no point in being greedy and craving for what you don’t have — or deserve.

You lift your leg and adjust the back of your shoe to fit over the sole of your feet properly. You huff in satisfaction, standing straight and adjusting whatever you could before heading out.

Wait. Do you need supplies? Shit, now you’re nervous all over again.

Wait, wait, wait. If you needed supplies, you would’ve been informed earlier, so if required, Yaga should be obligated to give you what you don’t have.

…That’s unless he did mention it and you just weren’t listening.

Your back is against your dorm room door as you grip your head in agony. Maybe you should just tell Yaga you got the one-day flu and figure it all out tomorrow.

“Yo. You look like an idiot doing that.”

The voice is familiar, but not familiar in the way you’d like. He was no Geto, and he definitely wasn’t Shoko. You look up, eyes watery, and meet Gojo’s gaze.

“You going through something? Wait, don't answer that, I don’t wanna know,” He says, waving his hand obnoxiously, his lips downturned. “Hate to interrupt whatever’s goin’ on, but class is in thirty minutes. If you’re anything like Suguru you’re an early bird, right?”

“Oh.. sort of,” You respond, trying to discreetly wipe whatever tears that might’ve formed. He watches you do it anyway, following your movements closely. You’re a little humiliated now. He probably thinks you’re pathetic.

His stare is unrelenting, you can feel it even behind those pitch black lenses. It burns into you. Through you. You drop his gaze, eyes on the floor as you shuffle your feet.

Did he need anything else? You’re grateful he let you know when class begins, but you two aren’t exactly best friends, and you're positive this is awkward for the both of you.

But you see his shoes from your peripheral view and they stay rooted to the floor. You hold back a shaky sigh.

“Are you heading to class right now?” You ask in hopes to get rid of the suffocating silence. You don’t think you’ll ever get used to starting conversations. Your eyes are still memorizing every dirt particle on your new shoes (which feel odd to wear, you’re so used to staring anxiously at the ones your mother gifted you a year or two ago). Why did he, out of all people, approach you during your crisis? You wished more than anything that it was Shoko, but from what you know about her alone, you’re more sure than ever that she doesn’t go to class early.

“I don’t usually go early, that’s Suguru’s thing. But I guess todays an exception.” You blink, he has a lot to say. You expected a short, clipped answer. “Anyways what’re you doing out here, and what was with the gripping your head thing? Going through a phase?” He asks a barrage of questions, making sure to push his glasses up in case they slipped a smidge. You seemed perceptive, he didn’t need you staring him down and reading him.

“Oh, I was nervous. That’s all.”

Gojo nods, staring at you for a few seconds longer before his feet finally pick up from their spot on the floor. He’s walking off.

“Wait!” Your heartbeat spikes as the exclamation leaves your lips.

His shoes squeak against the tiles as he halts. He doesn’t turn towards you, but the fact that he stopped let you know he heard you. You don’t know why your heart is beating so loud, you’re only asking a simple question.

“Do we need any particular supplies for class, by any chance?” Your voice rises a pitch, and you fiddle with your skirt, positive you’re coming off as annoying.

“We take notes every now and then, by we I don’t mean me, so a notebook would be nice but isn’t required, and you don’t look like you have one with you.” He shoves his hands in his pockets, finally facing you, “Let’s hope you have a good memory. Sensei likes to run his mouth.” He jabs, most likely to see you panic. It works.

Your eyes widen and you bite your lip, fiddling with your skirt, but you’re shocked once you hear Gojo laugh. He throws his head back and you stare a bit. You’re gonna admit, you expected it to be a little more rough and loud. It sounds a bit odd, but it’s kinda funny to listen to, almost enough to make you laugh along. Now the question that’s been sitting on your tongue has the sudden urge to come forward.

Your mouth moves before your mind processes, “Can I walk to class with you?”

“Huh?”

You screwed up, you didn’t mean to ask that — I mean you did. But with his response you’re kind of regretting it now. “Sorry. It’s just I don’t remember the way, and if you’re on your way there I thought maybe I can tag along. Though, it’s okay if you say no.” You wave your hands frantically, trying your best to salvage whatever dignity you have left. You instantly start playing with your nails, looking down at your shoes.

He’s silent for a moment, as if contemplating. Then he sighs.

“Whatever. Do what you want.”

You beam, thankful.

“I promise not to be annoying.”

“You’re already being annoying by saying that.”

“Sorry!”

“Stop apologizing.”

“Sorry. Oh wait uh..”

“…”

He scoffs before walking forward. You sprint a bit to catch up with his pace. He has really long legs. You stare at his side profile as he walks, if he notices your eyes, he doesn’t say anything. But you catch the twitch of his brow. You watch every movement you catch on his features intently, dead set on getting to know him more. You wonder if your gaze feels as burning as his does on you. As if he knows you inside out.

You were never aware of your staring problem until now.

Gojo is struggling himself. Trying not to meet your gaze. It proves to be difficult, for he wants to glare you down and watch you squirm nervously before you finally break eye contact. He hates how bare he feels when you stare.

“Gojo, what’s your inherited technique?”

“Infinity,” he pops a sucker into his mouth, uninterested. But you ignore that, eyes wide as you gasp in awe, intrigued.

“Can you explain that to me?”

Gojo catches sight of your expecting face, how your eyes glittered as your lips part. He can’t help the stroke of his ego. He quickly became smug.

“I have the ability to manipulate and distort space.” His glasses slip a smidge down the bridge of his nose, you can see a sliver of his eyes. He doesn’t push them up like you expect him to, he tends to do that — from what you’ve noticed — and they’re glowing. “Hold out your hand,” he demands, long fingers splayed out in your face.

You reach up and before you can press your fingertips against his palm, a barrier is manifested between the two of you. “Woah, there’s like.. a wall between us.”

“It’s infinity.”

You look up at him, even more in awe, “So it’s science, right? That makes it easy to explain then, huh? I thought it was way more complicated than that.” You’re too engrossed in repeatedly retracting your hand and pressing it back against this “barrier” to notice how Gojo’s expression shifts.

He pulls his hand back as if he’d been burnt and you blink, swiftly putting your own hand back by your side. A frown plagues your lips. You figure you did get a bit carried away, it was really nice to see a cursed technique at play for the first time ever. And you’re glad it was something as magnificent as that. You got excited, forgetting boundaries.

Before you can express your gratitude and apologize, Gojo is striding off once more. You notice this time he’s walking a bit faster, as if he intends on leaving you behind. Your brows knit as you sigh. You don’t jog up to him this time, letting the distance between you increase. You’re always taught not to be greedy. Occurrences like this coming into play to drill that in your head, yet you fail every time — constantly wanting more.

You enter the classroom a bit after Gojo, already seeing him with a big beam on his face as he rambles off with Geto. He’s mad at you again, you think. This is normal for you — people being upset with you. It shouldn’t hurt, but it does. You try your hardest to pretend it doesn’t.

Shoko’s not here yet, unfortunately. You see two empty seats and assume the vacant one by Geto is Shoko’s, so you take the other seat. You aren’t sure what to do with this extra time, you shouldn’t have come so early, so you settle with fiddling with your fingers and looking out the window.

You hear Geto’s voice and you’re not sure if you’re being looked at, but you’re way too nervous to check, afraid that if you looked you’d be caught.

“Ogawa.”

It isn’t until a full minute later you realize that Geto was trying to get your attention the entire time. You finally look at him, the curiosity brimming in your chest and the urge to look back finally sated. His smile is kind and soft. He pats the empty seat beside him. “Why don’t you sit?”

You jolt.

“Isn’t that Shoko’s seat?” You point nervously, trying to find a way out of this. If conversation is what Geto is looking for, you’re the last person that can provide.

Gojo scoffs and you retreat into yourself, eyes averted.

You faintly hear Geto shove Gojo and tell him to shut up over the loud pounding of your heartbeat before he’s turning back to you, that same, already familiar smile plastered on his lips. “I’m sure she won’t mind.”

“You.. really want me to sit by you?” You ask, hopefully. You guess you still have yet to learn and expect disappointment. Geto nods, his smile getting brighter and you glow like the stars.

You stand meekly, shuffling into the seat as quietly as you could, cringing when the metal cried loudly against the tile floor. Geto huffs in satisfaction and your shoulders relax a bit. You wish Gojo weren’t here to stare the both of you down, you feel somewhat uncomfortable by his overwhelming presence. You have an inkling that disturbing you is his goal, for a small smirk paints his lips.

Geto’s voice is soft as he speaks to you. He’s asking you about yourself and you answer somewhat vaguely, unsure of how to go about talking to him. You stammer a bit, trying to find your words. You get a bit fidgety, afraid he might get irritated with you, but he’s as patient as ever, smiling as he awaits your answer. That’s when you relax completely, finding it easier to answer him in stride. You never knew Geto could be so easy to talk to. You’re starting to like him even more. It’s hard not to favor people who are nice to you. But you can’t get ahead of yourself. You have to learn to expect disappointment so you won’t be disappointed.

Gojo doesn’t say a word, staring at the two of you converse so easily. He doesn’t understand why Geto seems so interested in getting to know you. You’re boring, you don’t even know your technique for crying out loud. Weak people piss Gojo off.

Gojo walks by you as you hold your head in your hands, leaning against your dorm door. He’s confused, are you going through something? You look stupid, and he withholds the urge not to laugh at your expense. If Geto were here he’d definitely scold him. He thinks of that and the nagging Geto would put him through. He rolls his eyes and decides to approach.

“Yo. You look like an idiot doing that.”

Well he didn’t actually mean for it to come across that way, but sometimes his mouth likes to run before his brain liked to function.

You look up at him, tears brimming your lashes. The sight makes him sigh internally. If he knew you’d be crying he would’ve avoided you altogether. Comforting you is beyond his expertise. Well.. it’s not. He’d just rather not waste his time.

He asks if you were going through it. Another moment of his mouth moving before his brain. But you don’t seem to take offense, more like you just seem a bit embarrassed at being caught nearly crying.

“Hate to interrupt whatever’s goin’ on, but class is in thirty minutes. If you’re anything like Suguru you’re an early bird, right?”

You answer meekly, wiping your tears with your sleeve. He catches himself eyeing your attire behind his glasses. He’s staring at you and he’s positive you can tell, for your head tips towards the floor. You seem to be awaiting his departure, but he stays rooted to the floor, content on tormenting you this way.

“Are you heading to class right now?”

He never expected you to be the type to start a conversation, not with him especially. He noticed how uneasy you felt around him. But he cuts you some slack and answers.

“I don’t usually go early, that’s Suguru’s thing. But I guess todays an exception. Anyways what’re you doing out here, and what was with the gripping your head thing? Going through a phase?” He answers you and throws a barrage of questions coyly.

You blink. Gojo realizes how much left his mouth at once and pushes up his glasses. You come up with a sorry answer and Gojo decides he’s wasted enough time. If he got there now he could talk to Suguru about yesterday’s conversation with the higher ups before Yaga arrives. He starts to walk off, now considering the conversation boring.

Your voice interrupts his stride, you sound somewhat panicked and he contemplates hearing you out. You must’ve taken his stillness as a cue.

“Do we need any particular supplies for class, by any chance?”

You sound anxious, and he doesn’t even have to look to know you’re shuffling your feet.

“We take notes every now and then, by we I don’t mean me, so a notebook would be nice but isn’t required, and you don’t look like you have one with you.” He shoves his hands in his pockets, and turns to face you. He was correct, this time you’re fiddling with your ridiculously long skirt.

“Let’s hope you have a good memory. Sensei likes to run his mouth.” The only entertaining thing about you is the expressions you make. And he isn’t disappointed with this one either. He doesn’t know why he finds your sorrow so comedic but this time he can’t hold back his laugh. If Geto knew about this or witnessed it, he’d definitely scold him, but Gojo doesn’t care at the moment, shoulders shaking as he cackled obnoxiously.

He sighs, wiping under his eyes, lifting his glasses a little. He thinks that’s enough for now, and prepares to walk off to class. But then you ask a question that makes him freeze, “Can I walk to class with you?”

“Huh?”

He raises a brow, he knows you can’t see it, but he’s looking at you as if you’re crazy.

You instantly wave your hands in panic, trying to explain yourself, he thinks your excuse is lame. “Sorry. It’s just I don’t remember the way, and if you’re on your way there I thought maybe I can tag along. Though, it’s okay if you say no.”

He’s extremely annoyed with you now, watching you fidget and shuffle about with a frown plaguing his lips. A rejection is already sitting on his tongue, ready to be fired, but he knows how disappointed Geto might be with him, so his shoulders drop.

“Whatever. Do what you want.”

He watches you instantly glow. You’re not smiling but he can tell you’re happy. It’s the first time he’s seeing an expression that isn’t filled with some type of despair on you. He thinks he prefers your anguish.

“I promise not to be annoying.”

He rolls his eyes, picking up his pace.

“You’re already being annoying by saying that.”

“Sorry!”

“Stop apologizing.”

You say sorry again and he scoffs to himself. Could you get any more annoying? He can hear your hurried footsteps as you try to match his stride, he feels a bit bad and slows down a bit, letting the two of you walk side by side. He did it to be nice, but it’s a decision he instantly regrets. Did your parents ever teach you that staring was impolite? The burning of your eyes against the side of his face pisses him off. But he tries his hardest not to show his anger on his face because of your intense stare.

He can’t help the twitch of his facade and he thinks you noticed. He’s resisting the urge to meet your stare, glare you down and watch you shuffle like you usually do. He craves to make you uncomfortable and show you who’s really stronger between the two of you. He really can’t comprehend where these hostile emotions are coming from but he also doesn’t care to dig deep and figure it out. It’ll come to him eventually. So for now he’ll get a bit excited as you ask about his cursed technique, jumping at the opportunity to show you how strong he is.

You’re in awe and his ego instantly skyrockets. You press your hand against his infinity over and over again, an intrigued gleam in your eyes as your lips part in a gasp.

“So it’s science, right? That makes it easy to explain then, huh? I thought it was way more complicated than that.”

For some reason that makes him irritated. “Easy to explain.” Funny coming from someone who had no idea what cursed techniques were barely twenty-four hours before. He pulls his hand away from you, as if he was burnt and instantly walks off. He thanks his long legs and their advantage to gain distance from you.

He resists the urge to turn and see your expression.

He originally did it all with Geto in mind; mulling over how he would feel if he’d left you deserted in that hallway, nervous eyes and shaky hands as you tried to find your way. Curse Geto for being such a heavy influence on him, because now he wished he’d never encountered you. Gojo considers his day already ruined before it barely started.

Now he sits and watches you converse with his best friend as if he was your best friend. Geto was always the friendly, welcoming type, so he can’t fathom why it irks him so. But it has to be your fault somehow, so until he figures that out he decides to brood in silence, arms crossed.

Shoko enters and your attention is instantly diverted. One of the many times Gojo is grateful for her existence. You were more comfortable with her than the other two. Probably a girls thing. Gojo didn’t care to understand. He instantly decided anything that had something to do with you would be ignored to the best of his abilities.

You greet Shoko in a quiet voice, as if cautious, and instantly brighten when she sends you a soft smile and a greeting in return. She points to her spot and looks at Geto inquisitively, hovering behind you. He just shrugs with a sheepish smile. So she simply sits and scoots her chair closer to you, waving her hand in a shooing motion towards Geto, “It’s my turn to hog her, your boyfriend looks upset, go comfort him.”

Geto’s head whips towards Gojo instantly, seeing his pouty expression with his arms crossed. He sighs in exasperation, a fond smile painting his lips.

You watch the two of them for a second or more before looking at Shoko. You didn’t know they were dating..

Shoko chuckles, and speaks up as if she read your mind, “They’re not actually dating. Yet, anyways. They love dancing in circles around each other. It’s irritating to witness. Utahime is a grade above me so unfortunately she doesn’t suffer through it as much as me.” She nudges you, her eyes crinkling as her smile stretches a bit wider, “You’re here with me now though, so we can suffer it together, kay?”

You nod eagerly, as if it was meant to be a good thing. Suffering anything is manageable if someone as kind as Shoko is there with you. You need to get her a gift for her kindness. Such a wonderful girl!

Yaga enters the room about twenty minutes later. Shoko lets you borrow a notebook of hers and you instantly get to jotting things down. You’re a bit surprised when you notice how mundane these subjects are. But it makes sense, you’re all still teenagers after all. You’d probably see it as inhumane if all this school taught to their students was jujutsu. No matter the importance of sorcerers and preserving the lives of non-sorcerers, it was always good to live life at least a little normally, to you anyways.

Time passed with you trying to avoid answering questions as much as possible. Even though you hated doing it, you also couldn’t help it. Whenever Yaga looked your way your eyes flew to your paper and you instantly got to acting busy to avoid getting picked on. Plus, it wasn’t like you needed to… Geto was there to answer every question smoothly for the rest of you, so there was no need, right?

Though you suppose it wasn’t evadable forever.

“[Name], can you answer this one?”

You jolt, looking up from your paper where you were “writing” (you just hovered the pen over the paper and moved it about). It was an easy algebra question, so you answered it with ease, albeit quietly. Yaga hummed in approval and moved on. It wasn’t all that bad, you recognize, but the attention is still unnerving.

Shoko nudges your side, “I got a smart girl on my radar it looks like,” she whispers. “You’ll let me copy your notes, right?” She jokes.

You nod instantly, the premise of the joke flying straight over your head. If it’ll keep her around you’ll write her as many notes as need be, you thought. It was the least you could do to repay her kindness!

She giggles quietly, and her laugh was instantly a melody you became enamored with. “I was joking, don’t worry. But you seem smart, born a genius like a certain someone, I presume?” She says coyly and her eyes drift to a particular person one seat down. You force your eyes not to drift in the direction of her finger.

“I usually study in my free time,” You shut down her assumption, you were nowhere near born a genius. “Guess you can say it’s a hobby of mine,” you shrug, whispering alongside her. It was nice, it felt like the two of you were sharing secrets.

“A hobby?” She laughs, shocked and intrigued. “You get more odd by the second.”

Your expression shifts, something she doesn’t hesitate to spot. She lays a hand on your shoulder and rubs it assuringly as she whispers, “No sweat, it’s a good thing. To me, at least. I don’t think I’d be friends with those two idiots otherwise.”

Your face relaxes and she smiles.

“Shoko,” you suddenly speak, surprising the both of you — you the most. Her eyes flit to your own and she sits, awaiting. “Do you like sweet things?” You ask, cupping your hand around your mouth as if that’ll make you any quieter.

Shoko entertains you with a grin and replicates you, hand cupped around her mouth as she leans close to whisper. Her eyes drift over you — if checking you out, something that escapes your notice — before she answers, “I love sweet stuff.”

You seem satisfied with her answer so she shifts her attention back to her notebook. Yaga turns around and her eyes flit between her notes and the board, pretending to be immersed. Though you don’t think she has anyone fooled. You glance at her for a moment more before you do the same and settle for doodling on the empty parts of your notes. Small doodles of Shoko and Geto holding gifts with big smiles on their faces. You subconsciously grin into your hand. You have no clue what either of them prefer but the thought is nice… Maybe you can ask later. Hopefully Geto will have a moment where Gojo isn’t hanging off of him.

You discreetly shuffle your position so you feel comfortable enough to gaze at him. He looks extremely focused, brows slightly furrowed as he taps his pen lightly against the desk, as if afraid to disturb the silent classroom. Your eyes drift a bit to catch a glimpse of his counterpart. A scoff of bewilderment almost involuntarily leaves your lips at the sight of Gojo simply trying to balance a pencil between his nose and the peak of his lip. Even though you have a sudden urge to call him out on his stupidity, this is actually the perfect opportunity to ask what you wanted from Geto without his leering glare, he seems distracted enough.

Yaga is turned towards the board too, voice booming loud enough that if you whispered, he wouldn’t be able to hear you over the sound of himself. It’s insane that you feel so nervous, as if speaking to a classmate during teaching is some sort of crime. But you recall the small doodle of him smiling happily with his gift and persevere.

A small, soft tap breaks Geto out of his reverie. His eyes blink in surprise before his gaze lands on you and your meek, almost guilty expression.

“Do you like sweet stuff?” Your soft voice whispers and he almost laughs aloud. You’re a horrible whisperer, and you’re both extremely lucky that Yaga’s voice echoes, for no one hears you.

He ponders your question for a moment, eyes drifting around your face before they settle back on your eyes. He’s grinning as he says, “Yeah. I like sweet stuff.”

Your visage glows with hope as you turn back to your paper, beaming. Geto’s smile becomes soft.

Brownies it is.

all mine taglist : @kaelisian @tamajoyaki @unsavedandsad @friedstudentflapranch @bomjug @mygarlingelena @phoenix666stuff @mel-star636 @gloobermoober @kallykissr @aichiomei @jaerang @luv-gin @ploylulla @mrowwww @ladytamayolover @tatiishere @kasumitenbaz @autumn-slaves @someoneunknownforyou @rosemary394 @armani78 @lordbugs @decadenthumanalienranch-blog @sokivv @crushed-l1ttle-stars @ichiikoari @okayiamkassandra @cole-silas @kakuchosbff @sugasweettea @suguguro @lacm-ac @irenesolos @redskull199987 @loreleis-world-blog @aleirnebulous @asweetblueberry2 @thel0v3hashira143 @prettypei @astral-hydromancy @ran6ia IM SO SORRY FOR THOSE WHO COULDN’T BE PROPERLY TAGGED!!! there’s a shit ton of u so maybe i got some of ur users wrong or i just can’t tag u, if ur one of those ppl plsss let me know so i can fix it. this taglist long asf!!!!!!

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pupkashi · 8 months

Text

scrapbooks

satoru doesn’t get the point of scrapbooks, until he does

a/n: hi hi ! wrote this silly little thing on a whim, i hope u guys like it !! plz let me know what y’all think :3

wordcount: 1,013

masterlist

satoru claims he’s not a sentimental person.

what’s so great about life that you’d want to be reminded of daily tasks?

he never kept receipts, he never took pictures, never kept any souvenirs. saturo was simply not a nostalgic or sentimental person

you were the most sentimental person he’d ever met.

every outing he’d ever seen you at you were talking selfies with friends, stuffing receipts in your pockets and any other little things. he still recalls the look on your face when he caught you shoving a small flower into your bag, ‘it’s for my scrapbook’ you had explained, smiling up at him nervously.

life is so fleeting, why wouldn’t you want to remember every passing moment with those you love and care for?

anytime the two of you left tokyo for missions together, he always ended up in a gift shop, him trailing you as you bought souvenirs for the others, getting yourself a postcard to write on, documenting the day and placing it in a box in your room.

satoru wasn’t sentimental, until he found himself falling in love.

he found himself pulling his phone out a bit more often, “pose guys!” he grinned, the camera already flashing as his friends laughter echoed in his ears, your giggles making his smile grow even wider.

after the two of you went to watch a movie together, he caught himself putting the ticket stub gently behind his black card in his wallet. the polaroid picture of the two of you from last month staring him in the face anytime he opened his wallet.

he has a pressed rose petal nestled in the pages of his brand new scrapbook, a reminder of the day he asked you to be his.

you didn’t catch onto his antics until after one of your dates, satoru reaching for the receipt before you could.

“oh! can i keep it?” you giggled, “I wanna put in my scrapbook rather than you just throwing it out.” satoru’s ears burning red as he held the receipt.

in the two seconds he stared at the receipt his mind raced. what should he say? ‘no i wanna keep this to remember this date years to come’ or maybe ‘yeah sure.’ does he play it cool? should he keep his newfound nostalgic side a secret?

“i wasn’t gonna throw it out” he smiled sheepishly, “i started uh keeping stuff.”

“really?”

“really” he laughs, smiling at you when your mouth hangs open a bit. “is it so hard to believe that i would have a scrapbook of my own?” he pouts.

“you have a scrapbook?” you grin, eyes widening. satoru’s blush only grew deeper, lips pouting a bit as he turned to look to the side.

“i mean yeah it’s not anything crazy” he mumbles, fiddling with the receipt in his hands, “sometimes you just wanna remember things or whatever.”

you found it hard to believe that the man sat across from you was the same one who had groaned when you made him stop for souvenirs on your first mission together.

“did you replace my satoru? should i be concerned right now?” you tease, narrowing your eyes at him.

satoru can only roll his eyes, stuffing the receipt into his pocket before standing up and holding his hand out for you.

“so I’m your satoru now?” he smiles, the bright red reducing itself to a tinge of pink as he teases you, his usual cockiness returning with the glint in his eyes.

“we are dating aren’t we?” you quipped, eyes narrowing at him as the two of you walked into the warm air outside. “or are you trying to imply you aren’t mine” you pout, a dramatic sigh leaving your lips as you turn to face opposite satoru.

“cmon sweetheart you know I’m all yours” he smiles, his arm wrapping around your waist and much too easily pulling you into his chest. “no one else for me but you,” his words sincere as they settle on your ears, your heart thumping against your rib cage as you smile up at him.

satoru wishes he could capture the look in your eyes, the glimmer of galaxies that he could spend hours on end exploring. he wishes he could have this moment engraved into his heart and never forget even a second of the day.

but then again, he thinks that anytime he’s around you. he wishes he could keep photos of everytime you smile, he wishes he could record every second of your laughter and tattoo the way you smile up at him when he flusters you.

life with you moved quickly in the best ways possible, he found the moments around you too fleeting for his liking.

satoru found himself taking pictures and videos anytime the two of you were out or together, a whole album full of you and whatever the two of you were doing. his scrapbook is slowly filling up with receipts, letters, flower petals, and everything that makes up your relationship.

and it’s as he’s snapping a picture of you reading, in the comfort of your shared home that he finally understands.

love is what makes life so great.

you are what makes life so amazing. you make him want to remember every second of everyday. you make him want to recall the dozens of times the two of you stood at the kitchen sink, washing and drying dishes. you made him want to cherish the normalcy of everyday life and fleeting moments.

satoru gojo is sentimental.

and he’s reminded of that with every picture he takes of his students, friends and his lover. he’s reminded of the fact when he stuffs receipts into his pockets and souvenirs into the shopping cart.

more importantly, he’s reminded of that when he’s looking at you, like you hung the moon and painted the sky full of stars. he’s trying his best to memorize your every feature, the shape and tint of your lips and the hue of your eyes.

satoru gojo was in love, and it made him want to remember every second of everyday.

taglist (send an ask to be added!): @chilichopsticks @anime-for-the-sleepless @4sat0ruu @safaia-47 @nanamikentoseyebags @fushironi @nineooooo @the-mom-friend-dot-com @gojoshooter @sat6ru @luna0713hunter @torusmochi @orihimeii

#not proof read we die like men #let me know what u think plzplzplz #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru #gojo satoru fluff #gojo satoru drabble #gojo x reader #gojo satoru imagine #gojo satoru one shot #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo fluff #satoru gojo x reader fluff #gojo satoru x reader fluff #gojo fluff #satoru gojo x you #satoru gojo drabble #satoru gojo one shot #satoru gojo fanfic

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lanadelnegan · 8 months

Text

Tattoo

Pre-apocalypse!Negan x Reader (Negan is y/n's art teacher & also owns a tattoo shop).

Warnings: THIS IS THE FILTHIEST THING I'VE WRITTEN SO FAR and it's just going to get filthier from here on. smut, forbidden love, age-gap (reader is 18, negan is 38), angst, oral (female receiving), lots of sexual tension, slow burnnnn.(there's an actual plot this time), vaginal sex, public sex, breeding, slight daddy kink

Summary: After graduating and leaving behind the man she fell for but couldn't have, y/n decides to get a tattoo that reminds her of him. And he gives it to her.

A/n: ugh, this had me in my feels. A "hard to get" teacher Negan. basically you're negan's former student and he gives you a tattoo and things.. well - just read it.

"Well damn. I don't mean to be sentimental, but I have seriously enjoyed teaching you little shits. I hope you can take what you've learned and apply it to something. Be creative. Oh, and.. don't think about hitting me up on Instagram after this because I don't do social media. That shit is toxic. Remember that, kids."

The bell cuts Negan off before he can finish his inspirational speech. He's always had such a way with words.. should have been an English teacher instead.

Most of the students rush out like the room is on fire, with the exception of a few annoying girls that think he'll jump their bones now that school is out.

"So, Mr. Smith, since you don't have social media, can I get your number at least?" I cringe as she twirls her hair around her finger and her friends giggle obnoxiously behind her.

"Girls. Behave for once. A tip for college? Don't flirt with your professors." He warns while motioning them out the door.

I suddenly realize that my ass has been glued to my seat this entire time and I'm the only one still here. I quickly get up and throw my backpack over one shoulder. He stares at me from the doorway but I just look down as I walk towards him.

"Bye Mr. Smith."

"Nice try. Sit down." He shuts his door and walks back into the room pointing towards my chair for me to sit.

"Mr. Smith, y/n?" He mocks. "Seriously?"

I never call him that. He's always been Negan to me.

I've known him for 4 years now. He's the only art teacher at Alexandria High, and even though I have no interest in art, I've taken his class every year because I do have an interest.. in him.

What he doesn't know is that I've been making mental notes everyday for the past four years about all his interests, personal life, hobbies, you name it.

He loves the color red - because it's the only color expo marker he writes in.

His favorite lunch is two cigarettes and coke zero. I hate that he smokes.

He stopped coaching baseball last year because he said he didn't have time anymore. But I think it's actually because he's never cared for it to begin with.

He had a wife, but she passed away. Some kind of cancer. She's still his computer wallpaper, which tells me he still hasn't moved on even though it was six years ago. My heart hurts for him.

He wasn't lying - he doesn't have social media....I would have found it.

He sits at another student's desk right next to mine with his body facing me.

"You gonna tell me why the hell you look like your best fucking friend just died?"

I stare at the floor next to his shoes and try to think about anything other than fact that I'm never going to see him again.

"Look at me."

I slowly lift my eyes to his and can't stop the tear that escapes the second I see his face.

"Ah, shit." His expression turns serious when he notices my tears. "Look, kid. I -"

"Stop calling me kid." I snap.

He chuckles. "Hate to break it to ya y/n, but you are very much a kid in my eyes, which is why this thing -" he motions his hand towards me. "this.. crush you have on me - has to end today."

My eyes widen as I stare at him speechless. He seriously did not just assume I have a crush on him.

"Did you jus - You seriously think just because a few stupid girls want to get in your pants, it means everyone does?" I scoff. "Unbelievable. You're my teacher. I don't have a crush on you."

He laughs as if we both know I'm lying - which I am.

"Alright, I'm sorry I called you a kid. Now, you wanna tell me what's wrong?"

"It's just I - I'm gonna miss you." I instantly regret saying it.

He nods and looks at the floor, letting out a frustrated sigh.

"I'm sorry. I - I'm just gonna go." I get up to leave, leaving my heart with him. My stomach twists in a knot when I realize he isn't getting up to stop me.

Why would he?

Once I'm in the hall, I turn to take one last look at him. He's bent over with his hands through his hair as if his best friend just died.

Negan's POV: That fucking girl. In my twelve years of teaching, I've never cared about a student like I do her. I care about all of my students, but goddamn it, she's had me wrapped around her finger for longer than I'm comfortable to admit - And I never will. She fucking sucks at hiding her feelings. I knew from the first day she walked into my class that she wanted to jump on my dick. Hell, every girl does. But other girls bat their fake eyelashes at me and tell me how they feel. Y/n.. she's.. obsessed with me. She thinks I didn't notice her doodling my name in her notebook with little hearts. Or that I don't hear her whispering to her friends about the dreams she has about me. Or how she stares at me during lectures like she's on a different planet. And if that's not enough, the girl hates art. Yet she's chosen it as her elective every single year. She has straight A's in every class, but doesn't even try in mine. And yet.. my dumb ass still passed her with an A. Maybe because I'm obsessed with her too.

Back to Y/n's POV:

I cried on the way home that day.

While everyone else celebrated school ending with a party, I stayed in my room and cried while looking at his photo in the yearbook.

While everyone walked across the stage at graduation, my diploma came in the mail and I stayed home holding Negan's lucky baseball bat that he gave me last year.

My last day of junior year, I stayed after school to help Negan clean out his classroom so he could move into a bigger art room. That was the year he quit coaching. I replay the memory in my head more often than I should..

"Why do you have this bat just sitting in the corner?" "It brings me good luck. I hit a home run every game my senior year with that bat." "Your senior year? This bat is that old?!" "Watch it, kid." He rolls his eyes and throws some folders in a bin. "Hmm." I study the bat. "I could use some luck." "Keep it." I look at him confused. "But... it's your-" "I want you to have it." He cuts me off. "Are - Are you sure?" He sighs frustrated. "Do you not want it?" "Well, I mean, I do but -" "Then stop being stubborn and take it."

Ever since that day, his bat has been leaned up against the wall by my bed as a constant reminder of the man I want but can never have.

After a few weeks of feeling sorry for myself, my best friend tried convincing me to do something for myself since my birthday was coming up.

"Y/n, you should.. get your nails done, go buy some new clothes, do.. something. But you need to get out of that room. It's... depressing."

"I think I want a tattoo."

"Oh, okay, yeah. That's a good idea. What are you wanting to get?" She asks from the other end of the phone.

"I dunno." My eyes drift towards the bat. "Something meaningful."

The next day...

Lucille's

The tattoo shop sign reads. I swing the door open, excited for the first time in a month. The sound of tattoo guns and rock music fills the lobby.

"Hey, welcome to Lucille's. Do you have an idea of what you'd like or do you want to see some of our work?" The woman on the other side of the counter pulls out a binder.

"Oh, no, I think I know what I want already." I smile and pull up the picture on my phone before showing her.

"Okay, we can do that. Shouldn't take too long either. An hour tops. I can actually take you now in room 3." The so-called "rooms" aren't actually rooms, but rather closed off sections with tall walls on each side. From where I'm standing, I can't see the people in the tattoo chair, but I can see the top of the tattoo artists' heads if I stand on my tippy-toes.

She leads me to room 3 and I sit in the chair while she gets out the instruments.

"This your first tattoo?"

"Yeah, kinda nervous."

She smiles. "I'd tell you not to worry, but, sorry babe. It's gonna hurt."

I appreciate her honesty and just smile back at her.

"So, where do we want it?" she holds the printed off picture off of the tattoo I want.

I lean back in the chair, putting my legs up, so I'm laying down. I lift my shirt up right above my belly button and slightly pull my shorts down, revealing my pubic bone. "Right here." I point to the left side of where my panty line would be but lower.

After I confirm the placement, she presses the needle to my skin and I bite my bottom lip at the sudden pain that radiates throughout my hip.

"Breathe, babe. You got this."

After a couple seconds, she turns in her chair to load more ink into the gun.

"Y/n?" I hear from the entrance behind me.

I know that voice without turning to look. My eyes widen and the girl tattooing me looks at him.

"Hey boss, you two know each other?" She looks between the two of us.

I look back at him and see him nod at her. "I'll finish her up, Ruby. Thanks." He takes the tattoo gun from her and sits in her chair when she gets up to leave. The scent of leather and cigarettes fills the small room and I realize how much I missed it.

He pauses when he looks down at my skin and I can't tell if he's staring because of my tattoo of choice or because I'm almost completely exposed. If I didn't just shave, half of my pubic hair would be on display to him.

The way he's looking at my skin wakes the butterflies in my stomach and I have to mentally tell myself not to clench my legs together. He looks up at me through heavy eyelids and for the first time in four years, I'm unable to read him. I can't tell if he's disappointed, mad... or turned on...?

He looks back at the tattoo and shakes his head, sighing.

Okay, it's definitely a look of disappointment.

"You realize I have to finish this now that she's already started it, right?" He studies the lines already permanently marked in my skin. The faint purple lines of where the sticker was placed give away the complete outline of what the tattoo will be. "There's still time to change it though."

"What? What do you mean.. change it? I want this one."

"No." Is all he says and my eyes widen in shock at him.

"You can't tell me what to do Negan. I'm an adult, and I'm getting it."

"Why?" He snaps, frustration dripping from his tone.

He looks into my eyes for the first time since he's been in the room and the butterflies in my stomach have now gone wild.

"Because I... I want a piece of you with me always."

He closes his eyes and drops his head. My eyes start to water but I hold them back the best I can.

"Y/n." He shakes his head but to my surprise, he hesitantly places his left hand on my thigh, his fingers dangerously close to the spot I've imagined him touching a million times. The feel of his rough fingers on my bare skin ignites a flame in me I didn't know existed and all I do is stare at his hand.

"Relax." He rolls his eyes and starts the gun. He leans down closer and begins tattooing me.

I have to bite back the moan threatening to escape my lips. With Ruby.. it hurt. But with Negan, it.. almost feels good.

He glances up at me as if he can hear my thoughts and then goes back to gliding a straight line of ink across my skin.

The next few moments are spent in silence, with nothing but the sounds of the tattoo gun and music playing in the distance.

"Fuck, y/n. I'm gonna need these off so I can get to you better." He gestures at my shorts.

My eyes widen but I nod and slide them off, barely breathing now that I'm laying in front of Negan in just my underwear. The way his jaw ticks when he sees that I'm wearing red lace panties doesn't go unnoticed. His favorite color.

He places his hand back on my leg, this time with his fingers completely against my inner thigh. I slightly part my legs without thinking and he pauses to glance at me before continuing with the tattoo.

If he moved his finger half an inch upwards, he would be touching me.

"I never knew you worked at a tattoo shop." I break the silence, hoping to get my mind off his hand.

He chuckles. "I own it, darlin'. And there's a lot you don't know about me."

Another long pause happens before he speaks first this time.

"Why did you take art, y/n?"

"Uh.. I dunno, because I liked it."

He huffs out a laugh. "You liked it... or me?"

I shrug. "Both."

His face turns serious again and he stops the tattoo gun. "All done."

He backs away and motions for me to stand up and look in the mirror in the corner. I stand in front of it, but don't even notice my tattoo because my eyes catch Negan in the mirror staring at my ass. These panties don't leave much to the imagination and my cheeks redden at how much I'm exposed to him.

He suddenly looks up and makes eye contact with me in the mirror. His eyes are darker than usual and filled with lust.

"Come here." He demands and I obey, walking towards him.

Once I'm standing in front of him, he lifts his hands to grab my hips. My belly button is eye level to him and I look down, watching him intensely. His thumbs dig into my hips and he looks at the tattoo.

"Do you like it?" I ask him.

He ignores me and it makes my heart break a little more. "Lay back down, y/n." He gets up to pull the curtain over the entrance of the room.

I do as he says and he comes back, placing a clear tape bandage over the fresh tattoo.

He looks as if he's deep in thought before suddenly sliding his hands underneath my thighs and pulling me closer to him. He pushes my leg aside and rests my other foot in his lap until my legs are completely spread apart in front of him.

"You want me to touch you, y/n? Is that what you want?"

"Yes.."

"Tell me what you want, baby."

"Your mouth."

He chuckles darkly and kisses the inside of my thigh before sliding his fingers under my panties and ripping them apart.

He shoves them in the back of his jean pocket and wraps his arms around my thighs, holding my stomach down with his hands and leaning his head down closer.

"Look at this pretty pussy, baby. So wet for me you're glistening."

His eyes look up at me right before he licks me and my head falls back with pleasure.

He stops suddenly. "Eyes on me, darlin'. How many times have you imagined me between your legs? You're going to watch me eat this pussy, y/n."

I nod, looking at him and he continues. The sound of other people talking in the distance makes my senses even more heightened.

He licks me again, pressing his tongue into me harder this time. He moans as he stops at my clit and gently sucks it into his mouth. I moan and watch him as he looks like he's eating the best meal he's ever had.

"You taste even better than I imagined, baby."

"You.. imagined it?"

"Baby. You aren't the only one who daydreams in class." He says before dipping his tongue deep inside me.

He switches back and forth between licking me and sucking me until my moans get louder and faster.

"Negan, I'm gonna.."

"I know baby, give it to me." He rubs me with his tongue faster until I'm coming apart. His hand quickly covers my mouth and I cry out into his hand.

"Fuck, doll." He groans and adjusts himself through his jeans. "This pussy is about to make me cum in my pants like I'm a fucking teenager again."

"Negan.." I say out of breath. "I wanna touch you. Please."

He stands and picks up my shorts, but not before I see the huge bulge in his pants. He helps me put my shorts on and I look at him confused when he doesn't say anything.

"Nega-"

"No, y/n."

My eyes water with tears as I stand to finish pulling my shorts up. "I - I don't understand."

"This can't happen, baby. I shouldn't have touched you."

I nod. "So that's it, Negan? You get what you want and that's it.. you're just.. done with me?"

"Are you fucking serious? You think I got what I wanted? I'm standing here with a hard-on that's gonna give me a giant case of blue balls. Any other man would throw you on this table and take you right here."

"Then why don't you?!"

"Because I fucking.. I care about you. You happy now? I fucking CARE ABOUT YOU, y/n. And I'm not going to break your heart."

I wipe a tear that runs down my cheek. "You already did." I grab my purse and rush out of the room, stopping in front of Ruby on the way out and pulling out some cash.

"I'm sorry hun." She says empathetically as if she heard everything that just happened.

I cry harder and lay the cash down before leaving and walking to my car. Before I can open my car door, Negan is grabbing my arm and turning me around to face him.

"Goddamn it, listen to me!"

I don't fight him, I just stare at him, noting the hurt in his eyes. My heart hurts and I suddenly feel guilty for making him feel any ounce of pain.

"Y/n.. look.."

"No." I cut him off. "Negan, I'm sorry. This is my fault.. I put you in this situation because I was selfish.. and delusional. I'm so sorry. I'll leave, and you won't have to hear from me or see me again."

He scoffs. "You think that's what I want? I guess you don't know me the way I thought you did."

Before I can say anything else, he crashes his lips to mine and kisses me so hard and but so softly at the same time. His fingers slip through my hair and his hand rests on the back of my neck as he deepens our kiss.

"You're gonna be the death of me, kid."

I bite his lip hard when he calls me kid and our kiss goes from passionate to animalistic. He presses himself flat against me with my back against my car and I feel his hard cock straining against his jeans. His lips travel to my neck and he bites me hard, right before kissing and sucking the sensitive spot.

That's definitely going to leave a mark.

"You have no clue what you do to me, baby." He says in between kisses. His voice is raspier and deeper than usual. "Do you have any idea how many times I've left work and had to rub one out at the thought of you? Hell, sometimes even at work."

I look around the parking lot. It's nighttime but we're still clearly visible in the lights.

"Look at me, y/n. Forget where we are and just focus on me baby." His hand slips into my shorts and it takes him no time to find my soaked entrance since my panties are currently in his back pocket.

"Negan.." I breathe.

He smiles against my lips. "Baby.. You sure this is what you want? Because once I've had you, you're mine."

I nod and he puts his mouth next to my ear.

"Take your shorts off. Now." He pulls his hand from my shorts and sucks my juices off his fingers.

"But, Negan, we're-"

"I said, now y/n. You want me so bad, you're gonna get me wherever and however I say. Now, take your fucking shorts off before I rip them too."

I hesitantly slide my shorts off while looking around again. There aren't any other cars in the parking lot other than a couple of his employees. All the customers left. There's a main road up ahead but we're far enough away where they wouldn't see us unless they we're staring really hard.

"Good girl. Now take my cock out, baby."

He leans his hands against my car on either side of me, trapping me in. I waste no time reaching for the button on his jeans and unzipping him before pulling out his hard, huge cock. It's bigger than I imagined.. a lot bigger. I don't know how that thing is going to even fit in me. He's so hard that the veins in his cock look like they are about to erupt and his tip is already dripping with precum.

I can't help but run my thumb over the tip to collect some and bring it to my mouth to taste him. His eyes darken with lust at the sight of me sucking his precum off my finger.

"Taste good, doll?"

I nod and he chuckles. "There's a lot more where that came from."

He grips the back of my thigh with his hand and pulls my right leg around his waist.

The feeling of his dick rubbing against my wet pussy is enough to make my knees weak. Literally. I almost collapse at the sensation of him rubbing the head against my opening, teasing me. He presses his body closer to me in attempt to hold me up.

"Fuck, look at this dripping pussy." He looks down between us, admiring the view of his cock teasing my wet slit. "It's about to be dripping with my cum in a few minutes.. You ready for me, baby?"

"Yes, please. I need you."

He enters me completely in one swift motion, not giving me anytime to adjust. My walls are stretched further than they've ever been and it feels like the tip of him is buried up to my stomach.

He doesn't move for a moment, but instead looks into my eyes with his cock all the way inside of me. "There you go, baby. Finally getting what you wanted after all these years and taking my dick like a champ."

"Negan.." I moan. "Please.. just fuck me."

He pulls out of me almost completely before slowly pushing himself back in, agonizingly slow. Our bodies are flush against each other and he kisses me again.

"Fuck, baby." He growls. "You. Feel. So. Fucking GOOD." He says between thrusts as my mouth falls open.

I wrap my arms around his neck to hold myself up and lean against him with my lips pressed against his neck. I take the opportunity to mark him back, grabbing his skin between my teeth and sucking hard. He moans so loud that I glance around to make sure no one heard him, but we're still alone.

His thrusts get harder and faster and the sounds coming from his sexy mouth are enough alone to make me cum.

"Look at me, y/n. I want to see your face when you cum all over my cock."

His hand that was on the car behind me slides between us, instantly finding my clit. He begins rubbing circles on it with his middle finger while thrusting his hips into me faster.

I look into his eyes while my arms are still wrapped around his shoulders tightly, keeping me in place. My fingers run through his dark hair and my breathing goes erratic as I feel myself come undone around him.

"You want me to fill you up, baby? You want daddy's cum?"

I nod quickly as tears run down my cheeks from the most intense orgasm I've ever had.

"FUCK, baby." He groans and slams his mouth against mine. I kiss him back as he rides out his orgasm.

He pulls out of me slowly and softly kisses my lips one more time. I go to put my shorts on and he stops me.

"Not so fast, doll." He gets down on his knees in front of me, pushing my legs apart in front of him. "Push daddy's cum out baby. Let me see it drip out of you."

I do as he says and the feeling of his warm seed running down my legs is almost enough to send me over the edge again.

"Look. At. THAT." He swipes up some of his cum from my leg onto his finger and stands back up but not before gently kissing my new tattoo.

I think I love this man.

He rubs his finger along my lips until my mouth opens for him. I suck his fingers clean and moan at the taste of him.

"Y/n." He pushes my hair behind my ear and looks at me seriously. "I meant it when I said I care about you."

"You care about all your students."

"Yeah, but I don't go sticking my dick in them." He smirks and takes my hand, leading me back into the shop.

The others must have already left when - when.. oh.. shit.

"Negan, do you think they saw us?!"

"Well darlin', I was fucking your brains out right next to the door, so I think it's probably safe to assume so." He grins and my eyes widen with horror.

"Do you not care?"

"What can they do, doll? Fire me?" He laughs and leads me to the back where his office is.

"What are we doing in here?"

"Getting matching tattoos, of course."

I stare at him, trying to register what he just said. "You're.. going to give yourself a tattoo?"

He chuckles and hands me a tattoo gun before taking off his shirt and sitting on the couch in the corner.

"No, doll, you are."

The Enddd.

Part 2 or nah?

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downwiththemutantnjnjaturtles · 9 months

Note

Hi! Love your posts. Can you write crush headcanons for each of the turtles, like how they develop it, how they may act around them, and maybe ask them out? Thank you! Hope you have a great day!

TMNT crush headcanons:

Leonardo:

• Leo developes slow but meaningful crushes! He's very careful, and guarded of his feelings similar to Raph, but in his own way. His crush starts with feeling inspired by his person of interest, someone who makes him want to better himself in any way by either observing their passions, talents, and skills, or who encourages his limits to discover his own.

• He's thoughtful but very subtle about his affections towards someone, he doesn't exactly want them to know

• Observant, attentive, and a classic romantic is how he is—that last part, in his fantasies, at least. He dreams about being able to provide everything his crush could want or need, even though he can't always do so due to how they live

• Leo asks his crush out after a series of escalating gestures of love so it doesn't really catch them off guard. Asks them to meet him alone to talk because he has something important to say, and then makes the confession.

• "I know you have to know what I'm going to say, you're nervous, I can tell...I probably shouldn't have been so cryptic when I asked you to meet me in the dojo by yourself." He softens his posture a bit, to seem less tense. He'd lit several dozen candles scattered all over the room, partially for himself while he meditated to calm his mind a little, mostly to create an atmosphere. "You've become a close friend of mine despite everything, you know you're always welcome in our home, right? And you can come whenever." There's an awkward pause—he doesn't know how to continue with what he's saying. "Ah, anyways—I was saying...I enjoy your company, I would be honored to show you some stuff I know, in exchange for some of your time. Only if you'd like." God, he hoped that you would.

Michelangelo:

• Mikey couldn't hide his growing feelings, even if he wanted to. And it didn't take much for him to fall fast and hard for his crush; the attention he got was addictive and he wanted to give it back tenfold! He always wanted to feel wanted and accepted by others, so even though he couldn't have that from the rest of the human world, the fact that he had that from you was more than enough for him. He was grateful.

• He's his crush's biggest fan!! If there were merch, he'd wear it proudly even if it embarrassed you

• Creative and artistic; he painted and redesigned one of his old longboards just for you. It had some of his old pop-art on it, graffiti style, random sketches and doodles, and every sticker he could find. He tried to remember everything you liked to put it on the things he gave you, whether it were poster collages he made for his wall art or putting love onto the bottom of a skateboard. Big gift giver, so expect to get a LOT of stuff from him—even sentimental items he's nostalgic over, even if you feel bad to receive those things from him. He has a lot to give. 😌

• Mikey confesses by accident one day when he doesn't even mean to—he's playing around with you as usual and gets talkative when he's feeling excited, so it just slips out. Mid-play.

• "Ha-hah! That's what I'm taking about, I love you, Y/N!" There's a pause where it has to compute for a second. "Wait, did I just say that out loud?" He's serious for a moment—he can't believe he actually said that. But the next beat, he's back to smiling at you, laughing, maybe trying to deflect the hint of embarrassment he felt (which was rare for Mikey). "Yeah, I did say that out loud, I guess. Whoops...oh—now, tag, you're it!"

Donatello:

• Despite his brains and his intellectual nature, Donnie is an emotional person and actually falls in love almost immediately when he encounters that perfect person. He gets stars in his eyes and runs his own compatibility tests through his mind as he learns more about them, and annoyingly, they're stuck on his mind even when he's trying to work on his experiments and projects.

• Helpful, playful, a little stingy with your time lol—when he wants to spend time with his crush, he wants his brothers away because they take the limelight without thinking sometimes. Always offering to help you with homework or if you need anything fixed around the house, he's volunteering for that. Broken cabinet? Fixed. Wifi isn't working? No problem. Pipes under your sink leaking? He's been fixing up the Lair for years!

• Donnie is not shy. Let's say that rn. He's 👏 confident 👏. He's a little bit of a showoff competing with his brothers to snatch your attention, even if it's just games.

• He asks you if you'll have him on a date one night on your way out of the sewers. He'd been looking for the prime time to hit you with the question and was a little nervous to do it with his peers around, so he dropped the question when you went to leave for the night. "I know you're leaving—and this will only take a minute! But I had something to ask you." He lets you get curious. He holds up the keys to his prized possession, the Shellraiser, that he dreamed about driving you around in. "Ever gone on a joyride through New York in a souped-up garbage truck? No?...do you, maybe, want to do it with me? As a friend thing? Or maybe as more than just...friends?"

Raphael:

• Raph was completely UNready to admit he was getting soft for you. Or ready to commit to feeling the uncomfortable—but tantalizing—feelings you gave him. In honesty, for a good long while, Raph didn't let you know in the slightest he was getting his heart stolen over the course of the months he knew you.

• Very much puts off his crush with his prickly demeanor. But underneath that tough exterior, he's secretly taking every chance he can get to try to impress you in the ways he knows how; if there's any heavy lifting to be done, you bet he's volunteering himself out for that before anyone else can.

• Acts too good for sappy things until the moment his crush is being vulnerable—it disarms him, he's a protector at heart. He wants to be your shield from everything bad in the world, which is a lot.

• Raph plays the long game with his crush hinting over and over again he's in love, with no luck at times. It frustrates him but it's a challenge. He won't be outright and say it; everything he does is subtle, but the second your back is turned, he's making it known he's got your attention just to pull one over on his brothers (in good humor!)

• Makes his crush work with him to get the confession out, low-key. He makes you guess until you finally start to piece everything together. He will not be saying it with his words, but he'll definitely show it.

• "Y/N. C'mere," he says. "What're you still doing here this late, dummy? Already said it's not safe to walk home alone." Silence. "Agh, I did it again. Ignore my crap. But I mean it, stop goin' home alone, you know I told you I'd come too. And if I ain't available then I'm making Mikey go. Hear me? Stop acting like it's a burden or whatever..." He's kicking himself mentally for being unable to say what he actually wants to say. He ruffles your hair roughly to deflect. "See, now ya look silly like you act. Come on, let's go. I like you better safe in one piece than ending up in the back of some guy's van."

I lost all of my TMNT gifs from my old phone 😭 The post feels bare without it, but anyways, this is my first post in over a year so i hope it's good! 🐢🐢🐢🐢

#tmnt #teenage mutant ninja turtles #tmnt 2016 #tmnt x reader #tmnt 2014 #tmnt bayverse #tmnt donnie #tmnt headcanons #tmnt requests #tmnt leonardo #raphael #michelangelo #donatello #tmnt leo #tmnt raph #tmnt mikey #tmnt 2012 #tmnt romance

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mikwaa · 10 months

Text

I'll always miss you, you will shine like gold in my memory.

Zhongli x Reader

Wc: 2.7k

Warnings: Angst, hurt no comfort, reader dies. Toxic relationship, Morax is an idiot brute, this is set in the Archon war, reader is a warrior.

A/n: I had this draft written here a while ago, decided to post it because it's one I really like. As the old Morax is described as a more rough and ruthless person, I imagine that for him to change there had to be a major event. And so I ended up writing this, maybe I'll do another ending because I genuinely don't like sad endings, but it went together so well I decided to leave it like this.

"Morax, please listen to me." And there you were, in one of those endless fights with your husband.

The reason this time was that you had found a group of people, begging for a place to stay, since they were wandering around. This group had been exiled from Sumeru, the reasons were not yet clear, nor did they know why. There were children, elders, even young pregnant women, you couldn't just ignore them and let them die.

And you had offered them a home in the Guili Plains, the place where the Liyue population was housed. But Morax did not accept, nor did he seem to want to change his mind.

"I've said what I think, and I'm not going to change it." And he didn't even look at you, on the contrary, he walked even faster to distance more from you.

"Can you stop being so irreverent?" You quicken your steps and stand in front of him, stopping him from moving forward.

He narrowed his eyes in your direction, his face turning into an angry frown, "I told you, don't make me repeat myself. If you choose to save those people, you can forget about coming back. I don't want you around." His words were sharp as blades, wounding as such.

And seeing his face without a drop of expression, without a single regret. How could he say such impactful things as if they were nothing?

"How can you talk like that? I'm your spouse, I'm just trying to help." You could already feel tears forming in your eyes, he always acted like a brute, but there were times you couldn't even handle it.

"You can help me by protecting my people, not by harboring strangers." The coldness with which he spoke to you was abysmal, it didn't even seem like you had any kind of relationship.

"They are people too, they have feelings too. They are afraid to die, they are simply out in the open."

"I care what's mine, we're in a war, we can't save everyone. And I chose to take care of what is mine, my territory together with my people". He states, with that usual stoic face. With that arrogance and selfishness that would drive anyone crazy with rage.

"So that's still a no?" Breathing heavily you ask him one last time, the hope you had of him giving in had simply vanished.

"It was always a no. If you're going to keep talking about it, you can save both your time and mine." Snide and sharp, he never seemed to change.

"Then you won't want me here anymore, I suppose." To his surprise, you wouldn't give up. You would keep your word no matter what.

"Go ahead." Nothing more, not a sentimentality, nothing. Just treating you like you were just another one of his pawns, like you were just another one in the crowd.

A hot tear ran down your face, your heart burning as if it had been recently scalded.

"Are you really going to treat me like this? Like I'm nothing to you, and this ring means nothing?" You removed the ring, holding it with trembling hands.

The engagement ring, which he had made for you himself, was so beautiful. With jade detailing all over the ring, and even more precious was the message it had, 'It will always be you'. According to him, it was to show how much you meant to him.

And now? Were those beautiful words just thrown to the wind?

He huffed, looking incredibly upset and tired of this situation, but he didn't show you anything, he wasn't sad, sorry, guilty, nothing. As if none of this mattered.

"Have it your way." Completely indifferent he mumbles.

"Okay." You threw the ring away, without even looking at where it went," If it meant nothing to you, it meant nothing to me."

Now he seemed to take some notice of you, but was clearly displeased.

But there was no time for him to talk or complain to you, you ran out of there. He wanted to go after you, but the pride he carried in his chest was stronger.

A feeling of guilt invaded his heart, but he still wouldn't let his feelings get the better of him, because he believed that you would go back on your decision.

You wouldn't exchange him for a group of people you barely know, but that was exactly the point he didn't understand. It wasn't that he wouldn't help you, it was the way he dealt with certain issues. He was so focused and objective, that should be good, but it wasn't the case with him.

He always complained that you think too much about others, just as you complain that his behavior is often harsh and hostile. He believed that you would come back, but he was wrong, very wrong.

it had been three weeks since you had even dared to look at each other. He couldn't swallow his pride, and neither could you. That arrogance and selfishness he possessed could get on anyone's nerves, and you were not immune to it.

No matter how many times you tried to make him understand that things were not practical as he claimed they were, he would never understand, he was a real brute.

And that was the last straw for you, people were not objects that he could control as and when he wanted, and he didn't seem to want to understand that.

You had left the village, and had no desire to return. You had tucked yourself away in a simpler hut and in a place you suspected Morax wouldn't go near. Even though you loved him so much, you doubted if he would ever change.

It was so many doubts mixed with the anger you felt about the things he said, you took it out on the monsters you met in front of you, without letting a single one escape.

With quick and precise blows, you used your blade with an unmistakable dexterity. But even this was not enough for what would happen next. A monster that you didn't even know what it was hit you, and ended up hurting you.

You didn't even know where it came from, you didn't even have time to react. Your body heaved and you fell to the grass abruptly, as you felt a sharp pain run through your entire body.

And when you managed to stabilize yourself and look at the monster, it was no longer there. It had already turned to dust.

"You with this stubbornness. You can't even take care of yourself." From the familiarity in his voice, it wasn't hard to guess that it was your husband.

"Shut up." You mustered the strength to speak, it seemed as if your strength was draining away second by second.

Even in such a state, the weakness and frailty you were in didn't seem to make any commotion in Morax.

"If you knew you wouldn't be like this." So cold, so distant. Every word of his hurt so much.

How could he be so indifferent? So cruel.

"You won't even see your spouse? You won't even try to take care of me?" Even though you tried to sound strong and imposing, all that came out was a shaky, tired voice.

"I'm no specialist in this. Go find help somewhere else, I told you I don't want you around." It wasn't just anger, it was a feeling of someone who had been defied, you hadn't followed his orders, and he was hating you for it.

You had traded him, that's what he had in mind, but you didn't leave because of that. You loved him like crazy, and you had helped him in many ways. But he still needed to think more about others, trust humans more.

To learn to understand that people were not just pawns that he moved when and how he wanted, it was far from that. And now he was experiencing the fact that someone might not follow his orders, and that someone was you.

He went to look over his shoulder one last time, as he began to notice a pool of blood starting to form around you, he hurried his steps over to you.

"I have to take you, the healers will help." Bending down close to you he whispers. The sudden change in behavior that soon showed his desperation.

"You know they won't, there's nothing else to do." You couldn't control the tear that welled up in your eye.

It had been a very deep wound, you didn't need any healer to tell you that you were hopeless, the village was far away, there would be no time to get there. Several other warriors had died like this, and it would be no different with you.

His stoic expression turned to one of terror, his pride gone in a matter of minutes.

"Don't talk foolishness." He nestles you in his arms, carrying you so gingerly that it seemed he was afraid of hurting you with the slightest touch.

"Leave me here," he opened his mouth to protest, and you continued, "Please."

He propped you up on his chest, wrapping you in the clothes of his own body, so that you were properly protected.

"Why are you so stubborn? I can't understand you." For the first time you heard him speak in a broken voice, he was trying not to cry.

"I just want to save time, you know you don't have much to do." You gently caress his face.

He wanted to tell you so much, but he couldn't put it into words, ever.

"I shouldn't have acted like that." Finally, he admitted it. But now it was too late for any regrets.

You intertwined your fingers with his, smiling faintly. He could feel your strength fading little by little, and he could do nothing.

You were too fragile, just like all humans. And he could do nothing.

Nothing.

He couldn't believe it, how could a being as powerful as him be so powerless like that? That shouldn't be right, but it was.

"Please stay." He pleads, but how could you fulfill that request? His voice was so shaken it sounded almost unrecognizable.

For the first time he was losing one of his partners, he had always protected them all as best he could, and none of them had gone so far. But the first was you, his first big loss was you. How would he be able to handle it? No, he couldn't.

"I will never forget your eyes, they are so beautiful." You say softly, almost inaudible.

And he let a tear escape, all the armor he had made in his heart had broken, and he couldn't control it. It was the love of his life leaving, all he could do was watch, how could he be so useless at a time like this?

"Stay, keep your eyes open, I'll get help, I'll…" Not even he himself believed his own words, much less believed that you could save yourself.

He felt so much guilt, how could he have been so negligent? He had never been very sentimental, but now he felt it all at once.

He could hardly describe his exact feeling, because he had no exact feeling. Now he understood all the human emotions you spoke of, a pity he could only understand now, on your deathbed.

The birds were singing, it was a beautiful day, the sun had the most beautiful glow. And yet Morax was there, on the grass with you in his arms, crying in despair like never before. The blood that stained the green of the vegetation, and the pain that remained impregnated in Morax's soul.

And then, like one of those tricks played by fate, everything fell silent. Morax sobbed softly, and made one last plea, "Don't leave me, I really care for you. I love you, stay here." He held your hand tightly, seeing how small it was compared to his.

It was the first time he had been that clear, he had never really opened his heart to you, a shame that the first time he said 'I love you', you were no longer there to hear it.

And as soon as he realized it, a faint cry was all that came out of Morax's mouth, followed by an audible sob. He realized that you died there, nestled in his arms, holding his hand, so angelic.

His beloved had left him, eternally.

Millennia had passed since your death, 3.800 years to be exact. Yet this hurt Morax so much that he was never able to forget you.

Even though he left the Archon life aside, now going by another name, Zhongli, and leading a more modest life as a simple Liyue citizen, the memories he had with you were vivid, shining like gold in his memory.

He martyred himself every day, he blamed himself, a guilt that he would never be able to eliminate from his chest, he would give everything, even his life for you to come back.

And today this feeling was stronger than ever, because it was the day of your death, the day you left him alone in this world. Another year had passed, and even so it seemed like yesterday when you died, at least that's how Morax felt.

And as he did every year, he bought your favorite flowers, picked them carefully to make sure that you would like them. Plus he provided the wine of his choice, it was the only thing that made his mind clear on a day like this, even if he wasn't very used to all that drinking.

When he was ready, he went to your tomb, which was made in the Guili Plains, the place where everything began, and also where everything ended. He always kept your grave clean, after all he visited you every day, no matter how hectic his routine could be, he would always come to your grave daily.

"I missed you, my dear." He says these words to the wind, anyone passing by would think he was crazy, but he didn't care.

He always spent hours talking to you, talking about everything that had changed, and how he had changed. He always thought that no matter where you were, you could always hear him.

Gently he put the flowers on the grave, and sat down on the floor, while pouring himself some wine. "I just wanted to remind you that I love you, more than anything else."

On a day like today, he wouldn't even try to hold back the tears, or the pain in his chest. He caught himself thinking how proud you would be to see the progress Liyue had made, how beautiful the city looked now.

He wanted to show you that he understood what you said in the last minutes of your life, he wanted to show you that you had become a better person. This was due to a great influence of yours, who now was not here to accompany him on this journey.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry for everything I did, my beloved. You would think it magnificent the way everything has progressed, how humans could achieve so much." His voice choked, his face red as the tears came down without stopping.

'His beloved' , was so sweet when it came out of his lips, but so melancholy by the look in his eyes, those gentle golden eyes that expressed so much sorrow.

A love ended in such a way could hurt so much, and Morax knew it. He had experienced it so harshly, but he stood firm to keep the nation you two had fought so hard for standing, and he would keep fighting because he thought it was the way to repay you for all you had done for him.

Every time he remembered you crumbling in his arms, his heart squeezed in such a way. Your face paled along with your frail body, looking as if it would break at any moment. And with that he remembered how much he missed you in his arms, your laughter, the warmth of your body, your beautiful face.

He missed it all, and remembered these moments bitterly, but also joyfully, because he remembered when you were still with him.

He would protect the people at all costs, and keep everything safe as long as he was alive, he would watch over everything you believed in. He would gladly do this for the rest of his days.

Now all he could do was wait, wait for him to take his last breath. And then finally, finally he could meet you, and tell you everything that happened during those years.

#genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin x you #genshin imagines #genshin x y/n #zhongli x reader #zhongli x y/n #zhongli #zhongli imagines #genshin angst #zhongli angst #zhongli x you

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clementine-thedestroyer · 7 months

Text

Kinktober day 3/4: body writing + body worship - Scaramouche x reader

Warnings: fem!reader, afab terms, nsfw, it may be a stretch to call this body worship but shhh. You and scaramouche are in a relationship, and he’s a sweet brat.

Scaramouche has a body writing kink, and you indulge him in it. He’s a bit bratty, but sweet.

Scaramouche had a hand on your back, not quite holding you down, but keeping you in place. He’d been at this for a while now, and by now, you were regretting agreeing to this idea of his in the first place.

You groaned and propped yourself up on your elbows, looking behind you and shooting Scaramouche the most fed-up glare you could muster. Only for him to flash you his signature shit-eating grin and typical assurances.

“I’m almost done! I swear!” He said, laughing as he gently tried to push you back into place on the bed.

“Scara! You said that 20 minutes ago!!”

“But this time I mean it!”

You groaned, begrudgingly laying back down on your stomach and huffing in annoyance. You were bored out of your mind- yet Scaramouche was apparently having the time of his life.

“You know, if you let me see what you’re writing, I might be more tolerant.” You say, still pouting.

Your boyfriend laughed, the mattress dipping down as he sat to your side and began to draw something on your lower waist. “Nope! It’s a surprise! You can’t look till I’m done.”

God. You could practically hear how hard he was grinning in his voice, and you couldn’t help but wonder what the fuck he was doing.

After a few more (barely tolerated) minutes, Scaramouche scooted across the mattress to sit in front of you, tapping your cheek to get your attention.

“Look up for me.” he said, grinning, as always.

You eyed the uncapped black marker in his hand warily, looking up but pulling your face away from him as you protested. “Scara, you’re not going to write on my face with a permanent marker.”

Scaramouche threw his head back and whined dramatically, looking down at you with pleading eyes. “Pleaseee? Just a little! And it’s not a permanent marker, it’s a body marker!”

You groaned, rolling your eyes but giving in. “Fine. But no words, and only a little.”

Scaramouche grinned, taking your face in his hand as he made a small mark under and to the side of your eye, along the highest point of your cheekbone. After making the mark he gave you a once over, nodding in approval and snapping the cap back onto the marker.

“Can I look yet?” You asked, grumbling as you looked up at him, annoyed with his slow pace.

Scaramouche doesn’t respond, smirking and wrapping his arms around your waist, hauling you into his lap and facing the two of you towards the full length mirror hanging on the back of his door. “Look.” He commands, taking your face and gently turning it towards the mirror.

You can help but gasp. You knew he had done a lot, but god- he really wrote a lot. You also couldn’t help but be… suprised by the nature of the markings.

You had expected to find yourself covered in every manner of degrading and vulgar words and phrases- but instead, Scaramouche had covered you in words of praise, loving sentiments, and sweet little doodles.

Your eyes stung and you blinked back tears as you glanced over the marks. It was sickly sweet- all of it. From the way he had drawn hearts and written praise over all your insecurities, to how he’d repeatedly written “Mine.” over and over across your skin. And of course, a small heart on your cheek.

Scaramouche ran his hands along your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder as he murmured into your ear. “What’s the matter dear? Don’t like it?”

“I-I do- I’m just- I was expecting…”

“What? For me to write “slut” and “whore”?” Scaramouche grinned, sliding his arm up to knead your breast in his hand. “I was too…. But I decided I wanted to appreciate my girlfriend today- cause I probably don’t do it enough.”

You scoffed, still unable to take your eyes off your reflection. “Who are you, and what did you do with my boyfriend?”

Scaramouche didn’t answer. Instead, smiling and kissing you as his hands lovingly caressed your body, eventually pulling you backwards and onto the bed with him to properly appreciate his work.

Extra bit:

“Since you used a body marker- that means it’ll come off in the shower, right?” You asked, looking up towards your boyfriend’s suddenly guilty face.

“Um... Sure, (y/n). Sure.”

Kinktober 2023 Masterlist

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just-some-random-blogger · 1 year

Note

Hi !

So your daemon targaryen x stark wife reader reminds me of shameless (kev and veronica)

Like daemon going in the room where the reader is in labor

- Im here , are you ok !

- you need to get the fuck out im having triplets

- triplets ,TRIPLETS ....i have a magic cock

-WILL YOU SHUT THE FUCK UP

Turns to the maesters : I HAVE A MAGIC COCK

✨Magic✨

[Blurb I for the Stark!Reader Universe]

Daemon Targaryen x Stark!Reader

Summary: "Daemon can choke on his magic," -his wife.

Word Count: >200

Warnings: mentions of genitalia, crackfic, fluff, typos, etc.

A/N: i debated whether i should fashion this as a fic cos i really just wanted to answer anon and ended up writing something anyway anon here's my response to your ask: DFHKASHFLAHSFLANCKNASCLAJSCOHWEFNASNAS:LN I saw this ask when I woke up and was so focused on the fact i didn't know shamelss kev and veronica that i did research, decided i really did not know it, then went to class after deciding i would reply when i got home. BUT THE DIALOGUE ALSFHASHFLASFASFHAS HAHAHHAHAHA GOLDEN and for that I will give you a crumb ig i'll tag my lovers @deniixlovezelda & @pinksirensong cause i ended up writing something also @nyctophilic0vitnir lest you think im personally attacking you again Here's the main fic "A Ring is Merely Jewelry and Marriage a Contract" & Blurb II

"My princess."

"Is something a matter?" I ask the maester as he withdraws from me.

"The rate in which you have been advancing in your pregnancy had raised my suspicions, but now I am certain."

"Is something wrong? Is she hurt? And the baby?" Daemon questions, stiffening as he leaned closer to the maester.

"Not at all, your graces," he quickly replies.

We both sigh in relief.

"But it seems you will have your hands very full once the princess gives birth. She is carrying multiples."

"Multiples?" my face contorts.

"Yes. Two or, as I suspect with her size, possibly more."

My eyes twitch.

"Well, how many could one woman carry?" Daemon places a hand on my belly.

I shoot him a dirty look, but his face is blank.

"I have once birthed four babies at once."

"FOUR?! OUT OF ONE VAGINA?! AND THAT'S GOING TO BE MINE??!?!"

The maester clears his throat. Daemon muffles his laugh as he bends down to brush his cheek on my belly. As much as I am soothed by his sentiment, it was fleeting as suddenly he blurts, "I've got a magic cock."

"What?"

"I said I have a-"

I kick him off the bed and growl at him.

He laughs as he look up at me, "well, your cunt is equally magical, my love."

I grab the maester's tools and chuck it to his face.

#daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen x stark!reader #ask #anon ask #daemon blurb #daemon x wife!reader #house of the dragon fanfic #daemon targaryen fanfic #daemon fanfic #daemon targaryen #daemon x reader #daemon #daemon targaryen x you #daemon fic #hotd fanfic #daemon fluff #daemon targaryen fluff

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romanarose · 6 months

Text

Flannel

Jackson!Joel Miller x gn!reader

Masterlist : Taglist

Summary: Joel comes back from patrol with some clothes for you, but doesn't understand the sentimentality of your old one.

Warnings: Uh nothing?

Immersability: Reader is gender neutral bc I saw no reason to have a gender, however, i generally write fem!reader so if I slip up and used a pronoun or something fem presenting, let me know!

**************

"Honey?" You call to your husband downstairs. Joel was cooking dinner. It was getting chilly, even with the generated heat in Jackson, and you wanted to wrap up in your favorite flannel. It was a worn thing, dirty and stained and more than a few patches but it was a comfort to you.

"Hm?" Joel couldn't hear you. His hearing in his bad ear had only gotten worse as he aged, so you hopped your way down the stairs to see him. God he looked good with an apron on.

"Joel, baby, have you seen my flannel?"

He turned to you as he stirred the soup. It smelled amazing. "The one I just brought back? It's on the bed, last time I saw."

Joel had found a box of old winter clothes while looking through houses on an overnight search, and stole a flannel aside just for you earlier this week. It was a great flannel, thick and warm and durable, and you were so, so grateful, but not the one you were looking for.

You shook your head. "No, not that one." Taking out spoon, you sneak a sip of the tomato soup he had been brewing; garlic bread was in the oven.

"Hey." Joel playfully smacked your hand away. "I promised Ellie taste tasting."

"Damn right you did!" Ellie sauntered in, snatching the spoon away as Joel obligatory reminded her of her manners. "Delicous, when's dinner?"

Peeking in the oven, Joel decided the toast was toasty enough and grabbed a oven mitt. "I think right about now." Ellie woops and Joel turns to you. "Sorry darl'n, what was it you were look'n for?"

"My old flannel." You clarify. "I was hanging up last I rememeber."

Joel instructed Ellie to set the table, please and thank you. "Oh that old old thing? I donate it last week after I brought you a new one."

"Donated it? To who? I was falling apart." You begin to panic, heart beating at the thought of your comfort item being gone. Why would Joel do that? You had to get it back.

Looking confused, he set up dinner, even platting up yours and Ellie's soup and bread and a simple salad. "To scraps. You said it yourself, it was falling apart."

"But Joel, why? It was mine."

"Technically, it was mine." Joel tried to joke, but when Ellie cough, he looked to her and she made a face at him. Joel turned to you and saw your forlorn expression, he realized this wasn't a joke. "I'm sorry, baby. I thought you wouldn't need it since I got you a knew one."

"Joel, you can't just give away things that are mine…"

He nodded, setting down the food to give you his full attention. "You're right, darl'n." Joel took you in his arms, kissing your forehead. "I really am sorry, do you forgive me?"

You did, and you told him as much, then tried to sit down for a meal with your family. Joel clocked right away something was wrong, but opted to wait until family dinner was over. When he found you crying in the bedroom, he knew he fucked up, he just didn't understand why. It was just a flannel, a flannel that was useless. In fact, he specifically got the new one for you so that you could get rid of it. Joel thought you deserved the best, and he'd give you the best he could provide.

"Darl'n?" He asked carful as he approached. "What's wrong?"

You sniffle, wiping your eyes. "I'm sorry, I was trying to get it together."

"Is this about the shirt?"

"Yeah."

"But... Why? I'm sorry baby, I know you wanted to keep it... but I don't understand wasting your tears on it?" He cleared his throat. "Not that it's not important, it obvious is, I just don't understand... why?"

You smile at him, knowing he's trying him best. It was sweet, how much effort he put into being a good husband for you and a good dad for Ellie. "Do you remember the day you found me?"

"Clear as day."

It wasn't a fond memory to Joel. He was out on patrol when you came across you, starving and cold and stumbling; he wrapped you up in his flannel and took you on his horse to Jackson, and you never gave it back. To you, the flannel smelled like safety, like home. Wrapped up in its warmth that day, it smelled like Joel and in his arms you knew you were safe.

"That flannel makes me feel safe because it reminds me of you, it reminds me of the day you saved me, it makes me feel safe..."

Joel started carefully. "Darl'n, do you not feel safe?"

You shook your head vehemently, shaking off with it such a notion. "I feel safe, especially with you." Resting your head on his shoulders, you take his scent that comforted you so much. "It's just... I dunno, like a kid with a blanket or teddy, I guess."

Joel nodded. "I'm really sorry, darl'n. Really. I'll check by first thing tomorrow, see if they havn't cut it up and repurposed it yet, okay?"

"Yeah, okay." You sniffle, rubbing your face on his shirt but he didn't seem to mind. "And it's okay, you didn't mean anything by it."

It was already cut up, to late and too tattered to save in any meaningful way. He let you know, but you didn't seem so upset anymore; Joel had let you pick out a shirt of his to steal from now on, and you had already assumed it was gone.

What you didn't know is Joel had saved the scraps, taking them over to Maria and asking for help. He wasn't a creative by any means, but he did know how to sew a little. Being a single dad on a tight budget he had gotten hang of fixing up holes.

What he didn't know was what to do with the fabric; the final project was Maria's idea. She cut out the pattern for him and gave him the stuffing as well as a place to work away from your eye. When it was done, Joel held it up to her, rather proud. It turned out pretty nice.

"Darl'n?! You home?" Joel called a few days later.

"Upstairs, Joel!"

Joel approaches you doing the laundry, wearing the new flannel no less. His hands were behind his back. "I got a surprise you for you."

The broad smile on his face piqued your interest. "Oh?"

With pride, Joel reveals to you a plaid, stuffed, teddy bear.

"Joel..." You speak softly, taking the toy in your hands "Is that...?"

"My shirt? Yes ma'am." He was beaming. "They had already cut it up by the time I got to up, but I was able to save the scraps. Maria helped me with a pattern and we got this put together."

Tears welled up in your eyes, spilling over quickly. "Oh honey..."

His face flattered. "Oh, was I not supposed to-" You cut him off with a hug, burying you head in the warmth of his chest that had softened in age. "This is the sweetest thing anyone has done for me..."

You slept with the teddy bear in your arms, Joel's arm around you that night. This was even better than a flannel. The flannel would continue to wear and tear, needing to be patched up and cleaned the stains out of. A teddy bear would be there forever.

Just like Joel

*******************

Sweet baby Joel, trying his best <3

I have a tag list, if you'd like to join it's linked above??

@fandxmslxt69 @k-ra @whatthefishh @campingwiththecharmings @ahookedheroespureheart @littlenosoul @runa-falls @stevenandmarcslove @scarletthefierce @pikapuff-316 @del-ightfulling @miraclesabound @kirsteng42 @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #soft joel miller #tlou #the last of us #tlou fanfiction #tlou fic #gender neutral reader #gn reader #joel miller x gn reader #joel miller x you #joel the last of us #joel tlou #joel miller is a sweetheart #fluff #joel miller fluff #the last of us smut #tlou smut

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writingquestionsanswered · 25 days

Note

Many artists are wary of AI. I've been using Chat Gpt and come to the realization that with my kids, school and other life obligations I need to use AI in my writing process. No, I'm NOT using the AI's writing or passing it on as mine. It's for plotting, character arcs and to help me get over writers block. I'm conflicted. I just don't have the time to write that I wish I did. :( if I use AI am I not a real writer?

Using AI as a Writer

I want to preface this by saying that we are quite literally in the Wild West when it comes to AI and how it fits into the creative world. The technology is still evolving. The legalities of use are still evolving. Public sentiment and codes of ethics are still evolving... the only definitive answer I can give on the topic of using AI in writing is that you should never use it to write all or part of your story.

Using AI as a tool to help you think through plot problems, flesh out character arcs, and move past story road blocks in and of itself is something many writers and writer organizations have embraced. You're still doing the actual writing, plotting, character arc design, etc. yourself.

However, if you're using AI to generate your entire plot, characters, character arc, etc., it gets into a bit of a gray area for me. Yes, you're still doing the actual writing, but are you a landscape painter if you only do paint by number? I'm not sure. Yes, you're technically moving the brush and making the strokes, but your brain didn't imagine the imagery and your skills didn't know what colors to use or where to put the shadows. So I'm not sure where that leaves writing. And my bigger concern is that you're not putting in the work to improve your craft, so you may get stories or books out there, but you don't have the writing skills to back them up.

What I can tell you is this: people still write when they have kids, and jobs, and school, and various other responsibilities and dependents. They may only write for twenty minutes a day, or once a week for an hour, but they find the time. And some don't... some put off writing until the kids are older or the other obligations let up... either route is fine. I guess what I'm saying is I don't think not having time or energy is a good excuse for using AI or over-relying on it. But, I also don't think you should feel bad if you're simply using it as a tool to help flesh out your own thoughts and ideas. ♥

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kairiscorner · 10 months

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(this is my first time writing for earth-42 miles, so please correct me if i get him wrong, ty !)

(reblogs are greatly appreciated, it helps get my content out there! if you guys like what you see, please reblog it too <:D)

((also i'll be distinguishing miles 42 from miles 1610 through his second name, gonzalo, PLEASE CORRECT ME IF IT'S TOO WEIRD/INCORRECT IN THE FIRST PLACE TY... + ART IN THE PIC IS NOT MINE, I JUST EDITED IT, CTTO.))

miles-42 and miles-1610 x reader (twin au <33)

you had known the morales boys your entire life, they were sweet and caring, though only one of them was vocal about it; the other made it hard for you to tell if he cared or just waited for you to shut up and leave him alone. either way, both loved you just as much as you loved them, maybe even a bit more than you believed.

the two were partners in crime, whatever one did, they were sure to have the other's back. be it escaping home for the night to hang out with you, graffitiing some public place behind their dad's back, sneaking into their uncle aaron's place to hang out--they always had each other to get themselves out of trouble.

the two shared everything, as well. in common sibling, and of course, twin, fashion, their shared clothes, a room, a family--and of course, lives together. they were like two peas in a pod, quite literally; they'd share each other's joys, pain, anger, sadness... it was like a twin sense they had, an instinct that everything the one had, the other had to have, too.

but some things just weren't supposed to be shared, and even for the two close brothers, they knew that sentiment very well. there were days when the twins would hide things from each other, some feelings of jealousy, anger, or even... kind of just insecurity about not having what the other has--it hurts them sometimes that they know they can't share everything they have with each other.

even you.

they knew you since they were kids, teased you a whole lot, but protected you when you needed them. they were your best friends of all, even if other friends left you or you left them, they were the ones who stuck by your side the most, who you knew best. they were the real ones, and they loved you a whole lot; you were practically part of their family, as per what rio and jeff told you.

but even if you three were friends your whole lives, the two felt... different about it. as if they thought 'friends' was an incorrect label for what they wanted to be with you. they were big dreamers, both of them were–but the biggest dream of all, for both of them, was to make you theirs. and they don't mean to share you, they mean you pick either of them, be it gonzalo or miles.

gonzalo is subtle about dropping hints on how much he likes you, he only gives you a small sliver, a small taste of how much he really feels about you. he keeps you company when you're lonely, and he doesn't chat up a storm as much as his twin; in fact, you barely notice he's there, but somehow, you feel comfortable and safe around, especially when you finally notice him there.

you feel bad that he sometimes goes unnoticed to you when he hangs around you, but he doesn't mind–he can want you attention, it's a big honor for him to have it all to himself, but he wants to earn your attention, not force it out of you.

unlike miles, gonzalo is more of a listener, like a really intent listener. miles is great to talk to, it's a two-way street, you talk and listen, he talks and listens; but gonzalo always seems to listen, just mainly listening to you is the best he can do.

he didn't really feel like he was the best person to go to for advice, he'd rather listen to your problems and help you solve it on your own. he's unsure of how to solve a lot of problems on his own, so helping other people solve theirs? yeah, he worries a whole lot about what he says, even if he doesn't show it.

he cares about you so much, and he knows how capable you are, he tends to worry less in general because he trusts you so much. but if you really needed him, oh goodness, boy does not hold back on helping you, defending you, even.

he appears scary to a lot of people, and he uses that to his advantage. one time, you needed him to pretend to be your boyfriend for a couple of days, just to shake off some creeps who can't take the hint that you weren't interested. it got to the point where, when miles wasn't around, gonzalo confronted those guys and, nonchalantly, threw their lunch in their faces.

he did not flinch at all, and, without hesitation, he took your hand and ran away with you out of the cafeteria. when you asked him where he was taking you, he just said he'd take you far away from them, and even if they'd follow you, he'd beat their asses for real. like hell he'd let anything happen to you, let anyone else think they can have you.

"i held back because i'm a nice guy, like you say. and because i'm nice, i won't beat the crap out of them, yet. but they gotta understand... they can never be with you the way we're together."

you thought you knew what gonzalo meant to say, you thought he meant it in the nicest, friendliest way possible--and he sort of did, but he meant that... no one else can have what he wants with you; this romance with you that he's pictured in his head over and over again, but is too afraid to tell you and own up to his feelings.

he's scared he'll scare you away and lose you.

unlike miles, who always seems to share a laugh with you. miles is sometimes mistaken as your boyfriend, what with your friends and your parents always seeing you two together. you both loved art and music, hung out together several times, even without gonzalo, to share the pieces you two made, listen to music together, maybe graffiti a few walls here and there without his dad knowing; it was bliss, being with miles.

miles made you feel like the world was your oyster, he never restricted you to anything because he knew what it was like to be restricted from a lot of things.

unlike gonzalo, miles talks to you while he listens. he offers you advice, tries to solve your problems for you. and though you really appreciate his help, you somehow feel like he makes it his duty to take up your burdens and make them his own. miles has always been that way, selfless and people-loving, but it hurt you a lot to know that miles can't even help himself first a lot of the time.

he keeps telling you he's okay, he's not at all in any trouble, and even if he looks okay, you knew for a fact those were lies. miles wasn't the best liar, he was kind of compulsively lying, but the only lies he ever told you and everyone else he knew and cared about were that he was okay.

you really wanted to help him, but miles is stubborn; he insists he doesn't need help, he's "okay! what about you?" that's all he ever retorts with. as much as you loved miles, there were just times when you couldn't help him, not because you weren't just sure where to start, but he really closed himself off a lot of the time.

but, he's trying. he expresses himself through his art, and slowly, all his feelings unravel when you ask him about it. he could go on for hours on end about how much he put his feelings, his thoughts, his ideals into his work; how much love he imbued in every single bit of it.

one time, he made you a portrait; he was doing it subconsciously, maybe he did out of longing for you because he made it when you and your family were on vacation. he didn't realize it was you until gonzalo pointed it out, and slowly, he came to draw you, illustrate you, more and more, with and without him realizing that, in all his works... you're always the constant.

gonzalo encouraged him to hand it to you when you got back, but he was scared; what if you found it weird? what if you found it creepy? what if it was actually disproportionate to how you really looked? would you even recognize it was you?

but despite his overwhelming thoughts, he decided that he'd find out the answers when you gave it to him. and thus, he presented it to you the day you came home.

he hesitated, of course, he was nervous--fumbling over his words and laughing awkwardly to himself as you looked at the portrait.

"i know, i know, it's... kinda weird, no? like, out of the blue, you just came to mind. and i guess my hands just had minds of their own, it seems. ha, ah, um, well... hah, do you like it? is it... any good, or...?"

when you told him, without a second thought, that you loved it; he was so relieved. his confidence came back and he showed you more of what he made. though he was a little embarrassed because he thought some parts were off, some parts didn't capture the right essence of you--all that mattered to him was that you were happy, you liked what he made you.

but he could never tell you why you came to mind those days, why you were all he could think of that he drew you over and over and over again. when he listened to his favorite songs, only you came up to mind.

he's scared that if he tells you, he loses you.

the twins talked about how they felt about you to each other, and they came to a joint conclusion: they both loved you. well, that was okay, sort of... not that they'd stop being brothers if you liked either one of them.

"you know i'm not gonna lose to you though, right? i like them a whole lot, and... i care about them."

"hah, what makes you think i don't feel that way about them, too? you watch your back, brother, they'll be mine in no time."

guess it's double the trouble for you, with both morales boys pursuing you and your love.

a/n: yes i was inspired by the scene in the movie, you got me <33

#earth 1610 miles #earth 42 miles #earth 42 miles fluff #earth 1610 miles fluff #miles morales x reader #miles morales x you #miles morales x y/n #miles morales fluff #miles morales imagine #miles morales #miles morales scenario

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