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gomzwrites · 1 year

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Task force 141 found out about your soft spots

Summary: You’re one of the members in the taskforce, and you’re one of the more quiet, self-reserved and stoic soldiers among them. They didn’t mind since they respected your personal space, but at some point, they saw just a glimpse of your rather different, softer side. a/n: I’ve had this idea in mind for a long time and just wanted to get this out there, English is not my main language so I apologize for any mistakes along the way! This is also my first fic so feedbacks are appreciated :] Tags: incorrect military terms/training, fluff, can be read as platonic or romantic, x gn!reader, reader's text is in purple Part 2 is out! PLEASE DO NOT RESHARE MY WORK ON OTHER PLATFORMS WITHOUT MY PERMISSION

Captain John Price

You were on a mission with Price in another city, stalking and trailing the target, when suddenly the target decided to take a turn and entered a cafe. With the captain’s signal, both of you followed and took a spot in one of the corners in the warm, bustling cafe. It was a perfect atmosphere; the cafe was not necessarily noisy, but the number of people and music were busy enough for you and your captain to stay hidden and blend in well. You kept a keen eye on the target, noticing that he was in the queue and, so far, not presenting any signs of danger or threats. The captain gave your foot a nudge as he diverted your attention to the young waitress beside the table that you didn’t notice. "Hi! What would you like to order?" The waitress spoke in the local language that you didn't understand, but you knew she was most likely trying to take an order with the way she held a small notepad and a pen. You gave a small nod as you glanced at Captain for a moment, who was also reading the menu. You do the same, only frowning slightly as you couldn't read anything as well, and because you wanted to get this over with, you randomly pointed at one item to the waitress as she smiled and jotted down your order.

When the waitress walked away, you followed the captain’s gaze on the target; it seemed that he was still in line. You're slightly confused but relieved that the target remains in sight. Not long after, the drinks ordered previously arrived, but your eyes remained fixated on the sketchy figure. It wasn't until the Captain cleared his throat that you broke your gaze and stared down at the table. You froze slightly at the sight before you.

You watched a little wiggle action of the foam on top of what you assume is coffee before you. Except it's not the normal flat latte art kind of foam, but a huge bear foam with a cute face drawn with chocolate. You blink once, then twice before releasing a breath you didn't know you were holding.

This is so cute!!

You thought to yourself internally as you felt yourself smiling, before realising the situation at hand as you snapped your head towards the captain, hoping he didn't see you, and to your relief, his eyes were still glued to the target. You take this opportunity to slowly take out your phone and take a quick picture of the drink before doing the same and observing the target again. As soon as you do, the target made its move and headed to the exit, which made the both of you follow promptly, seemed like he had a bag as well which was definitely not good news. You were a bit disappointed that you were not given the chance to try the cute drink, but you know you have a job to do, so you just hope that perhaps you can take a closer look again at the coffee later on your phone.

What you didn’t know was how the Captain noticed the change in your demeanour when you spotted the drink; he honestly wasn't expecting much from you, thinking you might just ignore it. But he saw from the corner of his eyes just how your eyes widen slightly, how they are shining when you realize what you ordered, and the way your cheeks had a shade of pink on it as you smile. He rarely gets to see you smile, and he found it endearing to think a cold soldier like you has a liking for cute things. He smiled internally as he noticed how you took the photo sneakily when you thought he wasn’t looking.

He made a mental note to bring you to a cafe he knows that have those famous latte art drinks after the mission, just to see you smile like that again.

John Soap MacTavish

The military base has decided to bring in military working dogs to aid in the next mission, which involves scouting and detection for drug detection at the port, where secret drug trafficking from a certain group of terrorists has been reported.

"Soap, you’re assigned to Max and Judy; you’ll have to talk to Sergeant Sam about the training," the Captain says as he walks through the compound. You noticed how Soap seemed to tense slightly as he clenched his jaw; you also noticed how his breath hitched as he stared at the two German shepherds standing on the sides of the dog handler; you knew he had a bad history with canines in general when you stumbled upon his journal once; and seeing how uncomfortable he was, you decided to step up for the job.

"Captain, can I do it instead?" The captain glanced back, his beard shifting as he thinks for a moment before nodding and giving you permission. Soap stared at you upon hearing your voice and gave you an apologetic yet grateful look as he breathed out a sigh of relief.

"Aye thanks… Let me know if yae ever need something from meh in the future."

He watched as you gave him a gentle pat on his shoulder as you nodded. Unbeknownst to him, you actually own a German Shepherd yourself, and you’re very much a dog person, and you’re excited to start the training with the military dogs. He stood on the side as you approached the two dogs, nodding along to the instructions given by Sam. As you bent down and extended your hand out, the two dogs gave a few sniffs before finally warming up to you, with their tails wagging as they circle your body. He’s impressed with how friendly you seem with animals, and you were natural with the dogs.

After the training, he went around looking for you as he held a bottle of ice-cold mineral water, hoping that he could give it to you since you were training heavily under the hot, blazing sun. As he turned a corner, right behind the shed, he heard a few barks. He softened his steps as he leant in and took a peek behind the wall, and he was glad he did.

Who’s a good boy? Yes, you are! Yes, you are! Come here! Oooh, such a big boy are you? You did such a great job with me just now~ oh! No wait wait- aH-!

He watched with a grin as he took in the image before him. You, giggling and rolling on the floor as the dogs lick and nuzzle your face and neck, having fun and relaxing with the dogs. He would almost forget that they were military dogs, and yet, with you? They looked domestic. On top of that, he has never heard you laugh or speak like this before; sure, you were using a baby voice and all as you cooed the dog, but he didn’t care because you have the softest yet brightest giggle, a stark contrast to your usual stoic self. He left after watching you for a while, smiling as he walked away to let you have your moments with the doggies. Next time, he’ll definitely want to join you in the training if it means getting to see this side of you more often.

Kyle Gaz Garrick

You groan as you sit on the passenger side as Gaz drives the Jeep. It was almost 9.30 pm as you were both ordered to buy a few furniture pieces, tables, and chairs specifically as an emergency thanks to Soap breaking them when he was messing around earlier.

"Why can’t we buy it tomorrow?"

Gaz asks as he, too, frowns and crosses his arms as a yawn escapes his mouth.

"We have a meeting with the other members from London tomorrow, and we can’t make them sit on the floor now, can we?"

Captain replied with a sigh as he frowned; he too was tired and annoyed with the situation, but he has a point. Gaz has asked you for help since the furniture needs to be carried, and you followed along (not without silently complaining).

The day has been terrible for you, it seems like bad luck was looming around your shoulders in every moment. Just this morning, you stubbed your toe and you couldn’t find your left sock, then sprained your shoulder slightly during the sparring session with Ghost. Not only that, the sandwiches that you always order for dinner were out of stock, so overall, you’re not having the best day. But who can you blame? You just decided to suck it up as you nod and follow Gaz.

After parking a spot in IKEA, both of you decided to split up to find the respective wood and parts of the tables and chairs that, thankfully, the details of them have been sent to you by the Captain, so that the process can be faster before the store closes for the night. You sigh as you place the last part of the table in the trolley, crossing off the last serial number and name. You walk towards the place that Gaz told you to meet up with before stopping when you walk past the kid's section.

There it is, in all its glory: Djungelskog and the other notable plushies in the corner. Truth be told, you actually own two Blåhaj (they're in your house) and a baby Blåhaj in the quarters. You’re a big fan of plushies, especially the ones from IKEA and Miniso. You just haven't saved up enough cash to bring the big brown bear home. You take a step, then another, inching closer to the tray, until you’re right in front of the bear. You glanced around to make sure no one is around before you gently pick up the bear, thankful that there weren't many people in the first place due to the late hour. Without a second thought, you gave in and squish your face into its tummy as you give a big sigh and hug it tightly, smiling to yourself as you feel the stress dissolving away. Something about burying yourself in the soft cushion of cotton is healing for you; it gives you a safe, warming feeling, and it reminds you of the comfort that you never got much of as a kid.

You gave it a few more squeezes before finally parting ways with the bear, softly nudging its nose a few times as you whispered softly:

I swear I’ll come and bring you home next time I come.

You smile and place the bear back in its original position, glancing at it one last time as you spot Gaz in the distance, then swiftly push the trolley towards him. Gaz pays for the parts, and both of you head to the car. You get ready in your seat and fasten the seatbelt before Gaz speaks up.

"Oh, I forgot something. Give me a sec"

You haven’t even had the chance to ask back as he bolted back into IKEA. What did he forget? All the parts have been bought, and the store is nearing its closing time as well, but whatever it is, you waited patiently.

Maybe it's because of the long day, but as you rested your head on the window, you dozed off while you were waiting and didn’t wake up until you heard the driver's side car door open.

"Sorry it took awhile, we’ll go back now"

You nod sleepily as you murmur. "What did you forget?"

"Oh, don't worry about it", Gaz replies as he presses the gas pedal and promptly drives back to the base. You didn’t question further; you figured he probably needed something himself.

You went straight to bed after dropping off the equipment for Soap and Ghost to handle, immediately passing out as you landed on the soft bed.

The next morning, you were getting ready for the day as you stretched, satisfied that at least the sleep last night was good enough. As you open the door, a soft material lands in your room with a soft “umph” sound, you immediately look down cautiously, and that's when you see it.

Djungelskog, with its head tilted to your side as its fluffy hand remains on its tummy, on your floor. You were confused, and frankly, you were not awake enough to fully comprehend what just happened. But once you connected the dots, you smiled to yourself as you lifted the bear up and hugged it.

You make sure to buy Gaz something next time as a thank you.

Simon Ghost Riley

The day was mundane; after a few gruelling missions, the task force had many reports to do. You’ve opted to do them in one of the empty meeting rooms; you liked doing work in these rooms more than facing the concrete wall of your own quarters. At least here, the table was wide and it was fairly quiet; sometimes Ghost will join you as he feels the same. You enjoy his presence because, unlike the rest of the group, he is one of the few people you like spending time with in silence. Today was no different.

The hours go by quickly with the room filled with nothing but paper shuffling and turning pages. You sigh as you place down your pen and give a big stretch, deciding to take a break as you stand and move towards the door. The big man himself also follows along; you don’t question it; you figured he might need a break too.

As you walked away from the room, you decided to go to the bathroom. You passed by the training hall as you overheard the Captain and Laswell talking over some topics for the upcoming mission, but something caught your attention.

"....My wife brought cheesecake; it's in the fridge…."

Your ears perked up to the sound of cake; you haven’t had any dessert recently, and you do like cheesecake. You make a mental note to take a trip to the mess hall after using the bathroom, hoping to have a slice yourself.

As you make your way to the fridge silently, you approach the kitchen and let out a soft sigh of relief when the place is empty. You slowly open the door of the fridge as you poke your head in and search for any sign of cake. You were about to give up when you couldn’t see any, but you jolted slightly when you felt a pat on your shoulder. You quickly turn around, only to be met by Ghost again, with a plate in his hand. As you look at the plate, which has a slice of cheesecake, your eyes blink with hope as you slowly glance back at him. He gives you a nod as he hands you the plate, and you nod back as well with a smile, happy and grateful that he saved you a slice. You take a seat at one of the stools and grab a fork as you eat the cheesecake happily. Ghost leaned against the counter opposite you as he makes himself a cup of coffee. He watched silently as your mood seems to improve. Earlier, he saw how you stopped in your tracks when you overheard the conversation, how your eyelashes fluttered, and how your steps grew lighter. He immediately went to the kitchen when you head to the bathroom and managed to pry one last slice of Soap before he finished them, hoping to save you a piece when you come by later. As you take the first few bites with your eyes closed, you give a hum of approval as your shoulders drop. It’s not like the cheesecake was extremely good, but you can tell from the texture that it was homemade. You miss baking yourself; the last time you did it was with a roommate before you joined the military. You missed those silly moments as you clumsily mixed the ingredients and argued with your friend to stop adding too much sugar into the batter, or the time your friend made fun of you for baking the hardest brownies that can break cement if thrown at them. You also tend to have favouritism towards home-cooked stuff, no matter who made it; you always liked how the food tends to taste just slightly better. Is it because of comfort? Or the memories that flood your mind when you take in the smell? You honestly don't know; maybe it's both. Or maybe you like the thoughts and love people put into the meals when they cook. You were so lost in thought that you didn't realise you were swinging your feet idly on the stool. The stool was slightly taller than the regular one, and your legs barely touched the floor.

Ghost finds the view a bit charming—to see you relax and content over a slice of cake. It's not that he is complaining; he just never really saw you this comfortable before. He observes you silently and takes note of how you like to munch on your right cheek more than the left, making it puffy. He chuckles to himself when you start swinging your legs too. He's glad that he managed to snatch the last piece of cake, and perhaps in the near future, he’ll bring you some cake to share with you.

•·················•·················•·················•·················•·················•·················• a/n: that's all! Let me know what you think!! like a part two or something, have a nice day/night! :>

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honestsycrets · 11 months

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enfócate | tutor!miguel o'hara x reader

❛ pairing | tutor!miguel x student!reader, fake boyfriend!peter x reader

❛ type | explicit

❛ summary | jess is clear: miguel o'hara is a terrible boyfriend. he'll inevitably hurt you-- but peter has other ideas. or, you blow miguel in a library.

❛ tags | spanish tutor!miguel, bratty reader, a kiss with Peter, Miguel's jealousy, bjs, fake boyfriend!peter, slight obsessive qualities, fuck buddies, undefined relationships, fuck boy Miguel.

❛ reqs fulfilled | see here.

❛ sy's notes | the pov on this piece bothers me, it jumps between reader and Miguel. however, i did write two separate pieces for this request (a combined 25 pages vs my usual 11/12). so, i decided to meld them together to create this piece. anywho, if it bothers you, i understand! ❤️ I yoinked a lot of the Spanish from my Spanish learners textbook, hopefully, it's acceptable.

He knew he wanted you from the first day he saw you in the tea cafe.

Jess and he rarely visited the tea shop. It was settled on the edge of campus. Close to the social sciences and arts, but far from the work he did in the Genetics department. As a Ph.D. student, however, not all the work was done in the lab. Jess liked to see the different types of people that came to this tea cafe, where the chair cushions were fluffy emerald pillows and plants hovered overhead.

“Miguel? What's---”

You stood apart from the other students with their sloppy, half-cropped, or frumpy appearances, there was a particular care you took to dressing. It was the embroidered bow in your hair that drew his attention. When you left to fetch a refill of chai, he noticed the soft, frilled socks in tiny ankle boots. He just knew you would taste sweet, leering as he watched you at the drink bar. Jess glanced in your direction, the way you adorably bowed your head after the tea artist gave you your drink, and just knew. Jess looked over her shoulder.

“Not her.”

Jess’s voice was a drawn-out sigh of your name, punctuated by her fist beating the table. Miguel perked at the mention of your name. Oh, so she knew you. She was probably sick of his shit. Good, he was also sick of being used as a vibe check for the lesbians she wanted to pick up.

“Don’t you have enough side pieces?”

Miguel didn’t respond.

“She probably has a boyfriend. Or a girlfriend. Look who she's with.”

That finally got a response.

“You don’t know that,” he kept his eyes straight ahead. You caught him staring, wiggling your little fingers in a hello as you sat at a table. "I want her."

You sat with an incredibly frumpy, annoying photography student who once took his picture for the lab website. Could he be… his attention wavered when you pulled out a book: Español para el siglo. His lips quivered into a wildly sardonic grin. Oh no, no no. It was too easy.

“You’ll ruin her. She’s too innocent.”

He leaned in.

“Are you going to help me or not?”

“Buenas tardes,”

Two chairs and a thin desk. The small study room was more of a glorified broom closet for its students. You were lucky that there was a large window that looked out over the student union, flowers blooming up its brick siding. Bits of lush dark green ivy poked into the window’s view from the library’s tall wall. As the sun set on campus, rich orange and pink settled over the sunset on that warm Friday afternoon. At least the sight was pretty for how overwhelmingly small the space was.

It wasn’t the space that bothered you. It was your tutor.

He was big-- big big. Not just a little big, but really big. The kind of big that was on bodybuilding competitions. It made his long, blue-grey muscle shirt and grey sweats look tiny, sucked to his well-pumped muscle. The room felt a lot smaller as you looked at him, his long brown hair whipped back over his neck. His eyebrows raised on his dark forehead, arms turning one over another, a bundle of muscle.

“Ah... you're him? The man from the tea shop.”

He pulled free his sunglasses and set them down. His warm chocolate eyes glanced from the edge of your now too-short skirt to the glint of a dagger necklace that beat between your breasts. He’s staring. Why is he staring-- you finger the dagger between your thumb and index fingers, soothing yourself with the manipulation.

“Miguel.” He warmed, pulling the seat out beside him. His voice was buttery and smooth, almost like rich caramel. The lilt in his voice lightened, inviting you to take a seat by him. You should. You thought. Sit down. “Siéntate."

You stared.

"I said sit down.”

That was a bad idea. You paused, slipping the bag down from under your shoulder and onto the beige tile by the door. Miguel watched every slight movement. That’s fine. It’s natural to do that. You tugged the bottom of your skirt and took a seat beside him. Miguel pushed the chair back in, pushing your chest to the edge of the desk space. Oh-- oh boy, he was strong. Of course, he was, he was built like a--

“Bueno. Now you're settled. How can I help you?”

Do that again.

“Me? Oh! I... Jess said you could help me need to pass a test,” you murmured. The four semesters of Spanish seemed relatively easy compared to being stuffed next to this Adonis in this tiny study room. Your legs settled over your skirt, hands working over one another to will down the pulse of your wily excitement. What was wrong with you? “To pass my language requirement.”

You should have been able to do that alone but-- let’s say you weren’t the most applied to the language in your childhood. A tutor was a great alternative to embarrassment and thousands of dollars in classes. If only he didn’t look like… this. His large hand left the pasty back of your chair.

“Hm,” he paused. “¿Puedes hablar español?”

“Sí,” you murmured. “My mami was-- well, I should have listened to her.”

Hm.

You want to know what Hm means. Your leg tremored on its own accord. He swept a leather bag by his side up and pulled out a thick folder, running across several tabs. Lab notes, diet plans, pruebas.

“It happens,” he notes, sliding a page free. “Let’s see how much you know, princesa.”

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t want to know more, to hear the hum of Spanish bouncing off his lips. It was a world apart from your mother’s shrill screams on Saturday mornings to clean an already clean house. It held its own beauty and mystery when he spoke it. You took the page from him, setting it down on the bland tablespace by your phone, lighting up with a notification.

Jess When you meet Miguel, don’t do it.

"¿Princesa?" you asked.

"You dress like one. Don’t worry if you fail,” you plucked out a pink mechanical pencil, complete with little animated characters tightened around the wrapping. You perked at his words, choking a small smile. “I expect you to.”

Why was he like this? You took another unfortunate look at him, his large forearm plastered over the desk, making the book he had to look like peanuts in comparison. God, he was hot-- you felt comparatively hideous, drooling over a man that was out of your league. Maybe he could be your piece of eye candy this year. Your phone buzzed along the table again. Miguel’s eyes shot to it, a frown pulling at his lips.

Jess Don’t fuck him. He can’t keep his dick to himself.

He reaches over, flipping your phone down with an overworked smile sundering his expression. It’s almost fake.

“Are you…” you turned your eyes to the questions on the page. “A student?”

“Grad student,” Miguel answered. So, older than you then. “I graduated with a BA in Spanish and a BS in Genetics.”

“Oh! A dual degree?” The man couldn’t be normal. He had to do both. “Did it… take a while?”

“No, it was accelerated.”

He was unreal. There was no way this man was ordinary. It was physically impossible for the man to be that hot and successful. You scribbled across the page, nipping the back of your pencil at particularly hard questions.

“So you just do this for… a living?” you asked him.

“I teach and train clients, yes.”

“Train?”

“Gym,” Miguel set his cheek on his fist.

“I do cardio with Jess. No strength training for me.” Jess-- who suggested Miguel to you. You had some shit to bitch at her about the next time you saw her. Namely, why she didn’t warn you about Miguel. He was a boon for chaos in your life.

“I’d waste your time. I’m all marshmallow,” you pat your soft belly. “All pan dulce and burros.”

He chuckled.

“You have a beautiful body.”

And that was that. You set the pencil down on a page half full of answers, glancing toward his full lips. They were quirked into an arrogant smirk. He knew the effect he had on women. He glanced to the page, then to you, his lips growing into a smile laden with arrogance.

“Your hips--” he glanced down, “My girls couldn’t pay to get them.”

He noticed. You supposed that the miniskirt wasn’t the best choice for meeting a new man.

“Do you talk to everyone like this?”

“No. Only the ones that look at me like you did."

Oh.

If it were a game of whom ate whom up first, you had to be honest-- it may have been you. You couldn’t shoot anything back at that, angling your head down at the page guiltily. A sigh fell from his chest. His large hand came to the back of your head, cupping the thick bow on the back of your head. His fingers ran across the silk, teasing it between his fingers.

“Calm down, you’re not the first one to do it. You won't be the last,” he turned your head to look at him, large fingers combing through the strands of your hair. He chased the panic in your wide eyes, doe eyes blown wide. Your heartbeat soared into your chest, choking you there, looking for an outlet from your shame.

“Breathe for me,” he leaned in, his warm breath tingling your ear. His cologne was clean, like the lapse of the waves on the shore back home where the tropical heat was a second skin. You listened, taking a weary, deep breath in, then out again. Again.

“Go on.” His knuckles rapped on the sheet. Miguel’s hand fell away. You found yourself longing for it again.

“He’s gorgeous.”

“I told you not to fuck him," your superior, Jess said, her feet bouncing off the stairstepper effortlessly.

“I didn't-- I just, he called me beautiful.”

“He would call anyone beautiful if it meant fucking them. Don’t fall for it.”

You knew Jess wouldn’t say it unless she were serious. She always knew what you needed help with, where to locate a good solution, and had the right words to calm you down.

“How?” you said, louder than you intended. You were suddenly thankful for the pounding music that beat down on your ears in your school’s gym and the rush of people that came and went. “Jess, you’re a lesbian. You don’t understand-- he’s thick. Like, he’s luchador status big. Big, big.”

“I’ve dated some thick women.”

“And he likes me,” you said pointedly, rushing to the topmost step, remembering his words. The way he calmed you down from your embarrassment, seeming without concern for his own body. It was… sweet. “Men usually don’t like me, Jess. I’m too… soft.”

“Okay, girl, whatever,” you were pretty sure she rolled her eyes. “Unless you’re going to be another one of his fuck toys, just ignore him.”

“How?”

Her stare trained on the floors lapsed. Thirty and she was still going. “If you don’t want him, just fire him. What’s going to do? Come find you?”

You stopped for the entirety of five… or ten seconds. Enough to consider her words. Enough to quite literally get plop off the stair stepper and onto the cold floor. Jess exhaled a stale breath, reaching over to jam the STOP button on your machine. Ow.

“Good job.”

Miguel likes to tutor you. Not because you’re good at Spanish, no, for a girl that grew up with a Spanish mother, your skills are quite poor. But he likes the opportunity to have you in a room all by yourself, late at night. Wednesdays are great days for that.

Your soft buttercup yellow dress is short today, exposing your thick thighs that take up so much of the chair. He pretends that he’s listening as you go over a list of irregular verbs, your lip pouting in response to the irregular verbs. Some were simple in their familiarity like poder with endings such as pudiste; but the plurals and other irregular verbs, you pouted at. It was cute.

“Miggy, it’s not funny, ” Oh, nicknames now. Miguel throws a glance at your glossy lips, undoubtedly sticky but oh so soft looking.

“I never said it was.”

“You’re smirking.”

“Then don’t whine,” he said. “It’s cute.”

“Oh--” As to be expected, you shifted your hands between your legs, drawing your skirt in between your legs. He faltered and took a glance, coasting his eye over its edges and memorizing the way it fell over your skin. You’ll ruin her, he remembers Jess saying. She wasn’t wrong, he sensed the bit of it now, how close you sat--

“Take a break, princesa. Vocabulary-- ascendencia.”

Rather than take a break, you turned and caught the corner of his lips in what was a terrible, cherry-red kiss that would stain his skin. But the connection of your lips, puckered in a pouting kiss on his skin, caught him off guard.

“Descent,” you took his red pen out of his loose grip, scribbling descent by the word. Fuck. Miguel took a sip of now cold coffee. A smile kept pulling at his cheeks, looking out of the window and catching the slight reflection of your lipstick smeared across his lip and cheek, he bobs his head into a nod.

“Correcto.”

You’re with Peter the first time you see Miguel with another woman.

It’s at lunch. Tuesdays and Thursdays are regularly spent running to the College of Arts, waiting for Peter to get out, and a picnic. Today, you forgot to bring lunch, running off to the union hand wrapped around his elbow as he talked to you about a bright new camera lens filter.

“These new pictures are going to come out perfect! Thanks for lending me the money,” he beamed. You loved the way he talked about his art-- stopping to show you his newest pictures of the camera that hung around his neck. Peter was always good with a camera, catching you in all the prettiest angles in your trade of photos for… sponsoring a lens or whatever. Or, at least, bringing down the cost. “Look at this one. Look how pretty you look in that dress, kinda like a pin-up! We should do some’a those next.”

Feet thumping over the pavement, you failed to sense Miguel's presence until you smelled his peppery cologne carried on the air. There, on a bench, he sat next to a girl. She was pretty, with long dark hair and soft skin. Her hand was on his thigh and his arm around her shoulder, eating the last bit of a flaky empanada-- your eyes burned, the closeness of her head on his shoulder, clearly done and finished, waiting for whatever next plan he had. You don’t want to know what that could be.

“Huh? Oh. hi Miguel!” Peter waved to your dismay. You held onto him a little tighter, wringing circles around his sleeve. Miguel spares you two a glance, his eyebrows pushing together. But he waves, lazy and short. You stifle the hot prick of tears at the corner of your eyes and yank Peter away. “Wha-- I’m coming, I’m coming!"

Days later, Peter has a plan.

“I’ve got it-- the solution to your tea guy problem! You should have told me sooner that it was Miguel.”

Peter was very excited. Why, you weren’t sure. He liked to feel helpful. That’s why he was a photographer. Photography lets others feel beautiful and seen. He picked at your lunch, his head flopped on your thigh as he worked through his camera.

“I’ll be your boyfriend!”

“You want to be my boyfriend?” you offered him a grape. He opened his mouth with an adorable ‘ah’ of his his lips. You slipped the grape between his lips. He chewed appreciatively. “I don’t know, Peter. Isn’t it lying?”

“C’mon, I know Miguel. He’s macho. The kind of guy you have to make jealous. And I can do it! I’m boyfriend material. Aren’t I?”

“Sí. But I don’t think I can make him jealous.”

It was a sunshiney day, sprawled out at lunch on a cool picnic blanket, tracing the clouds when you heard his voice. Soft, smooth, inviting. Your head spun around, this time with a lean blonde-haired girl-- her legs were long, tummy nice and flat, blue eyes shining like little sapphires set in her pale face. She swooned on his arm. The perfect sorority princess. What if he called her princesa, too?

“--close lab with me--”

“I can do it myself.”

Miguel’s eyes caught yours, raising his hand lazily to greet you as he walked down the sidewalk, undoubtedly back to his genetics lab on the other side of campus. Over where brilliant boys and girls and theys were, rushing through accelerated scientific programs while you figured out how to fix broken artifacts. He lived in another impossible world. A realm far away from Peter and you: photography and the maintenance of culture and art.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Peter's eyes were glossy with concern. “It’s okay. We don’t have to-- did I say something wrong?”

You shook your head. Peter sat up, his eyes bounced up-- from Miguel over his shoulder to your sudden sad eyes. Peter set his hand on your cheek, the fibers of his soft pink cardigan tickling your jaw. Your eyes tore from Miguel, whose pace became sluggish as if steps along took immense effort. Peter’s nose bumped against yours, clumsy and oh so Peterish-- his hand on the middle of your back, his warm but cracked lips swallowing the gasp that tumbled from your lips. He tasted of sweet fruit, the sloppy lunch you shared, and a silly comfort.

He watching? Peter murmured against your lips.

You nearly forgot to return the kiss, captured in the way Miguel stared-- something in his warm brown eyes was almost wounded. Peter shoved you onto the picnic blanket, a soft sorry murmured under his breath as his thin frame fell between your legs. Miguel stomped away, his bumbling blonde rushing to keep up.

“Oh yeah,” Peter rolled over onto his back, crossing his legs one over another. You watched Miguel stomp past the tall hedges, out of your line of sight. “He’s gonna be mad at you.”

“Peter!”

Miguel was still in a bad mood hours later.

“¡Qué surpresa!” he murmured, offering you your paper blotted with red circles. “You did remarkably shit on this test. Do you focus on anything? Or just Peter?”

“Perdona me.” Your focus was shot with his consistent presence in your life. Not that he could appreciate that.

“How long are you going to keep wasting my time?”

“Are you talking about the Spanish or--”

Miguel set the red pen down, a sharp slam snapping the pen under his force. The fragile plastic snapped into shards of plastic. He flicked it away, paper and pen both, his large hand flexing in and out of a closed fist. You traced the tracks of his veins along his forearm.

“Are you mad that I kissed you?”

“Stop.”

“Or are you angry that Peter did?”

“Don’t touch me.”

Though he said that, you didn’t listen. You slid out of the chair and in between his spread legs, your hands trailing his handsome jawline. He jerked back when your lips caught his, the legs of his chair hitting the wall. Though he said no, his mouth opened to your kiss, and his palms flushed against your soft cheeks. You pinned him between your body and the wall-- and though you were sure he’d quickly whirl you off if he really wanted to, he didn’t. His tongue pushed into your mouth, owning yours. His hands skimmed your back, trailing lower and lower down your deep red dress until he connected with your ass.

“You need to stop.” Miguel broke from his kiss. Though he said that, he brought you onto his lap. You felt little in his large arms, his hands guiding your hips over his crotch. “Before I do something you’ll regret.”

You listened to the sounds of the library’s floor. The scrunch of take out into the trash, the sing of a door opening and closing. It was dinner time. Most everyone had gone to get their snacks— and here you were, looking down at Miguel with rapt eyes.

“Peter is just a friend.”

“A friend who happens to jam his tongue down your throat,” he turned the word over on his tongue and found offense in it. “Now why do I doubt that?”

“He only wanted to help.”

“By kissing you?”

Your fingers trailed his jaw, dipping back down for another kiss if only to say you could. That Miguel couldn’t tell you what to do. A sound of frustration ripped up his throat. You felt him, his dick twitching to life behind those sweatpants. He felt big. You bit your lower lip— a movement that didn’t escape his attentive eyes.

“By making you as jealous,” You slid off his lap and onto the dirty floor. But as you lifted a hand, cupping his dick through the heavy fabric, he couldn’t bear to stop you.

His lips pulled in a wicked grin, your soft palm stroking along his length. He hooked his thumbs into his sweats, yanking them down over his knees and onto the floor. His cock kissed his belly, straining with droplets of moisture at the tip. Miguel set his hand on your shoulder and forced you to heel on the floor. His temperament evened out. “You were jealous.”

“Yes--” you murmured. “Are.. those girls, are they special?”

“Special? No, none of them are.”

“I want to be.”

“That so?” Your soft hands trailed along the dark hair on his calves, up his thighs, settling your nose where his muscular hand tightened around the root. He wrenched his swarthy hand along his length, drawing along his veiny cock shamelessly. "Let's see how much you do, princesa."

“Please.”

“Aquí se habla español.” Miguel teased. Your fingers dipped down, small tickles of your fingertips as his heavy balls. He watched you massage them with half-lidded eyes, his lips pursing in a pleased hum.

“Por favor.”

“Abre,” you did, sliding your soft mouth open, a well of saliva on your tongue. Miguel slid himself into your warm mouth, a ruptured groan fizzing in his chest. You didn’t want to be too loud— someone might look into the small window on the door, and see you on your knees between Miguel’s thick legs, sucking his cock down when you should be going over that test you just failed.

You caught the salty beads at Miguel’s top on your tongue, sliding sloppily around his thick head, and lapping at his slit for more. Your soft hands stroked along his length, clumsy and shy. He hummed in approval, a sound you were more than thankful to elicit. Miguel took a fist full of your hair and drove himself into your mouth, your tongue stroking the underside of his length.

“Pero mira esto,” Miguel wrenched his head in your hair, grabbing handfuls of it in his palm. “You can focus on something. Sucking my dick.”

Even if you wanted to look up, Miguel drove your head down onto his dick, the dark, trimmed tuft of his pubic hair tickling your nose. He drew his hips back. You nearly pulled off him, if not for his hand assuring that you wouldn’t move off of it. Drool coursed down from your lips, soaking your chin and neck, connecting to his cock as if it were a spiderweb. Your cheeks flushed with blood— you must have looked a mess.

“Coño," Miguel tutted with his tongue, grasping his phone. Your lips pursed around his tip, eyes flickering up to catch the lens of his phone camera on your ruined face. A picture or a video, you weren’t entirely sure. Only that it sent thumps of pleasure down your core to know he wanted to record it, keep it close. You suckled along his sensitive head, working his moans free. He set his phone aside.

Miguel stood and dragged your head along with him to pin you between the ledge of the desk space and his wonderful hips. His hands slipped behind your head, keeping you still and steady, driving himself deep into your mouth. Past your tongue, down your throat, it felt like he hit parts of you that you could only dream of. You struggled with his size, choking the urge to swallow him when he forced you to hold him there. As if your throat was just a hole for his pleasure. Your sad attempt to suckle him down was tempered by the rocking of his hips, his needy face fucking. Your eyes screwed shut, bits of color dancing behind your eyes, the easiest way to deal with this was to focus— on the way he tasted, the scent of his fresh body wash, the light judder of his hips as he came close.

"Hah-- ay, qué rico," his nails scraped the back of your neck, sloppy and undefined thrusts filling your throat. He spurts thick ropes of his cum down your throat and mouth, withdrawing to jerk the last bursts of his cum over your lips. Miguel’s breath fell from his lips in heavy gulps, meeting yours down on your aching knees. Strings of coughed-up cum connected your sodden lips to his cock, globs of his seed slipping between your breasts. You ached.

“Tate quieta.”

You don’t know where you’d go, your palms catching yourself on the floor. He snapped another photo, humming appreciatively. Miguel reached into his gym bag, pulling a sweaty shirt free. Your fingers dipped into his warm cum that spattered across your warm chest, drawing it to your lips. He tasted salty, tangy, and just right.

"You look so-- so beautiful, princesa, just perfect," Miguel bent down, wiping the rest of his mess from your chest and face, gently stroking away all evidence of your face fucking before cleaning his cock and tucking himself away into his sweatpants. He chucked the t-shirt back into his bag, glazing his eyes over your hazy, exhausted eyes. He crouched down.

“Rule one, I never share my women,” he settled his knuckle under your chin, urging you to look him in the eyes. Something told him you wouldn't be as easy as the others, but for some reason, he shrugged the thought aside. “As long as I'm fucking you, you date no one but me. If I find out you are, we're done. Am I clear?”

He was a walking red flag. But for once, in your good girl life, you wanted that. You wanted to fuck in the library-- against the genetics building late at night-- to kiss him during a sunny picnic. More than you wanted a lot of things. His eyes went soft with your answer.

“Claro que sí, Miggy.”

He loves it when he gets what he wants.

#miguel o'hara x you #miguel ohara x reader #miguel o'hara oneshot #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara/reader #atsv imagines #atsv imagine #atsv miguel imagine #atsv x reader #atsv x you #miguel o'hara smut #spiderman smut #spider 2099 x reader #spiderman imagine #spiderman imagines

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ryanseslow · 25 days

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How to Create Paper Cut-Out Reliefs: Tips and Techniques for Beginners

Back again with another lil' series of 2D wall relief paper cut-out forms. Both of the pieces below follow the same process and technique. Im really happy with the process and outcomes. Im working on animating them as we speak. I'll add them to this post later. My paintings inspire my drawings, and my drawings are inspired by those same forms found in my paintings. It makes sense that every so often I want to make those forms "pop out" and off the surface of a flat plane. Alas, it all starts with a quick sketch. See below, just a series of light loose free flowing lines take the lead, forward ->

Here we have a dude posing for a profile style portrait. Most likely, this is inspired by the NYC B-Boys from the years 1983 - 87ish. Either way, it's nostalgia for me. Once the sketch feels good, I'll break out the paper and x-acto knife. I keep telling myself that one day Ill work with another material other than paper for these works, perhaps wood or metal.. It will happen, I can foresee it for sure, hang in there. Im using a white bristol paper for the cut outs, I believe it is the vellum type and not the glossy, but either or will work just fine. I love to cut paper and the whole medium of paper art in general.

Paper cut-outs, also known as paper cutting or Kirigami, is a traditional art form that involves cutting shapes and designs out of paper. The history of paper cutting can be traced back to ancient China and Japan, where it was practiced as a folk art. The Chinese and Japanese would create intricate designs, often featuring animals, plants, and mythical creatures, and use them as decorations for festivals and special occasions. I always loved it and have felt inspired by these pieces.

Using the sketch above, I apply the "map" of the shapes and forms that I see. Sometimes I redraw those forms on the paper that I will cut out, and sometimes I just "draw" with the x-acto knife to recreate the forms. Sometimes, it's a combination of both of those techniques. There is also a series of "out-take / byproduct" cut outs that do not make the final piece, those can be saved and used for the next piece, obviously!

I layer the forms on top of each other to compose the arrangement as a whole, its fun to watch it all come together, in the next phase, you will need some kind of durable tape or you can make little paper forms that can be pasted to both sides of the forms as they stack, this will create the gauge and depth of the piece once it is placed onto the wall.

This is the final composition above, I love it! I used a roll of duct tape to make small cylinder forms that connect the pieces together, the piece as a whole comes "off of the surface of the wall" by about 1.5 - 2" inches - you can play with this a bit but keep in mind, the tape makes the piece heavier and it will want to comply with gravity :)

I hung the piece (also temporarily adhered via the same duct tape) for the photoshoot and to also get a good look at how it will function on the wall. I have an old painted fire place in my studio that is a great surface for hanging things, I love the contrast of textures between the bricks and the paper, as you know, the shadows will be super cool to see too.

Once I had the whole piece constructed I took a few pictures of it. I immediately wanted a clean vector line drawing of the whole character. I brought the photo into adobe Fresco and used a vector brush to draw this lovely variation. This is how my brain works, I switch paths because I know they are really pipelines to the "next thing" that I will push this to, so forward we go.

Then, it was light source and photo shoot time. Im not really happy with these picture as traditional "photographs" as I know I can do a much better job, but, as a series of "sketches" for a planned photo shoot, these will really help to make those plans a reality. I love neon colored lights. I have a bunch of them from various places and spaces that I found on the internet. Amazon has a great selection of flashlights with various colored light options. Get a few and play around with how the light can effect your work and the shadows that it creates. This is where the depth and gauge of your pieces play a role. The photos below are also a part of the same session, which all took place over a few days.

Here is another variation with a different character.. What do you think? Shall I make more?

#art #ryan seslow #ryanseslow #paper cut out #paper #paper art #2D design #2D #portrait #character design #graffiti #bboy #nyc #sculpture #paper sculpture

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thewritetofreespeech · 1 month

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Could I request Alucard (Castlevania) finding his beloved's art room, that is filled with various forms of art of him? Paintings, sculptures, poems, etc.

He doesn’t want to use the term ‘stalking in the night’ because he feels like it’s a trope for half of his blood line and Alucard doesn’t like stereotypes. But that was what he was doing.

It wasn’t for anything nefarious though. Night after night, his beloved would sneak off into some dark, deserted portion of the castle alone. With just the two of them there were a lot of spaces like this in his father’s old home. It also wasn’t as if they needed to spend all of their time together. Alucard appreciated that people needed & desired space. He himself needed it from time to time. It was just the pattern that had left him curious.

With his natural born stealth and tactical advantage of growing up in the castle, Alucard followed just behind them as they walked through the dark corridors and through one large, old, heavy door near the end. Almost forgotten by everyone. The dhampir arched a manicured brow and gave them a moment, and when they didn’t come out Alucard pressed on. Opening the door with much more ease and finding the room filled with a surprising amount of light despite it’s clutter. “What are you doing in here?”

He heard his lover shriek once in surprise, and something like sticks fall on the ground before it was followed by a larger commotion. “Damnit!” They cursed before they picked up what fell as Alucard came closer. A canvas and paint brushes now right side up off the floor. “What are you doing here?!”

“I asked you first.” Alucard told them as he looked around. “What is all this?”

He knew the castle very well. Although there were secrets his father kept from him, a vaults worth of art was not among them. Before he changed Dracula was actually a great patron of the arts. Finding beauty in almost all artistic expressions. So this was a new addition to his childhood home.

“It’s just…a hobby.” They confessed. “I find it soothing.”

“Art can have that effect on people.” He agreed as he looked at one of the pieces. Like his father, he liked art, but had no knack for it. Only the art for the sword had been his gift. “I meant more what is all this doing here? Why hide all this?”

“I don’t know.” They told him honestly. “I guess I just thought they weren’t very good.”

‘Not very good?’ Alucard arched his brow again as he looked at the works around the room. They were all wonderful. Even the unfinished pieces. “I never made any money selling them. And no one ever seemed interested in my art. So I just keep them here. I don’t have the heart to throw them away.”

“People are philistines. And you shouldn’t throw them away.”

Alucard picked up one of the landscapes and looked at it. He remembered this place. From one of their travels. “Can we put this in the dinning room?”

They seemed surprised by his ask. “You want to?”

“I liked this lake. Those trees. I’d like to remember it while we have meals. Think on that picnic.”

He went through the other pieces and asked if he could put up more. They weren’t his to decide what to do with, but he wanted them to encourage them to put it out. “Are you planning on turning the castle into my debut gallery?” They finally ask.

“If you’d let me.” Alucard replied after he’d collected over a dozen paintings, sculptures, and displays to bring out into the light. “Or at least a private gallery.”

They blushed but let him continue to go through the pieces. When he was done, Alucard came over and gave them a soft kiss. “You should never feel that your talent is less than. Your work is incredible. You’re incredible. You shouldn’t keep it in these dusty rooms for no one to see.”

He took the original picture he selected and left. Giving them privacy to paint while he went to hang this in its proper place in the dining room. He’d come back for the others later. Ready to bring them into the light, when they were ready.

#;ask and ye shall receive (request answers)#castlevania #alucard castlevania #castlevania alucard #castlevania scenarios #castlevania imagine #alucard x reader #castlevania alucard x reader #castlevania x reader #imagine #scenarios #castlevania imagines #adrian tepes #adrian fahrenheit tepes

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angelbarelywrites · 2 months

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♡ slashers scenarios | y’all accidentally adopt a kid (part 2)

♡ fandoms; House of Wax, Hannibal (TV)/Silence of the Lambs, slashers (general)

♡ characters; Vincent Sinclair, Bo Sinclair, Hannibal Lecter

♡ reader; gender neutral

♡cw; parenthood, kidnapping, mentions of violence. basically don’t tell these guys you want a kid ig

♡notes; another sparse selection but i don’t think Billy Lenz is allowed within 100 yards of a school so it is what it is

also I hate how much I’m starting to love Bo oh my god

•┈••✦ ❤ ✦••┈•

Vincent Sinclair

> he’s a nurturing man- to his brothers and you

> hell he babies Jonesy too

> even so, he’s shocked when you mention offhandedly that he’d make a good father

> he denies it vehemently

> even as the golden child he grew up in hell

> no way he’d know how to do any of it right

> but you just gently laugh and shake your head, insisting but not pressing it

> it makes him think

> and think and think

> he didn’t know much about kids, but you’d be a great parent

> and you wouldn’t lie to him- maybe he’d be at least an okay father

> families don’t come through often

> and when they do, Lester leaves them be

> if they ever get to Ambrose on their own, the town stays off- none of the Sinclairs want anything to do with harming children

> but mistakes happen, and Bo is freaking out

> a little girl with dark hair and bright blue eyes was sleeping in the back of a car while he took care of her parents, and he didn’t realize until far to late

> she’s maybe 3, and awfully scared and quiet- but when they bring her in the house she walks right up to you and Vincent

> she hugs your leg and finally smiles when Vincent kneels down to show her that Jonesy is a nice dog

> Bo is in shock when you volunteer to adopt her, but Vincent is in quick agreement

> she’s nonverbal, but you look through her family’s things to find out her name - Lilly Henson, or something to that affect .

> Lilly Sinclair has a much better ring to it anyways, doesn’t it?

Bo Sinclair

> he’s the type that if you mention that you want a kid to this man, he asks what color

> he is endlessly devoted to you

> and while he never wanted a kid before, he’s always so insistent you make him a better man

> so some snot nosed brats would complete the picture perfectly

> he’s not super serious about it, not really

> you have plenty of time to plan for a family

> and he’s the type to want biological children if possible- he’s so used to white picket fence suburbia-type ideals

> when a car pulls up to the gas station, he stops when he sees the infant car seat in the back

> he’s about to tell the parents to move along- but then he sees the second matching one

> something - probably his overinflated self worth - tells him he’d be a much better father to twins that these chucklefucks

> and you want a kid anyways! would two be much better

> they’re not identical- he’s not not disappointed by the fact, but they’re still adorable

> a boy and a girl a bit over a year, with big brown eyes and infectious giggles

> he’s beyond proud when he strides in with them

> “daddy’s home!”

> he thinks you might actually kill him this time

> but then Charlotte - the girl based on what’s embroidered on her blankie, reaches for you and you melt

> you’re still scolding him as you happily take Theodore too

> but he knows you’re beyond thrilled

Hannibal Lecter

> he’s always wanted a successor

> quite frankly it never had to be his child - or a child at all

> he thought about taking younger serial killers in the making under his wing more than once

> to teach them the art of culinary cannibalism and the finer points of flaying people

> but it’s far too dangerous - especially with you around

> you’re the one thing that trumps his egomania

> so he lets it be for the time being

> but one day, he takes on a special case at work

> a young boy who recently lost his parents very violently

> he’s in kindergarten, and expresses most everything through his rather advanced drawings

> you don’t interact with his patients- even though he works from home you’re pretty skilled at dodging them

> but on the way out that afternoon the little boy- Peter, his name is, runs out before his social worker and smack dab into you

> she apologizes on his half profusely but you’re so sweet with the boy

> you pick up his dropped drawings and comfort him- he’s quite upset he may have hurt or angered you

> he gives you a huge hug and Hannibal can see the fond, parental look on your face

> after that it’s quite simple to draw up the paperwork

> he’s already in foster care, and it only takes a few false documents to make the courts think that Hannibal’s custody is the best place for little Peter

> you learned long ago that it’s best not to question how or why Hannibal does something when he gets like that

> and either way you’re content with your new little family

#slashers #slashers x reader #slashers x you #vincent sinclair x reader #vincent sinclair #bo sinclair x reader #bo sinclair #house of wax #hannibal lecter #hannibal x reader #hannibal #silence of the lambs #cw kidnapping #cw mentions of death #jonsey sinclair

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harrysmimi · 1 year

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Okay okay soooooo this is my request. You totally do not have to but I thought it was cute. So Harry is himself and YN is a teacher at an art teacher at a school and he comes to visit them and the kids react to them being a relationship with himmmmm👀

Also I love your writing and I think you’re amazing❤️❤️

Idk about art that much. But music counts as art as well. Hope you don't mind.

Lunch Time

Synopsis: One where YN's students are shocked to see her husband (WC 1365)

More of my work

"Oh my god! Ms. YLN, Harry Styles literally has the same jumper as you!" Mary, one of YN's students exclaimed as soon as she walked in.

"Oh my— that's literally the same thing!" John, the other one from the very corner of the classroom.

YN was a highschool Music teacher, she was a big part of the art department of her school. All students loved her for some reason she never can pin point.

Today she wore one of her husband's jumper, a old brown one with green designs on the hem and the above the cuffs of the sleeves. When she originally picked it out of her husband's side of the closet she never thought it was something he wore in public where he was pictured.

She's been having symptoms of common flu lately after she visited her mum who had flu as well. Her husband being away on a tour from past six weeks. Though he's returning home later today she still felt the meed to put on one of his jumpers. They are soft, they're warm and they smell like him even though they've been washed.

She could not take few days off as she had already taken all her paid leaves to go see her husband at his Manchester shows. She needed that money to pay off her students loans.

YN never in a million years thought her students, who are bery obviously her husband's hardcore fans to recognise his clothes. It wasn't her first time wearing his clothes to work, that's all she wears om days she doesn't feel like dressing up.

"Oh thank you Mary, it's a gift." YN said. "Okay class settle down now." She began with her class her music history lessons. Taking a small five minutes break to go bring her water bottle she forgot at her office like an idiot.

Just as was about to leave her office, she got a text from her husband. He was coming home early when she told him a yesterday that she was starting to feel sick. He'd seen her be sick just once and it was just awful. He took the first flight home immediately after his show last night from France, which was very late in his opinion.

Mister⭐

- Hiya my love.

- I just landed in London

- Will bring your fave lunch today and we can go see a doctor.

- I love you so much! xx

It warmed her heart to see that. She sent him her lunch time.

- Yes, please.

- I'll ask later if I can take rest of the day off.

Mister⭐

- Yeah, do that baby.

- See you soon!

YN went back to her class but dismissed them early to move onto her next class with her headache boring holes into her skull from inside out. Again she had her students pointing out her jumper.

......................................................................

"How is Mrs. Styles doing?" Harry asked as soon as he stepped into her office with a bag of food from her favourite place, he carefully placed it on her desk.

It had been over a good six months of them getting married and he's still obsessed with her calling that name, especially since she had been so adamant about wanting to take up his last name. He's smitten like a little baby kitten.

"I took a painkiller for my headache but I think I still need to sleep on it." She explained, getting up from her chair and metting him halfway around her desk to take upto his welcoming hug.

"Yeah? We'll go home soon, okay?" He caressed her hair feeling her shake her head in agreement to him. "Gimme a kiss before we eat and I take you to go see doctor."

"I'm sick, don't want you to get sick." She lifted her head up to look at him.

"I literally won't get sick." He counter and got his kiss, smearing his lips onto her.

"We can actually go now, I already talked about taking a sick leave for the rest of the day and tomorrow." She shared.

"We can eat first, I know you skipped your breakfast." He made her sit down and eat as he talked about the shows she misses, which were all of them except for the London and Manchester shows. About the One Direction shirts someone threw at him which he brought with him, the other one he saved for her. Just as she was about say something, there was a knock on her door.

"Ms. YLN do you mind if I come in?" It was Mary, from the class earlier.

YN's head shot to look at her husband who looked completely unphased chowing down his noodles with his best chopsticks using abilities.

"What?" He shrugged.

"She's your fan!" She whispered. Having him caught off guard.

"Go on, I don't mind." Was his answer to her surprise.

"You sure?"

"Positive."

"Come in, Mary." YN called but not before taking another glance at Harry.

"I'm so sorry to interrupt your lunch time, Ms. YLN, I needed help with this assignment that—" the girl with blue dyed hair was completely froze to surprise seeing someone at her professor's office she never could have expected. "Oh my god!"

Harry actually chuckled earning a glance from his wife though he had his shy kode switched on there, "What do you need help with, Mary?"

"I, uhhh... I actually forgot..." She stuttered looking back and forth between the couple, printed notes in her hands, "this, this assignment— I'll come in tomorrow."

"No it's alright, I'm taking a day off tomorrow." YN shared, "don't want your assignment to be delayed."

"Oh— okay." She gulped nervously.

YN went back to her chair behind the desk and had her students doubts cleared up. Though it took her long time to realise she probably did not get a thing.

"Email me your doubts, I'll and refer to the sites I recommended." YN said, writing down a couple of referrals for online sites. "It's okay, you can talk to him."

"Oh my god, Harry! I'm such a huge fan!" Mary bursted out pointing at her Fine Line hoodie.

"Thank you so much." Harry smiled shyly.

"Can, can I ask for a picture?" Mary asked but regretted it as soon as she spoke.

"Actually do you mind if we don't? I can write you up a note." Harry suggested instead.

"That's totally fine! Oh my god, I'm so sorry!" She freaked out.

"It's alright." Harry assured her. YN smiled and handed him a pen and her sticky note pad. Harry scribbled a sweet note for the girl and signed it for her. "Thank you."

"No, thank you so much." Mary smiled accepting the note Harry gabe her.

"Mary, please don't tell anyone just yet about this if you can." Harry spoke. "Maybe wait for a few days.

"Yeah, no I won't. I really won't." The girl was freaking out, she waved at him before leaving.

"She won't tell anyone Harry, don't worry." YN assured him getting back on her previous seat next to him.

"You think so?"

"I know so." She affirmed, "I've known her for quite a long time now. She's one of the nicest students I have."

"I'm gonna take your word on that." He smiled.

"Oh, and I got my new professor's ID today." YN reached for the ID kept on her desk face down. It had her name changed on her to Prof. YN Styles which had Harry smirking.

"Still won't be able to fathom we're actually married!" His cheek muscles ached from smiling so much in the moment seeing the ID card.

"Neither can I." She chuckled.

They'd known each other for only a year when he proposed and they got married a few months later. It wasn't rushed. But it was still surreal.

Harry was still anxious about Mary trying to post about their little interactions but she didn't. Harry never saw anything on the internet about them. He was relieved to say the least.

YN students liked her enough to not talk shit about her. Plus they needed their good grades to pass out of school.

......................................................................

Tag list:

@vrittivsanghavi @buckymydarlingangel @sweetwritingfanficfriend @theroosterswife24 @sleutherclaw @melllinaa @michellekstyles @sunshinemoonsposts @marialikescherries @japanchrry @onlyangelrain @harrysgirl-1d

Lemme know if you want to added to the tag list

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neonghostlights · 10 months

Note

Listen- listen carefully- okay?

okay so

Eddie, right? Eddie, with a tattoo artist crush??!! like cmon. The possibilities are endless!

how does he confess? What are their dates like? How do they spend quality time together? So many questions, not many answers. (Fem reader pls-) 🍋-

BESTIE. I AM HEARING YOU LOUD AND CLEAR. This is great. I love it. Readers a badass. Eddie’s in love. This is amazing. This is gonna end up being a two parter with the next chapter being their relationship once the relationship is established. Thank you! also, sorry it took me so long to write this ):

Warnings: Love at first sight, Tattooing, Pain, Blood, 18+ only

Wordcount: 2.1k

Rose

The bell attached to the shop door dinged when Eddie walked in. The floors were clean, polished. That was something he always checked when he walked into tattoo shops. Back in highschool he didn’t particularly care about the cleanliness of tattoos, just getting whatever he wanted etched into his skin in his buddies trailer. After seeing the outcome of a particularly nasty skin infection Gareth got one time that left his tattoo looking like a jumbled mess, Eddie cared a little more now.

Robin had begged him to stop by and check out her new job as a part time receptionist at the best (only) tattoo shop in Hawkins, Indiana. Eddie was a little surprised to see you here since he had seen your work done in one or two magazines before. You were somewhat of a celebrity in the tattooing world, having won quite a few awards for your art.

Steve had told him that Robin had been terrified to start here, since your reputation was well known. But after the first day she came home gushing about how great you were and insisted that Eddie swing by to meet you as soon as possible.

Low rock music played from a speaker in the corner of the room. Black leather couches and chairs surrounded a coffee table full of binders and magazines. Artwork, presumably yours, covered the walls top to bottom. Eddie usually drew up his own designs when getting work done but yours were so good that he wouldn’t mind having one of your pre-drawn designs placed on his body. He could smell the fresh paint still lingering in the air, telling just how recent the shop had been opened.

“Hey!” Robin greeted him from behind the clear glass counter. “Welcome!”

“Nice looking place,” Eddie said with a low whistle.

“Right,” she said with a fake whisper. “You think you want to get something done?”

“Nah, not today. I didn’t draw anything up.”

Robin rolled her eyes, knowing Eddie was picky about what he wanted done. She couldn’t blame him. She had an orange tattooed on her foot after a drunk spring break dare from Steve that looked more like a basketball.

“Hey, Rob?” Your voice broke out, muffled by the rock still playing on the radio. Eddie heard the sound of wheels rolling across the floor as you scooted your rolling chair out of the room you were working in and backing out into the hallway. “You wanna order some lunch?” You asked once you were fully in the hallway.

Eddie had seen a lot of attractive people before but none of them had made his heart stop quite the way you did.

“Oh, hi,” you said, startled to see Eddie standing there. “Were you looking to get something done?” You asked, standing from your chair and approaching him.

Eddie froze. All thoughts escaped his brain as you walked towards him. He could see the skin of your legs through your ripped jeans and Eddie had never thought a kneecap was so sexy before.

“This is my friend Eddie. He just came by to check out the shop. Right, Eddie?” Robin plucked his cheek to try to reboot him.

The magazines had never included your picture, but he wished they had so he wouldn’t be standing here like an idiot. He had a feeling that your picture printed on glossy paper wouldn’t do you any justice.

Eddie winced at the sharp sting of his cheek, rubbing at the stubble there.

“Hi,” was all he was able to croak out, sticking his hand out to you.

You smirked a knowing smirk at him that made him feel embarrassed from how obvious he was being. He was usually the one that was smirking to make people melt, not the other way around and it made his head spin.

You gripped his hand, firmly giving it a little shake. Eddie didn’t want to let go, but finally did, realizing how sweaty his palm had gotten. He tried to discreetly wipe it against his jeans. If you felt it, you didn’t say anything.

“So, Eddie, did you want to get a tattoo today?” You asked, head tilted as you looked him up and down.

“He said no-”

“Yes. Yes I do,” he said, cutting Robin off.

Robin looked like she was about to die of laughter. Eddie knew she would be itching to grab the phone and call Steve to tell him all about the way Eddie was acting. He knew there would surely be some jokes cracked at his expense during the next family dinner. But he couldn’t bring himself to care all that much.

You tilted your head, like you were studying him, picking him apart to make sure he was actually worthy of having your art on his skin forever. Eddie would let you draw on his bones if you were able to. Shit, he’d hand you the pick and chisel.

“Okay,” you said slowly. “Have any idea of what you want to get?”

“Uh…” Eddie trailed, eyes darting to the artwork around the shop. “You choose.”

You frowned. “You want me to choose your tattoo for you?”

Eddie nodded, already too far in to back out now.

“And you’re sure? Completely?” You checked as Robin started pulling out paperwork for Eddie to sign.

“Oh, yeah. I’m sure.”

Three months later and the bell dinged over the shop door. You could hear it from your office where you had low music playing as you sketched away at an idea you had. It was getting closer to the holidays and the shop was less busy. People usually liked to spend their money on presents and food this time of year instead of tattoos. You knew January was going to pick back up again so you weren’t worried.

You could hear Robin laughing at something up front, probably at whoever just came through the door. You heard the familiar sound of boots come your way and it brought a smile to your lips.

His knuckles rapped against the door a few times. This had become a routine since Eddie let you tattoo him a few months ago. He had gotten a couple more done by you, each more intricate than the last. But some days he would stop by just to say hi to you, like he probably was today. You never let other customers come to your office like this. Eddie was special.

“Hey,” you greeted him, turning in your chair. You dropped the pencil you were using to your desk, ready to give your hand a break for a bit.

Eddie smiled as he leaned against the door frame. “What are you working on?”

You held up the sketch pad. It was a drawing of a dragon taking flight. It was small, simple with just enough detail to not overpower it. If someone ever wanted this you could of course add anything to it.

“That’s sick,” Eddie said as he came closer, humming as he assessed the drawing.

“It’s not done yet. I need a little more time with it,” you explained, feeling a little self conscious about your art, something you hadn’t experienced until you realized shortly after meeting Eddie that you always wanted to impress him.

“Is it for a customer?” He asked.

“No. Just an idea I had,” you said as you set it back down on your desk.

“Can I get it?”

You tilted your head as you looked up at Eddie. His hair framed his face where he was still looking down at the drawing with intensity, avoiding your eye contact now for some reason. You could see the rose tattoo on his arm, the first one you gave him on the day you met. You didn’t tell Eddie what you were tattooing until you were done. You knew it was a risk, not many men wanted a flower tattooed on them. But this one seemed like it fitted him.

After you had tattooed the rose he stared at it with teary eyes. You thought you had really messed up until he told you that Rose was his late mothers middle name. After that, the dynamic seemed to change, bringing you even closer even though you two had just met.

“I mean if you want but it’s really not done and I-”

“I think it’s perfect,” Eddie interrupted, finally looking up at you with a small smile.

You took a deep breath at the intensity of his stare before leading him back to the room to be tattooed.

You had Eddie lay back in the reclining chair. It was laid back to be as flat as a table so you had better access to his ribs.

You explained to him that the ribs were going to hurt pretty bad even though he was no stranger to tattoo pain. He just laughed it off and asked if you could hold his hand when he starts to cry.

You rolled your eyes, pushing away the butterflies at the thought of holding his hand in yours. You didn’t really like emotions. You’d prefer to spend your time alone, drawing with nothing to complicate your life. It had been a battle the past three months of knowing Eddie. You were constantly denying the way you felt and it was getting harder and harder each time you saw him.

Eddie closed his eyes and laid mostly still except for the occasional twitch and tapping he would do. He was uncharacteristically quiet today and you found yourself going through most of his tattoo without him even saying a word. That wasn’t normal.

“Are you doing okay?” You asked as you gathered more ink. “If it’s too much we can stop for today.”

“No,” he said loudly, practically jumping off the table at your offer. He cleared his throat looking embarrassed before he slowly laid back down.

“Are you sure?” You checked again, giving him the opportunity to quit if he wanted to.

“Yeah. I’m sure,” he said with a nod as he closed his eyes again.

You went back to tattooing, trying to figure out why he was acting this way. He seemed nervous to be around you today and you weren’t sure why. It didn’t make sense. He was usually a blushing, stumbling mess around you and now suddenly he was acting like this tattoo was the most serious thing he had ever done.

“You need me to hold your hand?” You joked, trying to lighten the mood.

Eddie giggled nervously with his eyes still closed. You watched him wipe his palm discreetly against his jeans.

You had a feeling you knew what was going on here. It was a feeling you had from the first day you met him and he not so subtly asked you out. When you tattooed him that first day, he seemed to cover up his nerves well by joking with you and asking you questions about yourself. You could ask him, see what he says. The worst he could say is no. You usually had a good eye for things like this and Eddie had all the signs.

“You know next time you can just ask me out on a date instead of having me tattoo you,” you said as you cleaned the fresh ink off the now finished tattoo.

Eddie’s eyes shot open in a flash. He sat up, wincing at the tender skin on his ribs.

“Wait!” You yelled as you grabbed a cloth and cleanser. “I need to clean it before you get up.”

Eddie ignored your demands. “Did Robin tell you?” He asked, looking defeated.

“No,” you said as you wiped at the skin from the new position he sat in. “You were just acting kind of weird so I figured that might have been what was going on.”

Eddie sighed deeply.

“If I read that wrong and totally made this awkward just tell me,” you said quickly.

“No,” Eddie rushed out. “No. You were right. I didn’t realize I was that obvious.”

You laughed and shook your head. “You were just a little obvious.”

You motioned for Eddie to stand up and take a look in the mirror. He whistled as he looked at the fresh ink on his now angry skin.

“You like it?” You asked.

“I love it. It’s incredible. Thank you,” he said, still in awe of your artwork on his body.

You nodded your head awkwardly as you started to wrap it to keep it clean and uninfected. You met Eddie’s eyes in the mirror when you were finished. You froze, unsure what to do now and afraid that you had ruined everything by speaking up. You really enjoyed Eddie’s company and the thought of becoming something more made your heart race.

Eddie grabbed his things, about to head to the front to pay.

“So…was that a no?” He asked as he slipped his shirt over his head.

You laughed. “Eddie, you didn’t even ask me.”

“Oh, right. Sorry. I’m still nervous. Do you want to go out on a date sometime?”

“I’d love to.”

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson au #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x you #eddie stranger things #eddie munson x tattooartist!reader #eddie munson x fem reader #eddie munson x fem!reader

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stuccobaby · 11 months

Note

kahlopatra headcanons? 🙏

bestieeee

these are gonna be random a f

(college au/i aged em up)

Cleopatra runs cold, Frida runs hot. It's perfect.

yes, they both have their tickets for the Barbie movie. Cleopatra has her outfit planned out (pink pink pink everything) and Frida is very excited to be Cleo's Ken.

Frida thought she had a high tolerance for spicy food but Cleopatra is in a different league. Like she could go on Hot Ones and not even flinch.

but Cleo haaaates Tajin. Frida loves it. She puts it on fruit and Cleo couldn't believe her eyes.

Cleopatra has a cat! (i was picturing a siamese) Frida is lowkey allergic, but she can handle it. But if you thought Cleo was snooty...wait till you meet this cat.

Cleopatra snores. Frida thought it would be cute and quiet but it's actually kinda loud. Frida is contemplating ways to bring this up and survive to see another day.

Frida is an Aquarius! Cleopatra is a Scorpio (not to get in my astrology bag but I think she's a scorpio sun, leo rising and gemini moon. venus in leo or taurus. what do yall think about it.)

I wrote a lot hehe woops.

(TW: weed) Cleopatra is like a 'smoke at parties' kinda girl, whereas Frida smokes often for funsies and as a creativity boost.

(TW: weed) They tried to do a 'take an edible and go to an aquarium' date but Cleopatra got too high and freaked out in the shark tunnel. They'll try again but with an arboretum next time.

Frida can play the guitar. Cleopatra goaded her into playing for her once and folded immediately when she started singing. (at one point, Frida looked up and Cleo was taking off her clothes)

Speaking of, Cleopatra told Frida she signed up to be a model for her art class. Frida did not know she was a nude model. Frida should have guessed. damn it was hard to focus on painting that day

Cleopatra is now Frida's personal fashion consultant. She's a (cheerleader, homecoming queen) part-time model, she has a very keen eye for fashion obvi

When it's cold, Frida wears socks to bed and they argue about it all the time. They also argue about what side of the bed to sleep on (they both want the right side smh).

Frida loves going along with Cleo on her many beauty shop appointments (nails, hair, spa, etc) but won't go into any waxing/threading shop because the technicians start getting twitchy just looking at her. She feels like if she fell asleep, she'd wake up tied to the chair with two eyebrows.

They watch a lot of movies. Cleopatra laments how expensive TVs used to be but loves that they're cheap now because a big screen TV still makes her feel rich and luxurious.

Frida will be the first one to say I love you and it will mess Cleo up a little bit. don't worry tho, they'll talk about it! she's just not used to being loved (saad)

Frida is teaching Cleo Spanish, but all she wants to learn is swear words and dirty talk. it's gonna take a while

Cleopatra is a bug killer, Frida tries to trap and release.

Harriet (Frida's roomie in this AU) was extremely suspicious of Cleo at first ("wasn't she like your nemesis?") but she came around eventually ("enemies to lovers is kinda sexy...")

Frida is currently showing Cleo so many Spongebob episodes, she was sick of her constant references going to waste.

yes, they listen to a LOT of new music together. Frida tries to go in chronological order (2004 music, 2005 music etc), so that Cleo could hear the progression of music sound. (i could go on and on about music but these r getting long already)

Cleopatra is a passenger princess, but mostly because everybody is too scared to get in a car with her at the wheel; she drives like she's playing fucking GTA. (Frida thought people were kidding, but after they went soaring over a downhill speed bump one time, Frida politely took the keys forever).

speaking of GTA, that's Cleo's favorite video game. she enjoys mowing people down, blowing things up, and getting cute new outfits. Frida thinks its a good way for her to indulge her sadistic streak.

Mario Kartin': Frida mains an Orange Yoshi, Cleo goes between Peach and Rosalina (she refuses to make a Mii she thinks they're too ugly to represent her).

They become a different couple when they play mario kart. Frida is really fucking good and Cleopatra can't stand that shit eating grin every time she wins. (cleo would be like that tik tok sound: right hand on the bible, god can strike me down if im lying, that motherfucker's cheating!)

-----

I could write more but i wrote way too much already. y'all would have to ask for part 2. Also... may have snuck my next fic in here teehee.

if anybody wants to use these for art or what have you, go for it (but it better be gooood 😜)

tag and credit me tho so i can see it and be overjoyed

THANKS FOR ASKIN BESTIE!

#kahlopatra #clone high frida #clone high cleopatra #thank you for this question bestie hehe #anybody watch mpgis?

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lowkeyrobin · 3 months

Note

MCYT with artist reader and like R makes them art all the time weather it's using them as an art reference and having a bunch of doodles of them, or painting full portraits of them, or like painting pictures of their pets🪩🩷🥹🛸

ooooo I'm an artsy weirdo so here you go!!! thanks for the request ; also this is the day I figure out the ufo emoji existed

MCYT ; artsy reader

includes ; tommyinnit, tubbo, ranboo, badlinu, nihachu, quackity, & foolish gamers

warnings ; language

masterlist

TOMMYINNIT

bro u got a whole sketchbook dedicated to doodles of him and his character versions in mc smps (dsmp, osmp, etc)

you love painting him in watercolors 🫶🫶

you made him a watercolor portrait thing with the HTBAB logo behind him, freddie & jack

he treasures the art you give him

literally frames it and hangs it on the wall or puts it on the shelves in his office

sometimes he'll take a picture of them and posts them w ur consent to show off your talent

"look what y/n made me 🫶" or "now wtf why can't I have this kind of talent?"

will chill out with you while you're drawing/painting etc

you go over to his parents house ONCE and make a family portrait + the dogs for them

that painting hangs above their fireplace, his parents look at it everyday

he does little drawing competitions with you on stream just to bond with you a bit and make you laugh

like the "we go back to school" video, the paint gets everywhere because of him LMAO

will straight up show off your sketchbooks on stream too

TUBBO

absolutely loves that you draw him

and the fact you have so much q!tubbo and sunny fanart 💔💔

he hangs all the physical art up around his house

you made a little oil pastel portrait of you two with tommy, freddie & molly under you like they were your kids 😭🙏

it hangs in a frame in his background so everyone watching stream can see it

he absolutely loves your character designs and your art style/s

you straight up animated the life by the sea music video as a little present for his birthday

took 5 months but you got it done 💪💪

genuinley rewatches it a million times

he posted it to his YouTube as well to show off your talent

adores watching you draw/paint in silence

and he loves posing for you to help you get a good reference

beware cause he'll start complaining after 30 seconds

RANBOO

absolutely loves showing off your art and praising you for it

you've made them so much genloss fanart

you even made them a few channel banners, especially after the rebrand (and they will never change them ever again omg)

gives you a bunch of ideas for drawing

you love drawing the lanky d!ranboo and gl!ran especially w the mask and wide arrangement of wires and stuff

you made a textured painting of genloss!ranboo and it sits on one of the shelves in his office

he's obsessed with touching it and feeling the paint

its like feeling the hours of work you put into it, something just for them

also loves posing for you

they will get so extravagant and unique with it LMAO

FREDDIE BADLINU

anything you make for him is a treasure

you made a little portrait of him and his closest friends, and it hangs on his bedroom wall where he can see it constantly

shows off your art and totally praises you for it

does silly poses for you to reference

you've made him a couple screensavers and stream starting soon pages

he absolutely loves your color pallettes good god

Freddie in acrylic paint>>>>>

"guys look at what my amazing partner made me today 🫶❤️"

sends you links to Instagram shorts or whatever to little crafts/ideas if you're having artist block

he finds a notebook full of sketches and random blurbs of/about him when you get bored and shit and have nothing better to do

absolutely head over heels because the fact you spend so much time making art of/for him, omg

if you bleach-paint shirts yk damn well he's wearing whatever you made him 24/7

NIKI NIHACHU

absolutely loves your character designs for her characters, they're all so unique and different and she loves it

your designs of osmp!niki are her favorite, considering she's literally a mermaid

the art you make with all her tattoos and piercings>>> omg

either totally adorable or totally badass

"more biker! niki bc she needs to learn how to bike rn... @/nikinihachu"

"amazing as always y/n/n 🫶 maybe I will..."

loves just quietly watching you do your thing

her and watercolor paints will never not be perfect

you make a whole mural for her because you got bored...

it's an abstract kind of goth-ish mermaid kinda thing on one of her office walls, and 'nihachu' spread across it in white, kinda cursive lettering, it's amazing

always making silly little doodles of her too

ALEX QUACKITY

cant even comprehend how talented you are

he always sees you drawing him and painting him and he's like "bro go touch grass u spend too much time thinking about me"

you also made a textured painting for Tiger

it's his prized possession, he loves it to much

almost broke down and cried when you gave it to him

loves looking at all the little doodles, drawings and character designs

his favorites are the ones of him with dynamic arm poses, even if you think they're bad

he thinks it adds a lot more personality and makes him look better LMAO

he loves and appreciates that you spend so much time on something about/for him, and so often as well

he looks so good in gouche paints that's all I'm saying

and in a kinda graffiti style as well omg

FOOLISH GAMERS

absolutely adores all the art you make of him

he'll even pose so you can get references and shit LMAO

him and watercolor paints... lord

AND COLORED PENCILS

any painting you've made for him is hung up on the wall

loves seeing your character designs for his dsmp/qsmp etc characters

he also shows them off online and points out all the cool things you've added and shit

even if it's just simple doodles of him, you'll add a splash of color w a marker or highlighter and he thinks it looks so awesome

you have post it notes all over your wall thatre just doodles of him and shit

you painted his shark logo on a giant canvas for him for a YouTube video

like 59 hours later you completed it and gave it to him as a birthday gift

he doesn't shut up about it after that

literally brags about it like he's a 15yo who just got a girlfriend for the first time before all his other friends

#lowkeyrobin #mcyt x reader #mcyt preferences #mcyt oneshot #tommyinnit x reader #quackity x reader #ranboo x reader #badlinu x reader #tubbo x reader #freddie badlinu x reader #foolish gamers x reader #niki nihachu x reader #nihachu x reader #gn reader #gender neutral reader #they/them reader

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qsycomplainsalot · 8 months

Text

AI isn't Art it's just Illegal Predatory Randomized CGI

Reposting this because OP blocked me, can't begin to guess why.

Photography, collage, readymade and various of the more abstract styles of painting and drawing are all art, and AI isn't. Why is that ? Simply, there are skills required to make technically interesting artpieces using these media, let alone meaningful ones. A skilled photographer might not be skilled with a pen, but their knowledge of composition and observation will always be transferrable to a new medium, in a way that they'll never start their art journey from scratch again. Because they're already an artist, because they've already done art and are skilled at it. Speaking for myself it took me a decade to get to a level where I was able to get paid for my work drawing traditionally, and once there it took me less than a year to reach a somewhat similar level switching over to digital. The skills are more comparable than with say collage or sculpture but the core principle still stands: I had gone and learned traditional art in art school, and while there I learned a slew of skills that were not at all limited to one tool, and when it came to switching I did not have to learn these skills again. Because by that point I was already a trained artist. I could just switch to sculpting with clay tomorrow and the biggest challenge would be to find a new market more than any skill issue.

Meanwhile fucking about with a computer to generate new pictures randomly has NO transferrable skills whatsoever. So much of the work has been taken out of your hands by a pattern seeking piece of software that it is impossible to learn anything from the experience. It's just plain to see when before you click the doodad to generate a new picture, you have NO IDEA what it will look like, none whatsoever unless you've been iterating on it before. You're not having an idea, formulating it in your mind and applying your skills to getting it out into the world, you just sort of have an idea and then a machine does the actual art work for you.

The only way you could possibly get better as an artist from doing this is if somehow you were deluded enough to think the process of scalping every artists' work in history was ethical, while also being observant and caring about art history enough that you'd learn critical skills from looking at the result of your quotation mark work end quote. Which is something you can do by going on a museum, or the internet. And if being an art historian isn't good enough for you, I invite you to actually join the elite exclusive vip club you're funding the death and automatisation of, by simply picking up a pen and piece of paper and starting to draw. It's that fucking simple.

PS: People trying to compare writing prompts with poetry: poetry does not include a stage in its process where all your artistic intent is surrendered to a machine to churn out a mash up of unethically sourced content. Nobody is going to buy a small book of computer generated picture prompts to keep on their night stand. You guys are delusional.

#rant

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steddieas-shegoes · 1 year

Text

Chapter 4

Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3

Steve arrived home to Robin anxiously pacing.

“Steve! Oh my God. I thought you died.”

“Robin, I literally talked to you an hour ago.”

“You could’ve died in the last hour!”

He smiled at her dramatics. She had his location the entire time, and she easily could have called him any time in the last hour if she was that worried.

She wrapped him in a hug, which was shocking enough on its own, but Steve couldn’t help his confusion when she also kissed the top of his head.

She held him for over a minute and Steve started to wonder if someone had died and she didn’t know how to tell him face to face.

“Robs?”

“Dingus?”

“Is everything okay?”

“Are you okay?”

Steve realized Eddie had probably told her everything. Oh for fuck sake.

“I am begging you to never bring anything of this up to me ever. Like, even if you think it’s okay to talk about it, assume it isn’t. I am never going to talk about this with you. Not ever. Not even on my deathbed. Not even when I’m drunk.”

“Eddie said you should.”

“I will. With Eddie. Not you.”

Steve turned to walk to his room and ignore Robin for the rest of the day, but he could hear her footsteps following him.

He sighed and turned around.

“I’m fine. Eddie took care of me. I’m going back there tonight so we can talk. I’ll keep my location on and you can check in with both of us, okay Mom?”

“Wait wait wait wait. You’re going back there tonight?” Then, she seemed to remember how he even ended up with Eddie. “WAIT! Your tattoo! Show me!”

Steve could do that much at least. He’d been talking about this tattoo for so long and he was really excited about how it turned out.

Eddie had unwrapped it and done the first round of cleaning and moisturizing, making sure Steve was paying attention so he could do it by himself today.

He hadn’t been able to look away from it for nearly ten minutes, the colors more beautiful after the redness of his irritated skin went away.

He held his wrist out to Robin, unable to keep the smile from his face as she looked at it and smiled up at him.

“He did great with this. Will is gonna flip.”

“I hope he likes it. He has an appointment with me tomorrow so I’ll be able to show him.”

Will was one of his best kids. He never had to actually worry about his future, Will knew exactly what he wanted, got good grades, had nearly perfect attendance, and worked towards his goals without any help from Steve. He’d been through a lot though as a child, and his mom had insisted that he regularly meet with Steve just to talk.

He came to appointments once a week, but him, along with his two best friends Dustin and Mike, would often spend their lunchtime in Steve’s office. They weren’t exactly popular, and bullies targeted them often for their size and their interest in more nerdy things. Steve let them, even though the principal had told him he was setting them up for failure in real life. Steve always said this was real life and feeling safe wasn’t a failure.

But this tattoo would really mean a lot to Will. He hoped so, at least.

“When are you going to Eddie’s?”

“7.”

“Bring protection.”

“Nothing’s gonna happen.”

Robin just gave him a look and walked away.

Nothing was gonna happen. Eddie said so.

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

When Steve got to Eddie’s place, he was already home, and…cooking?

“Something smells good.”

Steve made his way into the house, brushing past Eddie and looking around. He hadn’t spent much time noticing things earlier, but now he could.

There was a lot of art on the walls, but none of it looked like what was at the shop. This looked more abstract, with a few random watercolors sprinkled in. He noticed pictures frames along the shelves and bookcase that held more records than books. The coffee table looked cluttered, mostly books and sketches spread out along the top.

The couch was old, but looked comfy, and the armchair in the corner seemed mostly unused. A few hats hung from the corner it was placed in, none of them looking like anything Eddie would wear.

Did he have a roommate? Is that how he could afford a house?

“You can set your stuff in my room if you want. You remember where it is?”

Eddie’s voice being so close behind him startled him, but he immediately relaxed when he felt a hand on his hip.

“I remember.”

Eddie squeezed his hip once before letting him go, walking towards the kitchen instead of following Steve.

Steve took in the pictures hanging up in the hall, but didn’t get a close look at any, already rushing to get back to Eddie so they could talk. Robin had given him another look before he left that said there’d be more than talking happening tonight, but he really trusted Eddie when he said they’d be taking it easy.

He dropped his bag on Eddie’s bed, smiling to himself when he saw that the bed was made.

Eddie didn’t seem like the type of person to make his bed, so maybe he was trying to impress him?

Steve shook the thought away. Nothing is happening tonight. He may not even want you in his bed after you talk.

He made his way back out to the kitchen, where Eddie was closing the oven door and placing a casserole dish of something that smelled like heaven on the stove.

“What did you make?”

“Breakfast casserole.”

“Breakfast? For dinner?”

Eddie smirked. “No laws can hold me down.”

Steve resisted the smile he felt trying to creep onto his face.

Eddie really did a number on his whole “I don’t smile for anyone” exterior.

“What’s in it?”

“Well, normally I do a french toast one that has fruit and maple syrup, but you didn’t seem like the type to enjoy that.”

“Excuse me? That sounds amazing,” Steve crossed his arms across his chest and stared at Eddie.

“We can have that next time.”

Next time, next time, next time.

“This one is hashbrowns, cheese, eggs, and bacon with biscuits as the base.”

“That sounds…heavy.”

“We can eat heavy. We don’t have any physical activity to commit to later.”

Steve couldn’t help it, he started pouting.

A small part of him had hoped that maybe after they talked, something would happen. Not necessarily sex or even subspace, but some making out, maybe some handjobs? Yeah, he’d hoped.

But he recognized the boundaries Eddie was setting, and he respected him for sticking to them, even if he really wished he didn’t.

Eddie poked Steve’s bottom lip playfully.

“No need to pout. If our discussion goes well, maybe next time?”

“Promise?”

“You’re gonna be trouble, aren’t you?”

“I dunno. Am I?”

“And a brat. Noted.”

Steve had never, not even at peak spoiled rich kid, been called a brat. Not even jokingly. He was a little offended, but he could see the hint of a smirk on Eddie’s face letting him know that would be part of their discussion.

“Are we gonna talk during dinner or after?”

“That’s up to you. I’m happy either way, sunshine.”

Steve felt warmth spreading in his chest at the nickname. He’d never been called sunshine either. Being terminally grumpy since your teenage years kind of eliminates that possibility.

“I have some questions so maybe we could start there during dinner?”

Eddie nodded and turned to grab plates and forks for dinner.

“Before you start though, I wanna make sure you know that I will always be honest and do my best to answer your questions, but there are some things I don’t know. I’m not a professional. I’m certainly experienced, but there may be things you want to know that I’ve never done. I don’t want to mislead you, so if there’s stuff you still need to know after this, I have contacts who can probably help.”

Steve felt so out of his depth here. Eddie had fucking contacts for this.

“Stevie? You okay?”

Steve shook himself out of his thoughts. He couldn’t let himself feel nervous about this. Eddie was kind and wanted him to understand and wouldn’t expect anything of him. He could do this.

“Yeah, I’m okay. Sorry. Just feels a little overwhelming.”

Eddie paused mid-scoop and glanced at Steve. He set the serving spoon in the dish and walked the few steps over to Steve, wrapping his arms around him gently and hugging him to his chest.

Steve quickly found his spot, nuzzling against his collarbone like he belonged there.

“That’s why we’re taking this slow, having discussions first. You can’t go into all of it the way you did last night. It’s dangerous.” Eddie rubbed his back slowly and Steve fought back the noises trying to escape from his chest. “I won’t feel comfortable doing anything at all with you until we’re both comfortable, okay?”

Steve nodded against his chest.

Eddie pulled back and tilted his chin up to look at him.

“You have to use your words, sunshine.”

“Okay.”

“You understand what I said?”

“I understand.”

“Good boy.”

Steve couldn’t contain the whine he let out. Jesus Christ, what was happening to him? He’d never been like this. He’d never made that noise before in his life.

“Alright, sunshine. Let’s eat.”

Steve didn’t want to separate from him, but Eddie didn’t go too far. He made sure Steve was right next to him as he grabbed their plates and walked to the table, setting them down next to each other instead of at the chairs across from each other.

“Don’t want you too far,” Eddie said with a fond smile.

Steve hated the way his heart skipped a beat. Eddie was going to send him into cardiac arrest if he kept this up.

But he did his best to ignore it, take a deep breath, and sit down in the chair.

His anxiety was high, and he was worried he may not be able to even eat, but Eddie took a bite and looked at Steve expectantly.

Steve picked up his fork and took a bite.

“Damn, this is good.”

“Thanks, sunshine. It’s hard to fuck this one up, but I’m glad you like it.”

Steve smiled at him and took another bite.

Where to begin?

He knew Eddie would let him lead, acting as more of a guide for the conversation than anything else, but Steve suddenly didn’t know where to begin.

“Um. I guess I kinda wanna start by saying something?”

Eddie nodded, smiling softly at him and showing him that he could be patient with whatever Steve needed to say, even if it took him some time.

“I’m not, like, a virgin. I mean I know when it comes to this stuff I kind of am, but I’ve had a lot of sex. With women and men. I mean, I almost got engaged once. I’m not new to that.” He ignored the amused look on Eddie’s face and continued, though his voice wavered. “And I’ve seen some stuff in porn or whatever. I’m not completely oblivious to how this works.”

��I don’t think you should go off of what you’ve seen in porn.” Eddie cleared his throat. “Sorry to interrupt, I just didn’t want you to think that’s accurate at all. Most vanilla porn isn’t even accurate, let alone any type of BDSM stuff. I don’t want you to think I have a dungeon or something with whips and chains attached to the walls. That isn’t what this is about for me or most anyone, really.”

Steve felt himself flush.

He’d said he wasn’t a virgin, but he’d never talked so openly about sex with anyone. He reminded himself that Eddie was still very much a stranger to him, and this kind of talk is something that close friends or significant others might have.

“What is it about? For you, I mean?”

There. That was a good start. Learning more about what Eddie did might help Steve understand what he was trying to accomplish.

“I mean, for everyone it’s about power and control or submission. But everyone has different ways of accomplishing those things and things they’re comfortable with.” He took another bite and chewed while he seemed to think of his answer. “For me, it’s about being in charge of someone’s release, whether it be sexual or not. Making someone feel good in a way they can’t experience on their own or with someone else. Having the power to know exactly what they need and give it to them or hold back. Find what makes that person tick and use it to make them feel better than ever.”

“That’s what you like? Seeing someone else get off?”

Eddie let out a small chuckle.

“I guess in a simplified way, sure. But that doesn’t always happen. You didn’t get off last night did you?”

“No, but I was dropping apparently.”

“Before that though. You still got to subspace, and you stayed there a while, even though you never got sexual gratification from it. You just felt good. Sometimes feeling good just means a plateau, not a peak and then fall, ya know? I like to help someone maintain that plateau as long as possible.” He took another bite and nudged Steve to do the same. “I love helping someone peak, too. But that isn’t always on the table.”

“What if I want it to be?”

“Getting ahead of yourself, sunshine. How about you have a couple more bites while I talk?”

Steve nodded and took another bite, watching Eddie as he formed his thoughts.

“Sex is obviously a part of this. I won’t say it doesn’t end that way most of the time. But there are parts of this that aren’t sexual at all that are still just as good. Your tattoo wasn’t sexual at all, right?” Steve shook his head. “Exactly. But you got there. Sometimes, it’s more just giving up the control. Some subs don’t even like the sex parts, you know. They like someone to give them rules and tasks to follow and punishments for when they don’t. I have a friend who is a sub who doesn’t even take off his clothes during his sessions. It’s different for everyone and it’s usually trial and error. That’s why safety and trust is such a big part of it.”

Steve felt like his head was spinning.

“Is that why people use safewords?”

“Yeah or the stop light system, or in some cases, just physical signs. That has to be agreed on before you ever go into a scene, even if it's someone you’ve done scenes with before and trust. You may love being spanked until you bruise on Saturday, but end up hating it on Monday if you’re not in the right headspace for it. It’s not just the sub trusting the dom with everything, it’s the dom trusting that the sub will use their safeword if they can’t keep going. Sometimes that’s hard for people to understand. It goes both ways. Both parties have control, just in different ways.”

“You know a lot about this.”

“I’ve been in a few serious relationships with the dynamic and all my friends have been part of the scene for years. What I don’t know firsthand, I’ve heard plenty about.”

“Okay, but what if I do want the sex stuff to be part of it?”

“If you do, then you have to be open about hard limits before you start. You have to have a safeword and use it if things start to go bad. You have to let yourself test the waters, but not jump into them if that makes sense.”

Steve nodded. It did make sense. He was probably jumping the gun a bit, but he felt like maybe he could trust Eddie to find and test his limits.

“So you wouldn’t wanna do that with me?”

“I didn’t say that, Stevie.” Eddie turned to him and placed his hands on his knees, massaging them lightly. “I’m not a jump right into anything kind of guy, even with just plain vanilla sex. But I’m really careful about starting with sex stuff right off the bat. Oh, stop pouting, sunshine. I’m not saying no.”

“But you’re saying no now.”

Steve knew he was still pouting, and maybe being a bit unreasonable. He normally took things slow too, at least when it came to more than random handjobs or blowjobs at the club. It still made him feel like Eddie might not be interested in him the way he was interested in Eddie.

“I’m saying not yet. There’s a difference. I’d love to be able to do that with you. But you need to experience more first.”

“Like what?”

Eddie studied his face for a moment. Steve felt like he could see right through him, which would have alarmed him more if he wasn’t certain that Eddie was going to be able to make him float again.

“You like to be praised.”

It wasn’t a question, but Steve nodded. He’d figured that much out at least.

“That’s a good start. You can be praised for a lot of things. Sometimes just being told to sit still and being told you’re doing good can make a person float, you know.”

Steve didn’t think he could do that. He certainly believed some people could, but he figured it would take a lot more for him.

“I don’t think I can do that.”

“Do you want to try?”

“Now? I thought we weren’t doing anything tonight?”

Steve was suddenly overwhelmed with nerves again. Despite the fact that he’d wanted something to happen when he first got here, he was now wondering why the hell he thought that was a good idea.

“It doesn’t have to be now. But it would certainly be a good start when you’re ready. Simple, non-sexual, easy to safeword out of if you get uncomfortable, unlikely to drop from it. It’s just an idea. You can always say no.”

Steve didn’t want to say no. He was nervous, sure, but he wanted it. He wanted to try. He wanted to make Eddie proud.

“Could we try tonight?”

“If you finish your supper and we talk about a safeword, yes.”

Steve took three more bites and ignored Eddie’s laughter at his clear excitement.

“So, what can we use for a safeword?”

“Up to you, sunshine. Mine is Metallica.”

“Can I use yours?”

Eddie thought about it for a moment.

“For tonight, yes. But you should have your own in the future.”

“Don’t like sharing?”

Steve smirked at Eddie, who rolled his eyes but smiled fondly back at him.

“More like you may not want to keep doing scenes with me and having your own safeword is best.” He got up and brought their plates to the sink while Steve waited patiently in his chair. “You can go sit on the couch. I’ll be there in a couple minutes.”

Steve sat on the couch with his hands folded in his lap, trying to push away any nerves he had over what they were about to do. If all went how he hoped, he’d maybe go to subspace again. Eddie sounded like he could get him there, but he didn’t know exactly what Eddie would have to do.

He didn’t have to wait long.

Eddie came into the room and sat down next to him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and pulling him into his side.

“Alright. We’re gonna relax for a few minutes first. You’re tense and you won’t be able to just go right into it.”

“Oh. Sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry for, sunshine. Just let me hold you for a few minutes, okay?”

Steve wanted nothing more than to never leave Eddie’s side, his arm wrapped just tight enough around him so he felt like he couldn’t escape, his body warming him up just enough for comfort.

He didn’t know how long they stayed like that, and he didn’t really care, all he knew was the next time Eddie moved, he had to open his eyes.

“Alright, sunshine. Gonna move you a little so your head is in my lap, okay?”

“Mhm.”

Eddie adjusted him so he was laying with his head in his lap and his legs out along the length of the couch. He had a hand in Steve’s hair, scratching at his scalp gently, while his other hand was tracing circles on his arm.

“Mmmm. ‘S good,” Steve mumbled against Eddie’s thigh as he let his eyes slip closed again.

“Good.” He felt a gentle tug on his hair and his eyes shot open. Eddie was smirking down at him, but went back to gently scratching at his scalp. “Just testing. You remember the safeword?”

“Metallica.”

“Good boy. You use it the second you feel like you have to.”

Steve ignored the flutters in his stomach at being called a good boy again.

It went on like this for a little while, nothing new happening. Steve started to wonder if Eddie understood what the purpose of this was, when he suddenly felt Eddie stop all movement.

He whimpered, then felt Eddie’s hand tug at his hair harder.

“You have to stay quiet, sunshine. Keep being a good boy for me.”

His tone was different. Not quite stern, but not as soft as before either. Steve didn’t have to know him better to know that he should listen to him.

“I’m going to watch a show. You just sit right there for me and look pretty.”

Oh. Jesus Christ.

Steve was already hard. From that? Really Steve?

He managed to stay quiet this time, but he knew the second Eddie touched him again he would moan.

But Eddie didn’t touch him again.

He turned on the tv and casually looked for a channel. When he found one, he watched with his hands by his sides, not even resting against Steve’s skin.

Steve knew this must be part of it or they wouldn’t be doing it, but he felt himself growing frustrated at not getting any attention.

Minutes passed like that. Steve wondered when Eddie would acknowledge him again, but didn’t want to risk saying something.

Then a hand was in his hair, playing with the ends as if Eddie had never stopped.

Steve let out a content sigh and closed his eyes again.

“Being so good for me, sunshine.”

Steve smiled to himself, keeping his eyes closed so he could relax fully against Eddie’s lap.

The noise from the tv turned distant, but the fingers in his hair felt like fire. Or maybe ice. Both? Could be both. They just felt nice.

Steve drifted, not realizing he was going until he was already gone.

Eddie knew the moment it happened’ Steve’s entire body relaxed entirely against him and the couch, and he let out a sigh that could’ve been held in for years with how loud it was. He didn’t open his eyes, but Eddie didn’t need to see them to know they’d be glazed over.

“So perfect, Stevie. Feeling good, huh?”

“Mmm.”

Eddie smiled down at him, even though he wouldn’t see it.

He wouldn’t let him stay down for long, just for the rest of the show.

Not that he was watching the show.

Not when he had Steve in his lap, floating away because of his gentle touches and words.

Chapter 5

TAG LIST: @invisibleflame812 @inmoonywetrust @captain-daryn @carlyv @lillemilly @spectrum-spectre @raisedbylibrarians @estrellami-1 @gregre369 @mightbeasleep @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @bornonthesavage @loguine-linguine @bejeweledbaby @bisexualdisastersworld @eddiemunsonswife @sadcanadianwinter @messrs-weasley @i-write-stories-not-sins-bitch @maya-custodios-dionach

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #chapter 4 #grumpy sunshine trope #tattoo artist eddie munson #guidance counselor steve harrington #dom/sub #dom eddie munson #sub steve harrington

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figsnpassionfruits · 15 days

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Paint Away, My Little Dove - Chapter 3

A/N: I am really excited to go further into this fic, given that I have many things planned for it. The upcoming chapter will be dealing with a lot more mature themes. Please always look at the tags. You have been warned. word count: 2.2k tags: arthur morgan x fem!reader, fluff, angst, age gap, implied rape, gunshot wounds, implied torture dividers by: @strangergraphics-archive pictures are from pinterest

It had been a while since you were out without your wagon. All your canvases, colors and brushes were left at Hamish’s cabin. You however, were with Arthur. He had proposed to come here. “Just think it’s pretty over there ‘s all.” He answered when you asked why him he insisted to take you to Cotorra Springs. Both of you had your bare feet in the water, you swaying them back and forth, accidentally brushing against his every once in a while. Arthur did not seem to mind. Instead, he handed you another piece of chocolate from his leather bag on his right. Gladfully, you took it from him, thanking him with each piece he gave you.

“Just wished you had let me bring my stuff. This is just too gorgeous to not paint.” You frowned. The vibrant colors of the springs would have brought you in some money. Customers seemed to love the lively paintings, making this place perfect to turn into an art piece.

“Yup.” Arthur groaned. “Knew you’d say that, darlin’. Gotta stop workin’ all the time. Just enjoy whatchu got.”

You let out a small breath. He was right. Whenever you left Hamish’s cabin, it was only to paint or to get your supplies. It could get monotone. Taking in the nature with Arthur was extremely soothing. Away from responsibilities and thoughts. You leaned down a little, placing your hand in the water, playing with it.

Arthur smiled to himself at the innocent gesture. It was adorable to him. In this moment, you seemed to have no care about anything in the world. You were still young, many years still ahead of you. Arthur did not think of himself as a good man. ‘Selfish ol’ fool’ He would mutter whenever he caught himself thinking about you too much for his own liking. You embodied a contrast to his own lifestyle. Being Dutch’s first protégé came with all the pressure one could imagine. He never knew an easy life. He never knew a life without responsibility. Besides, it felt wrong to him to see you as more than just a gorgeous lady. ‘Why would a pretty little thing like her want an old man?’

You tried drying your hands on the baby-blue blanket underneath the both of you, flipping your loose braid over your shoulder without using them. It felt uncomfortable- the sloppy strands falling over your face and the weight of the hair not being held up by the rubber band. “Arthur?”

“What’s wrong?”

“My hair.” You pointed out.

Arthur looked confused, scanning over your head, trying to understand what was wrong with it. “There ain’t nothin’ in yer hair.”

“No-“ You giggled, “My hands are wet and my braid is loose. Could you just tuck it away, please?”

“Could also braid it for ya.”

“You know how to?”

Arthur nodded, asking you to turn your back to him. He was gentle with it, placing one strand on top of the other, only tugging lightly at them to make sure they were somewhat firm. His broad, calloused hands turned soft whenever he touched you. It was like the non-forgiving outlaw left, and a caring man took over, not that you would know anyway. This was the only version of Arthur you knew. He intended to keep it that way. There was no point in ruining this fragment of his life. Arthur had to allow himself to have a little bit of peace. If you were it, he would gladly accept. You were the potion that allowed him to get away from his duty and the gang. He could not lose that. He could not lose you.

“Arthur.” You murmured his name, turning back to him and placing a hand on his thigh. “I truly enjoy spending time with you.”

He let out a breath, the corners of his lips quirking up to mirror the small smile you had on your face. “Me too, sweetheart.”

…………………………………………..

It had been weeks since you last saw him. No letter, no message to Hamish. Nothing. Maybe you had done something wrong? Maybe he got sick of wasting his time with a younger woman. Maybe he found someone else? Maybe, maybe, maybe. The thoughts would not stop racing. You felt abandoned. The first time the both of you met was not too long ago but the connection you felt to him exceeded it.

“Wipe that frown off of your face, Y/N.” Hamish soothed.

He did not like seeing you in any type of sorrowful state. It would remind him too much of the time of when he first took you in. You were all bloodied, wounded and freezing out in the cold. Angelo Bronte had creative ways on how to deal with anyone who wanted to turn the law against him. You were ready for him to fight back, but not to this extent. What he had done to you, you would not wish upon your worst enemy. The second you collected your courage to speak up on it, fate punished you harder. Even with all his money, Bronte was limited in Saint Denis. After all, he was in the public eye. There were things he could and things he could not to. The punishment he had planned for you, was not anything that could have occurred in the city. According to him, you were something that the Murfree Brood could deal with. His problem could disappear into the woods, making it impossible for a trial to happen. Obstacle overcome.

“What if something happened to him, Hamish?” You mumbled, looking for a sense of comfort by wrapping your own arms around you.

Hamish sighed. He did not have an answer. Instead of trying to comfort you with words, he walked up to you, placing his hand on your shoulder.

………………………………………….

Not only Buell, but also your horses were snorting, neighing and screaming outside. It was dark out, worrying you even more as to what all this was about. Maybe that wolf pack which would howl every night dared to attack one of the horses. You threw the covers from you, sprinting outside, not caring to put on a coat. Hamish had already beat you to it, standing in front of you with a rifle pointed at a horse, snorting just as much as yours were. On it, was a man, leaning over it, letting the animal carry the weight of him.

Hamish demanded a name, inching closer to the horse, his wooden foot echoing in the silence of the night. Yet, there was no answer.

You squinted your eyes, trying to analyze the situation. ‘I know this horse.’ It was Arthurs black Shire. “Arthur!” You blurted out, running past Hamish.

“I’m alright, I’m alright.” Arthur groaned, his heavy-breathed voice saying otherwise. He attempted to dismount his horse, moving as slow as he could.

Hamish had already come to the opposite side of you, trying to uphold Arthur’s weight as he plopped to his feet.

You had your hands to his side, scanning all over his body, trying to understand where he was hurt and where it was safe to touch him. All three of you took step after step, further moving to the cabin, wanting to get Arthur inside. “Arthur, please- what happened?” Your eyes were filled with tears and you could already feel the worry forming a clump in your throat.

He looked horrible. His eyebags were deep and dark, his usually clean clothes were covered in sweat and dirt. The front of his left shoulder had blood leaking from it. “’m okay. Went to camp to get taken care of. ‘m fine- just gotta- rest.”

‘Camp?’ You looked over at Hamish, trying to make sense of what Arthur was uttering. He however, seemed extremely focused. His experience with war came with all the kinds of wounds and death possible. Hamish knew exactly what to do. There was no hint of nervousness in his face.

You on the other hand, were panicking. Here comes the man you have been fancying after weeks of no contact, all weak and fragile. Your body could only respond with crying. Anything Hamish asked of you, you did.

“Put his horse to ours.” “Get a warm n’wet cloth.” “Stand back.”

“Arthur?” God, your voice sounded pathetic. It was shaky and barely audible as you watched Hamish rip open Arthur’s shirt to reveal the bullet wound on his shoulder. The residue of some balm implied it had mostly been taken care of, yet it still looked painful. A gunshot like that could not have been from a distance. This was as close as one could point a gun.

You could see Arthur lifting his hand, trying to stop Hamish from further cleaning around the damage. “Hamish, friend- ‘m ‘kay. My people took care ‘f me. Just needed to come here.” He heaved.

You moved around your own bed, crouching to be on eye level with the hurt man in front of you. You took his big hand into both of yours, giving it a slow kiss as you closed your eyes.

“How old is this wound, boy?” Hamish asked him.

Arthur let his head hit your pillow, closing his eyes and gulping. You could see how hard it was for him to recollect energy just to talk. “Couldn’t tell ya. But my camp- got there yesterday.” If it was under normal circumstances, he would have only focused on your scent on the bed he was laying on. It offered him comfort. But now, he had to make sure he would not pass out. Scaring you further was not something he wanted to do. Arthur turned his head, his hand still wrapped by yours. “Had to come see ya.”

“Oh, Arthur.” You sobbed, releasing his hand to frame his face. You leaned in closer and pursed your now salty lips to place a kiss on his nose. “What happened? Please.”

“Tomorrow, sweetheart.”

…………………………………………

Your feet were in the water again. This time however, it was the familiar lake right in front of the cabin you stayed in. You had your knees tucked to your chest, your cheek leaning on them to support the weight of your head. Last night sleep was sin for you. You did not allow yourself to sleep. Your hair was a mess, flowing all over the place with the slow breeze passing by.

“I really didn’t want ya to worry your pretty little head over me.” Arthur sat down next to you on the ground, groaning as he did. He was still in pain, there was no point in hiding it.

“You gotta tell me what’s going on, Arthur.”

Arthur sighs, looking out into the water. “I know.” He admitted. “I really wanted to keep yerself out of this mess.”

You faced him, placing your hands slowly on his forearms, every touch of you being light and careful as you feared hurting him. “You still can. But don’t lie to me.” You pleaded, rubbing your thumbs on the hairs of his pale skin. “I can’t just ignore this.”

“I know, sweetheart.”

You looked around the area, taking in the peace with a deep inhale. Arthur was safe. So were you. It was alright.

“We were set up.” Arthur started. “My gang and I, we- we were set up. It was ‘posed to be a negotiation but I got captured. But I got away. I refused to leave without a souvenir.” He said, pointing to his bullet wound in his shoulder, making him wince the second his finger grazed it.

You placed a hand in his hair, using your delicate fingers to comb through his curls. No matter how much you tried, it was hard to hide the empathy in your face.

“Don’tcha look at me like that, darlin’.” Arthur put his own hand on top of yours, attempting to stop you from going through his hair. It was not like he did not like it. He loved it actually. But he did not want you to feel pity towards him. He had gotten enough of that when he showed up back at camp in his sorry state.

But you would not accept. You freed your hand from his grasp and kept doing what you were doing before, only this time you also placed a kiss on his cheek, trying to tell him that it was okay to have this. It was okay to want comfort and warmth.

He let down his guard, the tension in his body leaving to enjoy what you had him to offer. “I gotta go back. Don’t want ‘em to think that I was taken again.”

“You didn’t tell them you were coming here?”

“Nah. They don’t gotta know about here. Told ya I’d want to keep ya out of this.”

You swallowed hard, fidgeting with your fingers. “Make sure you come back soon. I get worried easily. Or send me a letter or something just-“ You stopped yourself, your mouth slightly agape, your body waiting for your brain to finish your sentence. “Just don’t leave me hanging.”

Arthurs shoulders dropped as he listened to you. You could see his gaze soften as he leaned forward to place a kiss on your forehead. “I won’t.”

- 🍯

#rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x female reader #paint away

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klausysworld · 1 year

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Can you make a smut like just pure smut klaus x reader (preferably black/mixed reader)reader is hope Mikealson’s best friend and reader is finally meeting hopes family and she is all hot and bothered by klaus and klaus can tell

“Hii how are you could you maybe make a smut klaus x fem reader hopes best friend (reader)finally meet hope’s family and reader is drawn to klaus and can’t take her eyes off of him and he notices and something happens between them :)”

this was also requested and i wasn’t sure if you could respond to two at once??

Hope and i had been best friends for a while now and i was so nervous about meeting her family. I’ve seen pictures and been told all about them so hopefully everything will be fine but i sort of already have crush on her dad even though i haven’t actually met him?

Hope knows i find him attractive and always makes jokes about it, thankfully she finds it funny instead of making it weird

“i know they’re all gonna love you! You, y/n y/l/n, are gonna become an honorary Mikaelson… or maybe an actual Mikaelson if you marry my dad… will that make me your daughter? should i start calling you Mommy?” i shoved her as we laughed and got out of her car to start walking to to her house, i ended up chasing her most of the way to the door as she fake screamed and ran

“i call maid of honour!” she called as we got to the entrance

“who’s getting married?” was said from behind me making me jump forward towards Hope, she had a big smile on her face as she grabbed my arm

“Dad!! this is y/n remember i told you all about her!?” my face heated up as i ran a hand down my face and glanced at Klaus who looked somehow even better in person than in the photos

“oh god what did you say?” i mumbled shaking my head and both she and her father laughed

“nothing bad love, in fact she said many wonderful things, you enjoy art?” i side eyed a very smiley Hope who was practically buzzing

“she does, she paints too, she’s really good, i think you should show her your art room cuz i know for a fact that she would just looove it, i showed her some of your pieces and her mouth was hanging open like a fish she looked adorable” she rambled but i don’t think Klaus was listening much, he was looking straight into my eyes as his pupil dilated as he licked his bottom lip and hummed

“well them we’ll take her up yes?” he cut hopes rant off and she nodded excitedly

“sure well im gonna see aunt Bex so if you take her to see that- the art! i’ll see you both in a moment” she literally slid out of the room as she slipped and skidded round the corner

“you don’t have to, i think Hopes in a…funny mood” i explained and began walking after her but his large hand took ahold of mine and he spun me back to his chest

“we should go see the art, if she thinks we should see the art then it’s what we should do” i whispered an “okay” in response and he led me up the stairs.

He showed me many paintings and sketches letting me touch the different textures and flip through his books. All the way through he kept a hand on my waist, his face was practically sat in the crook of my neck and he whispered stories of why painted different things. One sketch book had paintings of naked women, or hands touching intimate parts of someone, i felt my panties dampen at the thought of him painting my body, his hands cupping my breasts. He inhaled deeply through his nose and let out a little grunt

“which is your favourite?” he muttered as he bushed himself against me letting me feel his hard on against my ass

“probably that one…” i said quietly pointing to the painting of the women lead on the bed with her back arched and her head thrown back

“mm that was actually a very interesting person, she had very lovely hands you see?” he moved my hand to where hers were, she was squeezing her own breasts, i realised that was the main focus of his drawing, her hands

“you’re very talented Mr Mikaelson” he smirked and rubbed my hip with his thumb

“1000 years of practice can do that, perhaps…you’ll let me do you?” i gulped and slowly turned around so our chests were touching, i was breathing pretty heavily and could feel my breasts brushed against him, i locked eyes with his sapphire ones as i tilted my head up. He leaned down and gently pressed his lips to mine which i immediately reciprocated, they were plump and soft making me push my tongue through them and taste his. He tasted rich and intoxicating making me moan into his mouth and moved my hands to hold the back of his head while his held onto my waist pulling me tightly against him. He moved a hand down and lightly squeezed my ass under my skirt. He pushed his leg in between my thighs and moved me along his jeans, the fabric quickly darkened with my wetness as it went through my underwear onto him. I panted when he moved his mouth down to suck along my jaw and then down and back up my neck finding my sweet spot just below my ear and paying it extra attention. I moaned again louder and i began grinding against him harder. He brought his hands down to lift me up by my thighs, i wrapped my legs around him as he connected our mouths again.

Our tongues entwined and the sound of pages scattering the floor filled the room, i was put into the now empty table, i was pushed flat on my back and my legs were pulled to the edge

“you look so bloody beautiful spread our like this, suck a lovely dress” he told me and kissed down my neck to my cleavage, he ran his tongue along the swell of my breasts. I arched my back and moved my hands up to undo some of the buttons going down so he had better access to them. Klaus gently cupped them both and then attached his lips to my left one making me gasp. He tugged on it and swirled his tongue around it before giving the same affection to the other one. He undid the rest of the buttons and pushed it off my arms leaving me completely bare for him.

Nervousness flooded through me and i brought my knees up to my chest so i was covered

“i want to see you y/n, all of you” he whispered and pulled my knees apart to look at my most private area. The vulnerability of being so open for him while he was still fully clothed had me avoiding any eye contact as he studied me.

“you are magnificent you know that? absolutely divine” he announced moved so he was off the table and pulling me to the edge, he went down onto his knees and held my legs open

“do you want this, love?” he whispered locking eyes with me

“i- i do” he smirked in response and his tongue darted out. His hot tongue kitten licked at my clit, my hands flew to his hair and pulled him towards me breathing out his name as though it were a prayer

“lay back love” he instructed before his actions became more. He was now sucking harshly at my clit and his tongue teased my entrance making me gasp a moan. I opened my legs as wide as they would go when his skilful tongue entered me, he expertly plunged it within me and i called out for him desperately. The dreams i had were no where near as brilliant as the real thing. I could feel myself fluttering around his tongue, his thumb went to my clit and drew figures of eight upon it, he gradually got faster and i pulled at his sandy locks. The burning sensation pulsed through me, my nails scratched his scalp, his groan adding to the pure pleasure coursing inside while my toes curled and i came into his mouth. His thumb slowed and gently tapped my clit as he licked up every last drop that escaped me.

“You taste fantastic y/n” he whispered and kissed me again letting me see how sweet i was in his mouth.

“can you take your clothes off now” i asked shyly still playing with his curls. He smirked and kissed my lips again

“i suppose it’s only fair” he said while removing his shirt. I gaped at his toned body and couldn’t help but run my fingertips down his torso as he undid his belt, when i glanced down to his underwear i audibly swallowed

“i know you’re going to be so good for me” he uttered stroking my cheek with his palm while palming himself

“how…how do you want me?” i hesitated before asking still eyeing his thickness, almost drooling when he twitched

“Let’s get you on the floor” he pulled me down from the table and onto the floor

“hands and knees love” he whispered and i did as told. He disappeared for a second before returning with a pillow, he stretch my arms and and told me to rest my head on the pillow. I arched my back for him and shivered at the thoughts running through my mind

“you’re sure?”

“i’m positive” i replied

A moment later his tongue was in my folds again gathering my juices and sliding into my centre before exiting again and shifting himself forward, his hands rubbed my ass and down my back, he gripped onto my hips and guided me onto his dick. My tight walls swallowed him as soon as he entered his thick length and we both moaned.

“oh god” i mumbled and stretched myself further

“not god love, just me” he slowly removed himself until just is tip remained inside me before thrusting back in forcefully and building a rhythm from there

“i don’t think ‘just me’ is a fair answer there, you’re basically a god” he gave a breathy laugh and continued moving, i had never felt so full in my life, his cock buried far inside me hitting my g-spot just right making me cry out for him to continue. He gave guttural moans from behind me. His hands moved up my back and got ahold of the area between my neck and shoulders, he pulled me back into him to meet his forceful jolts. I tightened around him and i could feel my clit screaming to be touched, almost as if he could read my mind one hand left my shoulder and went to his mouth before down against my bundle of nerves.

“you going to cum for me sweet y/n?” he asked as he twitched inside me and his thrusts became slightly sloppy. I nodded rapidly and my body shook with the force he used to fuck me. i squeezed the pillow between my hands and cried out a moan of his name as i clamped around him and let him fill me with his hot fluid.

He rocked into me for a while longer before slipping out of me and letting out a sigh of contentment. My body relaxed and my face pressed into the pillow, my ass was still propped in the air and i groaned at the ache in my core pushed myself up on my arms and then my hands and rolled over to sit down

“did i do okay?”

“you did perfectly, come here” i crawled over to him and he tilted my head to kiss my lips slowly and softly

“Hope’s waiting for us and you need to meet everyone else but next time i’ll take you out for a romantic dinner, i’ll get you another pretty dress, your favourite flowers which i already know because Hope has told me everything i could need to know and then if you want something like this again ill have you in my bed” i blushed dark and nodded smiling

“i’d like that very much”

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risuola · 9 months

Text

BIRTHDAY GIFT — F. READER x GOJO SATORU

Sometimes you forget about your own birthday, but no worries, Satoru's got you. He always remember, and he even prepared a very special gift for you.

cw: fluff, no warnings — 2,8k words

a/n: i turned 28 this week, so here i am indulging myself with a fictional party, because i hate real parties. also i'm not sure if the picture in the middle is an official art or the fan art, i claim no rights to it 🩶

“Thanks Kento,” you addressed the blonde, when you got out of the bathroom in his house. “You’re saving my life.”

“No need to thank me,” he responded with the ghost of a smile on his face, and you checked yourself in the mirror. You looked tired, but other than that, thankfully normal, which wasn’t the case just half an hour ago, when you finished your job in the field.

It was a simple mission – get to the place, exorcise a bunch of curses, nothing out of ordinary and nothing especially difficult to do. Quite the opposite, it went smoothly – it took you three hours to hunt down every single one of the little curses, but their grades were low. One thing you were not told before taking the assignment though, was that those curses had a tendency to ugly explode with purple and green goo as they were exorcised. That’s why, when the job was done, you were covered from head to toe in those slimy curse gut-residuals. It was on your clothes, hands, in your hair and you could have sworn it was in your mouth too. You could feel it, smell it, taste it and damn was it disgusting. Hence why you called Nanami on your way back and thankfully found him at home. His apartment was so near, compared to the way you had to reach Jujutsu high and being the sweetheart that he is, he agreed for you to take a shower at his place and even gave you one of his dress shirts to wear, because your clothes were good for nothing but a trash bag. It was way too big, but with a belt it made for a pretty cute dress actually.

Once you were ready to leave, he got up as well.

“I have a thing to check in school so Ijichi will drive us both,” he explained and you gave it a nod and after that, you two went down to get a ride.

“How are you?”, you asked your friend, while you two were comfortably seated in the back of a car. It’s been a while since you last saw Nanami. “I didn’t even ask.”

“I’m good, thanks y/n,” he once again, gave you the slightest one of his smiles and exhaled deeply. “You’re tired, huh?”

“Ah, it’s nothing. Guess I didn’t sleep well today, it’s all good.” You shrugged it off, looking at the driver. “And you, Ijichi? Satoru’s not bothering you too much?”

“I-I’m fine and no, he’s n-not,” the man stuttered, sweat beads forming on his forehead as he spoke and you chuckled. That poor man was constantly being terrorized by the strongest sorcerer for god knows why.

“So, he is bothering you,” you chuckled and Ijichi laughed nervously, wiping his forehead with a tissue. “You don’t have to be so scared of him, he just likes to assert his dominance but he wouldn’t hurt you. Is he bothering you as well, Nanami?”

“Gojo is always bothering me,” the blonde sighed. “It always amazes me how fondly you speak of him. You really seem to like Satoru.”

“Oh, he’s really not that bad,” a smile spread over your face as you thought about Satoru. “He’s quite charming, actually.”

Truth is, you and Satoru are closer than any of you might wanna admit. You’re co-workers, that’s for sure. Friends, also, you know each other since high school and you kept in touch ever since. You probably know the man more than he knows himself. You’ve also been on few dates. Unofficial dates, of course, more like you just went to the same place, at the same time, just the two of you, and sat at the same table or bench, and talked for hours as you were brushing circles onto the skin of his hands or he was just keeping yours in his palms. Those kinds of dates. Nothing serious.

“As charming as a clown can be, I guess,” Nanami shrugged softly and you giggled. “But you two should get together, it’s only you who he seems to not enjoy annoying.”

“Commitment in our profession doesn’t seem like a great idea.”

“Maybe you’re right.”

The rest of the drive went in calm, you talked with the two in the car about sweet little nothings, sharing meaningless details about your days and maybe Ijichi seemed a little more stressed than usual, but you didn’t notice anything too weird to think about it. That’s why when you pulled off to the school and got to the main building, your heart almost jumped out of your chest at the sudden and incredibly loud ‘surprise!’ being thrown at your face.

“Huh?”, it stunned you to the point of disorientation. Why were all of your students and most of the older sorcerers that you know here? Why all the balloons, confetti and the cake?

“It’s your birthday, dummy,” you quickly were swept by the long arm of no one else but Satoru Gojo, who greeted you with a grin wide and bright and a light squeeze on your shoulder. The gesture was friendly, but you couldn’t deny the warmth that exploded in your chest the moment he touched you.

“My birthday?” Oh yes, your birthday. “God, I forgot about it.”

“I figured, buuuut we didn’t so I hope you have a little bit more power in your batteries to celebrate?”, Satoru led you more into the crowded space and with real surprise you noticed that even Yuuta was here, and students from Kyoto along with Utahime. No Gakuganji though, thanks to the heavens.

It was all surreal but at the same time so grounding to be surrounded by so many people that you find close to your heart. And for the next hours, you forgot about how tired your body was, how disgusting you were earlier that day and how perfectly Nanami acted like he has a real job in the school rather than the party to attend.

You stayed there until very late, enjoying every second of talks and laughs with your friends and students. You caught up with all of them, learned about the progress the teenagers were making, got to know more about how work was for the older sorcerers and even, when outside for a quick fresh air breath, one of the little, flying curses gave you a card with few wishes written in it, with no sign whatsoever, but it was the handwriting that gave it away. Suguru Geto. Even though he went a very different path than the rest of you, even though you all lost contact with him the moment he left around the second year, he had never, not even once, forgotten about your birthday, always delivering a card or something else one way or another. It warmed your heart and sometimes you wished to see him just for a moment to give him one last bear hug. You couldn’t, but the card will go to the box of things you cherish, along with the round, dark shades that no one could see through – the ones that Gojo was wearing while in high school; with Shoko’s first scalpel that she used to practice – the very cheap one that got blunt after just few uses; with one button from Haibara’s uniform – the only one that was left hanging by a thread, when he got back to school one last time and along with many other things you’ll hold onto until the day you die.

“Tired?”, Satoru asked you, when the clock hands moved past 1am. Most of the students were already gone and teachers also began to crumble down, calling it a night.

“Exhausted,” you chuckled softly and squeezed the hand he offered you, helping you get up from the couch.

“Let’s get you to bed, how’s that sound?”

“Perfect.”

With all of the goodbyes done, you gathered your gifts and left with Satoru, heading towards your little apartment. All the way he was keeping your hand in his, grinning like he usually does, but something felt off in the way his fingers were wrapped around you. A little tighter than always, little more possessive – a little more like he was afraid to let go of you even though that would be an irrational fear, because you never wanted anything more than to be held by him.

“Soo,” he began, when you both stepped into your place and you put down all of the bags, “I hope you don’t think I forgot about your gift. Though it’s technically not your birthday anymore.”

“Oh, Satoru, you know I don’t care about the gifts, right?” you smiled at him. “All of this, the party, the people, is more than I could wish for. Every second spent with all of you is worth more than any gift I could receive.”

“Yea, yea,” he waved a hand at you, making you laugh. He made you feel all kinds of weird things, one of which being the urge to slap and kiss him at the same time. “I actually have two gifts for you.”

“Of course you have,” a shake of your head was all you could offer him. Of course, Satoru Gojo had to be extra like that. “So?”

“Sooo, that’s the first one.” You didn’t even question the way he pulled the light-blue bag with a matching ribbon on top of it from behind his back, like he had it all of the time, which you know he didn’t. You took it anyway and before you even peeked inside, you reached up to him and pressed a chaste kiss to his cheek, whispering little ‘thank you’. “You’re welcome, now, you can check it later,” almost immediately after the bag landed in your hands, it was snatched away and put down where the other gifts were. “The second gift-“

You looked at him with confusion, realizing that Satoru was… nervous? He was bouncing slightly on his feet, as if he was hyping himself up. He took his glasses off and brushed a hand through his hair.

“Yea?”, you encouraged him to continue, taking him by the hands in hopes to calm him down a little. “What is it? Satoru, don’t tell me you bought me a snow tiger or something?”

“Huh? No, I didn’t. What, you want a snow tiger? You said they are cute, but-“

“No, absolutely not. No snow tigers, please.”

“Ok, wow, I’m more nervous than I was… ever, probably, that’s new,” he laughed at his own composure, or rather the lack of thereof, and now you really began to worry. What the hell did this man did?

“Just say it, I can take it.”

Pulling him by the hands, you took him onto the sofa, now slightly worrying he might really pass out. Doors to your apartment stayed open wide, but that was the least of your worries, when you two sat down and all your eyes could fix on was a man next to you. He looked stunning in his dark grey sweater that exposed a little bit of his collar bones and his long neck, contrasting with his pale skin, light hair and really making his eyes pop. The eyes that made it so easy to get lost. They were like an ocean under the clear sky and bright sunlight, illuminating with thousands of glittering sparkles and the shades of azure and turquoise mixed and flew one into another, intertwining and creating an artwork impossible to recreate. If someone were to animate Satoru, the whole budget would probably go into his eyes alone.

“So, first you need to know that if what I want to give you is not something you feel comfortable accepting, please don’t feel obliged to and just say no. Okay?”, he spoke again and you nodded.

“Come on, Satoru. Just tell me. Or show me, whatever it is.”

“Show you. Alright, I can do that.”

You expected everything. Your mind even wandered into absurd such as him giving you an airplane for god knows what reason, but even in your boldest, bravest dreams you didn’t anticipate his lips on yours. He went all slow and soft about it, closing the distance carefully, leaving you with more than enough time to react and push him away if you wanted to, and when he finally reached you, planting a gentle kiss to your mouth, whilst his hand rested on the side of your neck a little stiffly, you froze for a second. Your body froze, but your heart was racing inside your chest, beating so hard he probably could hear it and feel it in your pulse underneath his palm. Satoru’s lips felt as soft as they looked, so perfect against yours even though what was happening wasn’t even resembling a kiss. It was more like a press with the slightest movement applied but it spoke so much. It was an offer – that way Gojo opened himself to you, ripped his own chest apart and with that simple peck on the lips, he wanted to tell you that now, he’s ready to be vulnerable with you, if you’d only want him to.

“Is my second gift a kiss from you?”, you questioned when he moved his head back just a little, searching for your reaction. It would be on brand for Gojo to consider a kiss from himself a valuable gift, which it was, but if that’s what he wanted to offer you, he had to put more effort into it.

“It’s me. If you’ll have me,” he almost whispered, smoothing over your jawline with his thumb. “Maybe it’s not the best idea to commit to relationship in our line of work, but fuck this. If you’ll have me, I’m yours.”

“Are you serious?”

“Never been more serious.”

Your heart fluttered. Grabbing his face in both of your hands, you went in and kissed him, pouring into it all of the love you held for him and he purred softly against your lips, wrapping his long arms around you and leaning more against you. He outweighed you; you lost your balance and fell back onto the couch and he followed you closely, breaking the kiss just to ask, “is that a yes?”

“Yes, Satoru. Very much yes,” you chuckled and his lips were back on yours, taking your breath away with how good it felt. Your fingers found a way through his silky, snowy white strands, you smoothed over the back of his neck and his broad shoulders, giving into the sensation that radiated throughout your entire nervous system, sending hot waves of pure euphoria down your spine and into every cell in your body. You were happy, the exhaustion now completely forgotten and only the man above you mattered. His weight felt so right on top of you, even in the insanely uncomfortable position you two were now trapped in with your hips twisted below his torso and him now half in the air and half on the couch because there was no way for his height to fit in here. But it didn’t matter. What mattered was his lips on yours, his warmth on your skin and-

“Doors,” you mumbled into the kiss, the gentle whiff of cold air reminded you of what has been forgotten. The doors, that were still wide open. He could feel your chest rumbling with a chuckle as you realized none of you cared enough to even close your apartment when you went in and he made a decision to ignore this fact, now completely consumed by the thought of you. He hummed something and moved his lips lower, smearing kisses all over your chin and down your neck and you tugged softly onto his hair. “Satoru, doors are still opened-”

Getting up, walking towards the entrance and locking the doors would be the logical thing to do, but the thought of parting his own body from yours for even a second now didn’t dare to cross Gojo’s mind, so he stretched his hand towards the doors, consumed by sucking a red spot to the side of your neck and you couldn’t believe it, but he blasted the door with a cursed energy. They shut with the loudest noise anyone could create at that hour in the middle of the night and not ten seconds passed, before they just fell out of frame and hit the floor with another harsh thud.

That seemed to do the trick in stopping the heat, because both of you froze for a moment and you looked to the side, he looked to the side and the world stopped for a whole five second, before you started laughing and playfully patting his shoulder.

“What have you done,” you whined. “Satoruu~”

“I’ll fix this,” he swore, hiding his face back into the crook of your neck, pretending like he wasn’t even there and you couldn’t help but brush through his hair as laughter still had the better of you. “Guess I’ll have to stay the night so you can be safe.”

“Guess that might be necessary.”

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