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cosmicporos · 2 days ago
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What Arcane characters would gift you for Christmas!
Jinx, Vi, Ekko, Viktor, Jayce
(Semi crack Drabble… sorry for going super long with Viktor’s and Jayce’s HCs. I LOVE THEM SO MUCH)
(Jayce is Hispanic in my hc :3)
ENJOY AND HAVE FUN LOVE YALL<3
Not proofread
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JINX
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Hear me out… the first thing she would plan to gift you are decorated safety googles.
As a matter of fact everything she gifts you is handmade!
She knows you love to spend time with her when she’s in her workshop and the extra spare of googles she had were pretty crappy…
“Ugh, these old things? Pfft, they look like they’ve been through a freakin’ explosion… oh wait, they probably have! We gotta get you a new pair soon toots!”
They’d be totally decked out! Lots of character as she calls it.
“Okay toots check it out! Maximum protection but most importantly! They got style!”
The googles themselves would be in her classic style, very colorful paint, cute little heart scribbles all around! And of course lots of glitter….
“"I mean, you've got to stay safe while causing mayhem, right? And hey, if we're blowing stuff up together, you'll definitely need these. Plus, I made them perfectly for you. No one else will have goggles like these... trust me!"
I totally see her adding little handmade jewelry from her gears and spare parts, would totally make you a belt or choker out of spare bullets.
Vi
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She would totally panic on what to get you for Christmas. Like what if you suddenly hate the thing you’ve loved since the very beginning she’s known you???
Would end up both buying and making you something!
She’s make you something small but meaningful
“Okay Okay fine! You can open mine now. Just don’t laugh too hard Cupcake…”
You’d open the poorly wrapped gift to uncover a bright pink scarf she knitted you! The stitching is a mess.. there a hole’s through the project (no doubt a missed stitch) but in all honesty it so cute you feel like your heart might explode.
"Yeah, I know I'm not, uh, the best at this kind of thing," she mutters, scratching the back of her neck, "but I figured you could use something to keep warm... and, you know, 'cause it's winter. And... you're important to me."
Guys please tell her she did an amazing job PLEASE.
She would also totally buy you a pair of combat boots! Totally saved up for months in advance.
She loves the idea of being able to match and have a bit of her style on you!
Ekko
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Just like Jinx (sobs) he’d also make something for you!
The first thing he’d give you would be a little sketch book full of drawings of you from random moments throughout your relationship he remembers oh so clearly.
"I've been working on it for a while... It's... it's just a bunch of drawings. I mean, not just anything. Stuff that made me think of you. Stuff we've done, or things I hope we do. I don't know, it just felt like the best way to show how I feel about... well, us."
Okay he would also totally make you matching jewelry (matching clock hand necklaces?)
You’d force him to take the hour hand since it’s shorter (heheheh little man)
Once you explain your reasoning as to why he should take the smaller one he sighs disappointedly…
"Okay, okay, I get it," he finally says, a little less playful now, his voice softening. "I guess if you want me to wear it, I can..."
Then, a grin creeps back onto his face as he adds, "But don't think I'm letting you off the hook with the minute hand. You're wearing that one for sure." He places the hour hand necklace around his neck, the smaller pendant resting there, and looks up at you with that mischievous gleam in his eye.
He pauses, holding up his necklace, "I'm still the one with the bigger job. You'll just have to keep up." A proud smug smirk now rests on his face.
Viktor
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FUCK WHERE DO I BEGIN I LOVE THIS MAN
o k a y. He would just like Vi panic… not because he doesn’t know what to get you but because he totally is going Christmas shopping late… very very late.
As much as I would love to say he’d make some little invention to make your day easier and give it to you for Christmas I don’t see it happening.
Not because he wouldn’t do it but because he already does it all the time! A little example, you’re late for work often? A little robot that hits you with a plastic squishy hammer every morning at 7 am waking you up when he can’t!
He’d definitely want to make Christmas special, I see him buying you something and then doing something special for you too!
Christmas morning would be greeted with warm hugs and kisses along with an even warmer bowl of potato soup!
He wanted to make sure he perfected his mother’s Bramboračka recipe. It was a once a year meal him and his mother shared every Christmas day.
He’s not a good cook by any means… but this is the one dish he can make and oh boy can he make it.
"Don't expect perfection," he says with a small, self-conscious smile, as you catch him sneaking a taste of the soup. Viktor looks up, his gaze softening. "I hope you like it," he says, and despite his usual perfectionism, there's a quiet pride in his voice. You take a sip, and the rich flavors of mushrooms, potatoes, and herbs immediately comfort you, just like his mother's love must've comforted him all those years ago.
OKAY for the making gift he planned I see him commissioning something due to the fact a lot of his inventions lack aesthetics.
Specifically I see him commissioning a music box that functions as a a jewelry box as well! He would have loved to make it himself but he was worried he wouldn’t have gotten the look right.
"Do you like it?" he asks, his voice softer than usual, as if he's worried about the reception. "I had it made... I thought... it might remind you of us."
The detail was breathtaking-floral patterns etched into the surface, with tiny gears and delicate metalwork accenting the edges. The craftsmanship was stunning, and you couldn't help but run your fingers over the smooth finish.
you lifted the lid, and a gentle, lilting melody began to play. It was slow and sweet, a tune that felt timeless, and as you stared at the tiny figurines inside, your breath caught.
His fingers fidgeted with the edge of his cane, his gaze flicking between you and the music box. "I commissioned it," he admitted, his voice quieter now. "I had the craftsman use a sketch I made. It's how I see us... in my mind. How I feel when I hold you." He paused, his expression softening. "I thought... I thought you deserved something that would remind you of that. Of... how much you mean to me."
Jayce
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Oh hon… Jayce would spoil you rotten.
I’m talking presents are overflowing underneath the tree.
You thought you lost your favorite piece of clothing? WRONG! He commissioned for more to be made in different colors and textures for you.
All the fragrances in the world he knew you would enjoy.
Cozy adorable pajamas we would give you Christmas morning so you could cuddle up drinking hot chocolate.
Spends Christmas Eve spoiling you and cuddling and being so tooth rottenly sweet.
It’s Christmas Eve, the scene was almost overwhelming. The living room looked like a perfectly curated holiday catalog-twinkling lights, a roaring fireplace, and, of course, an absurd number of gifts. Jayce sat cross-legged beside the tree, an excited grin lighting up his face as he handed you the first box. He had merely grinned, sheepish yet unrepentant. "What can I say? I got carried away?.”
"Open this one first," he urged, nearly vibrating with excitement. Inside was a bottle of an exquisite fragrance, the glass etched with delicate, swirling designs. It smelled divine-rich, warm, and entirely you.
"I figured you'd like that," he said eyes carefully watching everyone expression you make. You swear if he had a tail it would be swishing uncontrollably right now.
Christmas Day would be you spending Christmas day at his mother’s house!
(Listen I’m hc them as hispanic because for one HIS MOMS NAME HIS XIMENA… and two because why not :3 )
You have a great relationship with his Mother, she absolutely adores you and sees you as her daughter.
There’s lots of yummy food she’s prepared… perhaps too much for just 3 people?
Nonetheless, a pot of pozole, tamales de puerco and de dulce! And of course she made jayce’s favorite choco flan!
God she urges to to eat until you nearly pop! You have to undo your belt by the end of the night…
"Come, sit!" his mom insisted, pulling out a chair for you. "Jayce told me you've never had my tamales. That's a crime! Here, start with this." She placed one on your plate, her eyes twinkling.
Jayce sat beside you, his grin widening as you took your first bite. "Good, right?" he asked, nudging you playfully.
You could only nod, savoring the perfectly seasoned masa and tender filling.
Later in the evening, when everyone was too full to move, Jayce leaned over and slipped his hand into yours. His eyes were soft, his voice low as he said, "I'm glad you're here. This—" he gestured to the lively scene around you, "—feels perfect with you."
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wikipediette · 3 days ago
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emotional motion sickness
General g/n headcanons; mentions of abuse dynamics in relationships, talks of physical, emotional, and mental abuse, if these topics trigger you please dont read
so I'll start with the idea of being on earth with Jimmy, I'd like to imagine that curly set you two up, hoping that you'd rub off on him
Your first date you meet and you're charmed by him, he's a sarcastic, flirty, handsome man with a sense of humor (albeit a dry sense of humor)
people like Jimmy are VERY charming and can pretend to be a certain person to draw you in. Then slowly up the ante until you feel trapped
He starts off cute, comes a little late to dates, clothes wrinkled, flowers bent. But hes apologetic and you cant help but feel bad for him
As you get deeper into the relationship the faults start to show.
Maybe a year or so in he starts asking about friends. Nothing too dramatic just an occasional "who's that?"
And at first its cute! He's just worried and protective. But it slowly gets more and more controlling.
One of the first things an abuser will do is isolate you to make it hard to leave them. so he asks you to stop talking to a few people, coworkers or group project friends.
if you question it he will get very intense very fast and uestion why your so hesitant to cut them off.
"is there something your not telling me?" He asks, he had both arms caging you down onto your armchair, his body leaned down to look at you closely. "No!" You exclaim sitting up as best you can with him so close, "I just think it's weird you suddenly aren't ok with me and danny talking anymore!" He laughs but it holds no humor if the look on his face is anything to go by "I know you probably didn't notice but he's constantly flirting with you, he obviously wants to fuck you." you begin to mentally look over your conversations in your head, had he? Was there something you missed? Something misinterpreted? "Really?" You ask, doubting if you really should be talking to a man who liked you while in a relationship. "yes! that's why I don't want you talking to him, he's trying to take advantage of you." you sigh before nodding "yeah, sorry I... didn't even realize" "its fine" he says softly holding the back of your head to lead you into a kiss "I just want to keep you safe".
so you bite and agree, you slowly begin to cut less important people out. As you do he'll pavlov you, with each friend you pick off he'll love bomb you. kisses, hugs, gifts, sex, sweet talk, pet names, bragging about you. He'll play into whatever you want as long as you follow his rules.
When it comes to the biggest hitters like family, close circle friends, and best friends he'll wait a few years to cut them out
He'll plant ideas of a us vs them mentality.
they just want to break us apart.
they're jealous of us.
your too good for them.
they don't treat you right.
they're the abusers.
i'm the only one who REALLY loves you
and after so many years with him, despite your ups and downs you cant help but do what he says because you just don't see him as this horrible monster everyone's making him out to be.
you love him and he loves you!
people just don't understand your dynamic,
they don't know him like you do.
when it's bad its bad but when it's good its so damn good.
and his lonely act works well too, besides curly he doesn't really have any friends.
he has acquaintances and coworkers, but friends? no.
if you broke up with him he'd have no one. and you've been together so long it'd be such a jump. going from deep conversations and intense love to asking about a person's favorite color? fuck that.
when he has you were he wants you that's when all hell breaks loose.
you barely go anywhere and if you do he either needs your location the whole time (probably makes you get life360) or has to be with you, hand on hip, glaring at anyone who talks to you.
when you two get invited to parties he'll play nice (after all he is in public) and let you roam.
you'll talk to people you haven't in a bit while he drinks and talks to curly.
and its times like that that makes the worst moments feel worth it.
speaking of the worst moments.....he's a very jealous person, he constantly is worried if you're cheating on him.
he'll argue with you and wont relent till your crying and exhausted.
then once he thinks you've proved yourself he'll scoop you up and let you cry on his shoulder. murmuring that he loves you and he sorry.
he'll open up, say he knows there's something wrong with him, and he's sorry hes like this, that you deserve better and he's trying.
"I'm sorry" Jimmy softly says into your ear. cradling you like a baby in his arms. your arms are around his neck, your eyes burn with drying tears and sleep, your nose is stuffy, your throat is dry from yelling and sobbing for hours. the rocking isn't helping your sleepiness. "I'm sorry, I know there's something wrong with me. Please don't leave me"
trying to leave in these situations is probably the worst thing you could do
now I'm not under the impression that Jimmy would be overly physically abusive given that his character is all about the subtleties of abuse.
BUT! I do believe he'd restrain you, push you, grab you harder than needed, ect. If you tried to leave him while arguing.
He doesn't like you taking control of the situation and it gets him very mad, as a result he'll force you to stay where he wants.
But he doesn't explicitly hit you as that would leave marks
he wouldn't want you to be bruised because that would bring suspicion to the safety of your relationship.
And most of the relationships abuse is kept to a level that could pass as normal to others.
I think having a friend like curly in these moments that always tries to smooth things over without any bridge burning would definitely lead to him unintentionally gaslighting you about it.
side note: ok this is the first time I've really written in this format, made a romantic x reader, AND this is also my first time posting x reader onto Tumblr lol. apologies if this is ooc I never refreshed myself on Jimmy's character simply bc I don't have the time for that lol. this is also based off of my general knowledge of abusive relationships. if anyone wants more plz let me know i really wanted to try writing fanfiction seriously for a while now lmao, bye :)
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ajellybee · 2 days ago
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Selfish
Sylus x GN!Reader 
🪼🐝notes: Sylus is someone I find comfort in because he is someone who takes care of his s/o like it's second nature. Without having to tell him he knows exactly what you need when you need it, so enjoy this lil drabble !!!
CW! None, angsty???? Comfort tho, soft sy 
₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊
Sylus chose you first when no one else ever did. He made you his person when no one ever did.
Sylus reminds you that it’s okay to be selfish. You always put everyone before you. You give and give and give, becoming a safe space for everyone, but never get the same treatment in return. 
“Sweetie, if you keep giving you’ll be nothing but bones, but I'm sure youd give those up too” You laugh it off, but you know he was right. You were worn thin, becoming the “yes man”, doing whatever you could to please because that's what you were supposed to do, no? You have to help. You put everyone first, prioritizing everyone's needs so that you forget your own. So it was weird when it seemed as though sylus went out of his way to put you first, but to him, it was only natural. 
He didn't remind you to eat because he was “supposed to”, he didn't buy you things out of obligation, he didn't spend time with you out of pity. He did everything for you because he wanted to, if anything loving and taking care of you came as naturally as breathing. 
You were his purpose so of course you were going to get sent a “eat, sweetie” text when you take up a new assignment because he knew you get so caught up you forget your own needs. Of course, he was going to blow off a couple of auctions to sit on your couch with you, watching your favorite show as he rubbed your feet. It was his pleasure to pull you away from paperwork on late nights, carry you to the bathroom and brush your teeth for you, draw you a bath, bathe you, and lay with you in his arms humming you to sleep. He loved how caring you were, but wishes youd treat yourself the same and until you learn that it’s okay to put you first, he will put you above everything. He’ll be selfish for you. 
₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊
sigh. yur I was feeling a little less than stellar so I cooked this one up. I also made a zayne one that will be released tmr!!
hope you guys have an amazing day/night. BAIIIIIIIII
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Text
Fixed some stuff
Evil George and George's Story
"George's eyes widen in terror as a chilling laugh echoes through the room. A spectral figure, a twisted reflection of himself, hovers over him. 'George,' the spectral figure hisses, its voice a cold whisper, 'how could you?'"
"George's heart pounds in his chest as he tries to sit up, but his body feels heavy as if rooted to the mattress. 'What do you want from me?' he gasps, his voice barely a whisper. 'Why are you in my bed?'"
"The spectral figure's laugh, a hollow, mirthless sound, fills the room. 'You know nobody can see me,' it taunts. 'You know that nobody can hear me, George. You're the only one.'"
"Sweat beads on George's forehead as he struggles to break free. His body feels paralyzed, his mind racing with fear. 'Please stop this,' he pleads, his voice trembling. 'Not tonight.'"
"The spectral figure leans closer, its icy touch brushing against George's cheek. 'Does it hurt?' it asks, its voice dripping with malice. 'Yes, it hurts!' George cries out, his voice filled with pain and terror. He tries to push the figure away, but his limbs are useless."
"Desperate, George screams, 'Look, just stop touching my face!' His voice echoes through the empty room, a desperate plea for help that no one can hear. 'You know I'm you, right...' He moves away."
"George is shocked to see evil George. 'Evil George! I thought we talked about this,' he says, finally able to move. He moves back against the cold wall, which is black because the lights are off."
"Evil George comes closer. 'You can say you thought you killed off my idea, right...' He smiles evilly. 'George, have you thought why you've been sick lately?' He laughs."
"George looks down at the bed sheet, shaking, and doesn't say anything."
"It was me, George," he said as he tied a rope around George.
"You can't escape. “You'll never leave this world."
George woke up, thinking about it all day. The next day, he brushed his teeth and got ready for school. He probably thought it was just a dream, but there's no way it could be possible. It's probably just a daydream or whatever.
At school
"Hey buddy, are you alright? You look tired. Did you not get any sleep?" Harold asked.
"I'm okay, Harold, just homework," George replied, but he was lying.
Harold sensed that something was off, but he didn't think it was a big deal.
"Well, my mother is getting me a therapist. She thinks I'm a crazy dude," George confessed.
“What do you mean?” Harold questioned
“Look, Harold, I can't explain. It is not something I can explain, how or what I'm seeing.”
“George, what are you seeing? I noticed you stop at the window,” he shook George.
George was staring at an evil version of himself burning a paper that was a drawing of him.
“Do you see that, Harold?”
“No, dude, there's nobody outside.”
No, I just saw myself," George stepped back. "Get away from me!" He felt his evil self getting closer.
Most of his classmates stopped in the hallway, watching him.
Harold went to George. "George, are you okay? Nobody is there," he said as he went to cover him. "Guys, stop recording him. This is not right. He's going through something. It's just wrong!"
George got called to the office.
Mr. Krupp looks at George.
Harold, worried, said, "Look, it wasn't a prank. He's acting weird, Krupp."
Krupp sighs. "George, look, if you're having this episode, you might have to move schools or be homeschooled."
George is zoning out and not talking at all.
Harold, shocked, asked, “Episode! What is he going through?”
Krupp guessed it was a mental disorder, but he was wrong. Harold didn't know Krupp was wrong, but George snaps out.
“Stop saying I'm crazy. He's real. He's hurting me!” George says
In the lab
Melvin laughing to himself in his lab
“There's no way George is losing his mind, Harold”
It could have been his life, or could it? Melvin said to Harold
End of Part 1.
Evil George and George story
"George's eyes widen in terror as a chilling laugh echoes through the room. A spectral figure, a twisted reflection of himself, hovers over him. 'George,' the spectral figure hisses, its voice a cold whisper, 'how could you?'"
"George's heart pounds in his chest as he tries to sit up, but his body feels heavy, as if rooted to the mattress. 'What do you want from me?' he gasps, his voice barely a whisper. 'Why are you in my bed?'"
"The spectral figure's laugh, a hollow, mirthless sound, fills the room. 'You know nobody can see me,' it taunts. 'You know that nobody can hear me, George. You're the only one.'"
"Sweat beads on George's forehead as he struggles to break free. His body feels paralyzed, his mind racing with fear. 'Please stop this,' he pleads, his voice trembling. 'Not tonight.'"
"The spectral figure leans closer, its icy touch brushing against George's cheek. 'Does it hurt?' it asks, its voice dripping with malice. 'Yes, it hurts!' George cries out, his voice filled with pain and terror. He tries to push the figure away, but his limbs are useless."
"Desperate, George screams, 'Look, just stop touching my face!' His voice echoes through the empty room, a desperate plea for help that no one can hear. 'You know I'm you, right...' He moves away."
"George is shocked to see evil George. 'Evil George! I thought we talked about this,' he says, finally able to move. He moves back against the cold wall, which is black because the lights are off."
"Evil George comes closer. 'You can say you thought you killed off my idea, right...' He smiles evilly. 'George, have you thought why you've been sick lately?' He laughs."
"George looks down at the bed sheet, shaking, and doesn't say anything."
"It was me, George," he said as he tied a rope around George.
"You can't escape. “You'll never leave this world."
George woke up, thinking about it all day. The next day, he brushed his teeth and got ready for school. He probably thought it was just a dream, but there's no way it could be possible. It's probably just a daydream or whatever.
At school
"Hey buddy, are you alright? You look tired. Did you not get any sleep?" Harold asked.
"I'm okay, Harold, just homework," George replied, but he was lying.
Harold sensed that something was off, but he didn't think it was a big deal.
"Well, my mother is getting me a therapist. She thinks I'm a crazy dude," George confessed.
“What do you mean?” Harold questioned
“Look, Harold, I can't explain. It is not something I can explain, how or what I'm seeing.”
“George, what are you seeing? I noticed you stop at the window,” he shook George.
George was staring at an evil version of himself burning a paper that was a drawing of him.
“Do you see that, Harold?”
“No, dude, there's nobody outside.”
No, I just saw myself," George stepped back. "Get away from me!" He felt his evil self getting closer.
Most of his classmates stopped in the hallway, watching him.
Harold went to George. "George, are you okay? Nobody is there," he said as he went to cover him. "Guys, stop recording him. This is not right. He's going through something. It's just wrong!"
George got called to the office.
Mr. Krupp looks at George.
Harold, worried, said, "Look, it wasn't a prank. He's actually acting weird, Krupp."
Krupp sighs. "George, look, if you're having this episode, you might have to move schools or be homeschooled."
George is zoning out and not talking at all.
Harold, shocked, asked, “Episode! What is he going through?”
Krupp guessed it was a mental disorder, but he was wrong. Harold didn't know Krupp was wrong, but George snaps out.
“Stop saying I'm crazy. He's real. He's hurting me!” George says
In the lab
Melvin laughing to himself in his lab
“There no way George is losing his mind Harold”
It could have been his life, or could it? Melvin said to Harold
End of Part 1.
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zimtlees · 6 months ago
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More baby Orel 😭😭😭
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I...haf this...
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canisalbus · 7 months ago
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I've only known about your art for a little less than a year but I think it will forever leave an impact on me. Your style and designs and imagery. Even if at some point I move on from your blog, tumblr, internet, there will be times when I'll fondly remember this one person who would draw gay anthro dogs. You are unforgettable. Thank you.
Auh, that's too kind ;_;
I'm honored you think so highly of what I do! Thank you so much!
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the-art-cave · 3 months ago
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I was just feeling absolutely devastated about a month ago and couldn't do anything with myself because distractions wouldn't work, so I tried to draw the specific feeling I was experiencing at the time. It isn't even meant to be good or well thought out, it was just a "draw-whatever-I-can" sort of situation and this was the product. That is all
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aberooski · 6 months ago
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The way I have such a ridiculously hard time trying to draw when I'm not just drawing GX characters into scenes that already exist visually really makes me feel so unbelievably shitty I just want to be able to put things I picture in my head to the page without it looking like complete shit 9.5/10 times 😭
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starrysharks · 1 year ago
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maybe ask stuff about ocs and i might doodle stuff based on those asks as warmups,,, probably only gonna answer any tomorrow tho. i'm super tired sleepy right now
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blujayonthewing · 1 year ago
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'my mental health's been a lot better for awhile now, maybe I could start taking commissions again' vs 'would taking commissions just ruin my mental health again after it took this long to get it somewhere that feels reasonably healthy'
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averlym · 2 years ago
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Could I request a drawing of any sauceback from Sagan 4?
sorry anon! thank you for liking my art enough to request something, but unfortunately i don't do requests for fandoms i'm not in ;-;
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talkorsomething · 5 months ago
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keep trying, in little ways, to push for my creativity back.
Keep not getting there / pushing too hard through it.
...
Not sure when it'll get better at this point.
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moremaybank · 2 months ago
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CHOCOLATE , jj maybank
── KINKTOBER: PRAISE KINK + SQUIRTING + MIRROR SEX
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"all i know is, it rains when it feels right." ─ kiana ledé, chocolate. (remix)
jj maybank x insecure!gf!reader
(18+) praise kink, squirting, fingering, use of a mirror (technically it's partial mirror sex), dirty talk
jj worships you when you’re feeling down (and makes it rain)
KINKTOBER , OBX MASTERLIST
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jj's chest was hot against your back, the two of you pressed up skin to skin. you melted into him like chocolate, craving him and the way he took the time to worship you.
lucky for you, jj was always in the mood to do so.
when you had confided in jj and told him you were feeling insecure lately, presumbly because of your upcoming period, he wasted no time crafting a plan with the goal to make you feel better.
there was no way in hell he was gonna let his girl walk around thinking she was anything less than perfect, whether her insecurities were caused by hormones or not.
he'd pulled your body-length mirror closer to the edge of your bed, placed you between his legs, spread you wide open and made you watch as he cherished you with his words and with his magic touch.
"who told you you weren't perfect? huh, baby? 'cause the way you're lookin' right now, 'm pretty sure you're an angel 'n this is heaven.”
his fingers slide into your warm, oozing cunt rhythmically, each punt curling upward to play with that spongy part of you that made your thighs tremble for him. every single press to it forced a pitiful moan to tumble past your parted lips.
"hate seein' you like this, baby..." the ringed knuckles of jj's free hand skimmed up and down anywhere they could reach, drawing imaginary lines on your inner thighs and your stomach. the cool metal ran over your pebbling nipples and pulled goosebumps forth from your flesh. "jus' need me to remind you how perfect you are? hm?"
his chin hooked over your shoulder, and he dotted kiss after kiss on your blood-rushed cheek. turning his head, he found your gaze in the mirror and held it there. the pad of his thumb applied pressure to your clit, rubbing it in time with the work of his fingers. he motioned downward with his chin, urging you to look at your filled pussy in the reflection. "see how that pretty pussy takes my fingers? look at'er go, mama."
you mewl pathetically when he starts to fingerfuck you harder, the heel of his palm now colliding with your clit and making your knees buckle. "feels too good, j," you voiced out the best as you could. you could barely suck in a breath as the freight train that was your high crept up on you. "don't deserve it. don't deserve you."
jj tutted you, shaking his head. "yeah you fuckin' do. deserve the world, mama. fuck, you're so good."
your heat started to clamp down on his fingers, quivering and convulsing helplessly.
"you wanna cum?" jj asked, eyes meeting yours in the mirror once more. your smaller hand circles around his wrist, holding on while he used it to please you. "that sound good, sweetheart?"
"y-yeah. please, j. need it."
"then you gotta say what i tell you to, alright?"
you nodded for him. you had no idea what you were agreeing to, but you didn't care. jj was completely taking over all of you, and you just wanted to be good for him. do anything he asked of you because you seeked his approval so direly.
"tell me how pretty you look with your pussy stuffed."
your stomach did cartwheels and your core fluttered at his vulgarity. gulping, you did as he said. "i-i look pretty with my pussy stuffed."
"yeah...yeah you do, baby. tell me you take it so well when daddy fucks you. tell me how perfect your pussy is for me."
"m-my pussy's perfect. take it so well for you, daddy."
"good. now look yourself in the mirror 'n say you're beautiful," was his next command. his gaze was scorching, his praise electrifying and heart-filling. he'd handcrafted you into his own puppet, or he'd had you hypnotized. either way, the words leaked out of you like a faucet.
"i'm beautiful."
"again...say it again, baby."
"i'm— shit— i'm beautiful!"
his rosy lips found solace in the crook of your neck. he pressed open mouthed kisses before letting his teeth lightly nip and scrape at your pulse point. "so beautiful, mama. deserve to cum real good, yeah? go 'head 'n give it to me."
jj's left hand sought out your breast, pinching your sensitive nipple just how you liked. his fingers were relentless, fucking your sopping cunt into oblivion. you were so far gone that you couldn't speak. the pit in your core was burning ferociously, threatening to take you over completely.
"yeaaah. there ya go." you started to cum, your juices shooting out of you in spurts. his fingers withdrew from you, cum-slicked fingerpads rubbing at your clit almost viciously as he tried to get more out of you. he grinned wickedly when his plan worked, and your pussy continued to squirt for him. the glass was covered and your shared image was distorted, but all you could zone in on was your godsent boyfriend and his ever-so-skilled words. and hands.
"i love you so much, mama. don't ever think you aren't enough."
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droewyn · 1 month ago
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PSA for Fanfic Authors
There's a very common scam going around right now. Not sure if it's hitting Wattpad, but these messages are definitely going around both AO3 and FFN:
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I'm gonna talk to AO3, because that's where I live. These are most often guest accounts, but lately people have been getting them from registered users, as well.
You tend to get a paragraph of generic compliments that don't actually reference your fic in any way. Or, if they do, it's extremely broad: "Hey, I love how you portray the relationship between Blorbo and Blorbette!" That could be about literally any fic in the ship tag.
Then you get into the hook. "I'm an artist, and I would love to collaborate with you to bring your work to life!" And, since getting fanart is one of the highest compliments an author can get, you get excited and agree to privately message the person on Discord or Insta.
Then it turns out that they're a commission artist, and they would like you to pay up front for them to create that art they're so excited about. I've seen people report being asked for US $200 - $300 on average. Once you've paid them, one of two things happen: Either they simply ghost you entirely, or you get sent a piece of shitty AI "art".
Real commission artists don't need to coldcall random authors. They generally have a backlog of several months. A real commission artist will also generally ask for partial payment up front, but that's usually a token, basically a deposit. You should expect to see progress drawings, as well; sketches, and drafts, that you should be able to approve before the design is finalized. A real artist will work very closely with you to ensure that you're getting the art that you want.
If you get one of these scams, and it's from a guest user, click the Spam button, and delete the comment. If it's a registered user, report them for violating the TOS (spamming, monetization) and then block.
If you fell for one of these scams, contact your bank. You should be able to put a stop payment on the transaction, and recover your money. You can also contact the cash app (venmo, paypal, etc.). Even if you received AI crap, that is not what you paid for. You were paying for genuine art, and receiving anything else makes it a fraudulent transaction.
Stay safe out there!
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suntoru · 11 months ago
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─ ✰ 𝐎𝐍𝐋𝐘 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐂𝐀𝐍 𝐇𝐔𝐑𝐓 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒.
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— synopsis: 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔, the popular guy in your class, chooses to sit next to you, of all people. you've fallen head over heels, what happens next?
— warnings: highschool au! angst, fluff in the beginning, will not be writing a part 2, swearing, gaslighting, betrayal, just a bet troupe, gojo being a dick or everybody generally, 3.4k words!
— a/n: not my proudest work to be honest :( also tried another formatting lmk if u liked it! comments and reblogs r very much appreciated i will love u forever
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"yo. can i sit here?" gojo satoru grins, effortlessly sliding into the empty seat next to you and making himself at home.
...huh? isn't that the popular guy who's usually surrounded by his friends? he's constantly the subject of admiration among the girls in your class, eliciting swoons and whispers of infatuation wherever he goes. confusion creeps in as you wonder why he didn't choose the empty seat next to suguru. there's no conceivable reason for someone like gojo, popular and charismatic, to opt for the seat beside you. you feel a sense of self-consciousness settling in.
nevertheless, you nod softly, though you're well aware the question was more of a rhetorical one. he's fashionably late, by twenty minutes, to be precise, unabashedly ignoring the scolding glares from your teacher about punctuality. instead, he buries himself in the deep blue plastic seat, sticking his tongue out when the teacher turns his back, letting out a huffy pout from the lecture.
nervously, you glance up from your notebook, cautiously stealing a peek at your new desk buddy. he's pretty─ real pretty, snowy white lashes adorning his pretty cerulean spheres, dainty fingers idly spinning a pencil out of sheer boredom. and as if kissed by the blush of a gentle sunrise, his lips possess a natural rosy hue, smooth and plump, belong to him like a delicate work of art. you wonder just how many kisses they've stolen. caught in a moment of admiration, you find yourself staring a tad longer than socially acceptable.
his eyes flicker, locking onto yours, and the realization hits you—oh, he caught you staring. shit. immediately, you break eye contact as you cough awkwardly. you swiftly attempt to play it off, pretending as if you were engrossed in examining the intricate texture of your silver-grey desk instead. your cheeks burn with embarrassment, and you hope he hasn't interpreted your lingering gaze as anything more than idle curiosity.
...should you say something? try to deny you were very clearly eye fucking him? he probably thinks you're a freak now. perhaps he sat next to you out of pity, and now he regrets it. out of sheer embarrassment, the words die in your mouth before they could ever leave, keeping your gaze glued to the floor as you refuse to acknowledge that his presence ever existed.
however, it appears that gojo won't let you suffer the embarrassment in peace. when your stern teacher turns away, he subtly slides a ripped edge of his blue-lined paper towards you, bearing a simple 'hi :)'. he's attempting a conversation, a surprising but welcome distraction from the awkwardness of being caught staring. an opportunity to salvage a bit of your dignity. now, the challenge lies in crafting a response that strikes the right balance.
would 'hey' sound too dry? but 'heyyyy' makes it seem like you're a little too interested. you opt for a casual 'heyy' with your black pen, scribbling the reply with extra caution to avoid prying eyes. as soon as the teacher is out of view, you subtly slip the note back to gojo. his lips curl into a slight smile upon reading your response.
two minutes pass by before you get a response. 'do you get this lesson? i'm soo lost..' accompanied by a small doodle of a crying suguru. you can't help but stifle a giggle; the drawing is poorly done, yet undeniably cute. the teacher swiftly turns around at the sound, prompting both of you to scramble and make it look like you're diligently focused on the lesson. the suspicious gaze lingers for a moment before the teacher returns to the whiteboard.
'maybe it's cause you missed like, half of the lesson.' you write back. he rolls his eyes playfully upon reading your retort, swiftly countering with a pout. "it's not my fault this class is so boring.'
'who said philosophy was supposed to be fun?' you reply. in response, gojo eagerly accepts the note, maintaining the subtle exchange of eye contact. 'hey, be nice to mr. aristotle, he's a great guy :(' he sends back. and thirty minutes seem to pass in the blink of an eye.
the bell chimes, signaling the end of the philosophy session and the need to transition to your next course. reluctantly, you stow your textbook in your bag, feeling a twinge of sadness at the realization that this amusing interaction might have been a one-time occurrence.
it's been a while since you've genuinely laughed. so when his ocean blue eyes latch onto yours with a genuine sense of hope, you quickly fold when he asks you if you're interested in sitting with him again tomorrow.
in those thirty short minutes, you learn three things about gojo satoru. firstly, you realize you've sorely misjudged him. he's not just another nepo-baby cheating his way through school; he's actually quite smart, smarter than he lets on. he's especially good in biochemistry, and he promises to help you study next time.
secondly, you discover that he loves sweets, just as you do. you both agree that kikufuku mochi is better than strawberry dango, and he even tells you about his favorite shop. maybe you can go together sometime.
and thirdly, he doesn't tell you this outright, but you learn that gojo is insecure. what strikes you the most is the glimpse of uncertainty you catch beneath his confident exterior. it's not about his looks or intelligence, but it's actually about his relationship with suguru. he's afraid to lose him, a fear that seems to drive him more than anything else. he overcompensates for his self-doubt. but you find that his flaws make him all the more pretty.
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it's peculiar, the speed at which gojo somehow effortlessly integrates into your daily life. how he's feeling is how you're feeling, which is usually reflected on his friendship with suguru. if they had a fight, he'd be sad, and if everything was alright, he was too. but either way was okay with you, you just want to be there for him. what was once a dreaded fourth period now stands as the radiant highlight of your entire day.
despite the limited instances of verbal communication —perhaps a mere once or twice— the inexplicable truth remains: you've fallen head over heels for him. the simple act of passing notes with satoru becomes more than a routine; it evolves into the sole force that awakens you in the morning, the singular thought that propels you forward and keeps you going throughout the day.
and just maybe, the hopeless romantic within you fervently clings to the belief that his sentiments go beyond mere friendship. his actions seem to carry an extra layer of care, an attentiveness that extends beyond your platonic friendship. he notices the little things that escape the notice of others. it wasn't lost on him when you shed tears the other night due to the weight of stress; he went out of his way to procure your favorite candy bar, a sweet gesture aimed at brightening your spirits.
he took notice of your new haircut, expressing in a note that it frames your face nicely. he had comforted you when a classmate aimed a subtle insult your way, he wrote that the words of someone whose foundation didn't match their face shouldn't hold much weight. he even made an effort to be punctual for class, all to engage in the shared exchange of silly notes with you. and honestly, even if he didn't like you back, you'd be fine.
because your heart swells with gratefulness at the fact that he chose to sit with you. he wanted to be your friend even when nobody else did. you trusted and loved him with your whole heart, because that's what you believed he deserved.
so imagine your surprise when you overhear his conversation with suguru that day.
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"just a day more, then you win the bet." geto groans, tossing his head back in exasperation. the two of them linger in the now-empty classroom, the echoes of other students long gone.
"yep, twenty four hours, then you owe me three hundred dollars." satoru sings, playfully nudging his best friend's shoulder. he's all sunshine and smiles, swinging his feet from the desk he's currently sitting on.
"and it wasn't even that hard. i just had to get 'em to fall for me." suguru rolls his eyes. "dude, if i was you, i would've tapped out the first week. how'd you manage to do it?" he huffs, clearly annoyed at the impending financial loss.
satoru mischievously grins. "just used my charm." he fluffs his hair with a smug expression on his face. "can't believe it worked so fast, though. they must be real desperate for someone's attention. all it took was for you to fuckin' pretend like you cared." suguru grouches, being a sore loser. you don't hear the rest, the notebook you had lost long forgotten.
a lump forms in your throat, a sensation of dread creeping up on you. you desperately want to believe he's not talking about you, but you can't shake the realization that to him, you were nothing more than a pawn in a bet— a tool used for his amusement. you're overwhelmed by a sense of stupidity, a painful realization sinking in, drowning every rational thought.
he never cared. you could fall dead at this moment and he wouldn't even spare you a glance. you should've known. why would he? you feel stupid for allowing him entry into your life, stupid for naively believing in his sincerity, and stupid for daring to love a heartless jerk who played with the fragile strings of your heart.
they're right. you are pathetic. you just blindly fell for the first person who gave, or rather, pretended to give a shit. a relentless ache throbs in your chest as you stubbornly refuse to succumb to tears over a boy— a resolution crumbling like fragile glass. despite your stubborn determination, an uncontrollable torrent of hot tears streams down your face, distorting the world into a watery blur.
the desperate yearning for someone to choose you, to envelop you in unconditional and pure love, had fueled your hopes. and for a fleeting moment, you believed you'd found it, only to witness your heart being ruthlessly trampled blue. clutching onto the tattered shreds of your dignity, half-broken and bleeding, you muster the strength to leave swiftly before they catch a glimpse of you.
the bitter taste of betrayal lingers in the air, each teardrop is a testament to the shattering of dreams, the dead hope that once soared. the yearning for a love that stands unwavering proves to be a mirage, leaving you grappling with the shards of a love that was never truly yours.
that day, you learn one more thing about gojo satoru. he's just like everybody else.
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cerulean eyes, like pools of shimmering azure, flicker with concern as they scan the empty seat beside him. minutes stretch into eternity on the clock, each tick of the second hand amplifying the weight of his worry. nine twenty morphs into nine fifty pretty quickly, and he can't help but be a little annoyed. at this rate, you'll only get in twenty minutes of 'talking.'
you're always punctual—eight fifty-five on the dot. but today, the clock ticks on, and there's no sign of you anywhere. his brows furrow with concern, a nervous flutter dancing in his stomach. did something happen to you? the mere possibility sends a pang of anxiety through him, and he fidgets restlessly in his seat, unable to focus on the lesson before him.
yet, when his gaze shifts to meet suguru's, he swiftly masks his apprehension with an air of nonchalance, as if feigning indifference to your absence. but inwardly, his heart races as he anxiously awaits your arrival. when you finally walk in, he's already scribbling furiously on a piece of paper, filled with questions about what could have delayed you today. yet, as he extends his hand to pass you the note, his eager smile fades into confusion and disappointment.
you walk right past seat thirteen, your usual spot, without so much as a glance in his direction. instead, you approach a random girl and ask if you could sit with her. his heart sinks, a flush of embarrassment coloring his cheeks as a torrent of thoughts flood his mind. is something wrong? are you upset with him? he replays every interaction in his mind, searching for any misstep. but he can't find one. he's been careful to maintain the perfect facade when you're around. perhaps you simply forgot, he reasons with himself, attempting to quell the rising tide of hurt and confusion.
yes, that must be it.
...just a simple oversight.
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"hey, hey, hey, hey, hey!! just wait a moment!!" gojo's voice cuts through the chatter of students eager to leave as soon as the bell rings. he grabs your wrist, his touch gentle yet firm, halting your attempt to blend into the rush. his heart races in his chest, the sudden surge of adrenaline making his palms clammy.
"um... you didn't sit with me today." he mumbles, the words coming out in a rush, his voice tinged with uncertainty. his fingers toy with the ring around his finger, his gaze fixed on the ground as he struggles to find the right words to continue the conversation. he doesn't like the way you're looking at him. there's a flicker of irritation in your gaze, a departure from the usual warmth and affection that he's grown accustomed to. normally, when his eyes meet yours, your cheeks tint pink, your pupils dilate, and you give him the cutest starry-eyed look. but not today.
"yeah," you mutter casually, your eyebrow raising ever so slightly. there's a certain coldness in your eyes that sends a shiver down his spine. you're about to leave again, but he moves to block the door, a frown creasing his forehead.
"did i do something wrong? i don't understand why you're suddenly acting so bitchy," he huffs, irritation lacing his voice. the words tumble out before he can stop them, frustration simmering beneath the surface. "no," you reply simply, your tone devoid of any emotion, as if you genuinely don't care. it stings his ego, leaving a sour taste in his mouth.
"you can 'use your charm' to make a new friend. since it's so easy for you, right?" you mutter, your voice trembling with suppressed anger. you promised yourself you'd hold it together, but the wound is still raw, etched deep into your mind as a flush of resentment rises within his eyes widen in shock, a pang of guilt stabbing at his heart. you heard that? no, no, no... he hadn't meant for you to be there. he had been so careful, or so he thought.
"i didn't mean it, i just-" he stutters, desperately searching for an excuse, but he knows it's futile. there's no chance you'd believe him now, would you? his heart sinks. he doesn't want you to hate him. "i was easy, right?" you laugh bitterly, each word dripping with sarcasm and pain.
"i hope that three hundred dollars was worth it. not that you even needed it, though. you think toying with people is fun? you're a dick, satoru, go to fucking hell." you hiss, your words laced with venom, cutting through the air like a sharp blade. "let me explain-" he protests, desperation evident in his voice as he tries to reason with you. but you're too angry to even consider it.
"explain? explain what?'" you explode, your voice rising with each syllable, oblivious to the judgmental glances of passersby. you scoff, tears threatening to spill over.
"i didn't mean it," he cuts you off, his own voice strained with emotion. "you're my friend, i just—" his voice cracks. "friends don't manipulate other people's feelings." you interrupt, your voice laced with venom as you spit out each word. you're aware you look like a mess, mascara staining your cheeks. "friends don't trick and hurt you on purpose!" you yell, tongue dripping with malice. "and here's the thing. you may be the greatest, satoru, but you will never, be enough. not for suguru, not for anybody."
you almost regret saying it. targetting his biggest insecurity. but then again, he deserves it. "how could you say that?" his voice is broken, quiet, as he mumbles it out as a whisper. the eyes that you once found so stunning suddenly look just like everybody else's. they well with tears, but are quickly blinked away. "you don't get to cry, satoru," you scoff, unzipping your bag and opening the front pouch.
you toss all the letters you've written in class, all the sticky notes, every single ripped paper, every little doodle, flipping your bag over and emptying it on the floor. every single heart fluttering moment you experienced seems so dead now. "you don't get to act like you cared. it's only fair, after all." you manage to muster, fighting to keep your voice stable. tears drip down your chin as your bottom lip trembles.
every step feels like a battle, a relentless tug-of-war between what your heart wants and what your mind knows is right. leaving him behind is like tearing off a piece of your own soul, but you convince yourself it's for the better— for your own sanity, for your own self-respect. each stride forward is heavy with the weight of goodbye, each breath drawn in a struggle against the ache in your chest. and as you finally turn away, a part of you dies inside, a piece of your spirit crumbling in the wake of shattered trust and broken dreams. you can feel his eyes on your retreating figure, the silent witness to your silent agony.
this time he doesn't try to stop you. and when you leave, gojo finally allows himself to cry.
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today, gojo finds himself seated next to suguru, reclaiming his former spot from before the bet. yet, everything feels different now. the idiotic jokes his friends make just aren't as funny anymore. their presence is irritating to him. he laughs, but the sound lacks the same genuine joy it once held with you. he smiles, but it's a mere shadow of the radiant expression he wore in your presence. his heart may feel a fleeting sense of happiness, but there will always be a hole where you once were.
his so-called 'buddies' don't even notice that he's at his lowest point, and he can't help but think about the way you would've noticed immediately.
how you would've sent him a cute note with his favourite candy attached, because you kept them in your bag just for him, for these kinds of days. he feels so numb. he's always been so confident, yet he can't even muster up the courage to pass by your desk.
and he can't help but wonder what might have been if he had chosen differently that day, if his intentions had been pure from the start. would you two have gotten somewhere? he supposes that now, he'll never know the answer. his eyes cloud over at that thought, slouching back down into his seat.
he never had the chance to tell you how sorry he was, how he would take it all back in an instant if he could. he didn't mean to hurt you. he was stupid and careless. and yet, he tries to convince himself that he'll be okay. that he'll be able to get over you one day. one day, when he's married and has two kids, he'll look back at this and laugh. so then why does his heart feel so heavy? you're not suguru, it's true. but suguru never made him feel this way. and he's confused with his own feelings.
he doesn't know what love is.
he's only sixteen.
perhaps he'll never know. but for him, love was sneaking kikifuku mochi into class for you to share. it was sending you cat memes at three am in the morning, only for you to groggily respond with your own. it was doodling you in his notebook in his spare time. it was how what you were feeling was how he was feeling too.
you were right, it seems.
gojo satoru, the greatest, yet not enough to make you stay.
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© KAEFFEINEE 2024. do not copy, repost, or translate any of my works on any platform.
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pedrospatch · 9 months ago
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baby, i’m yours
Jackson! Joel Miller x Female Reader
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summary: You remind Joel that you’re his.
warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. READER HAS NO PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION however she does wear Joel’s t-shirt and he semi lifts her onto a counter? sorta but not really? UNSPECIFIED AGE GAP (Joel is in his 50’s but reader’s specific age is not mentioned). established relationship, sort of. consumption of food (if you are allergic to peanuts, i so sorry). angst, Joel and Ellie’s strained relationship is lightly implied, Joel is insecure, it’s implied reader did some horrible things in her past, reassurance, brief smut, unprotected p in v sex, creampie, consider it a quickie idk. apologies if i missed anything.
word count: 2.6k
a/n: this short lil thing has been sitting in my drafts forever. i finished it while i was in ireland and finally had the chance to sit down and do a quick edit and when i say it was quick, i flew through it so i could hop onto my next wip so please excuse any errors! here’s a spotify link to the song if anyone’s curious, it’s an oldie but a goodie although it may not be everyone’s cup of tea.
main masterlist l fic notifs
Joel rolls over in bed, his arm outstretched and seeking the warmth of your soft, naked body.
“Mmph,” a small, sleepy groan falls from his lips as his long, thick fingers feel around on your side of the bed—of his bed. Of course, you have your very own bedroom in the house you all had been placed in when you first arrived in Jackson. Your very own bed to sleep in is just down the hallway, but lately, you’ve been waking up beside him a lot more often than not, especially now that Ellie’s a bit older and she’s gone and made herself her own space out in the garage behind the house. Being under the same roof as Joel did those two more harm than it did good, and while you missed having her around, it was for the best.
“She’ll come around, Joel,” you’d assured him. “I know she will. She just needs a bit of time is all.”
“Hope you’re right, darlin’,” he had murmured sadly in response.
Still lost somewhere in between sleep and full consciousness, Joel continues feeling around for you, but all he finds are the wrinkled sheets, cold and abandoned. Confused, his eyes finally flutter open and with a painful protest from his sore, stiff back, he sits up, blinking furiously as he looks around the darkness of his bedroom. The door’s been left cracked open ever so slightly, and as his vision adjusts now that he’s fully awake, he notices the dim glow of the hallway light that’s peeking through into the room.
He turns and glances over at the old digital alarm clock perched on his nightstand, the obnoxious, bright red numbers practically screaming at him that it’s a quarter past midnight. With a small, tired grunt, Joel switches on the lamp beside the clock and swings his legs over the side of the mattress, goosebumps erupting across his flesh the instant that his bare feet meet the cold, hardwood floor. He stands and fumbles around for his clothes, which he’d tossed carelessly somewhere over his shoulder hours earlier when he’d been lost in the heat of the moment with you. He finds his faded, navy blue sweatpants strewn across a chair next to the door and pulls them on over his naked lower body before searching for his t-shirt. When he doesn’t immediately see it, he doesn’t bother, figuring that it’s just going to come back off when he climbs back into bed with you.
Padding out of his bedroom, he makes his way down the hallway, heading towards the staircase. As he draws closer, he hears it—the soft music that’s coming from downstairs.
Baby, I'm yours
and I'll be yours until the stars fall from the sky
yours until the rivers all run dry
in other words, until I die
He’s led towards the kitchen and that’s where he finds you.
Joel wants to be annoyed. 
Fuck, he tries to be annoyed. But he can’t help the way that the corners of his mouth threaten to turn upwards when his eyes take in the sight before him.
You’re standing at the center island slowly swaying your hips from side to side along to the beat of the song that’s playing from the record player perched next to the instant coffee maker on the counter behind you. He’d nearly wrung your neck when he found out what all you had traded just to get your hands on it, but you loved that thing more than life itself it seemed, so he couldn’t stay mad for very long. You’re making yourself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich—the peanut butter you’d learned how to make yourself with the old food processor he found deep in one of the kitchen cabinets, and the strawberry preserves you had picked up from the market earlier that week. Clad in nothing but his t-shirt, you’re singing along quietly to the lyrics as you finish making your late night snack.
Baby, I’m yours
and I’ll be yours until the sun no longer shines
yours until the poets run out of rhyme
in other words, until the end of time
Joel leans against the doorframe, his arms crossed over his bare chest as he watches you carefully lick the remnants of peanut butter off of the knife you’re using before setting it down on the counter. You then pick up the two pieces of bread and slap them together—you’d also learned how to bake homemade bread using some old nineties cookbook you had found in the commune’s library. Your sourdough is the reason he had to go up a notch in his belt.
Sandwich in hand, you do a little spin, humming happily as you take your first bite.
Joel loudly clears his throat from the doorway.
Startled, you whirl around and freeze, your eyes wide.
“Enjoyin’ yourself there, darlin’?” He asks amusedly as he approaches you.
“Jesus Christ! You scared me, Joel!” You hiss at him. You then realize what time of night it is and a look of guilt crosses your features. “Oh shit. I’m sorry, did I wake you up? I honestly thought that I had the volume down low enough in here—”
Frowning, you turn around and reach towards the record player to turn the music off, but much to your surprise, Joel stops you. “No, s’okay. I woke up on my own,” he assures you. “I reached over for you and you were gone.” The admission slips before he can even think to stop it. He notices how taken aback you are by what he’d just said and quickly asks, “What’cha doin’ up so late, anyway?”
“I was hungry,” you tell him, sheepishly holding up your food. You always have one hell of an appetite after Joel was through fucking you senseless. You take another bite and offer it to him. “Want some?”
“Sure.”
He accepts and takes a corner of the sandwich before handing it back to you. His fingers brush against yours and his face burns at the contact.
Fucking Christ. 
You’re standing there in nothing but his fucking t-shirt after he had, yet again, made you his in his own fucking bed, and that’s what gets him?
Truth be told, the only time he holds your hand is when he’s inside of you—his fingers lace with your own as he comforts you and praises you for being such a good girl for taking his cock the way you do.
For being so, so fucking good for him.
He’s thought about taking your hand in front of others. Particularly when he notices the way some of the men in town stare at you. Joel wants to make it known that you’re already spoken for. Only, you’re not spoken for, not really. 
You’re his, but you’re not really his. It’s not that he doesn’t want to take the leap and acknowledge the two of you are far more than just patrol partners, far more than just two people who fought like fucking hell to get some smart assed teenager—and the world’s only hope for a cure—across the country.
He feels undeserving of it. Of you and your heart.
Several seasons had come and gone since you’d both arrived in Jackson with Ellie in tow, and somehow, Joel still can’t fathom what you’re doing by his side. She’s out of the house now and there’s nothing tying you to him, so why are you still here?
He’s so much older. Closer and closer to being on his way out, while you still had your entire life left ahead of you. He’s worn down, hardened from the post outbreak world. And you, you hadn’t lost any of your softness, your sweetness. Not even after the things you’d been forced to do to survive because of him.
You could meet someone younger, someone closer to your own age. You could marry, even start a family. You could be with someone who could give you a good life, the life you deserve.
The life that he’s too fucking broken to give you.
“Joel?” Your voice breaks into his thoughts. “Hey. Are you okay?”
“Yeah. M’fine.” He gestures to the record player with a nod of his head. “Y’know, this song’s older than me. By a few years. Came out in the early sixties.”
Joel half expects you to make some wisecrack joke and tease him over his age like you have done in the past—especially when the kid would get you going. Instead, he watches you set what’s left of your sandwich down and brush the crumbs from your hands before holding one of them out to him.
Confused, he stares at it for a moment before his dark eyes meet yours. “What are you doin’?”
“Dance with me,” you say, smiling at him.
“You’re fuckin’ kiddin’ me, right?” When he realizes you’re being serious, he shakes his head. “Y’know I don’t—I can’t dance.”
Dropping your hand back down to your side, you turn around and flip the record, starting the song over again before whirling back around and taking Joel’s hands in yours.
“Just follow my lead,” you tell him as you place them on your waist. Your own hands settle themselves on his broad shoulders, his skin warm beneath your fingertips. “Don’t overthink it.”
“You’re fuckin’ ridiculous,” Joel grumbles underneath his breath, however he finds himself moving along with you without further protest. Subconsciously, he pulls you closer against him as the two of you slowly sway from side to side along to the beat of the music. He chuckles, “Y’know we gotta be up at the asscrack of dawn for patrol, right?”
“And your point is?” You rest your head on his shoulder and exhale a soft, contended sigh.
Joel’s lips threaten to pull down once more.
Could it be that you’re actually content with him?
Head still on his shoulder, you sing along softly with Barbara Lewis. 
“I’m gonna stay right here by your side
do my best to keep you satisfied
nothing in this world can drive me away
‘cause every day you'll hear me say…”
It quickly becomes too much for him. Joel’s hands leave your waist. Taking your wrists, he tugs your arms from around his neck and gently pushes you away from him. “Why?” he finally asks the question that’s been hanging off the tip of his tongue for the better part of the last three years. “Why me?”
You stare at him, puzzled. “What?”
“Why me?” he repeats himself. “Why me when you can have anyone else—”
Your reply is prompt and you say it so simply.
“Because I don’t want anyone else.”
“You deserve better.”
You peer at him curiously. “I deserve better?”
“You do. Ain’t got no business being with someone like me. After all the terrible shit I’ve done—”
“I did the same exact shit, Joel. Sometimes I did even fucking worse.” Somehow, softness laces your tone. You have never been angry with him and you weren’t about to start now. “What makes my hands any cleaner than yours?”
Joel begins to sputter. “M’older than you. Much older. Should’a been a lot more careful. Should’a done more so you didn’t have to do those things.”
His hands still curled around your wrists, you reach up and gingerly cradle the sides of his face. He winces, but then quickly melts into your touch, the very same touch that could heal his wounds, if only he would allow it.
“I made my own choices,” you remind him, quietly. Neither of you realize the music has stopped. “Quit acting like blood doesn’t stain my hands too because it does.”
His lips press into a tight line. “Blood stains your hands ‘cause of me. S’my fault. I was responsible for you. I was s’pposed to take care of you. I didn’t protect you the way I should’ve.”
You sigh.
“When are you going to stop blaming yourself, Joel?”
The muscle in his jaw ticks as it clenches. He averts his gaze, his eyes falling to the floor. He doesn’t answer.
You stroke the scruff of his beard lightly with your thumbs. “When are you going to stop thinking you’re not good enough for me? What’s it going to take for me to prove to you that you are all I could ever need and want?”
“You’re just wastin’ your fuckin’ life on me, darlin’. S’the truth and you fuckin’ know it as well as I do.”
Pulling your wrists out of his hands, you pivot on your heel and suck in a sharp breath, stubbornly blinking back the tears stinging your eyes. You’re frustrated.
It cuts you to your very core to know the man you’ve grown to love more than anything and anyone else on what’s left of this fucking planet can’t see that he’s enough. He’s more than enough.
Joel bites back his own frustrated sigh. He knows he can’t rely on you to tell him, rely on the reassurance—he needs to do his part and believe it. If he keeps trying to push you away, he just may very well succeed one day. He will lose you.
After a moment, he walks up behind you and wraps his arms around you, his lips lightly brushing your neck. “M’sorry,” he mumbles, his own voice thickening as a lump forms in the back of his throat. He’s quick to swallow it down. “Jus’ have a hard time believin’ you’re mine. S’almost like my mind is lookin’ to prove me wrong.”
“But I am yours, Joel. I’m yours, I’m fucking yours.”
It’s more than just reassurance. It’s an oath, one you’ll honor for the rest of your life.
He holds you tighter. “Yeah?” He nips at the delicate spot right below your ear, his teeth scraping along tender flesh. “S’that right, baby? You’re all mine?”
“All yours,” you confirm breathlessly as his hands slowly begin trailing down the length of your sides, his fingers skimming the hem of his t-shirt.
Joel swiftly turns you around in his arms and slips his hand between your thighs. The next thing you know, he has you backed up against the counter and he’s shoving his sweatpants down, freeing his hard, thick cock. With one of your legs hooked around his waist, he buries himself into the warmth of your cunt and begins to deliver smooth, languid strokes.
“Say it again, baby,” he rasps into your neck. He coaxes your other leg up and around his waist and his large hands curl securely underneath your thighs as he bucks up into you. He’d deal with the back pain later. He pants, “Need—need to hear you say it, my sweet girl.”
You hold onto the countertop behind you as he fucks you, your fingernails digging into the laminated wood. “Fuck, I’m yours,” you moan into his shoulder. “I’m all yours, Joel. Oh fuck—”
You say it over and over again and he believes it.
He finally fucking believes it.
Sweet nothings fall from his lips with each thrust.
“S’lucky you’re all fuckin’ mine.”
“My beautiful, beautiful girl.”
“Gonna keep you for the rest of my fuckin’ life.”
When he spills into you, there’s no regret on his part nor yours. You’d always wanted to feel him come inside of you—secretly, so did he. Joel’s deep, guttural groans bounce off of the kitchen walls as your pussy fills with him, with all of him, taking as much as it can before he begins leaking out of you and down the insides of your thighs.
“Jesus,” he exhales. He dips his head for a kiss. “You’re all messy now, baby,” he mumbles against your lips. “How’s about we go upstairs and get back into bed so I can clean you up?”
Giggling, you mimic him and remind him of what he’d said earlier. “Y’know we gotta be up at the asscrack of dawn for patrol, right?”
Joel grins. “And your point is?”
You laugh again as he leads you out of the kitchen and back up to his bedroom—to yours and his bedroom.
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