#been ages since i've seen this community | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

oceansblvds · 2 months

Text

not allowed — satoru gojo

pairing ; sensei!satoru gojo x student!reader

words ; 7.6k (my bad)

about ; you're given your first solo mission with your sensei gojo overlooking to make sure anything doesn't go wrong. both of you are aware that being borderline obsessed with the other is wrong, but who liked rules anyway?

warning(s) ; smut, oral (fem receiving), p in v sex, age gap but both are consenting adults, gojo may be a little ooc but support my delusions anyway, my yapping, not edited, longing? i don't fucking know.

author's note ; okay okay hi! this is different from my normal content but i've been obsessed with jjk recently and i have gojo brainrot. so consider this my beginning of many fics to come. feel free to request!

YOU HADN’T EVER BEEN ON A MISSION ALONE WITH YOUR SENSEI BEFORE. It was . . . Odd. Typically, one of your other classmates would accompany you along with your Sensei in order to encourage similar teachings. Though this time it seemed as though this mission was something that was matched to you, up your sleeve given your technical curse usage, and it was to be something that you did with the guidance of Satoru Gojo, and he was only allowed to intervene if you were going to get severely harmed. The town that you were assigned to, with a cursed spirit seemingly murdering children who went out into the sea too late at night, was a sleepy little town. You were sure that this was the first time that they had ever experienced turmoil like this, and they were happy to allow you and your Sensei to ‘investigate’ the murders. As you parked the car in the parking lot, you looked around, seeing several townspeople watch as you stepped outside of the drivers side of the road, Satoru out on the passengers side, both dressed in dark black clothing. He had made a joke about how he didn’t trust you driving at all, yet insisted that he wasn’t the one to get you two down there.

I don’t drive myself places.

Yeah, well, then he would put up with your driving after all.

“I can feel your apprehension,” Your Sensei told you, walking in front of you up the stone stairs that came up to the front door of the place you would be staying in with him. Behind you was nothing but your car in the empty lot, the people watching getting uninterested as Gojo pulled out a key and began fiddling with the lock. Damn thing looked as though it had rusted at least three times over. You couldn’t wait to hear him complain about how you two should’ve been granted luxury. You hadn’t even been inside yet and you were already thinking about what he was going to say. The town was so small that there weren’t any hotels, the nearest one over an hour away, meaning that you would have to live in one of these larger homes on the beach for the time being. There wasn’t to be any distractions either, it was supposed to be a pretty open and shut case. Find the curse, exorcize it. It wasn’t that high of a grade anyways, or so you were told by your overachieving Sensei.

If only people knew that it didn’t matter if there was no one other than your Sensei to engage with, because Satoru Gojo, alone, was able to distract you for hours on end if you really put your mind to it. Satoru and you were very similar in age, early adult years, and yet he had the role of Sensei and you were still just a Student. You knew that it was because of his efforts of expelling Suguru Geto from the plane of existence, and that alone was enough to grant him the title of Special Grade Sorcerer, but it still was awkward at points when he talked down on you, because really, he had only four years more experience in life than you did.

You did what you were told. You always did. As a younger student you had a temper, a rebellious streak that for a time was almost concerning for the Jujutsu community that taught you. And yet, here you were, a respectful young sorcerer. Over the years you have grown, probably more than any other student that the community had seen, or at least, since your Sensei himself. It was like overnight somehow you turned from a child to a young woman, and you were adamant about completing your studies so that you could become a Special Grade. Those plans, however, were way easier said than done. You still had to work very hard to even get to the level of Gojo’s left hand in terms of strength and ability. But oh did you want it. You wanted all that power, and that was probably why he was so keen on teaching you, why he brought you on this mission in the first place.

You were just like him, in a lot of ways.

Satoru was not entirely a man of secrets. You could ask him things about almost anything and he would tell you. The only thing that he kept guarded in the deepest parts of his mind was things of his past, and his reasoning behind making such vast decisions like he oh so loved to do. But you and Satoru still managed to be very close, the cursed energy growing strong between both of you as if it too agreed in your compatibility.

You shook your head, immediately refuting his accusations. “No, it’s not apprehension,” you told him, eyes coming up to meet the back of his head since he wasn’t looking at you. “Just concern, that’s all.”

“That’s all?” Your Sensei questioned. The second that his foot came up to the top of the stairs, his figure turned around and faced you, those bold, blue eyes from under his black mask looking at you even if you couldn’t see it, you could definitely feel them there. “If you have any doubts about anything, tell me, I am your Sensei after all.” He loved calling himself that.

That’s exactly that problem, you thought to yourself, making sure that your mental shields were up to guard it so that it wasn’t written all over your face. That was the last thing that you needed, for him to know the things that you wished to push down into the darkest depths of your mind. The thought of simply just being with him here alone made your brain almost electrify yourself, thinking about all the possibilities of slipping up and revealing all your emotions towards your Sensei directly to him. It was something to fear, and yet you were not allowed to fear, you couldn’t fear someone like him who was supposed to teach her.

You offered him the fakest smile that you could muster, saying, “Yes, I’m alright. Let’s just get inside, it’s almost dark.” The setting sun was directly to your back, illuminating him in front of you like he was something to be marveled at. And to your defense, Satoru Gojo was definitely something to be marveled at. His chiseled cheeks only looked more distinguished in the golden light, along with his silver-esque blonde hair that seemed to catch it just right. It made you feel weak in the knees, these thoughts of him, and you knew it was wrong to think of him in such ways - but you just couldn’t stop. Every time you tried to vilify him in your mind, another reason why you should love popped right back up in its place. It was a deadly cycle that you have shamelessly fallen victim to, and there was nothing that you could do to stop it or further this attraction. It was forbidden. He was your teacher.

The moment that you stepped into the building, a sigh left your lips, eyes taking in all your surroundings. It was marvelous. There were marbled stone floors that were covered in rugs in some places, plush couches in the middle of the room, and off to the side were the counters of the kitchen, all looking as if no one had ever stepped foot in here. Suddenly you felt out of place here, like you weren’t good enough to live in such a lavish way. After all, your dorm room at the school was nothing compared to this. They were bland, sandy and brown colors everywhere. Only a dresser with a small mirror and a bed were in it. Yet here, there were different hues of reds, greens, and blues, tables and chairs and fancy lamps, and plants that added almost another dimension to the already breathtaking house.

“It’s - It’s,” You started, not able to find the correct words for what you were trying to say.

Luckily, Gojo finished your sentence, “Breathtaking. It’s breathtaking.”

You turned to look back at him, taking in his features for just a moment more.

Breathtaking, you thought to yourself. Yes, everything here is just breathtaking.

The soft silks of your bed sheets rolled between your fingers, tempting you to lay into bed and never get back up. How on Earth were you supposed to find this curse when you were living like this? You could imagine yourself, not as a sorcerer but as a normal person, eating wild berries as you sat on your bed near the balcony, looking towards the horizon and not having one single worry in that head of yours. It was tantalizing, the perfect picture in your mind of what you wished to be.

“Why do you have that dumbfounded look on your face?”

You spun around to only be met with Satoru, who was leaning against your doorframe effortlessly. Has he always been that tall? A heat rose up to your cheeks, realizing that you hadn’t been taking the proper precautions of keeping those thoughts only to yourself, it was written all over your face. They were just little flings of ideas, nothing too brash that could get you into any trouble. “I shouldn’t have been thinking of slacking off when we have work to do in the coming days.”

A chuckle escaped his lips from deep within his chest. “It’s okay, Y/N, really, if I am being honest, I was thinking the same not too long ago.”

That was shocking news to you. You always thought that Gojo always wanted to be on the run, as if this trip that he had to take with you was annoying to him because he had to take time away from much more special missions that he would get to be the leader of. But it also made sense, even victorious Special Grade Sorcerers get tired sooner or later. Perhaps you didn’t know him as much as you thought that you did. This trip wasn’t just for you, it was for the both of you. It was good to go back to basics, even for someone as powerful as him.

“And here I was thinking that you didn’t want to be here,” You mused.

Satoru laughed at your jest. “No, quite the opposite. It’ll be nice to take a step back from life for a little bit and get to watch you do all the work.”

“I didn’t know that Satoru Gojo knew what rest meant,” You continued on with your playful banter.

“I don’t,” He chuckled. “Maybe you can teach me?”

Now that sends you through a loop. You knew that he was probably just playing around with you, since you were teasing him a little bit. But that sentence was enough for that place in your mind to unlock all the fantasies you had in your head about him, the ones that you only dared touch when you knew you were alone and it was the dead of night. You held yourself back from becoming flustered, knowing the moment you showed any signs of it that he would know that something was up. Instead you simply nodded your head, taking your eyes off of him to the balcony that was open to your room, seeing the way that the moonlight illuminated the waves of the water. “Perhaps after investigating tomorrow, we could go by the water?” You asked him.

“Sure thing,” Satoru said, turning on his heel and making his way out of your room. You took a sigh of relief at his absence, not because you wanted him gone, but because seeing him in such a leisurely setting was starting to get to your head. That dizzy feeling that got to your head every time you looked at him for too long started to subside, and you were left with only your thoughts as you put away some clothes you packed for the stay.

The moment that your head hit the soft, plush pillow of your large bed, you were completely enveloped by sleep. In your dreams you only saw you and Satoru, happy and smiling in the gracious flower fields you had passed on the way here, preparing meals together half dressed in the kitchen, and falling asleep in each other’s arms. It was so real and lifelike that when you woke up in the morning, you felt as if you had awoken from an alternate universe.

Satoru didn’t know what he was doing.

Of course he was excited to be able to take a break from the long days of having to deal with the stupid fucking orderlies at the school, but at the same time he knew that being alone with you was going to be a struggle for him. Gojo loved to train you, he really did. You were a loyal student and was eager to learn from his instruction. He knew the moment that he saw you that he wanted to train you. But he hadn’t prepared for him to become so emotionally attached to you, and it was tearing the young teacher apart.

It was incredibly taboo of him to gain these feelings for two reasons. One: he should really learn to teach other people so that he wasn’t spending all his time giving all of his ‘wisdom’ (as he liked to call it) to you. Two: you were his student. It may have been different if you were within the same ranks as him, but you were not. He was supposed to be your teacher, and there was no way that he would take advantage of his position of power over you if you were not willing.

He, too, was having doubts about this mission. Satoru almost asked Nanami if he would accompany the two of you for as long as it took, but there was too much going on for him to take any time off from his job, and Satoru was sure that it was just an excuse so that he didn’t have to tolerate him more than necessary anyways. So it was just you and him, alone in this house in this beautiful town.

The next day rolled along and you two had spent most of it investigating, talking to locals, etc. It was incredibly boring for him, though part of him felt incredibly proud that you were able to do everything on your own without any hiccup. You two had devised a plan for tomorrow to go after the curse directly from the source: a small cove near some cliffs by the beach. You would go at night and hopefully be able to catch it before it brought in any more deaths into the waves.

He was so engrossed in his own head that he didn’t even realize you had walked up to him.

“You promised we could go to the water afterwards,” You told him, hoping that you were jogging his memory from last night.

But you didn’t need to jog Satoru’s memory, because he had been thinking about it ever since you asked. Thinking about having to watch you submerge under the water and come back up, drops of clear blue dripping down your exposed shoulders, and keeping himself from doing something that he would most likely regret when you would reject him, scolding him for his thinking. He thought about the way he wanted to put his hands on your hips and pull you as close as you possibly could get to him, taking the opportunity to pepper kisses along your smooth skin. It killed him to think that you probably didn’t think the same way about him, it was going to goddamn tear him apart.

Nevertheless, he wasn’t going to go back on his promise to you. It was the least he could do after thinking such sinful things about you. Gojo gave you a nod and walked beside you on the short trail to the ocean from the house you were staying at. You could hear the water ripple towards the small shoreline, coming up and then receding back again in a timely fashion. You kicked off your shoes, deciding that your tank top and pants were okay to get wet, especially since you wouldn’t take the risk of undressing in front of Satoru. As much as the thought was tempting, you knew better than to test your luck. He watched with intensity as you got into the water, going deep enough to where only the tops of your shoulders and up were exposed. Fuck, he cursed himself, did you have to look so good barely doing anything?

You cocked your head to the side. “Well … are you going to get in or just stare at me?” You asked, immediately submerging yourself under the water to ignore what he had to say about your teasing. Your heart thumped profusely as you sat there under the water holding your breath. Satoru had been looking at you.

He mentally cursed himself once again, taking his shoes off and following you into the water. It did feel good, the water having an almost calming effect over him as he walked deeper in the lake. He looked around him, taking in the appearance of all the beautiful trees that lined up, beautiful fruit hanging off of the branches. Little flowers were along the bay, facing right towards him as if they were welcoming him to their home.

The sun spilled harsh rays along his skin, causing Gojo to dip his head down fully into the water. Once he came back up for air, his eyes shifted over to you, both of you holding a type of eye contact that you swore almost knocked your breath out. It was unlike anything you had ever experienced before, like he was looking right into your soul and you to his, a sense of desire burning a pit in your stomach. Feeling exposed, you shifted your gaze to the fish swimming in the water near you. You could still feel his eyes on you, in them holding truths that he wished to tell you, but being unable to put the words together to explain.

“There’s something that you’re not telling me.”

Your eyes opened at your Sensei’s voice and looked directly at him. You had been simply laying on your bed before sleeping, on your phone, trying to distract yourself with something dumb online before being able to sleep. You had only just closed your eyes as he walked in. At school they usually kept you on some kind of schedule, though here with Satoru, rules were a little - no, more loose than normal.

He once again stood in your doorframe, like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed in, like he didn’t feel like he had a place stepping into your bedroom. You searched his face to gauge a feeling for what he was talking about, looking for hints of mischief or anger. There was nothing, his face was completely blank, almost too blank like he was hiding something from you.

You knew you had nothing to hide — or at least nothing that he should know about. “I don’t know what you mean,” You replied, uncrossing your legs from their criss cross position and hugging them close to your chest. “Have I done something wrong?”

That answer seemed to not satisfy him, because for a moment something flickered in his eyes. “No, nothing like that,” He told you, furrowing his brows together under the mask and taking a tentative step closer into your room. “It’s just, I get this feeling when I’m around you. Like something is just gnawing at you and I can’t stop thinking about it.”

Oh, you were screwed. Alarms blared in your mind, thinking about how you had let your thoughts run too much during this trip. All the worst outcomes of this came to your mind, like how he would laugh at your growing feelings towards him, how much you wanted him almost shamelessly. It made your stomach twist into several knots, wanting to bury yourself into a hole and never ever come out of it again.

Your face must’ve told it all, because he spoke again, saying, “There. Right there. I can feel it, Y/N. Just talk to me. What is going on?” Your bottom lip quivered, knowing that there was no way you were getting out of this. This was it. The day you had been dreading and hoping didn’t come. Everything was about to come crash down onto your life.

“I can’t,” You said in a low voice, shifting your weight to sit at the edge of the bed, putting your head into your hands and staring down at the plush carpet in an attempt to get away from his stare. Almost as if you thought if you looked away long enough, he would suddenly disappear.

“What do you mean ‘you can’t’? You’re my student, you can tell me anything.”

Student. The title felt foreign in your mind now. It was something that you knew you couldn’t hold onto for much longer once the truth was out. You would be stripped of it and be a sorcerer no more. The school would hear of your feelings and immediately expel you. Student. Student. Student. The more the word bounced around in your mind the more you felt tears welling up into your eyes.

And you didn’t mean to sound so harsh when you said it, but your hands were balling up into fists as you said, “That’s what’s wrong!” Your head tilted up, seeing that Satoru had walked closer to you, towering over your frame. His face showed confusion, not understanding what you were alluding to. He didn’t even have to say it, but his expression was saying explain.

How could you even begin?

You were wordless.

“Please . . . I just want to help you,” Gojo told you, his hand coming to grab onto your forearm. The touch felt like hot coals on your body, scorching your soul. “I don’t like seeing you like this.” Which you knew translated to I don’t like not knowing how to fix it.

“It’s you,” You confessed. “I can’t stop thinking about you.”

For a moment, Satoru thought that he had stepped into some parallel universe. Or that this was some sort of prank let on by someone else. There was no way that this was happening, you were confessing. You had been thinking about him, probably as much as he was thinking about you. It felt as if the world had turned on its axis and was spinning the opposite direction.

You, on the other hand, were waiting for the words that never came. You expected him to immediately tell you that he was going to report you to . . . oh you didn’t even know. And yet, he stood there, almost looking as dumbfounded as you did, maybe even more. This prompted you to stand up, his hand falling down and getting dangerously close to your own.

“I know …” You started again, seeing as he wasn’t going to say anything. “I know that it’s wrong, that I shouldn’t be thinking of you in the ways that I am. But I can’t stop, Satoru, you consume me.”

The usage of his name snapped him back to reality and out of his own spinning thoughts, and hearing it come from specifically your lips was not helping his frame of mind. It sounded … different coming from your mouth. Like you were saying it like a praise rather than just a passing phrase like most people did. He wanted you to say it over and over again, repeating it like a mantra you were to speak or you would die if you didn’t. His eyes flickered into your own and saw how scared you were of how he would react and how he was definitely not helping to settle your nerves.

In truth, he didn’t know how to handle this situation. After all, this was not a lesson that had been given to him and he was definitely not in the best place to tell you anything, since his emotions were starting to cloud his judgment and all he could think was how he wished to tell you he felt the same way.

You waited for his response, getting impatient and wanting to just get this over with. You were waiting for the words he was supposed to say.

But Satoru didn’t always do the things he was supposed to do, in fact, he almost never did the things that he was supposed to. So why would he think to start now?

“You and I both know that this isn’t allowed,” Satoru said. “And yet I can’t stop thinking about kissing you.”

A visible look of shock washed over your face, mouth opening slightly and eyes widening, heart pounding against your ribcage. His hand reached down and grabbed your own, fingertips softly touching the palm of your hand. This felt like a dream. Were you sure that you weren’t dreaming? No, this was definitely real. Satoru was in front of you for sure, confessing that he was feeling the exact same way.

Satoru tipped his head down to meet your own, his breath fanning along your face, making you shiver. Your breath hitched in your throat, his lips brushing against your own, almost like he was testing you. You could feel the tips of his hair tickling against your forehead, nose against nose. You were so close. The hand on your own was grasping now, pulling your body close to his. And the two of you sat there, lips millimeters close while each of your minds buzzed with the feeling of doing something so daring.

You felt yourself going mad, you couldn’t do it anymore. You couldn’t wait. All of your feelings erupted inside of your throat and suddenly you were kissing him, lips smashing against his own with no care in the world. You didn’t care about the ramifications, the school … anything. All you cared about was Gojo, wanting as much of him that he was willing to give you.

You had never really kissed anyone before. There was a moment back when you were only ten and you were with another student, seeing one of the citizens of Tokyo kissing each other on the street. Interested in what they were doing, you and your friend kissed, thinking that it was weird and dismissing it. That had been your first kiss, a rather embarrassing one, but it was nothing compared to the way Gojo kissed you. He kissed you like there was a purpose to every single move of his muscles. He kissed you like you were forbidden fruit and he was starving.

His other hand came up to the back of your neck, tangling in your hair and keeping your face close to his. For just a moment his tongue slipped into your mouth and you made a small sound, butterflies swarming in your stomach. You tried to mimic what he was doing, going with your instincts and grasping onto his bicep, feeling the taut muscles under your touch.

Everything about yours and his actions were needy and hungry, wanting each other with such need that you had pushed down for so long. All of it seemed to come out of you like crashing waves. The kissing was nice, though after a while you needed more, you were dying for more of him. Please, Satoru, you thought.

As if he could read your thoughts, he pulled away, a string of saliva the only thing connecting you two. “What do you want?” He whispered, tilting his head to the side and giving you one of those damn smirks of his. Of course he wanted you to say it. And you knew better than to not do what he wanted.

“You, Satoru, I want you,” You whispered to him, as if someone was going to hear if you talked too loud. “Please.” You thought that you probably sounded like someone desperate, and in a way you were, you had waited for this forever and had convinced yourself that it would never happen. But he thought the exact opposite, he marveled in the way that you looked at him, wanting to show you how much you truly meant to him. The attraction and lust was there, intermingled with something more that neither of you dared to acknowledge.

He didn’t hesitate to give you what you wanted, slowly inching you towards the bed and helping you rest on your back, the silk sheets against the back of your arms and neck. Satoru was quick to follow, climbing on top of you and connecting his lips onto the skin right below your jaw. His lips were soft like snowflakes falling onto your skin, creating a masterpiece on your skin like you were his canvas. It all felt too good, the heightening the sensations to an almost unbearable amount. It sent shockwaves to your core, igniting a feeling you often only felt during the late hours of the night.

Seeing how well your body responded to him, well, almost drove Gojo crazy. You were so willing, so ready for him that his mind became cloudy, the only thing he could make out was his thoughts of you. His lips trailed down from your jaw to your neck, paying extra attention to the places that made you breathe out more than the others. He pressed a searing kiss to your pulse point, his teeth grazing the nerve and using his lips to suck a deep, purple mark into your skin. And then, when he felt it was the right time, he did it again and again, properly marking you as his. He didn’t care anymore. Your hands found their respective place in his hair, feeling the softness of the blond tufts between your fingers. It was so damn soft that you wondered how you had resisted the urge for so long before.

Your clothes suddenly felt foreign on your body, you wanted them off, you wanted his off so that you could see all of him. He seemed to hear your thoughts, humming against your skin and pulling away, pressing a soft, firm kiss to your lips and helping you get out of them, and in turn you helped him get out of his.

Gojo’s body was like nothing you imagined. He was breathtaking. You knew that he had a nice body because of all the training and countless amounts of physical strain he has been through, but looking at those abs that he had, along with the sun kissed skin he had, you felt your throat close up, feeling inferior to what he looked like. “You’re beautiful, Y/N,” He said. “Don’t ever think that you’re not.” And you believed him.

His hands came to your hips, fingers toying with the fabric of your underwear that was the only thing blocking him from seeing you fully. His eyes scanned you, taking in the sheer and utter beauty before him. He wanted to kiss, lick, and nip on every single inch of skin on you. He wanted to learn each and every single curve, hear every story behind your scars, and know just what touches would have you squirming from underneath him. He wanted to know exactly where he had to kiss to get those sweet sounds out from you and he was sure that he could spend hours just doing that.

No one has seen you this exposed before. You didn’t know whether or not to feel embarrassed, because he seemed to know what he was doing. You hadn’t felt the need to do anything like this with anyone else, not when you were too busy lusting over your teacher for so long. You didn’t want anyone to take that last bit of innocence from you except him, you were sure of it. And only now did you actually realize what was going to happen. Who was he to leave you pining and wanting, when you were basically offering your virginity up on a silver platter for him?

Your whole body felt hot, needing to feel the release that was beginning to build up from all of his kisses and your imagination running its course. “Satoru,” You breathed out, not knowing how to form into words what you wanted from him. Of course he knew, he could feel your hands pulling into his hair, all the while he began to whisper all the dirty little things that he wanted to do with you. How he wanted to keep you here all for himself, how he wanted to taste every single inch of you, and everything else that he could think about. After all, neither of you were hiding anything anymore. He knew exactly what he was going to do to you so that he could hear the plethora of moans that he knew you had just for him, wanting to hear his name come off of your lips in pleasure.

His head ducked down and kissed your hipbone, fingers hooking under your underwear and slowly sliding them off. Your eyes stayed on his actions, mouth forming into an ‘O’ when you realized what he was going to do. He was going to use his mouth on you. These were only things that you thought in your deepest, darkest fantasies, like he had reached into those parts of your mind and did exactly what you wanted.

As if Satoru was just tempting you, he pressed another slow kiss to the inside of your thigh and then did the same thing to the other side. Your hips lifted up only slightly, showing him that you couldn’t wait much longer. A chuckle left him, eyes reaching your own and saying, “Eager?” You weren’t even ashamed when you shook your head, keeping eye contact with him as he licked a bold stripe right up your slit. It felt as if an earthquake hit your body, your back arching and hands gripping onto his hair.

He hummed against you, liking the way that you responded to his actions. If he had it his way, he would sit here with you like this for hours on end, bringing you up to that high place again and again until you were a wrecked mess before him. It made him simply go crazy to think that he was the first person to ever do this to you, that he would be the first of anyone to hear those moans and profanities that slipped from your cherry kissed lips. Satoru’s own thoughts made him groan out, a noise that you played on repeat in your mind as your eyes screwed closed.

Your thighs quivered beside his face, attempting to squeeze shut so that you could keep him there forever. But his hands came and held them in place, fingers digging into your muscles that gave in to his touch like it was nothing. You were putty in his hands, the only movement you had was your hands pulling on his hair and the arch of your back while he lapped his tongue against you with no mercy.

“Stay still,” He told you, pulling away for a moment to lick what was left of you on his lips. You nodded, chest heaving and heart sinking at the loss of contact. But Satoru didn’t leave for long, his mouth on your clit accompanied with one of his fingers circling your entrance. You nearly lost it when he dipped his middle finger in experimentally, gauging your reaction. You could feel the coil in your stomach start to tighten, which only amplified once his finger pushed into you all the way.

You didn’t even attempt to try and censor the obscenities that came out of your mouth, mixed in rhyme with his name. Satoru. Satoru. Satoru. It was the only word that felt real in your mind.

You waited for that final jump towards a euphoric end, but it never came. Instead Satoru pulled away from you and his fingers left, making you feel uneasily empty. Opening your eyes, you saw that he was pulling down his boxers, taking his cock into his hands and watching as you almost became slack jawed - realizing what was about to happen. A moment of worry nestled its way into your mind, making your heart thump. If anyone was to find out, you would surely not be accepted back into the school. You would never be able to have Gojo again. It was your moment to choose. You knew that if you backed out, at least you would be able to work under him still and not have his affections. It would be better than never seeing him again. And yet, you couldn’t see your life without him, all of him. Not just the side that was your Sensei.

Satoru sensed your worry, taking your chin in his hands so that you looked up at him. “Are you sure?” He asked you, not wanting to move forward before you were ready. And God, were you ready. “Because once I start, I don’t think that I’m ever going to get enough of this pretty pussy.”

And with all the courage that you mustered up, you gave him a small smile and said, “Yes.” You felt like you were flinging yourself off of some sort of cliff, or even more sinfully feeling like you were Persephone, cutting up her own slice of pomegranate and looking right into Hades eyes as she tasted the fruit, securing your fate that you would stay with him. You would stay with Satoru, even if it was only for this night.

He nestled between your legs and you could feel his tip press against your entrance. Air was caught in your lungs, sitting up on your elbows so that you could see as he eased himself into you. A sting of pain and a subtle feeling of pleasure was seated inside of you, watching as his cock was enveloped by you inch by inch. Satoru hissed at the feeling, you were so goddamn tight and he never wanted to stop from being inside of you. You looked down at where he was inside, thinking about how you could do this all day every day for the rest of your life. You now understood why this was so talked about, why your body craved it so much. Once all of him was inside, he leaned over so his head was in the crook of your neck, pressing a kiss to your searing skin as you adjusted to him bottoming out.

You urged him to continue, thinking that the discomfort would soon go away with time. And you were eager to get all of him that you could, temptation coming forward instead of reason. He pulled out all the way then eased himself back in, continuing the slower pace and watching your reaction before him, your hands reaching to his back and finding their place there. One of his hands kept your legs open, taking you by your thigh and hoisting it up.

It took all that he could muster to not just ram into you, the want starting to cloud his judgment. The cursed energy between the two of you felt as if it was pushing both you and him towards each other, the connection almost driving each of you crazy. “You feel …” He started. “You feel so good.” That alone, along with the raspiness in his voice, made a fire erupt in your stomach. You sighed in response, eyes fluttering closed once again.

And then, much to his surprise, you whispered, “Go faster, Satoru.” You needed him so bad you felt like you were going to explode, lust enveloping the both of you and intertwining with your energies.

He didn’t need to be told twice, and he gripped onto the leg he lifted up, beginning a slightly faster rhythm that had you arching your neck and back, eyes rolling to the back of your head. Satoru was so big, stretching you out in just the right way that had you almost keeling over if he hadn’t had such a tight grip on you. Your one leg wrapped along his waist, heel digging into his back while his pace increased.

This angle he had you in made you yelp and moan shamelessly, not caring if people all the way in the capital could hear you as you yelled his name like a prayer. His pace finally became a fast rhythm and you found comfort in being able to finally feel nothing but pleasure with every deep stroke he made.

In this place, it was only you and him. Like you were in your own little place of paradise where you could explore each other in every way. There was nothing that could take this moment from you or him, this moment would forever be engraved in your mind for many years to come, remembering the way that he moaned out your name and the way he looked when you opened your eyes to peek at his face. His brows were furrowed, sweat beading on his forehead and mouth spilled open saying nothing but your name.

He made you feel so good, so euphoric that the fire grew and grew, becoming a wildfire raging inside of you. And you looked so heavenly to him, the way that your eyes only looked at him, breasts bouncing with every harsh thrust he gave you. You took him so well, like you were made for only him. His hips brushed against your own, hand coming up to caress your cheek, forcing you to look him in the eyes. “I want to see you look at me when I fuck you,” he whispered, a deep sense of posessiveness suddenly washing over him.

You weren’t going to last much longer. Not with the way that he was pounding into you with sheer force you didn’t know was possible until now. But you didn’t want this to end, you never wanted this to end in fear that things would go back to the way they were before. You would have to try and forget that this ever happened. It wasn’t something you wanted to do and didn’t even know if you had the strength to do it. After this moment both of you would be connected.

You made a guttural noise, teetering over the edge of what felt like a wave of bliss. This was it, there was no way that you could keep yourself from it now. It only took a singular deep stroke of his cock to send you right over the edge, your back arching and body spasming, his name rolling off of your tongue in the most sinful way you have ever said it before. Your hands gripped for any part of him that you could reach, groping his muscles to keep him close to you. He didn’t stop moving inside of you, making you ride it out even harder as he chased his own high.

“Yeah? You came all over my cock like a good student, didn’t you?”

You could only whimper in response.

You were so sensitive as he fucked into you, giving you no mercy. He groaned as you came, watching the way that your eyes screwed shut and mouth opening in as you sucked in harsh breaths. You could feel his cock twitch inside of you and you knew that he was close, wondering if he was going to cum inside of you or pull out before he did. He did the latter, taking one more deep stroke before pulling out. Satoru was about to start stroking himself with his hand but you rushed with your own to meet him there, using your own and pumping a few times.

A string of profanities came from his lips as he came, white hot liquid spurting onto your stomach, dripping like beads coating your skin. He had no shame as he shuddered, muscles flexing with every passing second. He drank in your body, seeing how wet you were for him, how soft your hand was on his cock, how much he longed to see you like this more times before you and him left. And soon enough he was finished, the only thing between both of you was both of your panting breaths.

Satoru moved to grab something on the floor, realizing that it was the shirt he had on before and moving to wipe your stomach off, dropping it to the floor and coming to lay down next to you. You winced for a moment as you moved to look at him, his own eyes staring at the ceiling. You were scared of what was to come next, if there was anything that was supposed to come next. You knew that the two of you couldn’t be together, at least openly, though it was even risky to continue doing something like this in private.

“Satoru,” You called out to him, forcing him to look at you. “What will happen next?”

“I don’t know, Y/N, I don’t know,” He responded. All he knew was that he wanted you, again and again. In the domestic moments and in the explicit ones like before. You were so tantalizing, and he realized now that because he had tasted the forbidden fruit that was you, he would never be able to stop. There was simply no way that he would be able to conceal his want for you from you anymore.

You waited for his answer, knowing that it would probably be one you didn’t want to hear. But for the second time this evening, Satoru surprised you again.

He leaned over and kissed you.

And you knew his answer from that.

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk #jjk x reader smut #gojo smut #gojo satoru #satoru smut #satoru x reader #gojo saturo x reader #gojo x reader #gojo x reader smut #jjk x y/n #jjk x you #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #satoru x you

709 notes · View notes

shinesurge · 6 months

Text

Webcomic rings run by people within the community are cool and you should support them

I've been loudly struggling a little bit with corporate webcomic Stuff lately so I want to mention something positive to balance it out: webrings run by small groups of creators earnestly trying to support each other are slowly making a comeback and I for one am delighted.

If you weren't around for them in the before times, webrings were just some folks who hang out a lot who feature each other on their websites. That's literally it lmao. There's generally no money involved and it only really functions the way it's supposed to if people have control over their own websites AND genuinely want to participate and get excited about other folks' work, which means the practice has pretty well fallen by the wayside over the years in webcomic culture given. Everything. In the rare event someone decides to do something like this it's usually in the form of a link list somewhere on their website; this doesn't usually indicate any sort of mutual support, it's just a list of what the creator is reading themselves.

A webring, though, is an official banner or hub that people gather under intentionally where each member is more or less on equal footing. It's essentially the concept of "a rising tide lifts all boats" put into practice, each creator brings their own audience to the table in a passive, opt-in sort of way that's different from working for a publisher since there isn't necessarily a Top Spot or a paycheck everyone's vying for, and individuals retain autonomy over both their own work and how (if) they promote each other. You're all at your own tables in an artist alley rather than fighting over the table in the front of the book store, essentially.

I have two rings and one collective for you today!

Webcomic Ring was brought to my attention AGES ago by Holly, one of the artists featured there, and I might have brought it up at some point but I'm doing it again lmao. This is exactly the kind of thing you ought to be looking for; a small group of enthusiastic folks having a good time making their weird little comics. You probably haven't heard of much in the catalog, that's PERFECT in the context of webcomics that's where the GOOD SHIT is. Finding something like this is A Gift go dig around in the longboxes for a while.

Then a few people have pointed me in the direction of the KNIFEBEETLE collective and that's neat too! Most of the comics there are already fairly well-known, but the vibes are excellent and I haven't seen a lot of talk about the collective /itself/ outside folks already in the know. I think it's important for this sort of thing to be more visible to folks who aren't terminally steeped in webcomic culture already so here I am telling you about it. You were probably reading several of these before I suggested it, but that's how a webring works! For it to do its job you should take those bigger creators' tacit recommendation of the less popular titles as a sign to go read something new and strange. Wild, I know these are practices held over from the old internet, but I think we should try and bring them back.

Lastly, I want to mention Spiderforest, which is a collective (slightly different from a webring) BUT still a very cool project readers starved for new stuff should pay attention to.

You've probably seen Spiderforest kicking around for a long time already; they're wonderful and have always been an overall positive force in the community in my experience. They really focus on building up a community, and especially welcoming newcomers and helping them get their feet under them. Full disclosure, I've been asked to apply by a few different folks over the years and the only reason I never did is I don't have the ability to participate in their forums and such as frequently as they want their creators to; it's a very good system (from my outside perspective) that might contribute to the community staying mostly healthy in ways that art communities usually don't and I appreciate it a lot!

ANYWAYS that's all I got for now, just trying to balance out some bad feelings I've been having by talking about some good stuff. Please go binge an archive this week.

#long post #contrary to what i say i do love webcomics so fucking much #there are Reasons i'm fucking angry all the time lmao

568 notes · View notes

babyangelsky · 13 days

Text

My Favorite Expressions in Love Sea Ep. 3

I wasn't gonna write about the expressions this week but then I got all my Fort-induced crazy out and had a meal and came to my senses, so I decided to write about them this week and every week.

Won't always be in depth like the last one but I do wanna point them out because as @prapaiwife said, Fort and Peat's acting deserves to be appreciated.

This scene is shadowy as all hell but there's just enough light to appreciate the faces that Mut is pulling in this scene. There's a mixture of annoyance and frustration here. He's narrowing his eyes, he's pursing his lips and setting his jaw a little bit. But it also looks like he's trying not to smile and there's a sparkle in his eyes that tells me he's enjoying seeing Tongrak get pissy.

That's the face of a brat tamer if I've ever seen one.

I also loved seeing how Tongrak got all smiley and fondly amused when Mut said he was beautifully handsome.

But then there's this smile after he tells Mut about his family. It's sad and resigned and doesn't reach his eyes. It's different from the last one, and Mut can see that, which is why he tells Tongrak not to smile like that. We're not done talking about this man and smiling but hold that thought, we'll come back to it here in a sec.

This look and the quickness with which Tongrak says no when Mut asks him if he wants to try love break my heart. There's more resignation there and something else, too. Certainty of heartbreak or maybe just plain old fear.

I, too, am struck dumb when I see Fort's smiling face Tongrak's just like me fr.

It's the shift from soft, open vulnerability to sheer annoyance for me. It's a face that says, "this infuriating man is so fucking annoying, I have to fucking kiss him about it fuck him" and I love it. This kiss also made me think of @chicademartinica and her love of tropical eroticism.

We can't see Mut's eyes here but that same sentiment applies to this face, too.

I love the look Tongrak gets when people say nice things about Mut. He may not realize it--or admit it if he did--but he's so fond of Mut already.

I have nothing insightful to say about these expressions, I just wanna make ya'll appreciate the mole Fort has on that giant fucking arm of his and how normal I've been about it this whole time.

Also more stretch marks. But we're getting off track.

Look at the face Mut makes when he realizes Tongrak's gonna be leaving in a couple of days. He looks crushed. You can tell that up until now, he hasn't really thought about Tongrak eventually going back home.

And Tongrak hasn't thought about it either. You can see him mentally going through his calendar. Neither of them have thought about it, but they both know exactly when he's going to leave and neither of them look happy about it.

Mut says "could you not leave?" without thinking and Tongrak is very obviously surprised but that's all it is. Surprise without anything negative attached to it. And maybe a teeny bit of hope?

He tries to play it off as a joke but Tongrak doesn't let him. He just says "try asking me". Something about his tone and the way he's looking at Mut and stroking his hair and his face really made me feel the difference in their ages. Tongrak looks and sounds so patient and gentle.

I love how often Tongrak's face answers before he does. He was always going to say yes but I like that he told Mut to try asking and teases him a little bit to get him there. Sometimes we have to be brave and find the words and ask for what we want so it'll be given to us. That's how good communication works.

I don't know about anyone else, but I could practically hear Tongrak thinking, "I'm sorry you had to grow up so fast and alone."

Seeing Mut be giddy and shy for the first time since we met him and seeing unabashed joy on Tongrak's face for the first time since we met him are two of my favorite things about this episode.

Making Mut ask Tongrak to stay wasn't about ego or being a brat, it was about a man who doesn't believe in love wanting to hear that his presence was wanted and a man who isn't used to receiving things without offering something in exchange being told that he doesn't have to change who he is in order to be given what he wants and that he's loved appreciated exactly the way he is.

#rakmut #love sea #love sea the series #meta

195 notes · View notes

charmedreincarnation · 7 months

Note

I shifted using the void state!

I'm getting straight to the point because I know people don't like long success stories, but I used these two posts to finally shift to my desired reality and manifest my dream life.

Rotten’s Practical Guide to Shifting Realities

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1zgrhCYyct7xV4j7d7qYFcoO8bAMx5Jqdb3NGoO81Oqs/edit

Reddit Post: The Power of the Void State

https://www.reddit.com/r/shiftingrealities/s/XMIo5TPYlM

Anyways, when I learned about the void state on Reddit, I was instantly captivated. I mean, who wouldn't be? The idea of not only using it for shifting but also manifesting my dream life for myself and my family felt like a dream come true. That's when I came across the second post I shared about the void state, and eventually, the first document I shared. They were incredibly informative and completely changed my perspective on shifting and the law of the universe.

I went on to stalk many of the recommended success stories on Reddit, exploring posts and comment sections that mentioned you. You seemed to be a common denominator in their journeys, helping them shift or guiding them with your posts. It made me happy to see your positive influence, even though your posts were from years ago and it seemed like you no longer have an account. Unfortunately, many other creators' posts were either inactive or banned due to Reddit's strict rules which is really annoying.

However, someone made a post about you, and one of your friends ended up commenting with your Tumblr account. So, I gathered a lot of valuable information from your account and a few others (like Fleur, Pink, Rem, Sexy Dream Girl, etc.) on Tumblr.

I must say, the Tumblr shifting and void community is miles ahead of Reddit and Amino. I was shocked that I hadn't come across this community before. Reddit is just starting to talk about the Law of assumption and the void, whereas you guys have been immersed in it for years. I even encountered some misconceptions on Reddit, where people still think the void can only be used for shifting and not for waking up in a whole new life. 🙄

Regardless, finding this app was the motivation I needed, and I discovered so much valuable information. I ended up using your theta wave method, combined with the first Reddit post I sent, to enter the void and shift to my dr. It's truly mind-blowing how easy it all was.

I can vouch for this process. All you need are the two Reddit posts I shared, as the guide is highly regarded within the shifting community, along with a few trustworthy Tumblr bloggers. I've been part of the shifting community since 2017, so I've seen it all, and I managed to shift within just two and a half weeks of finding these resources. Even though I was struggling with depression and suicidal thoughts, I realized it doesn't have to hinder your journey.

I wanted to share my experience here, and I might make a post on Reddit too. However, they have become stricter with success stories due to anti-troll measures, and it takes weeks to even months for anything to be processed. So, I wanted to share my journey here first.

I also recommend this: https://www.reddit.com/r/shiftingrealities/s/daFCQdyHim because it helped me understand what shifting really is. Manifesting too!

Lastly I'm 26 years old, and I've noticed that Reddit tends to have a more adult audience compared to Tumblr. At first, it felt nice to be surrounded by fellow adults discussing shifting. On the other hand, seeing Tumblr mostly filled with teens and younger adults made me wonder if it's easier for them, especially without the weight of responsibilities that often come with age.

But let me tell you, age is not a factor that determines our success in shifting. Whether you're 13 or 55, it doesn't matter. This is something we can all engage in, no matter our age.

Sure, there might be some challenges that come with getting older. As we accumulate more life experiences, doubts tend to creep in, and we become more logical. But guess what? Those doubts and logical thinking don't define our ability to shift realities. They are simply hurdles for us to overcome.

Hi love! I've spent some time going through all the resources you shared, and they've been incredibly helpful! Actually i have seen that guide in so many places, and it's truly enlightening. Thank you for sharing these amazing tools with us!

And yes, I wholeheartedly agree with what you said. age and doubt really do have no place in our journey they really don’t matter in the grand scheme of things.

I used to engage with @theastralplaneandbeyond5487 on Amino and Reddit too. He also has an informative YouTube channel and is in his 50s, I believe. His experiences and insights are rlly helpful and further show that age is just a number in this journey.

His journey showed me that we can do whatever we we want , regardless of our age. It's a beautiful reminder that we're all capable of creating and experiencing whatever we want 🩵

Also omg my Reddit era in 2021 was so fun. I’m glad it’s still helping people though my views have definitely evolved :D!

#law of assumption #manifesation #void state #reality shifting #shiftblr #void success

857 notes · View notes

leidensygdom · 1 year

Text

Okay, I will try to explain this topic as well as I can. I will preface this with the fact this comes from personal experiences, and that they may not apply for everyone who has ties to this culture, but let's get to it:

What's the issue with Fortune tellers / "Exotic" circus performers, sexualized belly dancers and other forms of orientalism/Romani depictions?

So, as someone in the TTRPG world (specifically, the DnD community), this sort of trope is seen quite a lot. From the portrayal of Vistani (which has been tried to be fixed, but not... too well), to player characters in home games, as well as popular canon characters and podcasts, it's got quite normalized. Most of these tropes are based on Romani, which is a widespread ethnicity present all across the globe. Now, it feels almost strange to call it orientalism, given how Romani have been in Europe since the Middle Ages, even though they do have roots outside of Europe.

Romani face one of the biggest diaspora in the world: You will find Roma people under many names in very different countries, with cultures and traditions that can clash heavily. Their numbers can range from few hundred in some countries, to over a million in those they have a biggest presence. My own experience is tied to Spanish Roma, known as Gitanos, which is where my mother's side family comes from.

Gitanos are a widespread group, although they're most numerous in the southern part of Spain, Andalusia, where their presence has shaped the culture. Flamenco is thought to have been born from Gitano culture, and it has been adopted as a staple of the Andalusian identity, and the whole of Spain. Gitanos are hard to understand as their own ethnicity in Spain: There's been centuries of Gitanos and Spanish people mixing, and the average Andalusian is quite tan to start with (given Muslim presence there has also been pretty firm). It means it can be hard to "clock" a Spanish Romani person from a non-Romani one. It means you can find Romani people most would consider white, at least by Spanish standards. Most of the discrimination Gitanos face is cultural (and the whole ordeal can be a bit harder to explain from a more US-centric view).

Now, even when Gitanos have influenced Spanish culture a lot, they still face plenty of discrimination. They are one of the most marginalized groups out there. Laws have discriminated against them for centuries, on and off, which have put them in poverty. And poverty often develops into criminality, which has only seeded the idea that Gitanos are criminals, "lowlies", the bottom of society, "uncivilized", etc. Now, here comes a bit of my own experience with this.

My entire family is Andalusian, but both sides moved from there (the south) to Catalonia (north-east) in order to find a job during the Francoist (fascist) dictatorship. I won't get much into the specifics of the Catalan vs Andalusian beef because that's a bit of a massive topic too, but the important thing here is: My mother's side is Romani. My grandma faced some horrifying forms of discrimination, including the theft of her first child during the fascist dictatorship, which was taken from her by nuns (who ran hospitals at the time) to be placed into a "proper" family. (This is something that happened repeatedly at some hospitals during these times).

Now, she had two other children: My mother and my aunt. My aunt remained closely knit to Romani culture, and took part in it, which included marrying a Romani guy. She always did her best efforts to be part of it. I know she was into some culturally-related dances, which included some forms of bellydancing (which is also partially tied to Roma culture). But my mother decided she'd rather cut ties with her culture and become "civilised", by abandoning said culture.

This isn't too uncommon for Gitanos, to be honest. I've met a few people who come from similar backgrounds through my life. One of them was in university, where a fellow classmate gave an oral exposition about how his family had done a great job at "becoming civilised" by cutting ties with their own Roma roots. My university was a fairly progressive space, but no one batted an eye at that: The sheer hatred of Roma culture runs so deep even people who normally abhor racism and xenophobia consider Gitanos to be worth the hate.

There's a social pressure to do that, too. Everyone "knows" Gitano are criminals. I can't really even begin to explain how deeply does this sort of discrimination run. Roma are amongst the most hated minority groups in all of Europe (as well as most of the world). You will find that even in very leftist circles. People will try to erase the fact Roma have their own culture, and just make the world equal to "criminal", call them gy***** (which is a slur, btw), and detach them from being an actual culturally (and often racially) distinct group.

Now, this is only empowered by how media has taken our culture (it is almost hard for me to call it "our", given how much my mother ensured to take that away) and made it into a bad trope. Growing up, I was told my aunt was a sexual deviant who partook in indecent dances. Bellydancing is often seen as something very sexual (Wasn't, in origin), very unfitting. In media, bellydancers veer on the side of being a f*tish, and the common trope is the "bellydancer who seduces people in power for their own benefit". There's also the whole idea of shady fortune tellers and other magical tropes, that sort of weird mysticism that falls rapidly into orientalism. The idea that Roma will hex you, curse you, place an "Evil Eye" on you. And also the idea of travelling circus, people who perform in them being again full of that alluring exoticism, but beware! For they will enchant you, steal from you and run some massive criminal schemes on the way.

Now, when every tie a culture has on media is portrayed in a negative light, it's much harder for that culture to recover any sort of respect from the general populace. And that includes even people who are part of said culture, or people who have been removed from it. It has taken me so many years to unlearn a lot of these biases and realize where it has come from, and now I'm far too distant and far away from my grandmother to actually ever significantly connect to my heritage.

I've had the opportunity to witness what Romani culture is actually about, as I used to live with my grandmother during summers. A lot of the "mysticism" she took part of was actually about wards and protection. A lot of them were actually medicinal in nature, even if others were more superstitious. Red thread in the forehead for sickness and protection to curses, parfums (which contained alcohol or other antiseptics) on wounds, that stuff. My aunt was never a "sexual" deviant, she was keen on recovering and partaking on traditions from a culture that is slowly disappearing. The entire "promiscuous" idea is bullshit, Gitanos place a massive amount of power to marriage and loyalty. I had the luck to witness my cousin's marriage, which was a festivity like none other I had seen in my life, a colorful spectacle full of the most delightful attires, and my mother was whining the entire time over about how it was all an "uncivilised circus".

Now, this is why representation in media is key. Roma culture is broken into a thousand pieces and lost with every passing day. When someone decides to write an ambulant circus performer/fortune teller clad in exotic clothes full of golden jewellery, writes them as a criminal and makes the entire thing extremely sexual, they are feeding into the negative stereotypes about Roma.

Now, there's a lot of people who aren't even aware what culture does that trope even actually come from. I've seen people draw characters clad in Romani attires (often in, uh, rather pin-up or sexual contexts) and claim they're inspired by "x piece of media", where the trope is portrayed in the first place. I literally saw someone make a drawing in that way and call it "inspired by x (non-Roma) artist" instead of acknowledging where does all that come from.

I'm not asking people to not portray Roma people in media. Far from that. I just wish representation was better. Good representation is key towards making a culture seen in a more positive light, and teaching other peoples about it, and making people from said culture resonate with it. The very few times I've seen positive representations of Roma I've felt a bit of that connection with something that was taken from me. I want people to do a bit of research before giving a try to a Roma-coded character. Make an effort to not make Roma always the morally dubious fortune teller, the exotic alluring circus traveller, the bellydancer seductress. It's hard for Romani to produce widespread mainstream media because of how impoverished most communities are (because of the systematic discrimination Roma face all around the world), so the least non-Roma people can do is to be kind when they use their voice to talk or represent us.

I know this is a massive post, and I'm tagging it as "long post" for that reason, but I hope it is helpful for people. Feel free to ask or add your own experience if this is something that resonates with you too. Ask away if you want. I've been wanting to tell a bit my own personal experience, as this has always been a hard spot for me, and even if just a handful of people read this and understand what is this all about, I think it will have been worth it.

#roma #romani #gitano #romani culture #representation #culture #folk #tradition #people #spain #spanish #romani in media #bellydancer #bellydancing #fortune teller #dnd #vistani #long post

2K notes · View notes

wormonastringtheory · 27 days

Text

PHANNIES FOR FERAS (AND A FREE PALESTINE

Fundraiser Here

Hi y'all! I saw the absolutely incredible effort in January towards PCRF and I thought it would be a good time to mobilize again for Palestine with our collective power and platforms. I'm a LONG term Phannie, I've been here since 2015-2016ish and remember the old days of the fandom on here (my old url was jaiwareham if we were mutuals) and have seen what we've done in past and was inspired by that.

I have a dear friend living in Gaza. His name is Feras. He is still a teenager, around the age Dan was when he met Phil. He was starting school for engineering when the violence and assault against Gaza ramped up. All he has known in his life is the occupation. He has stayed steadfast on his dream to become an engineer and help his community. He is fundraising to get to evacuate to Egypt and start university there when the crossing reopens. He is scared for his life but despite that, on the ground, he dedicates some of his funds he does receive to mutual aid for children in his community. He also fundraised to get clean water in their area or Khan Younis after the assault on Rafah started. He is one of the most amazing people I know. His fundraise has stalled as of late and he is really scared, so I wanted to see if we together could make an effort to meet his evacuation needs. He needs a minimum of 20k. He is like family to me, he calls me sister and says he holds me in his heart and I call him my brother. It would mean the world to me for us to do this!

I started a Google form to gauge people's abilities to help out. My plan is to do a redemption system. Basically, I'm hoping to get a bunch of fic writers, merch collectors, and artists (and other creatives) to donate works or items that people can redeem with proof of donation to Feras. If you can help, please fill out this form! I also need help running this is as I am severely disabled, so if you can help admin this with me, please let me know!

Google Form

A photo of Feras!

217 notes · View notes

springwitch26 · 9 months

Text

hots for teacher (melissa schemmenti x fem!reader)

part 2

summary: you've been infatuated with melissa schemmenti ever since you worked under her as a student teacher. what will happen when you meet again a few years later?

warnings: NSFW content, implied future smut (part 2 on the way??), praise kink, age gap idk

notes: hi everyone! my name is april, and this is my first ever fanfiction. i wrote this for fun and then decided to share it with the community, because i love the little gay women in my phone! i've been reading fics on tumblr for as long as i've been on the internet, so this is a strange experience for me. anyway, enjoy, and let me know what you guys think!

tonight you looked sexy, and you knew it. you wore a sinfully short black dress with colorful butterflies. it was one of your favorites; it showed just the right amount and hugged just the right places to be tantalizing. your eyes were painted with thin black wings and soft, glittery eyeshadow that made you look like a sweet dream. your lips glistened and your hair was tied up in two dutch braids. you were a vision.

all this meant that you were not the least bit surprised when a deep, sultry female voice sounded from behind where you sat at the bar.

"it should be illegal to look like that in public."

you smiled coyly and turned around to face the stranger.

"why? see something you like?" when you turned to face her, however, you were met with a familiar face. it was a face you'd seen in your dreams time after time: your former boss, melissa schemmenti.

you had been assigned to work with melissa as a student teacher while you were in school for your teaching certification. at the time, she was teaching two grades simultaneously, so she was grateful to have you there to ease the burden. it didn't hurt that you were always so eager to please. you wanted to learn and become the best teacher you could be.

of course, your motives weren't entirely pure. you were attracted to melissa from the moment you saw her. you remembered it like it was yesterday: her flaming red hair was slightly messy from trying to wrangle her double class, and her glasses sat askew on her nose. then you came along and turned everything around. she would give you to-do lists, and you would finish them before lunchtime the same day.

"great job, hon! you're so good, don't know what i'd do without you..." she'd say each time, beaming with pride at her new prodigee.

"o-of course, ms. schemmenti. what else can i do for you?" you'd respond, blushing profusely at the praise and struggling to hold her intense gaze.

within a week of having you, melissa was caught up on all her work. she couldn't help but feel like you were an angel, or some kind of gift from god. whatever you were, she cherished you. as the two of you spent more time together, she started to want you more and more. every project, every conversation, every smile you two shared only added to your chemistry.

she had fun with it--teasing you with special pet names and praise, watching you get all flustered and squirmy. she knew you liked her back. you weren't the most subtle about your desire.

melissa would never act on her feelings, though. you were a doe-eyed twenty-something with big dreams, and she was your much older boss. getting involved with you would be too messy. but she always held out hope, even after you left abbott, that one day you'd meet again.

you studied melissa's sly smirk for a moment, in disbelief at your luck. it had been two years since you left abbott. you had your own big girl job now, and you were a bit more mature. there was nothing stopping you from acting on your desires.

"oh my god, ms. schemmenti! please, have a drink with me. it's been a while." you hoped you didn't sound too desperate, although you definitely looked desperate once you got a good glance at her.

her look was striking. your breath hitched in your throat as you scanned her form, dressed in red leather pants and a button-down shirt. her arms were visibly muscled, even through the jacket. the black button-down shirt she wore was unbuttoned just enough to tease her cleavage. around her waist was a thick black belt that you wanted to pull on. her fiery hair was tied back haphazardly in a high ponytail, just messy enough to be sexy. and her hands—god, her fingers were long and ringed and—

"whatever you say, kid," she shrugged and sat down next to you, giving you a playful smile. "and you can call me melissa now."

she had a mischievous glint in her eye, probably knowing how you felt just by the wanton way you stared at her. when she sat down beside you, you felt your whole body heat up. your thighs were almost touching from the proximity, and you could smell her intoxicating perfume with each inhale. feeling her body so close to yours had you more drunk than the alcohol. it didn't help that her eyes now roamed over your body shamelessly, taking in your glistening lips and lingering on your soft cleavage. you tried your best to play it cool.

you talked for a while, catching up on everything. you told her about your new job at a suburban elementary school, your volunteer tutoring on the weekends, your summers in the mountains. she beamed with pride hearing of your accomplishments.

"that's great, y/n! sounds like you're goin' places."

"thank you! i think i owe a lot of my success to my student teaching experience—everyone at abbott was great, including you. especially you," you looked at her with an intense gaze, feeling your desire catch up with you.

"you were such a passionate mentor. you just had this way of getting me excited..." you trailed off as you fixated on the stirrings of a smirk on her face.

"...excited about learning," you finished shakily.

"mm-hmm," she chuckled.

maybe it was the alcohol, or the simple fact that she was right next to you and seemingly devouring you with her eyes, but you became bolder then. you only had one shot at this.

"i mean, you really touched me in a way that nobody else could," you leaned in, dragging out your syllables for emphasis. "i worked so hard because i just needed to be good for you."

now she was the one shuddering. you had the upper hand, if only for a moment. but she quickly got her boldness back.

"i noticed that. always so bright and attentive. i bragged to all the other teachers about what a good girl you were." to top it all off, she punctuated her sentence by placing her hand firmly on your knee.

you thought you were going to explode right then and there. your skin erupted in goosebumps at her touch, and you spread your legs ever so slightly to indicate your consent. her face split into a smug grin and she began to crawl her fingers up your thigh, agonizingly slowly.

your response came as a shaky whisper. you were sure you must have soaked through your panties just from her teasing touches.

"it's good to know that you thought so highly of me. i looked up to you a lot," you said sheepishly. "um, i'm a bit embarrassed to admit it, but i did have a bit of a crush on you..."

"oh, yeah. that doesn't surprise me. don't be embarrassed, hon. you can't help what you feel," her hand had stalled at the midpoint of your thigh, and she looked at you with sincerity.

"it doesn't surprise you?" you asked, struggling to get the words out once she resumed stroking your thigh.

"i had my suspicions," she said with a knowing smirk. "i'm sharper than i look, ya know."

her darkened eyes sent shivers down your spine. you felt your core heat up at the humiliation of knowing she knew exactly what you thought about her.

"am i that obvious?" you asked, somewhat breathily.

"oh, sweetheart," she laughed. she leaned in close and you could smell her perfume, feel the warmth of her breath on your skin. her fingers pinched the skin of your thigh as she whispered to you. "you sat five feet away from me for months, always wearin' those little black skirts. you think i didn't see you rub your thighs together every time i gave you praise?"

her hand now caressed your inner thigh softly, teasingly. you failed to respond, trying to process her words but finding yourself unable to do anything but whimper almost silently.

"so soft here. mhmm," she husked into your ear. there was a hint of giddiness in her voice, as if she was pleased with herself for taking you apart so easily. "does that feel good, princess? do you like it when i touch you?"

"yes!" you said, almost too loudly for the public setting. "yes, i like it very much."

"good," she whispered as her fingers found the edge of your panties. your thighs spread even wider, and you let out a small gasp.

"we've got lots more to catch up on, don't we?" she continued, her fingers drawing feather-light circles over your clit through the fabric. you wondered if she could feel you throbbing for her. your hips bucked up to meet her hand, and she slapped your thigh in warning. "if you wanna keep talkin', we can head back to mine..."

you turned to her with big, glazed-over eyes. still whimpering, you nodded rapidly, earning a laugh from the older woman. she grabbed your hand and guided you out of the packed bar.

"i'm gonna wreck you, hon," she mumbled without looking back at you.

#melissa schemmenti x y/n #melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti #melissa schemmenti/reader #melissa schemmenti x you #wlw ns/fw #kinktober #abbott elementary #fanfic

438 notes · View notes

sinsofsummers · 1 year

Text

cool about it

3.4k | boston!joel miller x f!reader

summary: it’s that day again. you don’t know why joel’s so withdrawn, but you help him manage it in the best way you know how. based on 'cool about it' by boygenius. warnings: angst angst angst, angsty smut (sorry), 18+, mdni, implied age gap (joel 50s, reader late 20s) grumpy & sad joel, drug use, alcohol use, oral (m receiving), p in v, creampie, shoulder kisses, pet names & slight praise, body worship kind of, feelings but also joel is bad at feelings, established...situationship. thing. pining (but don't tell them that). romance?? how dare you accuse them of such treachery note: i am so sorry...this is pure unbridled self-indulgence. pls forgive me. also this is set in boston qz, reader and joel have a similar relationship to the one he has with tess, but she doesn't exist in this au (i'm so sorry). also i am kind of so proud of this one

It's been years since you met him, since you've begun to crack his otherwise hard exterior, helping him shed every icy layer to reveal the tired, aging man beneath it all. You've both gone to unbelievable lengths to protect one another against any trouble, or enemy, or plague, that has cast itself in your way. Each night concludes with your limbs tangled together, hands tucked safely within each other's reach. A promise, so quiet it's hardly binding—I've got you.

You've never defined exactly what it means when he calls you sweet pea, or when his lips drop a chaste kiss to your forehead in the morning, or when his hand lingers on your elbow a little longer than normal in the QZ. It never needed to mean anything, so the two of you never spoke about it. You belong to him; he belongs to you.

And yet, every year, on the exact same morning, Joel Miller wakes up a stranger to you. His eyes return to the icy dark depths that you met him with, and his hands find purchase in his pockets rather than absentmindedly rubbing circles on your skin. Every year, without fail, he retreats to his past, a place he won't ever let you see, despite your every wish.

i came prepared for absolution, if you'd only ask

A few years after you met him, you had tried asking him to explain, to let you into his head. It wasn't an attempt at intimacy, or a vulnerability that resembled anything that you hadn't seen from him before, but he'd done nothing more than shake his head.

"M'fine," he'd said. The entire day, every time you asked, no matter how softly, his answer remained unchanged. "Don't feel much like talkin'."

So instead of talking, you'd resorted to letting him come back to you on his own time, in his own way. With rough hands pushing you down to lay on your back, his eyes far away even as he brought you to the edges of bittersweet ecstasy. His kisses were always softer, more distracted. But it was the only communication you ever got out of him on those days.

When he rolled over at night, his hands curled into loose fists, you let him be. He never refused your touch, but you knew enough to recognize when it wouldn't come as any comfort to him. Not on those nights. Never on those nights.

The closest you'd get to falling asleep in his arms on those nights was with a hand placed purposefully between your chest and his back, just close enough that he might lean into it, should he shift in his sleep. And in those soft brushes of skin against cloth lay a million questions.

Forgive me, you'd begged inwardly one night. Forgive me for not understanding, and I'll forgive you for not sharing.

When the sun rose on a new morning, he was always back to the man you were used to, that you had grown dependent on. When his hands reached for you, and when his mouth painted swirls on your chest, you knew that it was out of want for you, not to distract himself from the ghosts of his own past.

He always praised your body's reaction to him, and you always relished in the way that his hips rocked against yours, stretching you out for him—tongue, fingers, his hard intrusion—on those mornings after.

You'd left it at that, for a year or two.

once i took your medication to know what it's like

He'd been resorting to more intense solutions when you decided to do it. When that day came as it always did, you watched as he drowned out the hours with whiskey and pills. You never knew where his supply came from or who was responsible for getting him his drug of choice; you could only sit idly by and watch his features droop from the effects of the dangerous combination, shuffling to your shared bed before he'd pass out until the sun rose on the next morning.

It only took three instances of this before you'd resolved to go through the day exactly as he would, as if it might help you understand. Perhaps it wasn't anything you were meant to understand, but you'd grown weary of seeing him motionless for hours on end. Usually, you never said anything. You didn't really believe he would take enough to cause any real damage; you were blindly faithful in his will to live.

"Joel," you'd said one year. That was all. One syllable, so familiar, and yet it bled with enough warning in your tone that he paused. Don't.

Glass raised, the rim already pressed to his lips—the lips of which you knew every crack and curve—pills already dissolving on his tongue, he'd paused. His eyes never looked at you, though. He sat there, frozen but for the whiskey sloshing gently in the glass before he resumed, swallowing the dark liquid in one go. With hardly a glance in your direction, he'd collapsed to the bed.

You didn't know exactly why you did it, or why it had been that year that you'd become fed up, but you couldn't ignore the fear that struck your chest when you saw him hit the mattress. Before you knew it, you'd swallowed the pills, scowling at the burn of whiskey down your throat.

It had never been your choice of liquor, but you braved the sting in your foolish hopes that it might tell you something about the gray-haired man in your bed. Like drinking his whiskey might envelope you in his arms and whisper his secrets to you.

Laying down beside him, you'd curled up to his side. He was already deep in his drugged slumber; he wouldn't be conscious enough to move from your touch. With a hand on his chest, poised over his heart to reassure yourself that he still had one, you closed your eyes and succumbed to the heavy press of sleep.

When he woke, saw your own empty glass and pill bottle left open on the table, he shook you until you startled awake. Eyes bleary, the effects of the drugs wearing off, you caught him staring down at you, his nose brushing your cheek and his lips a hair's breadth from touching yours.

"Don't ever fuckin' do that again, sweet pea," he snarled, but his words held no malice. You tried to ignore how big his eyes were, pupils blown wide.

You'd wanted to snap at him, to tell him the same thing, but you heard the desperate begging in his voice. The unspoken please. So rather than causing a scene, you'd nodded slowly and let your fingers brush the hem of his shirt. "Okay," you'd whispered. "I won't. Never again, Joel," you repeated, a mantra as you slipped your hands underneath his shirt.

Sliding his arms under your body and pulling you to him, he pressed a kiss to the tip of your nose, then your cheeks, both of your eyelids. He finally bent to your lips, chasing the taste of you and finding only his own mistakes on your tongue.

The day had passed. He had survived. With the gentle lull of his hips slotting against your own, he had breathed shakily into your mouth as your hands wandered along his skin. Like clockwork, Joel Miller had returned to you, if only for a short while.

i ask you how you're doing, and i let you lie

One day, the pills ran out. The whiskey didn't do anything on its own, so Joel was stuck to find something else to distract him. Whether you were the one that flushed his pills or found who was supplying him, you'd never admit. It was much too close to a confession of something than either of you were comfortable with, so you'd stayed quiet. Helped him find a new vice.

These days, you've lost count of how many years you've seen him withdraw into himself, a shell of the man you know. You've stopped trying to follow where his mind goes when the sun rises on that early autumn day, and he's never made the attempt to explain. For just one day a year, the two of you are silent except for a few mumbled words. Your hands rarely touch on those days, always a few centimeters from each other as he sits at the table.

A reminder. That you're there, that he's there, and that the day will pass. It always does.

His new vice becomes you before long, and you can manage that. He's never particularly rough on those days, anyway; he just needs your body to distract his mind. It takes him a bit to sink into the comfort of your curves, but you always help him get there. Until he's twitching under your hands and letting his eyes flutter closed as you expertly undo his jeans.

You never make him fuck you when he's like this, but you're happy to oblige when he slips a hand between your thighs, reaching for your core and always finding it ready for him. If it pleases him, you let him take whatever he needs.

With whispered moans that make your chest constrict and rough fingers pressing bruises to your hips that he'll kiss away the next morning, he gets through the day.

Today, you know it's not one of those mornings. He's already been awake for a while when you open your eyes, based on his tense posture as he sits on the edge of the bed. He's facing the window, which means his back is to you, withholding his face from yours.

Of course, you don't need to look at him to know what his face will look like. His chin is tucked toward his chest, and his eyes will be closed, hands clenched together as if in prayer. But you know better than to think of Joel Miller as a spiritual man. Whatever faith he might have had all those years ago has withered into scraps. His only faith is in your constant presence in his bed each night.

You sit up slowly, and the sound of rustling sheets makes him twitch his head to the side, the sight of his jaw ticking the only acknowledgement of you being there. With slow movements, you move to sit behind him, your legs on either side of his hips but never close enough to touch. He's gotten better at allowing for a few more moments of contact, and you think this means he's making progress.

How could you ever be sure, though? When he still won't reveal the pain of today?

"Did you wake up to see the sunrise?" you ask gently, leaning forward and bracing your hands in front of you, waiting. His response will determine how you'll distract him for the coming hours.

As usual, Joel doesn't say anything, but his back reclines an inch. It's all you need.

"I'll bet it was real pretty," you continue, trying to keep your voice soft. This is one of your many routines; you lift your hands and press them to his back, just enough for him to feel your fingertips. You don't know if he listens to anything you say, or if he even cares. This part is just for you. This is how you get through these days.

You lean just a bit further, letting your forehead rest on his shoulder. Your hands slide around his middle and your stomach flips selfishly at the feeling of his muscles tensing beneath your featherlight touch. Reaching down for his lap, you rest your palm against his jeans, feeling him twitch against your hand. There he is.

Maybe it's sad, maybe it's fucked up, but fuck what anyone else would say. This is what he needs, the only thing that helps him stay out of his nightmarish memories, whatever they may be. You'll never ask him to show that side of himself, not anymore.

Pressing a kiss to his shoulder, you deftly work the button on his jeans, pushing the zipper down and reaching into his waistband until his half-hard cock comes free. It rests heavy in your hand, and you're comforted by the weight of it. His shoulders are too broad for you to see it, but you're not bothered by this. With another kiss, this one landing on the soft skin of his neck, you give him a languid stroke.

Joel's chest rises and falls as he breathes, and you can feel his arousal stirring as he grows firmer in your grip. His hands begin to unclench, but his fingers remain flat on his tights, never touching you outside of where your legs are hooked to his, your chest flush with his back.

The room is silent except for his breathing, every second getting more shallow. You can feel the tension in his back release a little, and you let your thumb rub a slow circle over the slit on his tip, precum just starting to leak onto your hand.

You stay like this for a few minutes, one arm wrapped around his stomach and your other hand on his cock, tugging slow enough not to overwhelm him, and fast enough to keep him pulsing in your hand.

Only when his hips buck involuntarily do you let go, moving from your place behind him to the floor. Your knees hit the wood hard, but you ignore the pain as your hands slide up his thighs.

His own hands remain still on his jeans, and he lets you interlock your fingers with his own. A small mercy. Today might not be as bad as the years before, and you dip your head to lick a stripe from base to tip before closing your mouth around the head of his cock.

Joel's fingers twitch in your grasp, and you squeeze back, hardly noticeable. Just enough to act as thanks. Thank you for letting me do this. For you.

You never look up, afraid of what his eyes will betray when your mouth is around him. You know this is only a distraction, a slow respite from his thoughts. So you ignore the impatient pulse between your thighs and take him as deep as he'll go, your hopes lifting when you hear his shaky sighs.

One of his hands released yours and lands on your head, smoothing your hair as his hips fight to keep still. Your head bobs up and down, your spit mixing with his precum to leave a shining mess on his shaft.

He pats your head softly, the wet sounds of your mouth on him the only noise in the room. But then he's opening his mouth, and he's combing his fingers through your hair, and he's mumbling, "thank you, sweet pea," just quiet enough that you think you're imagining it.

Maybe you did. He doesn't say it again, and you don't look up to see how wrecked he looks. You're content to remain on your knees the entire day if it means he can relax, let go of whatever's haunting him.

But then he's pulling your head back, his cock leaving your mouth with a wet pop. Hands under your arms, he tugs you to stand in front of him. This time you do let yourself look at him, but his eyes don't lift to meet yours. He tugs your shorts and panties from your body, and once you step out of them he splays his hands on the backs of your thighs to pull you onto his lap.

His head is still tipped toward where your bodies rest against each other, rocking your pelvis against the length of his cock with a shuddering sigh. But you don't mind the view; you sit just a few inches taller than him in this position, so you can brace yourself against his shoulders, your chin resting against the top of his head.

He reaches down to rub a few quick circles on your clit, and you let him move your hips when he's ready, lodging his cock at your entrance. You're dripping, you have been this entire time, but you'd shoved down the heady desire that had punched its way through your body until he was ready. Now, with his hand guiding his tip into your sopping cunt, you let out a breath. There he is, a voice in your head repeats.

He pushes your hips down at an agonizingly slow pace, your pussy swallowing every inch of him, the sounds of your moans colliding at the feeling. "So good to me," he mumbles, pressing a kiss to your sternum and tilting his head back, closing his eyes. "Perfect."

You know that he doesn't think he deserves your praise, but you give it to him anyway. "That's it," you hum, squirming with his cock buried to the hilt. It's all you can do not to lift your hips and drag yourself up and down his length. "Take what you need, Joel."

He never lasts long when he can feel your walls squeezing his cock for all it's worth, your body betraying you when your mind just wants to remain warm and wet and ready for him all day long, until he's ready to be done with you. But with one look at you, his dark eyes finally connecting to yours, he blinks. "Thank you, sweat pea," he murmurs again.

You lift your thumb to his forehead and you trace the lines on his weathered skin, watching as your touch releases the tension from his face. All that's left is his desire, his need for you, however distracted it may be.

Joel lets himself enjoy this, as he rocks his hips into yours, the head of his cock brushing that spot deep inside you until you're shaking in his hands, forehead tipped against his as you let your moans fill the space between the two of you. He lifts your hips, pulling you nearly all the way off of him until he shoves you back down, the delicious squelch of your pussy on his cock wrenching a knee-buckling groan from his lips. "Where?" he asks, as he does every time.

You don't need to tell him, but you do. "Fill me up, Joel," you coo, a shot of pleasure spreading throughout your entire body. "Come with me, I'm right here with you."

"That's it, darlin'," is all he groans before he's wrapping his arms around your back, tugging your chest to him in a tight embrace. His face disappears into the space between your breasts and you feel his entire body quiver with yours as you reach your peak. Warmth floods your core as he spills his release into you, your walls fluttering with the intensity of your orgasm. You pull him to you, returning his near-painful embrace.

You're as close as lovers, as close to one another as you can physically get, but it'll never be enough.

The high after he comes inside you is fleeting. Only a few minutes pass before the line inevitably returns to his brow and his frown deepens after he softens. He doesn't lift you off of him, though, so you soak up the feeling while you can.

"Better?" you whisper, eyes locked on his.

He nods slowly after a moment, his mouth set in a grim line. "Always," he mumbles gently, his hand cupping your jaw as his thumb strokes your bottom lip. He presses his thumb into your mouth to the first knuckle, letting you taste salt and old sweat and your nectar on his skin.

You know better than to believe him, but you don't argue. Not today, never today. So you lift the corners of your lips in a sad smile and pretend that it doesn't feel like water rising in your lungs every time this day comes.

but we don't have to talk about it

i can walk you home and practice method acting

i'll pretend being with you doesn't feel like drowning

tellin' you it's nice to see how good you're doing

even though we know it isn't true

Joel will never tell you what's on his mind. Never today. September 26th won't ever mean anything to you, so why would he bother? For him, it's everything and nothing all at once. Brown curls and sparkling young eyes and blood crusted on his arms and the unforgettable weight of death in his arms.

Another year older, he sighs, his heart clenching in grief. Another year older, and another year further from everything he's lost.

tysm for reading, here's a box of tissues. :') i love u all

1K notes · View notes

fandomwritingbit · 3 months

Text

Sweet girl pt.6

Dbf William Afton x (fem) virgin reader

Synop: Your parents are throwing a neighbourhood party, you're looking forward to it. It's too bad you're going to miss all of it.

Warnings: smut, oral, taking of virginity, public sex, coercion, corruption and manipulation. William is pretty evil ngl.

Imma just link to the masterlist, this series is getting well too long lol.

A/n: I've never written cherry-popping before I hope this is okay. This is so far from my experience it's hard to believe it'd be the same even lmao. Also my writer's block has been so fucking bad recently, I need all the slack you're willing to give.

It sounded great when your parents first put it to you: a barbeque a few weekends from now, the whole neighbourhood invited to enjoy some good food and sunshine. The perfect excuse to flaunt a gorgeous lavender dress you bought months ago, it caught your eye on a sales rack, a perfect flowy fabric that clung to all the right places. Your size, a match made in heaven. You can’t help but shiver with the thought of how William will react to it, handsy is the word that springs to mind, not that you are against that.

The day of, you step into that dress, the fabric soft and almost soothing around your body. It’s hot today and you’re glad for the lightness of the material, though you think that maybe the heat on your face is from anticipation. He’s all you think about, the danger of him asking you to touch him with your dad barely 10 feet away, the beautiful feeling of his fingers inside you tearing an orgasm out of you like nothing you've had before, the nights you’ve spent calling him and getting off. You’re addicted to all of it and it has your fingers dipping into your panties at any given opportunity.

You pad downstairs about ten minutes before people are set to arrive, finding your mum and dad hurrying around. “Oh you look lovely, sweetie.” Your dad says in passing, carrying an overly big bowl of salad towards your dining table. It was full of all kinds of buffet bits, but enough space left for guests to contribute things, as tends to be customary. Right now the amount of food seems over the top, but you know that once things get going your house will be full of everyone with a tie to the community.

…

And you were correct, your house is swarming. People in the living room, the dining room, outside, all chatting and greeting neighbours that ‘they really should see more often’. You’re herded around groups of people by your mum and dad, introductions and re-introductions said to what felt like hundreds, but was likely only twenty or so. You are as polite as you can, smiling through small talk about your education and how much you’ve changed since last year, but your heart’s not in it, your eyes are constantly flicking around for William. It should be easy to spot him, he's a tall enough fella, but your searching keeps turning up empty.

Your glancing around the room is interrupted by a squeaky, “Oh my god, y/n?” You turn to where the voice is coming from, instantly recognising the girl of your age who was squeezing past your dad to get to you. “I haven’t seen you since… school.” She pulls a face at the word ‘school’ which you commiserate with, you can’t place this girl's name but the mention of school makes you frown. Your manners are important to you but it doesn’t take a genius to realise that if you haven't seen someone in years, there’s most likely a reason why.

“Yeah… It’s been a long time.” You agree, giving her a bright smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. In the middle of this awkward interaction you clap eyes on him and your heart jumps in your chest in such a ridiculous way you pray it doesn’t show on your face. He’s talking to a bloke you know from three or four houses down, a small smile on his face that has an air of amusement like he’s laughing internally at the gentleman’s expense.

You are almost physically pulling away from this conversation but the lass doesn’t stop talking, oblivious to your lack of interest as she tells you all about her cosmetology school and her apprenticeship. You just don’t have the rudeness in you to walk away so you grit your teeth and ride out the conversation, eagerly watching William out of the corner of your eye.

It takes so long trying to get her to leave that by the time she’s got out her phone and is part way through finding you on instagram, William is slinking out of the room. The moment she’s done, you brush her off with a polite see you later, leaving the room in the path your bad influence had used. You’re experiencing some kind of withdrawal from not having his attention, it’s pathetic but it’s true, and achingly obvious in how you walk your house searching for him… again.

You find him in your living room and you edge through a group of chatting neighbours to get through to him and as you get near still unnoticed you find your mum standing beside him, looking up at him and talking through a wide grin. “It feels like a long time since I’ve seen you properly, William.” It takes you no effort to lock onto your mother’s words, they make you frown instantly.

“Yeah I’ve been busy with work.” He shakes his head, “I’ll have to come and see you and Chris soon.” And your lovely daughter, he mentally adds, though some of the intention must show on his face because the woman in front of him puts her hand on his arm. His eyes widen.

“Anytime.” She says, doubling down on it, “I mean it, any-time. I like having you around.” Something about the tone of that turns your frown into a scowl. It’s flirtation, and you burn with anger. Jealousy, yes, you can’t help it, it’s instant, but for god’s sake your dad is right fucking there. You don’t consider how you could be overreacting, the indignation is too strong, so you leave the room in a huff, feeling like a fucking idiot for spending your whole day looking for a bloke who clearly wasn’t looking for you. It stings and in a flurry you remind yourself that all the things you’ve done with him are only your first times, not his.

You’re out of the house before you know it, keeping your head down as you go far to the bottom of your garden where a hedge gives you respite from turning heads. You’re not crying, but you’re not a mile away from it either. Maybe it’s that withdrawal again, but you stand in the corner feeling let down, lonely and stupid. Anger at your mum outweighs anger at William, but the latter is still strong.

You stand there for a while, getting a better grip on your emotions, you need enough of a hold to walk back inside and either brave more of the party or hide away in your room. This is when people need a smoke, you think to yourself, wondering if a fag could actually help relax someone in this state.

Calming yourself down takes a good few minutes but once you get there, you decide that yeah, you need some quiet for a bit, then some thought about why you went off the handle so quickly, why you’re so enamoured by William. But to do that you’re going to have to escape this whole party, preferably without being noticed because if someone asks you how you are right now, you don’t know how you’re going to react.

So you slip out your hiding place, peeking around the hedge to see the silent picture of people through your back windows. Here we go. You cross the garden pretty quickly and soon get your hands on the door handle into the house, you step inside managing to smile at the few heads that turn your way. But that smile soon drops away when he appears. Your heart jumps at the sudden confrontation, so long of trying to catch him but now you don’t want him anywhere near you.

“So that’s where you’ve been hiding.” William’s voice drips with honey and you try to ignore the warmth already settling in your core, but you know it’s a battle you won’t win.

You turn from his invasive gaze, hands a little shaky as you try to close the sliding door behind you. “Hey, where are you going, hm?” His eyes narrow at the blatant way you’re ignoring him, he can’t hold a serious expression though so a confused smirk rests on his face, how sweet you look with that pet lip. He puts his hand on your arm, halting the process of closing the door easily, no force necessary, the touch is enough. “Come with me outside, sweetheart, come on.”

You look up at him frowning, partially from previous anger, partially from fear that someone else will see, how he can dare to be so obvious is beyond you. There’s no room to reason with him, not when he’s already opening the door again, already guiding you through it, that grip still present on your arm. It’s not a firm hold, it’s barely there but, the skin to skin contact has you enthralled.

He takes you all the way back to the hidden spot you left just minutes ago, only this time it doesn’t feel like such a safe space. Once out of view he lowers his head down to look you in your face, not liking when you turn away and so catching your chin with his thumb. “Are you alright, sweet thing? What’s wrong?”

His sickly sweet tone is enough to spark a flash of anger as bright as it is sudden. “Why don’t you ask my mum?” You snap, your voice much more petulant than it is clever, the patheticness of it has your cheeks hot but you double down. William just grins, confusion leaving his brow furrowed. This is new, he thinks, you’ve never taken that tone with him before, it’s fun, shiny-new and exciting.

You continue, provoked by him not understanding what you mean, “...You seemed to be enjoying her company anyway...” You speak dejectedly, your jealousy running riot with you. You want to pull away from him, the lack of genuineness in his expression inflames you, he thinks it’s all a game and you can’t believe you’ve only just cottoned on.

William hums in acknowledgement before dropping his hand from you, you’re glad that he’s taking you that bit more seriously but it’s downright shameful how you miss the contact already.

It takes a lot in him not to laugh, the unfounded envy practically has your eyes glowing. This is good though, such passion all from feeling cast aside, you so desperately want him to want you and that is just perfect. For him. He faces your glare dead on, being very careful not to patronise you too much. “What exactly are you jealous of?”

You open your mouth to protest, hating yourself for being so easy to read. You know your bitterness is written on every inch of you, your closed stance, your harsh jaw, the immature tone of your voice, but you just can’t fucking help it. There’s no point denying it, so you don’t bother. “There…” you stumble, having to abandon your daggers to continue, “You didn’t have to flirt with my mum right in front of my face like that… and my dad’s.”

He nods, sighing before answering you through a slick grin, “I think maybe your mam was teasing me, a little.” That grin simply blossoms, thorough amusement peeking out of hiding, “But you more than anyone should know that flirting with me isn’t half as boring as that was.”

You don’t have time to fight the way you flush, it’s not fair, are you really this easy to win over? He’s doing the William equivalent of batting his eyelashes at you and you’re falling for it, you must want to deep down. But you still don’t trust him as far as you could throw him, which is needless to say, not far.

“Come on, why would I even consider your mother when I have her sweet girl looking at me so moody right now, huh?” You roll your eyes at that, moving to turn away and think for yourself but he stops you, his hands on you holding you still and muting the dull noise around you. “At least tell me what I can do to make it better. How can I earn your forgiveness?” He speaks with a certain glee, prideful of his art form, like you’re some puzzle he’s solved before. And with his face close to yours he adds mockingly, “Or have I got it already?”

You want to touch him, shut him up, but you’re a mere corner away from the whole neighbourhood. “You’re slimy.” You speak honestly, well maybe you’re sugar-coating it even, “And I’m not stupid.” Your conviction is there, but the physical support isn’t, you’re looking up at him like a doe, breathing quicker than normal, your chest rising and falling fast in your new dress.

He laughs, “True. But watch it, you’ll hurt my feelings.” He has something else to say, some other mocking teasing syrup, you don’t let him, throwing yourself towards him. Your lips press against his in a sudden desperate way, like you’ve something to prove. Your lack of finesse could be mistaken for hunger but he knows you better than that, he dominates the kiss without much effort, easily pulling you along with his rhythm. He likes you like this, smart, able to see through him, it turns him on. Because what’s better than spoiling a naive young woman? Spoiling one who knows it’s happening and can’t help herself either way.

William breaks the kiss, hands eagerly taking in your shape, “Let me make you forgive me, right here.” As he talks his touch slides low, over your arse and making your back curve against him. “I’m dying to pull this cute dress up.” You need it, just whining some form of approval, wordless at that predator’s glint in his gaze. He slides his hand between your legs and you’re keen, shivering at the spark of pleasure and eagerly angling your hips for more.

He pauses his touch for a moment, breath staggering as he thinks about what he’s going to do, you hardly notice for your own need. When you do look at him, you see him shaking his head, snickering at something unbeknownst to you.

He moves then, debasing himself by dropping to his knees on the grass, hands grabbing your skirt fabric up above your waist band, gathering it there in one to rive your panties down with the other. The cool air invades you, unwarned exposure making you moan. “William-”

“Shush.” He chastises bluntly, as if his thumb wasn’t now resting against your clit and giving it a perfect gentle pressure. He knows what you’re going to say, “You don’t want anyone to see, huh? Well, bite your tongue. I don’t have to worry about mine.” The words are wicked with innuendo and you have to stifle everything in you except a sharp intake of breath when he shows you exactly what he’s doing with his tongue.

It’s dirty, shame-ridden and debauched, but you’re at the mercy of his mouth devouring your cunt. Parting your seam to toy with the slick plea of your hole. You can hardly stand still, body shaking with fretful want, it’s too much and not nearly enough, you have to battle to keep quiet against the vindictive way your core is tightening.

His tongue drags through your slit and he sniggers against you before cruelly sucking your bundle of nerves. You’re grabbing him, pulling him closer, trying to push him away, as you tingle with need for your end. He’s relentless, playing your instrument just right and you have no faculty to ask for respite. Your coil clenches tight and snaps, and you come undone right there in your garden, waves of bliss so bright your legs shake and you need his arms to hold you up. There are tears in your eyes and you don’t know if they’re because of your climax or the emotional whiplash you’ve just endured. You don’t have it in you to care.

He pulls away from you and you watch over-blissed as he wipes your slick from his face on the back of his hand, letting your skirt fall to its rightful position. “Now that’s the perfect thing, I’ve missed.” He stands, his eyes dark with arousal. “You’re a good girl on the phone but fuck there’s nothing like it in person.”

You beam with pride, his praise so much nicer when you’re pliant and glistening from pleasure. How bad an idea that was isn’t lost on you, but it was worth it, even if now you have to pull your knickers up to hide the evidence. As you do, you see how filthy he is, mud coating his knees and you laugh.

Struggling to explain yourself through the shocked giggles you manage to state, “Your trousers are ruined.”

He looks down and sees why you’re so lost in laughter, he had weighed up his options though and tasting your sweet pussy was more than worth the dirt. William attempts to brush some away but it’s never going to happen, and so with a sigh he sniggers, “Am I old enough to have people believe I fell?”

You burst out laughing at that, unable to regain yourself for a while, he deserves that, you think. After some time you are lucid enough to say, “Maybe say tripped instead of fell.” Your cheeks are shiny with both the fit of giggles and the aftermath of your activity, you look so delectable he hardly minds the state of his clothes.

“Why don’t,” William begins, still smirking, and you give him as much of your attention as you can, “you show me your room? I’d like to see it in person.” He’s testing to see how much forgiveness he’s won, you know that, but the prospect of what’s to come is motivation enough to give him it.

“Okay.” You agree, the idea of it has your chest tight but your core knows better, “Should I be scared?” You’re joking, mostly, your room is a different beast, much more personal. Somehow more bare than what you’ve just done.

“Very.”

Walking through your house felt dangerous, like it’s written on your forehead that you’re doing something wrong. People are eating now though, too self-absorbed to notice the rabbit leading the fox to its burrow, which is for the best, all things considered.

He follows you obediently, mind half-focused on your retreating form, the other half pondering just what he’s going to do about this raging erection he’s afflicted with. You looked so sweet taking him in your mouth, so eager to please, malleable. But your perfect unbroken cunt would be just delightful to rut against. As much as he wants to, he won’t- can’t deflower you just yet, not with all these people around to hear the squeaking of bedsprings, hell, the squeaking of you. The idea makes his cock throb and he’s already palming himself before you reach the landing.

“This one.” You say, opening the door for him, your voice sounds much smaller than it did two minutes ago. You are scared, all jokes aside.

He moves past you inside, you’re the one to shut the door, sealing the two of you inside your bedroom. How out of place he looks, this huge hulking figure in your untainted room, the walls pastel, the sheets light and the curtain frilled.

“I could have told you your room looks like this.” His grin is wolfish, the imposition feels very metaphorical and he revels in it. He’s absent-mindedly touching things, a bottle of perfume on your drawers, then a teddy on your bed, you like how they look in his hands, delicate, breakable.

You find yourself speaking before the words are clear in your mind, “William…” He turns to you, still holding the fucking bear, visible overjoyed to be in your private space, piece by piece you’ve let him in here, first through a camera now this, it’s all very correct.

“Hm?”

You’re flummoxed for words, arms folded across your chest in some vain effort to keep yourself together, “I want to t-touch you. On th-the bed.” The request takes a part of your soul with it, it’s unveiled and glaringly obvious, but there’s no other way to say it, that is what you want. Well, some of it.

Chuckling, he throws the teddy aside, “That is the best thing anyone has ever asked me.” He means it, he could touch the peak now with just how pretty you’re talking to him.

He moves slightly and you interrupt him, the rest of your want raising its whiny head. “You’ll have to take t-that off.” You’re pointing at his trousers and he laughs, remembering the muck decorating his legs, but the laughter dies quickly and he fixes you with a quizzical look, eyes narrowed as he again reads you like a book.

“Because of the mud, or another reason?” He teases and you bite your lip, your answer wearing you, more than the other way around. Much like the way smugness is wearing him. “I know you like to see, you’re quite fascinated, aren’t you?” He grabs himself as he speaks, crude, garish and vulgar, and it prickles your sides.

“You like to see me.” You retort, trying not to feel the embarrassment your brain really wants you to.

“Very true.”

…

Fascinated is perhaps the right word, you are fascinated by him. It’s more than just that he’s handsome or you find him attractive, it’s curiosity, desire to understand. The broadness of his shoulders, the muscle on his arms, the hair on his chest, his legs, his cock; it is fascinating.

You start off sitting beside him on your duvet, enjoying the sight of him with his dick in your hand. Observing what your action is doing, how his breath changes for you, then a deep groan when you smear the precum beading on his tip. It’s driving you crazy and in a sudden realisation you need more. You want it all, want to know how his thickness is going to feel inside you, good, bad, dirty and ugly, you need it.

And you tell him.

The view of William above you is insane, the dark greying hair trailing down his chest leading your gaze down to the sight of him stroking his cock, positioned above your cunt. He presses against you occasionally, your hot slick beckons for him and he thrusts himself through it, restraint a heavy weight on his shoulders. It’s maddening.

“Please…” You whine, any trace of dignity you had is long gone, you’re corroded, worn down to your bare minimum and you need him to feel the same way.

He takes his eyes off your glistening cunt to flash you a devastating smirk, “Please, what?” The teasing makes you shift underneath him, desperate for more, that’s just how he wants you. As he watches you he pleasures himself, it’s bloody stupid how weak your pretty hole has got him.

The lewd words burn in your throat, there’s no debate in saying them, not anymore, “Fuck me… please.” You manage to choke out, but it still fails to convey your need to be filled. His fingers had made you see stars, but you’re greedy for more, you want him to come undone inside you. You want to drive him mad.

Well, he didn’t expect you to say that. You want him to take your innocence right now? Right on your lacy fucking bed sheets? With your parents downstairs? Clearly you’re not thinking straight, you’re too fucked up and that is just delicious. Your plea makes his cock twitch in his hand, he wants nothing more than to stretch your sweet pussy around him but you could hardly handle his fingers. You hardly know what you’re begging for.

“You want me inside?” As he speaks he rubs his cock over your pussy lips, there’s an almost sinister quality to his voice that makes your core tighten.

You nod, squirming away from the teasing of your aching bundle of nerves; that’s exactly what you want.

William sniggers, “I can’t, sweetheart. Not with everyone downstairs to hear.” You hardly notice the noises you make, but you’re vocal as anything, whining from the tiniest touch, he has no doubt his cock would make you scream. The reasoning falls on deaf ears, you don’t care because his power over you is too strong. You just want his cock inside you so he becomes as pathetic as you are.

“Please.” You try again, this time shifting your body to roll your hips against his cock to show you’re serious, but your thighs quiver at the stimulation.

In a sudden movement he seizes your jaw, forcing your gaze away from his cock on your swollen pussy to the dark look in his eyes. The restraint is visible, a clear crack in his in-control facade. He can’t help it, your begging is making him leak again, impatient precum oozing from his tip, begging alongside you for stimulation. How’s he supposed to hold himself back from this perfect untouched cunt right here asking him to deflower it?

“Do you even know what you’re asking for?” He speaks slow, a singsong tone to the words that’s a little sharper than intended due to the continued rolling of your hips. “It’s not to be taken lightly.”

You watch him wide-eyed, understanding his words is a conscious effort. “It’s not just a quick fuck, sweetheart. It’s me breaking this little pussy. Taking your innocence.” He punctuated the filthy point by lining his cock up with your entrance, eliciting a terrified pang of excitement in your core. “Stretching you open. You know what that means?”

He pauses but you don’t have the speech to answer, he thought as much, “Means it’s all mine. My little toy to use whenever I want. Break it over and over.” At this moment it doesn’t occur to you that this is the real William, not just slimy but the honest William who knows he’s bad, creepy, gross whatever you want to call it. The man who’s blatantly moulding you into something he can use, using your sexual naivety against you and playing your mind and body like a fiddle.

You swallow, his words go straight to your cunt making you impossibly wetter. He looks down at you and his control slips from his fingertips, he knows you’re going to feel so fucking good around him, how tight and wet and fucking warm.

“That what you want?” He blatantly asks, the intention thick in the air.

“Y-yes.” You start, your back arching a little, “I want it to be yours.” You know the words are dangerous, but you have no agency to prevent them from leaving your lips. “I want you to t-take it. Please.”

He lets go of your jaw, a particularly mean expression possessing his face. “God, you are fucking stupid.” He speaks quietly but you hear, it stings and you’re unable to tell if he’s kidding or not. He wasn’t, you are stupid to let him get this far, and he’s stupid for going along with your begging.

His cock is still notched tight against your entrance and he holds you squirming still with a hand on your hip. “You’re going to be quiet for me, alright? I’m giving you what you want.” His voice is thick but you hardly notice he even spoke, your heart is pounding and your whole body tense with anticipation.

He parts your walls, pressing in slightly, just the head and your eyes ping wide. You’re wet, drenched even, ready for it but it still hurts. A noise escaped you, wounded, doubling when he presses just that little bit further. “Shh, fuck.” His curse is very telling, you’re strangling him already in the most perfect way, if he’s not careful he’s going to crack his own jaw with how tight it is in restraint. “I told you.” The words are harsher than he meant them, but seeing the tears already welling in your eyes he knows he was right.

His hand comes over your clit, drawing a circle over the bundle and it works, a blaze of pleasure drapes over the invasion but it doesn’t distract you when he moves, forcing himself a lot further in your cunt. You cry out and in a sharp movement he covers your mouth, grunting at how you tense due to the sudden action. “Ah-You’re going to do it, sweet thing. Just relax, you’re tight as a fucking vice.”

You try, blinking through tears, and focus on his rhythm on your clit, it’s better, easing. He moves, slowly pulling out then back in and you see it. The need for him inside, shaping your walls around him, your body squeezes him eager for him to continue.

Your mouth is open behind his hand, muffled sounds leaving your lips, whining, mewling, hooked on the promise of overcoming the ache and snapping the coil inside you more than ever before. If your mouth was free maybe you’d say his name, or kiss him, or curse him, you don’t really know. His movement becomes better, you can take him, he knows you can. So he thrusts deep, making you accept him, your yelp is stifled and your teeth dig into the palm of his hand, it's unnoticed, overshadowed by the perfect feeling of you cunt swallowing him completely.

“God,” He scowls.

The pain dies again, settling back to the muted ache, you’re reeling, full more than should be possible, breathing frantically through your nose. He’s slow, pushing in and out of your hole considerately, as he’d be sure to tell you. And you quickly realise with a startling joy how he digs just right into a spot deep inside you. It’s almost blinding, engulfing you in a doubly quick need to end.

Your cunt throbs and he flicks his eyes back to your face, what a good girl you are. He can feel the change in you, the rise of pleasure over pain, the way you panic at the growth of your end, your eyes say it all fearful of what’s going to happen. You’re close to an end, body burning and falling rigid underneath him. It hits you like a train, each time he shoves himself deep is electric, it's intense and you whiteknuckle just to take the pace he keeps as you cum around him.

“Fuck, baby.” His words are edged with his own ruin, the rhythm of his pace growing brave, selfish, you’re taking it so well. And he loses it, no sense in him to pull out, he doesn’t care, your perfect cunt wants it. He’s biting the inside of his cheek to keep himself quiet as his warmth spills inside you, thrusts sloppy to push his cum deep inside you. You whimper, it's a dirty feeling, but a right one and seeing the look on his face you realise that you were right, he looks as pathetic as you feel.

He removes his hand from your mouth, your skin red under his grip, freeing you to moan pitifully. You’re wrecked, somehow exhausted and exhilarated at the same time. You don't know how you feel, your climax was like something unreal and when he slowly pulls out of you, you feel empty. William was right, you’re changed.

He sits beside your form still laid exactly as he left you, your pretty pussy flushed and shining. “You alright?”

You blink, like you somehow forgot he was a person able to speak, “Yeah, I think so.” Your voice is hoarse as fragile as the rest of you and it makes him grin.

He looks down at you, and just laughs, at you, at him, at the situation, “What the fuck are we supposed to do now then?”

It makes you chuckle and you run your hand over your face. Yeah, what exactly should you do now?

#fnaf #william afton #william afton x reader #william afton smut #fnaf smut #william afton x you #fnaf william afton #william afton x female reader

176 notes · View notes

somewhereincairparavel · 3 months

Text

🐚 Daughter of Neptune headcanons list 🌊 part one..

Note: I've never done a pjo hcs post like this with the aesthetic pictures and everything- but I've been Itching to make a daughter of Neptune one, since I consider myself as a Neptune child. So this is sort of a self insert haha, and I thought it'd fun cuz I have so many hcs abt this, I've only over seen ppl do a daughter of Poseidon one.

Also this one has reader x Jason Grace as romantic pairings, but it isn't the main focus. Like I said, this is a self insert, and I love my bb jason ;) + imagine having Percy as a big brother, goals fr

• Okay so you'd come to Camp Jupiter at the age of 8-9, so you definitely have a considerable amount of childhood before you came to camp. Which only made it harder for you to adapt to the barbaric ways the Roman camp worked.

• Also, Since Neptune was not a very respected Roman god, your arrival was considered bad luck. Octavian made you go through an intense trial (that motherfucker was like 10 years old and an augur, and was already such a bitch lol) + forced a newly elected praetor Reyna (who was also just 10 at the time) to hold a senate meeting before you were even offered a position at camp.

• Neptune is very feared by the romans though, since he represented the harsh brutality of the ocean, so you got the Roman Nico di Angelo treatment from camp. Everyone was scared of you, flinched when you walked passed them. this was to your advantage tho, since you never got bullied, mostly out of fear.

• so Neptune temples in Camp Jupiter are only taken care of by you, if you left for a quest or something then the shrines would be in such a horrible state, bc no one cares enough to offer Neptune anything or even clean up his shrine. You'd do the cleaning and offering.

• and the worst part? Your dad wouldn't even notice you even after your efforts.

• okay, your powers are quite similar to Percy's butt I feel like since Roman/Greek siblings always have powers that compliment eachother, you'd have better control over the earthly side of the domain. Like you can cause longer earthquakes, control seismic waves, and make volcanos erupt + cause bigger avalanches, Stuff like that.

• Your water control was actually a little limited, up until Percy arrived and helped you enhance your powers. And you helped enhance his control over earthquakes, since his earthquakes usually only lasted for a few seconds, his dad is more water dominant. So when you met him, you knew he was a missing puzzle piece in your life. You'd even be able to communicate telepathically to Percy underwater, a power you both never knew you needed.

• Seriously tho it would be hilarious to look at, bc to the others, you both sound like squeaky dolphins but in reality you are just telepathically speaking with one another. The others wouldn't understand, and poor Frank would be so confused as to why you both are making strangled fish noises

Leo would troll you guys so bad for this lol

• your eyes would actually be black. Not blue, not sea green, just black. Your eyes would literally glitter like black obsidian rocks. because Poseidon is the calm side of ocean, hence sea green eyes for Percy, Neptune is the dark and scary side of the ocean, so that's black eyes for you. that difference would clearly reflect in your guys's eye colours AND personality (I'll expand on this more in part 2)

• but your scariness comes with a downside, you had no friends. No friends, except Jason and Reyna. it's just your dad's naturally strict aura surrounding you that makes your overall personality a Lil grumpy and moody tbh. You did have such a resting bitch face that wasn't helping either.

• Jason, being the noble boy he was, knew you were going to be his friend the moment you made a dramatic entrance to camp for the first time, getting scouted by the waves to New Rome. He knew what it was like to have a powerful, scary dad, but he acknowledged and empathized that you had it harder than he did. He was considered a golden boy, while you were considered a scary bad luck charm. But regardless of that, Jason was your first best friend. And eventually, your boyfriend.

• Reyna on the other hand, badly wanted to befriend you because she admired your mental strength, you were 9 years old and you were openly scoffed at by the legionnaires simply because your father was a scary man. Yet you handled it all so well. But she befriended you a little later than Jason did. Since she was so busy, she barely had any time to chat with anyone. You, Jason and Reyna bonded as a trio when you guys had your first quest.

• Reyna secretly shipped you and Jason from the very beginning lol, bc a Jupiter x Neptune union? Y'all were powerful and cute af together. The mutual pining drives her crazy though, like kiss already smh.

• Also, Nicknames! Your nickname was ALWAYS "kelp head" because your hair was wavy and shaped like seaweed lol. As much as you hated to admit it, the name fit a little too well.

• okay enough with the friendship stuff, let's talk about how much that bastard Octavian makes it his mission to make your life a hellhole. It isn't even funny anymore, he hated you from the very beginning. Not only because you were considered bad luck, it's because he envied that you were a direct descendant of such a powerful God, he couldn't even handle Jason's arrival, yours was just the last straw for him. He opposes your opinions in front of the whole senate + prevents you from getting elected as Centurion + attempts to prevent you from going on quests, bc he can't handle someone else taking the glory.

• He was also the reason you were put into the unpopular twelfth legion. The underdog legion. But Jason? That sweetheart made it worth being in the twelfth legion so you weren't complaining tbh.

• honestly? Octavian and you are famous in camp for your bickering though lol it's just always a back and forth between you and him, such burning rivalry and enmity. You LOVED roasting him and you were fucking great at it too. He deserved that for making you go though hell. You'd laugh like a maniac when he trips and he smirks when has the upper hand against you in senate discussions.

• Reyna is the only reason you both didn't beat eachother up at this point tbh

• once, Reyna came running up to you all panicky because Octavian went missing from camp. In response, you beamed and told her that you'd get the balloons ready in the dining hall for a grand celebration. Jason would burst out laughing lol.

• you'd steal his teddy bears and give them to younger campers, asking them to hide it from octavian. So the younger campers absolutely adore you, unlike the older ones.

• you are also quite the rebel in camp, JUST like Octavian predicted you would be, when you first came to camp. It was actually written in his auguries that the new child of Neptune arrival would be always shafting the rules, since the sea can't be controlled. It's in a nature for a Neptune child to walk their own pace (lol have you seen Percy??) That gave another reason for him to hate you.

• Even some of the lares in CJ would call you an abnormal roman bc you never acted like one. You were wild and temperamental.

This rule breaking tendency you had did earn you lots of punishments that included scrubbing the whole camp with a toothbrush. But it was worth it for you. Camp Jupiter sucked. And you were already in trouble, so what's a little more, right?

• you'd sneak out at night to explore New Rome, because again, the Romans had this weird bedtime curfew like. they have rules for every. Fucking. Thing. It pissed you off so bad. They wouldn't even let you explore the city at night? They were seriously wasting the beauty of the city, You'd definitely rope Jason in to break the rules with you. Like don't be such a goody two shoes smh. I feel like that's what attracted him to you in the first place. He's a goody goody boy with such a boring life, youd just make it interesting for him.

• besides, sneaking out is SO much easier when you can fly. So Jason is your personal airplane. The Jason Grace airlines.

• okay so after all your hardwork in the legion, you'd finally get elected to Centurion, after you successfully finished a quest to retrieve a lost Roman artifact, which was formerly Jason's position and he would become a co praetor with Reyna. But you were still very much disrespected in camp tbh, it just became an internalised thing for everyone to hate you at this point, Octavian was also great at putting your reputation under dirt, but you didn't really care anymore.

• now here comes the catch, Jason and you were sort of in a half-pining half-relationship situation, Before that jerk goes missing. because neither of you knew how to confess, and camp was SO strict when it came to relationships for some reason?? Like even dating has to be lowkey.

• you and Jason are totally the grumpy x sunshine trope lol except you're the grumpy, snippy and batshit one and jason is calm, levelheaded and optimistic one.

Perfect balance. Gosh your dynamic would be so cute :(

• you'd just be grumpily stomping around while jason stalks behind you, laughing lightly. You're super short compared to him aswell, so yeah it makes it funnier.

• You were in charge of welcoming Hazel to camp, since Jason and Reyna had some serious meeting stuff about the new prophecy Octavian told them about.

• poor hazel would be scared to death while meeting you, not just bc it's you, it's bc she just came back from the dead, so this is all rlly new for her.

• That's where you met him. Nico di Angelo. You'd bond over your shared mistreatment in camp. So you became homies w him fairly quickly. He saw you as this cool big sister he could have happy meals with talking abt life.

• you would be a little curious when he keeps disappearing off to somewhere tho, you knew he was lying about where he came from.

Okay part 1 of this is done, this was so long lol, part 2 would drop later, that's where you and Percy meet and stuff.

Update: part two is out! https://www.tumblr.com/somewhereinhogsmeade/746489087922520064/daughter-of-neptune-headcanons-list-part-two?source=share

226 notes · View notes