#i think this was right on the edge of the map or close to it

[tetragonia]

It Almost Worked

JJ Maybank x Fem!Reader

One summer night. Two packs of beer. Three hours in conversation. Four logs burning bright on the bonfire. Five best friends having fun. Something almost worked.

warning: nothing, really. no use of (y/n), just pure fluff

note: this was in Season 1-ish, where the Pogues were just Kie and the boys. just a feel-good fic, knowing what we got in Season 4^_^

words: 1.2k

The night was warm, the stars were scattered across the Outer Banks sky like salt crystals tossed over midnight silk. You sat in a circle around the bonfire with John B, Kiara, Pope, and JJ, laughing and trading stories, all of you just on the edge of exhaustion from a long day out on the water. A gentle breeze swept through, carrying with it the salt and wildness of the ocean. It was mid-July and you wanted it to stay like that forever, just the five of you, having the most fun.

JJ sat next to you, his hair tousled and glowing faintly in the firelight, and his laughter mingled with yours as John B recounted a story. He leaned forward, face animated in the flickering light.

“So there we were, okay?” he began, grinning like he’d just cracked open a treasure chest. “Pope’s convinced that we’re being followed, right? He’s looking over his shoulder every two seconds, nearly tripping over his own feet!”

Pope rolled his eyes but stayed silent, clearly waiting for the punchline. Kiara smirked, already skeptical.

“So you guys are just… walking in circles?” she asked, eyebrow raised. John B laughed.

“Well, we thought we were being stealthy, but turns out, we circled around so many times, we ended up right back where we started!”

“Right back in front of Mrs. Callahan’s house,” Pope added, deadpan. “You know, the woman who called the cops on us last summer?”

Kiara shook her head, looking between John B and Pope with pure disbelief. “Wait, you mean to tell me you spent, what, an hour thinking you were outsmarting someone — just to wind up exactly where you started?”

“Hey, hey!” JJ jumped in, clapping to support John B. “They were clearly being hunted, Kie. Expert survival instincts, alright? It’s called evasion.”

You were clutching your stomach, laughing so hard your sides hurt as JJ kept trying to hype up the story with exaggerated nods and dramatic hand gestures.

“Oh, please,” you choked out, trying to catch your breath. “This is the same group that got lost on the mainland, and that was in broad daylight!”

John B threw up his hands in mock offense, “Okay, so maybe we didn’t exactly outsmart anyone. But come on! Admit it, we kept it interesting.”

Everyone erupted in laughter once again at the silly story. It was one of those moments where you felt like time had stopped; there was just the fire, the night, and the warmth of friends.

When everyone was busy laughing, you felt JJ shifted beside you, leaning back on his hands and stretching his legs out, his knee brushing against yours. The touch was so light, it could’ve been accidental, but he didn’t move it away. Neither did you.

Instead, you let the heat from his knee sink into yours, feeling a strange thrill at the proximity. It was something you’d been noticing more lately—the quiet moments where JJ was just close enough that you could feel him without touching him. And yet, tonight, there was something in the air. Maybe it was the firelight, or maybe it was the feeling of summer hanging heavy and endless, but you were painfully aware of him beside you.

“You guys remember that time we almost got stranded on Midsummers?” JJ’s voice was low, and he grinned, his eyes glancing toward you before drifting back to the group. “I thought for sure we’d end up spending the night in those marshes.”

“Thanks to your brilliant plan,” Pope said with a smirk, leaning forward. “What was it you said again? ‘Who needs a map when you have instinct?’”

Everyone laughed, JJ included, but you felt his knee press a little more firmly against yours, a slight nudge, like he was daring you to react. You met his eyes across the fire, and he raised his eyebrows, just barely, like he was challenging you. You knew that look—it was the one he used right before he did something reckless.

The fire crackled, and JJ leaned closer, his shoulder almost brushing yours now.

“Guess I can’t always get things right,” he murmured, his voice low enough that only you could hear.

“Almost doesn’t count,” you replied softly, giving him a playful nudge. But he just smiled, his gaze flicking from your eyes to your lips, lingering there for a heartbeat longer than it should. Your heart skipped, and you forced yourself to look away, but it didn’t stop the flush from creeping up your neck.

“Hey, you two! What are you whispering about over there?” Kiara’s voice cut through the moment, her eyes gleaming with mischief. She’d noticed the space between you and JJ, or rather, the lack of it.

“Nothing,” you said quickly, glancing away and picking at the edge of a log. But JJ, never one to let a moment pass, smirked and tilted his head toward her.

“Just talking about how close you were to breaking that table at Midsummers last year,” he teased, deflecting with his usual charm.

“Oh, shut up, Maybank,” Kiara shot back, but her smile betrayed her amusement.

The conversation drifted back into laughter and teasing, yet JJ didn’t move. His knee was still pressed against yours, his arm brushing yours every so often as he laughed, his hand nearly grazing your own.

Finally, John B and Pope started talking about some ridiculous theory about the treasure, but you were barely listening. You felt hyper-aware of every breath JJ took, every subtle movement he made beside you. You turned your head, meaning to tell him something about the stars, or the fire, or anything to ease the tension building between you.

But then you caught the look in his eyes — something deeper, softer, something that made your heart beat a little faster.

“You know,” he said, his voice just a murmur, “this was a good night.”

You felt yourself smiling despite the heat, despite the way his gaze was making it hard to breathe. “Yeah, it was,” you replied, just as softly.

For a split second, it felt like everything else disappeared — the fire, the laughter of your friends, even the stars. There was just JJ, his blue eyes meeting yours, a small, hesitant smile tugging at the corner of his lips. He leaned just slightly closer, his shoulder brushing yours.

The air between you crackled, charged with all the words neither of you had spoken, all the things you hadn’t allowed yourself to admit. He tilted his head, his lips a mere breath away from yours, close enough that you could feel his breath warm against your cheek. And for a moment, you thought he was going to kiss you. For a moment, you thought everything was about to change.

But then, he pulled back just slightly, the playful smirk returning to his face, though his eyes were softer, his voice almost a whisper.

“Almost,” he said, and you swore you heard a hint of regret in his tone.

Your heart dropped and soared all at once, caught in the tension of what could have been. You gave him a small, bittersweet smile, and replied, “Almost.”

He chuckled, looking away with that familiar ease, but you knew that he felt it too. The unspoken tension hung heavy between you, an acknowledgment of the connection you both felt but couldn’t quite act on.

As the firelight flickered, casting shadows across the beach, the two of you sat in silence, close but not quite close enough. And though neither of you said a word about it, you knew—tonight was the night that it almost worked.

[robo-dino-puppy]

view of plainsong

[sk-yay-sk]

I don't like any of the maps I've seen for HTTYD so i'm playing a puzzle game w all the locations. This is the 3rd version so far

[nerosdayinanime]

kny x earth to echo au. my most self indulgent piece yet

[poguehearted77]

Stormbound

Summary: There's a tropical storm headed straight for the OBX but Rafe won't leave you alone.

smut: dom! rafe, pogue! reader, mentions the pogues, fingering, secret alliances, rafe is a good bad guy, making out, unprotected sex, big dick rafe, choking, teasing, floor sex, missionary, protective rafe, mutual pining but both are too stubborn to admit it.

The rain is just a steady drizzle when you start the long walk back from Figure Eight, cool and misty, soaking through your baby tee and denim shorts, but not quite cold enough to make you turn back.

Not that you would even if it were—the map you’d stuffed in your back pocket was too valuable to leave behind, and JJ had been so insistent that you’d be the one to get it.

It was a worn-out paper, a little frayed around the edges from too many hands clutching it too tight, and tonight, it held the Pogue’s best lead. JJ had been so confident about this—said it’d help them find the next clue, but you were the only one available to get it.

Just in and out, he’d said, sure as always, but of course, that had been before the storm started closing in. Even though you should've been back in the Cut by now, having ridden on the back of JJ's bike as he promised you he would, but of course, he forgot. You cross your arms and mutter to yourself, “Damn it, JJ. This better be worth it.”

The streets around you are silent, eerie even, with all the houses in Figure Eight shuttered up tight in preparation for the coming storm. It’s desolate and unsettling, making you all the more eager to get back to the Cut. But you’re barely halfway there when you hear the low rumble of an engine behind you.

Of course, you think. You don’t even need to turn around to know who it is.

Rafe’s truck slows to a crawl, matching your pace, his headlights cutting through the rain. You feel his eyes on you as he leans out the window, looking you up and down with a mix of amusement and exasperation.

“Y/n? What are you doin' out here?” he calls, loud enough to be heard over the rain.

You ignore him, quickening your steps, but he’s persistent. The truck keeps rolling alongside you, just close enough that his voice still carries over the sound of the rain.

“You know there’s a storm coming, right?” he asks, his tone somehow both mocking and concerned. “You’re not gonna make it back before it hits.” A crack of thunder roars through the sky.

“Really? I didn't know that,” you mutter, not bothering to look his way. “Just go away, Rafe.”

He lets out a sigh, exaggerated, and you can practically see him rolling his eyes. “Jesus, can you stop being so damn stubborn? Just get in the car. I'll give you a ride back to the Cut.”

“No thanks.” You keep walking, setting your jaw as you ignore the urge to shiver, the rain starting to pick up, chilling you through your soaked clothes. With another quick glance at the darkened sky, you're now considering taking the shortcut along the beach to shave off some time.

But still, Rafe doesn’t drive off. He just keeps creeping along beside you, the engine of his truck a low, constant hum as he matches your pace. “Stop fucking around, Y/n. If you get caught out here you'll never make it back.” He warns but your shoulders shrug.

“I like those odds a hell of a lot better than risking a ride with you.” you snap, the suppressed shiver prevails as the rain intensifies, falling harder, faster, in cold, fat drops that slap against the pavement and blur the world around you.

Thunder rolls in the distance, low and ominous, and Rafe’s truck finally comes to a full stop as he pulls over. A second later, you hear his door slam shut, and when you glance back, he’s striding through the rain toward you, his face set in an exasperated glare.

“Are you done being difficult yet?” His voice cuts through the rain, his eyes locked on you, unyielding and determined. You hasten your pace, heading down the unpaved path towards the beach with Rafe trailing behind you with calls of your name.

This goes on for too long. The rain is relentless now, pouring down in thick sheets that chill you to the bone. Your vision was so distorted you could hardly see where you were going. You feel yourself starting to shiver, but you lift your chin, refusing to back down even as the storm rages around you.

A heavy hand holds you by the shoulder. “Jesus Christ, Y/n. You're gonna get yourself killed! The storm's just getting started-” he says, his exclamations punctuated with a bright bolt of lightning striking down not too far in the distance followed by a boisterous rumble of thunder.

"Shit!" You both curse before Rafe motions to the storage house up ahead, "We've gotta take shelter before shit goes south."

Even in life and death, your naturally skeptical nature overcomes you as you genuinely take the moment to consider the proposition. The rain was pummelling over the both of you, dripping down your faces, causing you both to squint, “Fine.”

For once there's no smugness in Rafe's expression. It's shielded by a look of relief, initially anticipating more resistance but he doesn’t say another word as you rush towards the shed and lock the doors shut.

The shed was spacious but dark. You took a step forward, or maybe a step back, but you weren't sure, almost instantly tripping over what you can only assume was a pale of some sort. You complain, "I can't see shit in here."

"Hang on," Rafe mumbles, followed by the indistinct sound of ruffled pockets and keys clinking together. The familiar spark of a lighter flicks a flame to life and gives you the light you've needed.

For a moment your eyes meet over the lighter. You clear your throat, looking around for something useful to keep the place lit, a gasp of relief falls from your lips as you locate a dusty lantern on the top shelf.

Raising yourself to the tip of your toes, your fingers are just barely grazing over the glass body of the object before a large hard, adorned with a few rings is already reaching over your head and bringing it down.

"I don't need your help." You snatch the lantern out of his grasp and it causes him to lose balance on the lighter in his left hand, the light goes out for a moment before he relights it.

"Can you ever be fucking grateful for once in your life? Would it kill you to say thank you?" He takes the lantern back and lights it, setting it down on the lower shelf.

"Why should I thank you? You're egotistical, narcissistic, selfish-" Your unfiltered rant is cut short by the pressure of his hand wrapped around your throat. You immediately try to move from him but the weight of his grip holds you in place.

"Selfish? Who's the one that made bail for you when you were caught trespassing in Tanny Hill?" Your brows furrow, "What? Shoupe said it was a wrongful arrest." He shakes his head, his hold around your neck loosens but you don't move it. "That was me. Who's the one that made sure you and those pogues made it off Dead Man's Island untouched when you'd stolen from them? Me."

You couldn't believe what you were hearing, "That doesn't change the fact you're still an asshole. I saw you tampering with my drink at the bar and I got upset then you threw it at my feet-- "That drink was roofied. I saw the bartender spike it," His hold tightened a little more, "Don't worry, I made sure he couldn't use his hands for a long time."

Your stomach was in knots, for once not in a way that made you seasick anytime you were with Rafe. This time was different, there was slight adoration building within you. His eyes were cold, hard, and protective. Without thinking you slinked your hand around the back of his neck and pulled him in for the first kiss of many.

The cold shed quickly filled with warmth as you familiarized yourselves with each other's bodies. Your clothes were now in the pale that tripped you earlier and Rafe's shirt was nowhere to be found, possibly hung up on the wall with the life jackets.

Rain lashes against the walls of the shed, a fierce, steady drumming that drowns out every other sound. The wind howls through the cracks, sharp and wild, whistling as it sweeps across the beach, sending gusts of sand and spray pelting against the flimsy structure.

The ruckus was the least of Rafe's concerns as he had you on your back on a pile of beach towels, moaning his name as he fingered you incessantly with his right hand, his left pinning your leg down to stop moving.

"R-Rafe!" Your vision begins to darken, and your heart rate picks up as you quickly stumble toward your high. The lewd sounds of your slick humiliated you, not because of what it was but because Rafe made you like this. You had Rafe Fucking Cameron between your legs and you loved it.

"Yeah? You got somethin' you wanna say?" He teases, his pace relentless and unforgiving as your body spasmed, your wetness covering his fingers as they stretched you open. The coolness of the metal rings adds a cold surprise with every glide.

"I'm-- fuck! Gonna-" You're interrupted by your own orgasm once Rafe accelerates to a pace that you couldn't handle without being blinded by the heavens. "You look so fucking pretty when you come" Rafe remarks, voice deep but a little unstable. Unsure how long he could maintain his composure.

Not long at all it seems.

The moment the bulbous head of his cock had caught in the ring of your wet heat, he sank himself into the hilt. "Shit-Shit- Shit!" A pained his scratches up the walls of his throat, not giving you a second to adjust. Your back arches off the towels, eyes glossy as they stare up at Rafe whose eyes are screwed shut, bottom lip tucked between his teeth as soft grunts fall from his lips.

His eyes open to look down at you, entranced with every movement on your face, looking for any signs to slow down, but your legs wrap around his waist to pull him closer. He groans at the extra depth he reaches within your velvet walls. He lowers himself down, dropping teasing kisses on your lips, the some behind your ear, down the side of your neck and you were sick of his antics.

Looping your fingers under his chain you pull him close to you once again, locking your lips with his. The kiss is messy, unrestrained and dangerously intimate for a pogue and a kook to share. "Can't get enough of you," He whispers against your lips, his thrusts slowing down and dragging slower making everything feel deeper.

"Why'd you have to be such a douchebag." You pout between kisses and he chuckles, "Maybe I wouldn't have to be if you weren't such an ungrateful brat." He snaps his hips on impulse causing you to gasp.

"I'm n-not-" You were losing your train of thought and Rafe couldn't concentrate on anything more than the immense wave of pleasure that was breaking down over him.

"Not what? Huh?" You were unable to speak, the coil in your core rapidly igniting, about to snap. Rafe didn't need to hear you say it to know you were close. "Come on, baby. Give it to me. Give me all you got." His gruff tone combined with the pet name had you unravelling beneath him and he came moments later, pulling out and pumping his cum on your stomach.

He kept you warm on the towels, his larger frame wrapped up with yours. You both refused to acknowledge what had just happened when-- "Oh Shit!" You jolt up, rushing to the pale where your clothes had been displaced and you rummage through the pockets of your shorts to find the map that caused all this.

"What's wrong?" You ignore his question once you have the map in your hands, It's still folded, but soaked. You carefully opened it and the ink was partially illegible, but you could still make out some of the words.

"Is that what I think it is?" Rafe asks and you nod slowly, "The map to Kraken's Rest? It was. The rain washed it out." Rafe takes a closer look at the map, asking where you'd gotten this from.

"I.. borrowed it from the museum." You lie. "You don't have to lie to me, I know you stole this-- Did you get it off the display?" You nod, and he tosses the map carelessly into the pale.

Suddenly you remembered why you didn't get along. "What are you doing I need that." You're about to retrieve it when he speaks up. "Museums rarely put the real shit out for the public. All the authentic artifacts are kept in the Kildare vaults."

The good news puts a smile on your face before reality wipes it off, "How am I supposed to get in there unnoticed? They'll catch me before I even make it to the door."

Rafe grins as if the sequence of events has worked itself out too perfectly. "I'm on the guest list for their upcoming exhibit charity gala. The vaults are fingerprint-protected, and I know a guy who's got access. The event is pretty high-profile so I know he'll be there. I can lift his prints and pass them to you during the night so you can get to the vault..."

It sounded like a good plan but how would Rafe get prints to you-- He continues, "But if the plan is gonna work, you'll have to come with me. As my plus one." He's unable to mask the small tug on his lips at the offer and you smile.

[puppym3]

'*•.¸♡ off-road ride ♡¸.•*'

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

lee minho x fem!reader

a result of the poll win! (car sex w minho)

summary: you and minho are on your way to meet up with your friends, but get distracted along the way.

wc: 3k

warnings: MDNI! 18+, established relationship, dom!minho, brat!reader, a lot of teasing, fingering (f. rec), rough sex, spanking, safeword mentioned (not used), piv, unprotected sex, creampie, riding, choking, overstim, begging, (lmk if i missed any)

a/n: i've been realizing that the poll has been going in age order so far, so i might just release all of the fics in age order to keep the pattern going. also i loved writing this, hopefully next time i can write a fluffier minho smut!!

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

The winding roads blurred past as Minho deftly steered the car, the engine's purr adding a soundtrack to your animated voice. Your friend's laughter was bubbling over and filling the car with cheerful energy as you spoke on the phone.

“Mmm, no, we should totally do that next weekend,” you were saying, still chuckling at a joke your friend had made. “I just think we should invite the whole group.”

Lee Know’s jaw tightened. He knew you had been out and about with your friends lately, and he didn’t want to be jealous, but... he was. It felt like you were paying more attention to everyone else lately than to him.

“We’re so close now,” you said, leaning over to Minho to point at the map. You had meticulously planned the route and confidently guided him whenever needed. “Maybe about fifteen minutes away, I'd say.”

“Great,” Minho replied, his voice low and warm, though his eyes betrayed a hint of irritation as he kept glancing at you.

“Hey, hold on, my phone’s going crazy.” You pulled the phone away from your ear, glancing down at the screen. Your eyes went wide, and you started giggling, turning back to look at Minho with a playful smile.

“What?” he asked, a grin tugging at the corners of his lips.

“Oh, it’s just my friend being ridiculous.”

“Mm. I can’t leave them hanging, then, right?”

“I guess not.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m still here. We’re so close now.”

“Are you?” your friend purred from the other end, causing you to laugh again.

“Okay, not that close.” You glanced over at Minho, smiling, before focusing on the road.

“Are you sure? Because I was thinking maybe you’d like to come over after the party…”

“Hmmm, and why is that?” You were grinning now, unable to help yourself.

“Well, there’s this guy that’s been flirting with me, and I don’t really like him that way, but I don’t know how to let him down. I was hoping you’d come over and help me out.”

“What’s your plan?” You bit your lip, glancing over at Minho, who was gripping the steering wheel tightly, his knuckles white.

“Well, if you’d be willing to kiss me for a while, that might get the message across.”

“You want me to kiss you?” You widened your eyes, Minho’s head snapping towards you, before quickly looking back at the road as if he were pretending he totally wasn’t listening.

You didn’t realize how bad it could sound out of context, and Minho’s frustration was evident.

“Haha, you know I was joking, girl. I’m just not good at confrontation, and I know you are. You know how to bite back at people.”

“I’m not so sure that’s what you meant, but if you need some help, then I’ll be happy to come over.”

“Awesome, thanks. So, I can’t wait to meet Lee Know. You talk about him all the time; he sounds really sweet.” Her tone was sweeter and more sincere.

Suddenly, you felt a warm hand gently land on your thigh, the touch sending a shiver down your spine as it traced teasing patterns on the exposed skin where your skirt had ridden up. Minho's touch was deliberate, and you could feel the heat radiating from his fingers as they traced teasing patterns on your skin.

You turned your head to stare at Minho, whose gaze was locked on the road ahead. His face was impassive, but there was a steely edge to his eyes that betrayed his annoyance.

“Um, yeah,” you managed, feeling Minho’s hand slip higher up your thigh. “He’s great.”

“What’s going on? You okay?” your friend asked, her concern evident in her voice as she picked up on your distracted tone.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you said, gasping quietly as Minho’s fingers gripped your inner thigh, his touch becoming more insistent.

You grabbed Lee Know’s misbehaving hand before it could go any further. His touch was electrifying, and despite your attempts to focus on the conversation, the heat of his fingers was impossible to ignore.

“Uh, I just... got distracted,” you stammered, trying to keep your voice steady. “We’re almost there, so maybe I should call you back later?”

“Sure, no problem,” your friend agreed, her tone tinged with concern. “Just let me know if you need anything.”

“Will do,” you replied, ending the call quickly. As soon as the phone disconnected, Minho’s hand withdrew, and he turned to you with a look of feigned innocence.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, his voice deceptively casual as he focused on the road ahead.

“I could ask you the same thing,” you shot back, glaring at him but with a teasing glint in your eyes. “What happened?”

“I don’t know,” Minho said, his lips curling into a playful pout. “I guess I just didn’t like hearing my girlfriend sounding all flirty on the phone with someone else.”

You tried to hold back a laugh, your irritation melting into amusement. “Minho, she was joking with me.”

“Yeah, well,” Minho said, his tone softening as he glanced at you with a hint of vulnerability. “I just want your attention too.”

Your heart melted at his words. The way he looked at you, so earnest and a bit pouty, was impossible to resist.

You grabbed one of his hands, guiding it back to rest on your leg. You could see the way his breath caught in his throat as he realized what you were doing.

His fingers slowly inched up your skirt, brushing over your heated skin. You trembled, attempting to stay quiet as Minho's hands caressed your bare thighs, his touch sending sparks of electricity through your body.

"Baby," you murmured, "I can't have you driving off the road because you're distracted."

"I'm not distracted," Minho insisted, his fingers dancing along the edge of your panties. "I'm focused."

"Really?" You arched an eyebrow, glancing over at him.

"Mm-hmm." His fingers slipped beneath the lace of your panties, brushing against your sensitive flesh.

You gasped, grabbing his wrist to try and still his movements. "Minho," you warned, a slight tremor in your voice.

"What's wrong, baby? Didn't you want me to do this?" he asked, his voice dripping with mock innocence as he slid his finger along your slit.

"Min," you hissed, squeezing your thighs together. The friction of his fingers sent shivers of pleasure through your body, and you bit your lip to stifle a moan.

"That's right," he said. "Don't forget, you're mine."

"Yours," you gasped, arching against him as his finger flicked at your clit.

The sensation was almost too much, and you had to fight the urge to writhe in your seat.

"Good," Minho said, his voice rough with arousal as he pressed his finger deeper, sliding it inside you.

Your head fell back, and you closed your eyes, lost in the feeling of his touch.

"You're so wet," Minho teased. "Just from me touching your thigh?"

"Mm," you whimpered, gripping the armrest as Minho's finger curled inside you.

"Only pay attention to me," he commanded.

You shivered at his possessive words, your back arching against the chair.

"Shit," he murmured, his eyes struggling to stay on the road. "You make me want to pull the car over and fuck you right here."

Your breath hitched, and your core tightened at his words. "Do it," you challenged, your voice shaky.

"What?" he asked, glancing at you briefly.

"Pull the car over," you repeated, "and fuck me."

Minho sucked in a sharp breath, his grip on the steering wheel tightening with tension.

"Don't tempt me," he warned, his voice husky.

"Please," you begged, your body craving his touch. "I want you, Min."

"Be patient," he warned, his finger curling up into you and hitting you in the perfect spot.

You moaned, your head falling back against the seat. "I can't," you whined, your hips rolling against his hand.

"You can, and you will," he said, his thumb brushing over your clit as his index and middle fingers worked their way into you.

"Min, I need it," you groaned, your hips grinding against his hand, seeking relief.

Minho breathed, his fingers thrusting deeper into you, "You're so desperate for me."

"Please," you pleaded, "I'm desperate, I can't hold on."

"You're lucky I'm even entertaining you now," Minho said, his cock obviously hard in his pants.

You could feel the tension in his body and the way his fingers moved inside you with a renewed fervor.

"Don't pretend like you're not just as turned on," you teased, your fingers gripping the armrest as his hand began to pick up its pace.

"I am," Minho conceded, "but I have a little more self-control than you."

"Don't have self-control," you groaned, your hips rocking against his hand as you sought release.

"You're a little slut for my cock, aren't you? Can't even wait." He smirked.

You bit your lip, unable to argue, as his fingers thrust deeper inside you.

"Just give me what I want, Min," you whined, the pressure building in your core.

"So impatient," he said, his fingers curling again, repeatedly hitting the same spot.

You gasped, your back arching as the pleasure overwhelmed you.

"Minho," you pleaded.

"Let go," he commanded, his thumb teasing your clit with purpose.

You cried out, your orgasm crashing over you as his fingers worked you through your high, feeling yourself clench over his fingers.

You whimpered, the aftershocks of your climax making your body tremble with desire.

Minho pulled his hand away, his breath shaky as he brought his fingers up to your mouth.

"Lick it up," he said, his voice low and commanding.

You obliged, licking the salty-sweet taste from his fingers.

"Good girl," he praised, his cock visibly twitching in his pants.

Your body is still aching for him inside of you; just the sight of it makes your mouth water.

"Fuck me," you pleaded. "Please."

Minho shook his head. "I can't do this here, not yet. We're almost there."

"But,"

"Behave and wait," he commanded, his voice firm and unwavering.

You squirmed in your seat, the lingering burn of desire coursing through your body.

"Stop acting like a brat," he scolded.

Your hand meets his thigh now, trailing up.

"Oh, but what if I am?"

"Stop trying to rile me up," he said, his voice like a warning.

You grinned, enjoying the effect you had on him.

"Or what?"

"Or I'll spank you," he threatened, his eyes locking on the road.

You bit your lip, feeling a mischievous idea taking shape in your mind.

"Pull the car over and do it, then," you teased, your hand reaching out to brush against the bulge in his pants, tracing a line down.

Minho hissed, his hips involuntarily jerking against your touch.

"We're going to be late," he warned.

"Let's be late, then."

Minho let out a breath, his knuckles white on the steering wheel as he struggled to maintain control.

"If I pull the car over now, you're going to regret it later."

You bit your lip, playing with your seatbelt.

"Is that a promise?"

"Fine," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "You want to be fucked so bad, then let's fucking do it."

He pulled the car over to the side of the road, putting the car in park, right on a dirt path with only a single tree covering the view.

He unbuckled your seatbelt and picked you up to lay across his lap.

He lifted your skirt and yanked your panties down, and you could feel his erection straining against his pants.

You gasped, feeling the cool air against your ass, exposed and ready.

"You remember the safeword, correct?"

You nodded, a shiver of excitement running down your spine.

"Beg," he ordered, his voice rough and commanding.

"Please," you pleaded, your voice desperate. "Please, fuck me."

"Again."

"Min, please," you moaned, the friction of his cock rubbing against your sensitive spots driving you crazy. "Please, I want your cock. I need it."

"Tell me what a slut you are."

"I'm... " You inhaled sharply, a mix of sensations flooding you as his hand made contact, your thoughts clouding with each touch.

"Say it," he insisted, his hand massaging your reddened cheeks and his fingers pressing into your tender skin.

"I'm your slut," you moaned, the shame and humiliation only making the heat between your legs grow.

"Good girl," he praised, his hand caressing the curve of your ass.

You whimpered, the sensation overwhelming as he teased you.

When he readjusted you to sit in your lap, the sting was evident.

He undid his pants and let his cock spring free. He was huge and throbbing, a bead of precum glistening at the tip.

You couldn't help but stare at the sight of his cock, which sent a jolt of pleasure through your body.

You needed him, you wanted him, and you could barely hold back.

"Fuck me," you whined, desperate for him to fill you up.

He took his time, his cock grinding against your wetness, coating the length of him in your arousal.

"Please," you begged, his cock brushing against your clit, the sensation making you gasp.

"Patient," he warned, his hips rolling forward as his cock rubbed against your folds.

You moaned, the friction against your clit driving you crazy.

"I need you," you pleaded, the ache between your legs becoming unbearable.

He sighed out, the head of his cock finally pressing against your entrance.

You gasped, your body trembling with anticipation as he slowly pushed into you.

The stretch was almost too much, but the pain mixed with pleasure was intoxicating. You whimpered, your walls clenching around him.

You moaned, the sensation of his cock filling you up nearly driving you over the edge.

"Minho, fuck, please move." you pleaded after a few seconds of him settling inside you.

His eyes hit yours like daggers, his stare sharp. "You wanted my cock so bad, so you're going to do it yourself."

You blinked at him, not fully comprehending what he meant.

Minho grabbed your hips, lifting you up and down his shaft.

Your eyes widened, realizing what he meant. You began to move your hips up a little, your hands laid on his chest for support.

"There we go," he cooed, his fingers digging into your hips as you rode him. "Just like that."

You bit your lip, the feeling of his cock hitting you in all the right places driving you crazy.

Leaning forward, he captured your mouth in a hungry kiss. You moaned into his mouth as his cock hit your walls perfectly, eliciting a deep pleasure.

Lee Know broke the kiss, his hand tangling in your hair, pulling your head back.

He kissed your neck, biting the sensitive skin. The pleasure and pain mingled together, making you cry out.

"Keep going," he instructed, his tongue tracing a path along your jawline.

You obeyed, persisting in moving your hips as he drove his cock into you, the angle enabling him to penetrate even deeper.

You moaned, the sensation becoming almost unbearable.

Suddenly, you felt his hand lightly wrap around your neck, the pressure adding to the overwhelming pleasure.

You gasped, the sensation sending a powerful jolt through your body when he lightly squeezed, just enough to drive you wild.

You felt the pressure intensifying, your inner walls starting to flutter around his throbbing cock. Your breathing quickened as you felt yourself nearing the edge, the combination of his touch and the intense stimulation pushing you closer to the brink of ecstasy.

With one final, deep thrust, you felt a wave of pleasure wash over you as you reached your peak, your body wracked with waves of intense pleasure.

Your hips jerked, riding out the aftershocks of your orgasm, and you collapsed against him, completely spent.

Minho grabbed at your hips, continuing to pound deeper into you, his movements becoming more frantic as he chased his own release.

His breathing grew ragged, his hands gripping you tight as he fucked you with renewed vigor, his cock hitting your walls in just the right place, causing tears to form in your eyes from the overstimulation.

Finally, with a moan, his body tensed, his cock twitching inside you as he spilled his release.

After a moment, he pulled out, his breathing heavy as lay his head against the headrest.

Your legs were trembling from the overstimulation, your face was flushed with a tear streaming down, and your hair was tousled.

Not to mention you now had marks on your neck and ass.

You were too tired to move, it felt like your body turned into lead.

He held you in his arms, brushing his fingers through your hair.

You closed your eyes and let the sound of his heartbeat lull you to sleep.

-

"Hey, are you okay?"

You opened your eyes, your vision blurred.

"Huh?"

You looked around and realized you were in your own bed, not the car.

You glanced over at Minho, his gaze soft as he watched you.

"What happened?" you asked, still disoriented.

"You fell asleep on me," he chuckled. "This is why I suggested we don't go all the way..."

The realization fully hit you, you picked up your phone to find multiple messages from your friends telling you to 'get better soon' and others asking where you were.

"Sorry for getting carried away," you apologized, looking down, and feeling slightly embarrassed.

Minho grabbed your hand, interlacing his fingers with yours.

"It's okay, it was worth it."

You looked at him, his eyes full of affection.

You smiled, squeezing his hand.

"I love you."

You leaned over, placing a soft kiss on his lips.

"I love you, too."

He returned the gesture, pulling you close.

The two of you stayed like that for a while, wrapped in each other's arms, until Minho's phone began to vibrate.

He glanced at it, sighing.

"It's Chan again."

"We should get going," you said, not wanting to keep them waiting any longer.

"Are you sure about that?" he asked, with the cocky look on his face back again.

You tried to sit up but immediately felt your body protest, the soreness kicking in.

"Fuck," you muttered, flopping back down onto the mattress.

"I did warn you," he smirked, his hands rubbing at your sore legs.

"Don't touch me," you said, trying to swat his hand away.

He laughed, kissing your forehead.

"Don't be mad, I told you this was a bad idea."

You frowned, your heart melting a little at his cute gesture.

"You win."

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

[suguruspit]

A Guide to Eating

How the jjk men like to eat 😋🍑 18+ MDNI pls!

incl: gojo, geto, toji, nanami, higuruma, choso, ijichi

tags: orål sex (f!receiving, higuruma receiving lol), eating from the back, f!ngering, squirting, dry humping, r!ding, dirty talk (geto + toji), first time (choso, ijichi), voyeurism (geto + toji), talking them through, tongue piercings, come eating, overstimulation, cult leader geto (!!!), soft séx (nanami), sub ijichi (love him), first times

a/n: I got a bit carried away with suguru.... sorry he's my favourite I think..... 🙈 (nanami launch....) this was a request but it was on twitter <3

Gojo Satoru - Overstimulation, anywhere he can get you

It's messy. Your head is thrown back against the pillow as you hiccup a sob out at the constant stimulation your boyfriend is giving you, hot wet and dripping tongue gliding little circles around your clit like he's mapping something out, sending burning shocks throughout your body as your thighs strain against his hands.

He has your thighs in an iron grip, strong hands holding them either side of your head as he dives in, slurping and spitting and generally making a damn mess as he eats you out like it's his favourite thing in the world - which, it might be.

Currently, you're in his office at the school, the only two people there but that doesn't settle your nerves any as you shove your hand against your own mouth to stifle the screams as you almost cream on your boyfriends tongue for the third time, saved only by the way he changes his rhythm so that you're on edge. It's been an hour of this, and your pussy is absolutely drenched and throbbing. Your clit is oversensitive but it's the kind of painful pleasure that sends shocks up your spine and that delicious burning in your stomach and thighs.

It's always like this with Satoru, though.

When Gojo eats you out, he doesn't half-ass it at all, he'll take damn near hours to ensure you're gushing the way he likes, sticky sweet slick stuck to his nose and chin as he smirks into your pussy like the arrogant man he is (he holds up to his ego, he's damn good at what he does)

He's obsessed with the way you taste, groans into your cunt with desperation as he shoves a hand down his hips to stroke himself in time with your moans, switches to sucking your clit when you're close, tongue flattening against your entire sex to tease you and keep you on the edge - he loves edging you, thinks the way you drench the sheets with sweat and come is the greatest thing since sliced bread.

Satoru can get a bit whiny though, and you chuckle every time he ends up getting impatient with you and adds two lithe fingers into you, curling them up and grinning with glistening lips as you cry out, wriggling your hips to chase your release, and he moans and sucks your clit all throughout it, trying to catching most of it on his tongue, and pops his fingers into his mouth when you're done.

"Tastes so fucking sweet," Satoru moans, eyes closing before they open to show blown-out pupils against electrically sky blue. His cheeks are flushed and shining with your slick, pink tongue darting out to lick your taste off his own lips with a grin. "Always so wet and sweet. Let's go for a new record."

Geto Suguru - semi-public, loves people to know exactly how he gets you screaming and squirming, loves teasing

"Mnh, Suguru."

Suguru chuckles from where he's crouched in-between your thighs, strong hands parting your thighs from where they keep trying to close for the overwhelming sensations you're getting from what feels like every angle. He's got you sat on the table of his conference room, patrons lined up outside to talk him into new business ventures and the likes that your situationship frankly isn't interested in. Everything he needs is right in front of him.

He's been biting marks into your thighs for a couple of minutes now, lathing his tongue over them to soothe them as your thighs twitch and your cunt gets even wetter from the attention you're getting - everything he does is always somehow so fucking hot.

"My favourite little patron, always so responsive." Suguru murmurs into the V of your hips, running his tongue from the top of your pubic bone to your bellybutton, the cool metal of his piercing against your balmy skin making you moan outright. "Always a pleasure to have you here."

"Please.." You whimper, hands scrunching into the fabric of your own skirt that's he's simply pushed up for access, your own fault for wearing a pencil skirt in his presence leaving your gorgeous legs and thighs in plain sight like that. It feels like he's been teasing for hours, and your panties are so drenched they're sticking to your folds, the dampness making them near translucent. "Sugu' please."

"Poor baby," Suguru simpers as he looks at you with mock-sympathetic eyes, a smirk growing on his lips. He traces a fingertip along your covered pussy, making you bite your lip and squirm in his grasp. "Already so sloppy and I haven't even touched you."

"I-" You don't even have enough time to defend yourself, your brain already in an ooey-gooey state from the anticipation that only gets thicker as you feel your panties get peeled off of you, the cold air against your wet sex making you shiver. "F-fuck."

"Mhmm." Suguru nods as he finally finally presses his mouth to your pussy, cold metal making contact with your clit for a brief moment, making you throw your hair back and tangle your hand in his hair.

It's so much immediately, his tongue is so thick and it's delving in-between your folds to lick and suck at you like you're a delicacy. Your slick is practically dripping between your thighs as he starts to trace his tongue around your hole teasingly, squeezing your thighs as a warning as you try to pivot your hips down to force his tongue where you want it.

"Don't be a brat," Suguru's smooth voice commands as he detaches himself, spit and slick shiny on his lips as he looks at you sternly. "Move again and I won't let you finish, sweet thing."

"Okay, 'm sorry." You whimper, forcing yourself to breathe and slow the beating in your chest that increased when he used that commanding voice on you, like he does in his cult meetings. So fucking hot. The words stick to you like syrup and you gulp. "I won't move again."

"Good girl." Suguru compliments, spanking your pussy with the palm of his hand making you jump before he's diving back in, this time the thick muscle of his tongue slipping into your hole and thrusting roughly making you screech as you arch off the table. Through murky sex-logged thoughts you briefly register murmuring outside the door, but Suguru slaps your thigh when he notices your mind wandering. "Let them hear. Pathetic men that could never have you, we're doing them a favour."

Fuck.

He's gliding his tongue through your folds again, wet and fiery and you genuinely sob as he reaches your clit, metal ball pressing against it just right as you feel delicious warmth spreading through your guts. He gently pulsates his tongue as you scramble to shove his face even further into your cunt, making him groan at your enthusiasm, the vibration of his own pleasure making you shiver as you realise you're closer than you thought.

"Fuck, Suguru 'm gonna-" You stutter, hips shaking and jolting as you falter in a rhythm, moaning loudly as he pulls your hips down to ride his face, his nose pressed up against you adding a pressure that drives you mad. "Oh shit, Suguru- I-"

"Go on, then." He says with a laugh, spitting onto your pussy as you start to hit your peak, moaning and sobbing and causing the men outside the room to pause their mumbling. "Beautiful when you come, let me see it."

You hit your peak as he sucks onto your clit, helping you ride through it as you scream his name, struggling to breathe as it seems to last forever, your juices flowing across his face shamelessly.

He pulls off with a satisfied grin.

"Thank you for your donation."

Nanami Kento - loves eating you out, always so gentle, wakes you up to it

You bearily open your eyes, body shuddering as you stretch and finally register what that feeling is that woke you up - your husbands breath against your bare cunt hot and heavy.

"Ken?" You mumble, voice sleep-ladened as you wake up, quickly whining out a moan as he sweetly kisses the bottom of your stomach before trailing them lower to where he wants to be. "Fuck baby, barely 'wake."

Soft lips are wrapping around your clit gently as they suck, his stubble from the couple of nights he's been away burning against you deliciously as he bobs his head up and down. He's always so gentle, handles you like you're the most precious thing in the world and it brings tears to your eyes as you let the pleasure wash over you, your husband running strong arms up your waist and torso, gently squeezing at the soft flesh.

His lips detach with a 'pop' as he kisses your clit sweetly, tongue trailing down your folds and gathering the wetness that's gathered there with a soft groan before he's dipping his tongue into you, making you moan as you shove your hands under the covers to grip at that sandy blonde hair.

It only takes a couple of moments of sloppy sucking and licking to have you coming undone under his tongue, crying out softly as your hips practically ride his face through your orgasm. You're too tired to do anything more than sigh, and you smile as you feel your husband kissing up your body, your thighs to your stomach to the valley between your breasts before his sleepy hair is peeking out of the covers and those hazel eyes are looking up at you adoringly before he gives you a gentle kiss.

"Good morning sweetheart," his gruff morning voice contradicts how mushy his statement is as he frames your body with strong arms, leaning down to kiss you on the lips, chaste and gentle before he deepens it, and you can feel his tip bumping against your folds. "May I?"

You laugh as he bumps his nose against yours, the morning rays from the sun soaked window feeling warm against your skin as you both make a mess of the lovely cotton sheets of your bed.

"You may."

Toji Fushiguro - nasty fucker, doesn't mind cleaning you up, loves when shiu watches but he's not interested in sharing (so he says)

"Can't fuckin' wait," Toji grumbles as he unbuckles his seatbelt, making you look at him questionably before you feel your own belt unbuckle.

"Toji, wha-?" You end up shrieking as he yanks you down the spacious leather seats of Shiu's car, making him tut in the front and say something like 'watch it, Zen'in'. Your skirt is yanked off quickly and your bare ass is sat on the leather so fast that it makes you dizzy. You flush as you feel yourself get wet despite the embarrassment as you make eye contact with a smirking Shiu in the rear view mirror.

"Toji," You hiss, but it's quickly replaced with a moan as he grabs your ankles in huge, strong calloused hands and his lips are mouthing over your clothes cunt, inhaling your scent and groaning as it makes him dizzy. "Are you insane? We're in the car with Sh-"

"Don't say his name." Toji grumbles, glaring at his friend as he laughs in the drivers seat. He flips him off before peeling your panties off with his teeth, groaning as he finally sees your pussy bare and glistening with want. Plump and ready for him. "So fuckin' pretty doll, gonna get a taste, 'kay?"

You don't get time to answer, because he's on you and it's intense. You're moaning like a bitch in heat, shameless as he devours you, the sounds in the car bouncing off metal framework driving you even more insane. You can hear the wet slurping noises he's making as he runs his tongue roughly up and down your folds, attaching his lips to your clit and that fucking scar is causing a rough friction that has you gushing with another hesitant moan as you watch Shiu through hooded eyes.

Toji notices you watching, and glares at Shiu, slapping your pussy and making you jolt before he's pulling away and flipping you over and knocking the breath out of you. You don't have time to regain it, though, before he's propping you on your knees and using his hands to spread you as he eats you from the back.

"F-fuck, Toji." You gape, panting into the interior of the car door as you slowly lose your mind to what your coworker is doing. The noises have only got worse from the position switch and you bite your lip to hold in your syrupy moans. "Slow- slow down, shit."

He slaps the plump flesh of your ass with a groan as he continues to eat you like a man possessed, his nose grinding against your clit as he thrusts his tongue in and out of you and causing slick to drip against the leather beneath the two of you.

You can't even concentrate, your mind lost in a haze of lust as you feel Toji's tongue fucking you impossibly deep, your spongy walls fluttering as you get hurled closer to your release with no mercy, your clit pulsing under his nose as you somehow get off with the ghost of a touch from it.

"Can feel ya, pretty girl. Come on my tongue, show Shiu how good I make ya feel, hm?" Toji says gruffly, throat scratchy from use as switches to rubbing two fingers against your clit quickly, two fingers from his other hand plunging into your wet cunt and curling up against your g-spot ruthlessly. You sob into your arms as your thighs start to shake, and Shiu curses from in front of you, his cigarette drags getting longer and longer.

That band in your tummy gets tighter and tighter, and you're babbling nonsense into your arm as Toji's forearm gets wetter and wetter, the sloshing noises filling the car making your cheeks turn pink.

"Fuckin' listen to her," Toji groans, and that's all it takes to have you creaming on his fingers, that band you felt snapping and you realise with wide eyes you're squirting all over him, what feels like gallons soaking him as he grunts his approval. "Fuck yeah, good girl."

You sob out, and you dazedly notice the rumbling from the car engine has stopped.

"Your one chance, Kong." Toji huffs as he strips himself off, dick already pressing against your quivering cunt making you choke out a moan. "Don't embarrass me."

"I'll upstage you, Zen'in." Shiu's rough voice muses as he opens the door, and you look up at him with drool on your chin. He grins, running his thumb along your chin to collect it. "I'll take what I can get."

Higuruma Hiromi - always desperate, loves when you ride his nose, doesn't believe in work and sex life being separate

"Fuck," Hiromi groans as you work your mouth up and down his length, breathing through your nose as you deep throat him down to the root before suckling gently as you lift back off with a pop. "You're perfect at that, honey."

You giggle as you wipe the come from your lips with your thumb, popping it into your mouth with a smile as your boss and husband runs a hand through his hair with a groan, eyes completely blown out. After such a long day in court, you'd tied your hair up and got on your knees as soon as you'd both stumbled into his office between heated kisses that you're both amazed no one witnessed.

"Pleasure being a service, sir." You playfully say, laughing as Hiromi lightly slaps your arm at the statement. "You're always so tense 'Romi. What kind of wife would I be if I let you walk around like that?"

Higuruma just stares at you, before he's scooping you up by the hips making you laugh breathlessly, moaning into his mouth as he places you on his desk and kisses you deeply, tongue tasting himself on you and groaning into your mouth. You get butterflies in your stomach as he runs a hand up your thigh, past your skirt and rubbing with pressure of your wet panties.

"Hiromi," You whisper into his mouth, gasping as he slips a finger into you, your panties shoved to the side. "Baby, what if someone hears?"

"Then they'll hear." He whispers, flushed cheeks darkening as he feels just how wet you are from sucking him off, how debauched you get when he wasn't even touching you. "Try to be quiet, though. Think you can do that honey?"

You bite your lip and nod, and then he's lowering himself to his knees as he buries himself between your thighs, making you gasp before you remember what he just said and you bite down on your own hand with a groan as he circles your clit.

He groans lowly into your pussy as you throb against his tongue, and you have to bite down ever harder to smother the whimper that fights to get out of you. It's so fucking hot seeing him on his knees, and at work no less. His suit all messy and rumpled as he palms himself despite just coming - he always gets so wound up eating you out and you feel yourself getting wetter at the thought.

Pausing from where he's sucking gently on your clit, fingers still working inside of you as you get the papers underneath you wet, he looks at you with hooded eyes.

"Think you can go again when we get home?"

You can't smother the moan in time and someone most definitely hears.

Choso Kamo - begs you to let him eat, borderline delirious bless him, wants you to tell him how good he's being

"Choso, baby, so good," You moan, hands tightening in his black hair as he whimpers into your pussy at the praise, tongue flicking faster as he tries to get you to that delicious peak. "Gonna make me come, Cho-"

"Mhm," He mumbles into your pussy deliriously as he gets desperate, hips rutting against the sheets as he feels your cum sliding against his tongue and covering his tastebuds with that sweet earthy taste of you. He whimpers, suckling on your clit as he feels your thighs give that telltale twitch of your impending orgasm.

"Stop, stop," You gasp, slapping his shoulder and shivering as he detaches immediately, wiping his wet mouth with wide eyes.

"What's wrong?" He asks, full of concern that's just too cute, and you laugh, cupping his chin as you kiss him, before you turn the two of you, straddling him as you shove his chest down so that his back hits the soft sheets beneath him. He looks up at you with flushed cheeks and wide eyes and you grin back.

"Wanna ride your pretty face." You say, and you laugh as he pulls your hips up immediately, reattaching himself with a newfound vigour, making you laugh mid-moan. "Fuck, always so enthusiastic babe."

He nods, rocking your hips with his strong hands and helping you to ride his face the way he knows you like, his nose bumping against your clit, and you look down and notice that your slick is covering his mark making it glossy.

"Fuck. C-coming." You whine, hips faltering and you just let him guide you through it, tongue thrusting inside you as you cream on his face, syrupy come covering his lips and chin as he rides you through it, whining as his hips thrust up into nothing. "Holy shit."

You shakily raise your hips up and off of him, biting your lip as the cool air of the bedroom hits your wet and hot cunt. You look at him and swear gently at the fucked-out look he has on his face, accompanied by the damp spot on his pants.

"Round two?" You pant, and laugh as he spins you onto your back.

Ijichi Kiyotaka - likes you to talk him through it, wants nothing more to please you, skills don't match his shy attitude

"Like that?" Ijichi mumbles, spit strings stuck to his lips as he looks up from where he's kneeling on the floor, fully clothed as you stand above him.

"Mhm, just like that sweetheart." You say softly, biting your lip as he flushes and goes back to flicking his tongue against your clit with just enough pressure. He's always so good when he's following your lead, and you grip his black hair gently, scratching his scalp and smiling as he makes soft noises into your pussy. "You're getting so good at this, honey."

Ijichi nods, doubling his efforts and occasionally sucking on your clit gently, before pulling off to blow on it with cold air that feels heavenly, adding to that delicious tightening of your core.

"Kiyo," You croon, cupping his chin as he looks up at you with soft eyes, spaced out and already so entranced when it's barely been fifteen minutes. "Touch yourself, baby. Let's come together, 'kay?"

He moans, and then he's back to sucking, one hand slipping two fingers into your tight heat whilst the other tugs furiously at his own dribbling cock. He looked close to coming untouched, you couldn't let him go unsatisfied like that. You aren't cruel.

"I'm close, Kiyo, gonna come on your face." You moan, shoving his face deeper, sighing as the pressure is just right. Eyes screwing closed as you pant out little whines. "Fuck, fuck, just like that."

Ijichi sobs into you as he comes into his hand, ropes of white painting his own abdomen and hitting your thigh, the feeling of knowing he's enjoyed it that much is what sends you over the edge, shaking into his mouth as you cry out gently. He sucks you through it, never one to waste a drop. You tap his cheek to let him know you've reached that level of oversensitivity and he kisses you chastely on your navel before he stands up and presses desperate kisses to your lips.

You moan at the taste of yourself, and you're cupping his cheeks as you pull him in for deeper kisses, slipping your tongue into his mouth and smiling with open lips as he moans.

His hair is mussed up and his glasses are all crooked and he just looks so cute when you lead him to the bed, pushing him down gently onto the cotton sheets with a small thud.

"You ever been ridden before, Kiyo?" You ask innocently, running a hand down his stomach and watching the way his dick twitches at the touch.

"N-no," He stutters, before moaning as you straddle his thighs.

"Well, it starts like this..."

~~~~~ 😃💦

[neo-novaa]

pretty boy

*ੈ✩ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: ethan landry x reader

*ੈ✩ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: drinking/drunk characters, slightly very suggestive ending, no spoilers :)

*ੈ✩ 𝐚/𝐧: he is so babygirl

you’re on his lap, hands lost in his hair, his twitching around your waist.  your teeth clash as you’re desperately pulling at each other to get as much contact as possible. his lips still taste like cheap vodka, and you’re sure yours tastes the same; through all his noise, you can still hear the party raging on only a few floors down. 

you pull away to catch your breath, and your fingers are gently tracing the edges of ethans face. he’s nearly panting, his breathing always gets so husky when he’s making out with you.

ethan moved to bring your lips to his, but you’re gently pushing on his shoulders. 

“no, no—stop,” you whisper, cradling his face in your hands. “lemme just…look at you.”

you’re drunk. you’re really drunk. and as much as you want to kiss him, an even greater part of you just wants to look at him. 

you trace his features; the soft wrinkles on his forehead, his prominent brow bone, the slight bags beneath his eyes and the almost invisible freckles just below them. you obsess over them. 

“what are you doing?” ethan slurs, trying to escape your grasp. 

“you’re pretty…” you’re mumbling to yourself. even through ethan’s silent protests you’re worship every detail of his face. 

“you’re drunk.” he retaliates while you gently thumb his cheekbones. 

“yeah, but i’m also right.” you scoff, grabbing ethans chin and yanking him towards you, rewarding him with a soft kiss on his cheek. 

but you quickly return to mapping his skin, murmuring soft praise that even you weren’t aware of. 

but ethan was. he was very, very aware of it. 

“s’pretty,” your words slur together, coming out as soon as you’re able to think them. 

“did you know that? y’so pretty ethan…” you’re gently running your thumbs along his lips, and ethan’s eyes are locked on yours. 

“pretty boy…my pretty boy…” your fingers reach his neck and you trace the edges of ethans adams apple. you admire the way it hitches when you compliment him. 

“you’re not too bad yourself,” he replies, nervously, and after nearly a minute of silence on your part. if you were only half as drunk as you were now, you might’ve been able to catch that gap, and pieced together that ethan almost definitely had to hype himself up to say something like that. 

“oh yeah?” you straighten your back and your hands finally stop: one palm pressing into his chest, the other resting at the crook of his neck. you finally meet ethan’s gaze through glassy and half-lidded eyes.

you can feel his heart pounding beneath your fingertips. 

you pull his lips to yours and ethan melts in the kiss. it’s nothing like the tooth and tongue from mere moments ago. it’s soft, languid, as if you have all the time in the world. 

but unfortunately, and rather obviously, you don’t. 

ethan had just finally worked up the courage to slide a hand under the hem of your shirt when the door swings open. 

ah. it’s chad. and he’s so clearly, visibly, ostensibly drunk. 

“yo someone just brought, like, three fucking keggers. i don’t give a shit about what you guys are doing you have got to get down here!”

at least he has the common courtesy to close the door behind him.  

you look back to ethan, his warm hands firm on your waist, those dilated puppy dog eyes looking up at you. 

“you’re not going anywhere.” he murmurs firmly, pressing his lips to your skin. “especially not after calling me all those names.”

and yeah, maybe you’ll miss out on the best kegger this university will ever have, but at least you could say you were fucking your boyfriend instead. 

[daisynik7]

Teach Me, Senpai!

Pairing: Ino x f!reader x Nanami

Rating: Explicit - MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Word Count: ~2.6k

cw: smut - threesome, spit-roast, PIV sex (doggy style), blow job, cunnilingus, vaginal fingering, Nanami is sorta a perv oops, Ino calls Nanami senpai, a hint of a breeding kink, use of pet names, everyone is an adult here in case that doesn’t come across clearly

Summary: Takuma Ino is your silly, golden retriever boyfriend who brings you along to meet his mentor, Nanami Kento. You’ve heard a lot about him, mostly because your boyfriend constantly praises him for being so amazing. You underestimate how close their relationship is until Ino starts asking his "senpai" for pointers on how to spice things up in the bedroom. What better way to learn than to demonstrate, right?

Author’s Note: I'm currently in heat, can you blame me? I tried my best to edit and proofread, sorry if there are any glaring grammar mistakes or typos, please ignore! Tagging @todorosie @crazychaoticizzy @gojoloves @brightnessemma @batafuraikisu (I know you didn't ask, but I'm tagging you anyways bc ily and I think you'd like this lol). I'm sorry if I missed any tags, Tumblr wouldn't let me tag you! Likes, reblogs, and/or comments are always appreciate, thank you for reading! MDNI divider by @/cafekitsune.

“You’re going to love him, I swear!” Ino insists, dragging you down the hallway of the office building, past empty cubicles. It’s past five and all the employees are out for the remainder of the day. 

“I just don’t see why I have to meet him,” you argue, following him reluctantly.

“Because he’s important to me! He’s my mentor, my senpai! I have the highest respect for him, and I think it’s cool for you to finally put a face to a name. Aren’t you curious about the guy I’m always talking about?”

“Not really,” you answer, rolling your eyes. Honestly, you’ve grown sick of hearing your boyfriend gush so much about this Nanami fellow. You’re starting to feel jealous about how highly he thinks of this other man. “Why are we even here? This seems like a very random meeting spot.”

“We debrief here sometimes after our missions. He used to be a salary man, so I guess they still let him use the office.” They arrive at a closed door at the end of the hall. Ino knocks twice, a bright smile on his face, a little too excited for this.

A well-built blonde man answers, donning a blue dress shirt and spotted tie. You immediately notice how large his hands are, clenched to the door frame, staring at you from behind steampunk glasses. “Hello.”

“Nanami! Hey! This is my girlfriend, the one I’ve been telling you about.” You introduce yourself to him with a handshake, confirming that they are indeed very big compared to yours. You feel guilty noticing something that can be misconstrued as inappropriate, even lewd in most cases, so you quickly let the thought fade, stepping inside the room. 

It’s a normal looking office, quite barren, except for the few papers stacked on the desk and a map posted on one of the walls. There’s a single chair facing the table, so you take that as Ino stands beside you, arm around your shoulders. “Thanks for letting us stop by. I really wanted to introduce you two to each other.”

Nanami nods curtly, leaning on the edge of the desk in front of you. Your eyes almost drift toward his crotch, curious about his size, but you resist the temptation, ashamed of yourself for even imagining something so completely wrong, especially with your boyfriend right next to you. “You said you wanted to speak to me about something,” he says, focusing on Ino. He removes his glasses, tucking them in his breast pocket.

“Ah, right! Well, I’m a little shy to ask, especially since I haven’t mentioned it to her yet…” Ino scratches his nape nervously, tugging his beanie to cover his reddening ears.

You look at him, confused. “What are you talking about?”

He bites his lip, choosing his words carefully before speaking. “Well, you know how you and I have been…you know, having some trouble in the bedroom?”

At that, you immediately freeze, gaping at him, shocked. A strangled noise comes out of Nanami’s throat, equally jarred.

Ino continues. “I want to get some advice from someone I really trust, like Nanami.” He glances between you, waiting for a response, an uneasy grin on his face. 

You’re stunned, heat surrounding your entire body now, mortified that your boyfriend would casually bring this up without any warning whatsoever. It’s no secret to either of you that your sex life has gotten a bit lackluster recently. Besides missionary and the occasional blowjob, there isn’t much else that you’ve tried in the bedroom. Neither of you are that experienced to begin with, and you both lack the confidence to initiate something different, something new. It’s a matter that you’ve been meaning to resolve privately. Or so you thought. 

No one speaks for what feels like an eternity. You’re tempted to grab your boyfriend and haul ass out of there, hoping this entire conversation can be forgotten or played up to be some kind of cruel, sick joke. However, you remain seated, curiously anticipating Nanami’s response. After all, you haven’t flat-out refused yet, and neither has he. 

Nanami clears his throat. “What kind of advice do you need?” You’re surprised that he’s even entertaining the idea. 

“I just want a few tips on how to spice things up,” Ino answers. “Make it more enjoyable for her.” He puts his arm around you again, squeezing your shoulder. You don’t know whether to punch him or kiss him; the arousal growing between your legs says the latter. The thought of another man who’s practically a stranger instructing your eager boyfriend on how to pleasure you is titillating and definitely something different, something new. You won’t deny it: you’re intrigued. 

Nanami crosses his arms over his chest, avoiding either of your gazes, focused on the floor instead. “I will help, if you both consent to it.”

Ino turns to you with puppy dog eyes. “Babe, you cool with this?”

Too invested now to refuse, you reply, “Sure.”

Your boyfriend lets out a sigh of relief, the tension relaxing in the air surrounding you. “Sweet. Me too.” He looks at Nanami, a bright smile on his face now, clearly thrilled about this. “What’s first, senpai?”

Nanami clears his throat again, standing up straight, taking a step towards you. “Well, foreplay is always a good place to start.”

Ino sticks his finger up. “Right! Foreplay. Uh, do you have a pen and paper so I can take notes…?”

“You don’t seriously need to take notes on foreplay, do you?” he snaps. “It’s as simple as kissing and touching on all the right spots.”

“What spots are those?” 

“It’s probably better if you ask her.” Nanami points to you, making direct eye contact. “Where do you like to be touched?”

You swallow hard, timid from being put on the spot like this. “Just the normal places.”

“The two of you have to communicate better if this is ever going to work out,” he says, a hint of impatience in his tone. “Show him.”

Committing to this fully now, you stand up, grab Ino’s hand and brush it against your lips. “I like it when you kiss me. And when you touch my lips.” 

He smiles at you. “That’s good.”

“You can also put your fingers in my mouth every once in a while. If you want,” you suggest, licking the tip of his middle finger. 

He smirks. “Yeah. I definitely want that, too.”

“Sometimes, it’s better to learn by doing it,” Nanami interjects, watching the two of you carefully. 

You gaze at Ino’s lips, then into his eyes, nodding. He leans in, kissing you slowly. He’s always been a good kisser, a great one, actually. The problem is that he’s too gentle with you. 

“Kiss her neck,” Nanami orders, arms at his sides now, hands clenched into tight fists. 

Ino follows, trailing down your chin until he’s at your neck, sucking on your skin. 

“Put your fingers in her mouth. She said she likes that, right?”

Ino hums, tracing the outline of your lips with his thumb before pushing it in. You surround him, using your grip to pump him in and out of you. His other hand drifts to your waist, teasing the elastic of your pants.

“Are you getting wet, sweetheart?” Nanami’s voice is low and sultry; the use of the pet name has you unraveling much quicker than you expect. Without thinking, you breathe out, “Yes,” pushing his fingers deeper down your throat. 

“Fuck, baby,” Ino moans, hot on your ear. “Where else do you want to be touched?”

You pull him out, swallowing your thick saliva, placing his hand between your legs. “Touch me here.”

Ino, eyes glossy with lust, slowly shimmies your pants down your legs, revealing your soaked panties. “Oh shit, you really are wet, fuck.”

“Eat her out,” Nanami demands. There’s a desperate gruffness in his voice that’s undeniable now, and one glance is all it takes for you to realize that he’s hard, an impressive bulge strained in his slacks. He shoves all his belongings off the desk, making room for you. “Here. Do it here.”

Ino curses under his breath, cock stiff in his sweats, leading you to the table, where you sit at the edge, spreading your thighs open for him. He slips your panties off, licking his lips before diving into your arousal, tongue pressed firmly on your clit. “Fuck,” you moan, squirming from the sensation. 

Nanami walks to the other side, near your head, staring at Ino’s face buried in your pussy. Instinctually, you reach for him, pulling him by the belt, tongue hanging out. His eyes flit to yours, surprised when you say, “Touch me, senpai.”

Ino moans into you, clearly turned on by it. Obliging, Nanami hoists your shirt off, leaving you in just your bra, which he hastily unhooks to bare your chest. Bending towards you, he wraps his lips around one breast, suckling at your teat, his hand working the other nipple, pinched between his fingers. You’re close to your climax; you just need a little bit more. As if he can read your mind, Nanami releases you with a pop, saying, “Suck on her clit until she comes. Fuck her with your fingers at the same time.” His sudden vulgarity spurs you on, grinding your hips against your boyfriend’s face, pulling Nanami back to your tits.

Ino muffles, puckering his lips around you, sliding his middle finger inside you. You throw your head back on the desk, ecstasy rippling through your entire being, knees shaking with sensitivity. 

“Yeah, she likes that,” Nanami purrs, flicking his tongue on your peaked nipples. “Put another in. One at a time, until she’s full.”

Ino manages to fit three of his digits inside you before you orgasm with him latched to your swelling bud, coating him in your slick. He doesn’t stop licking until you’ve come down from your high, pushing his head away, overstimulated. Nanami removes himself from you, unbuckling his belt, watching intently as your boyfriend slips his wet fingers inside your mouth. “Taste yourself babe. You’re so fucking good.” You slurp your own juices off him, pussy throbbing, aching to be fucked. 

“You like that, don’t you, sweetheart?” Nanami murmurs, shimmying out of his pants, erection protruding from his briefs. He palms it, rubbing his thumb over the wet spot oozing from the tip. “Ino, tease her a little bit.”

“Yes sir,” he salutes, pulling down his bottoms, cock sprung against the hem of his sweater. He taps the tip of his dick on your puffy bud, smiling wide as you writhe for him. “Damn, baby. I’ve never seen you this wet before.”

“It’s a good thing you came to me then, isn’t it?” Nanami mentions, wiping the sweat off his brow with the back of his hand. “Now turn around for us, princess. It’s going to feel so much better for you like this.”

You obey, readjusting your body to bend over the desk, ass pushed towards Ino, desperate to be used by them both. Your boyfriend positions his cock at your entrance, huffing, “You ready, baby?”

“Yeah. Fuck me, Ino,” you moan. “Fuck me hard.”

He glides in slowly, stretching you out little by little, easing into you. Once he’s all the way in, groin pressed to your ass, he starts thrusting at a steady pace. It increases gradually until he’s pounding away at you, hitting that sweet spot over and over until your eyes glaze over, in a total state of bliss. 

Nanami studies you, enjoying the show until he notices you staring at the bulge in his briefs, tongue lolling, practically begging for him. He smirks at you. “You want all your holes stuffed, don’t you, sweetheart?”

You nod, drool leaking from the sides of your mouth, eyes weepy, peering up at him. How could he resist such a cock hungry slut like you? Especially when you look at him like this? 

“I’m going to give you my cock then. Think you can take it?” he asks, shoving his underwear off, cock flopping against his abdomen. 

“Oh yeah, she can fucking take it,” Ino grunts, hands gripped to your hips, still fucking you with fervor. “Right babe?” He delivers a fresh slap to your ass, which echoes off the walls of the office. 

“Yeah, I can take it,” you mumble, gulping down the spit collecting on your tongue. 

Nanami hums, satisfied with your answer, inching his dick closer to your mouth. “Open up for me, sweetheart.”

You do, swallowing him until he bottoms out to the back of your throat, testing your gag reflex. He stays still, staring at you, relishing this lewd sight. “Ino, your girlfriend looks so pretty with my cock in her mouth. Don’t you agree?”

“Fuck, yeah. So fucking hot how she just takes it. She’s a good girl, always has been,” he says from behind you, spreading your cheeks open to watch himself disappear into your pussy with each thrust. 

“You’re a lucky man,” Nanami mutters, tipping your chin up, gazing into your eyes. “And you’re a lucky girl, aren’t you? Getting fucked by your boyfriend and his senpai.” Nanami begins to move, pumping himself in and out of your hungry mouth, your tongue running along the underside of his dick. 

Ino shrugs his beanie off, running his fingers through his hair, damp with perspiration. “Oh fuck, baby, you’re taking us so fucking good.”

“Like a proper slut,” Nanami adds, tracing the outline of your lips, glossy with spit, stretched around his shaft. “Do you suck his cock as good as you suck mine?” 

You nod, swallowing your gag reflex as the tip of his dick hits the back of your throat with each solid thrust of his hips. Your second orgasm approaches quickly, your pussy clenching Ino’s cock, though you can’t say anything while gobbling up Nanami’s cock, so you let it be, continuing to be spit-roasted over the desk, thirsty for their cum.  

“Fuck, I’m going to come soon,” Ino says, slowing his pace. “I’ve never…I’ve never come inside her before.”

Nanami, still relishing his blow job, asks, “Why not?”

“Too scared to get her pregnant,” he admits. It’s true; Ino always pulls out, even when you beg him to finish inside you. You appreciate that about him, but in this moment, you want nothing more than his cream pie filling you up. 

“Is she on birth control?”

“Y-Yeah.”

Once again, as if psychic, Nanami responds, “Then I’m sure she wouldn’t mind getting your load just this once. Right, sweetheart?”

Your words are muffled. Nanami pulls out, cock wet with your spit, stroking it in his fist. “What was that, princess?”

“I said yes! Give it to me, Ino!” you whine, shaking around him. 

“Fuck, are you sure, baby? You sure you want it?”

“Give it to me. Want you to breed me,” you blurt out. 

“That’s it, that’s a good girl,” Nanami coos, slapping the head of his cock on your tongue. “How about here? You want it here too?”

You glance at Ino, who’s watching. He nods, licking his lips. “Yes. Want your cum inside me, senpai,” you reply. 

He smirks, pushing himself back inside you, his length sliding on every inch of your tongue. “Good girl.”

It doesn’t take long for both men to come, Ino shooting his seed deep into your womb, stuffing you full, Nanami spurting ribbons into your mouth, guzzling down each drop. They pull out slowly, cocks sensitive now from the stimulation. You roll over onto your back, catching your breath, looking up at them with a satisfied smile on your face. 

Nanami cups your cheek in his hand, thumb brushing delicately against your skin. “Such a messy girl. I think she needs a few more lessons. What do you think, Ino?”

Your boyfriend’s eyes are blown wide, staring at the lewd sight before him, your pussy leaking with his cum, your mouth drooling with Nanami’s. “Yeah. Definitely needs more, senpai.”

[saradika]

— just can’t say goodbye

bodyguard!din djarin x princess!reader

rated e - 4.8k

tags: sorta medieval vibes, references to antiquated societal expectations, mentions and references to virginity, arranged marriage, technically infidelity because of said arrangement, light angst, sneaking around, first time, fingering, PiV, creampie

this is for the 1500 kisses event for @janaispunk! I got din + wedding! Jana, thank you so much for hosting this awesome event & for the gorgeous moodboard! 💖

“Take me,” You beg. It’s pathetic, no more than a whimper, “Take me, and then take me away from here.”

He’s been in your bed since the second your maidens were dismissed. You won’t sleep until dawn, not if tonight is all you have.

“You cannot mean that.” It’s harsh, almost a growl as it buzzes from his helmet.

"I have never meant anything more.”

(or - a final night is spent in the arms of your bodyguard, before your arranged union the next morning.)

You'd always known your duty.

What was expected from you, of you, drilled deep from an early age. Borne with pride - you were the eldest daughter of the king, after all - until you were wise enough to see that perhaps your obligations and loyalty were as much a chain as they were an honor.

Your life followed a well-worn path. Absorbing the lessons. Hours spent in learning about those before. Women like you - the graceful neck beneath the head of another lord, another king.

Support them, love them, bear them children.

It hadn't bothered you. You hadn't known anything else.

Not until him.

The Mandalorian had been assigned to protect you three years ago. A renowned knight, his allegiance first pledged to your father. And then, you.

Your bodyguard is not from your planet. It’s something you clung to - an endless source of information about things you've never seen or known, when his lips finally loosened.

But you had always seen him for more than just your bodyguard. That it was more than duty that bound you to each other.

Over time, during those hours spent with his back facing your door - a steadfast barrier between yourself and the cruel outside world - you had started to see between the cracks.

To read into his minute movements. Catching the tilt of his head and cock of his hip. The dry comments that slip from beneath his helmet.

Pretending he doesn’t care which of your handmaidens were caught in a dark corner with Ser Shand.

But you know better.

You think that perhaps you were doomed from the start. That it was always going to turn out this way between you.

Because when you had finally reached out to touch temptation - to sink your teeth into that sweet, ripe fruit - he had let you.

And at first - with the way he had allowed your hand to flatten against his armor, fitting into her personal space - you had wondered if it's because he wasn't able to.

People do not often tell you no. You've grown up in a carefully-carved mould - your requests are rarely things to be denied.

The thought had you shrinking back, the flat of your palm pulling back to fingertips.

Until his hand had closed around your wrist, tracing up to map the back of your hand. Bringing it back to smooth against his chest, right above his beating heart.

It had you realizing that perhaps he was just allowing you to take the first desire that has truly been yours. That your hopes and wishes had not been alone.

That all this time, he had simply been waiting for you to come to him.

Hours are spent together since, stolen between dusk and dawn. The near-silent wandering of hands and mouths.

That beskar armor nearly always fixed in place. It’s as much a part of him as flesh and bone. The edge of his helmet only lifting when he gets desperate. Sealing his mouth to yours. Deepening the kiss, until he’s all you can taste.

So much of him is still a mystery, but he’s come to know you as well as the back of his hand. Knows just how to make you bend, and then break.

Working his fingers between your thighs, until you’re shattering his arms. It will be enough to hold him over, until next time.

It has to be.

In the months since that first night, you’ve never tried to push. You’ve long known that you don't need to see his face - to strip him bare - to love him.

Determined not to ask him for more than he can give.

That is - not until tonight.

You've tried to hold on as long as you can. Always had been good at pushing things down. Grinning and bearing - with that polite, learned smile.

The dread you’ve been holding back crashes into you now, a charging lance against a shield. Splintering, and you can feel the ache in your ribs as if truly struck.

You cling to him. Stripped bare, his armor a welcome chill as your fingers slip between the fastenings of his armor.

Tonight, he allows you to loosen them. The room pitch-black, as the moon hangs full against a blanket of stars.

His helmet set carefully on your side table. Too dark to see him, a way around his creed. Trust woven in his actions, and you thank him with the soft press of your lips.

Against his throat. Teeth nipping skin as he groans.

He can’t leave a mark on you. Not a single thumb-print bruise - not with the way you’ll be stripped and scrubbed tomorrow.

So you leave ones on him. Reminders he can keep, until you can manage a moment alone again.

Desire swirls hot in your belly. Your own palm slipping down to tuck against his front, cupping him. Another part of him that he’s denied you fully.

“Take me,” You beg. It’s pathetic, no more than a whimper, “Take me, and then take me away from here.”

The potential wrath of your family pales in comparison to the thought of being bound to another. The reality of your situation sets everything in sharp contrast, the pretty veneer you’ve been living in cracking at the seams.

Din’s breath is harsh in your ear - fingers stuttering where they circle against your clit at your plea, coated in your slick.

He’s been in your bed since the second your maidens were dismissed. You won’t sleep until dawn, not if tonight is all you have.

“You cannot mean that.” It’s harsh, almost a growl as it buzzes from his helmet.

You might have thought he was angry, if you did not know him so well. If you couldn’t hear his own desperation, woven into each syllable.

It has your hips canting into his touch. Each word panted out, as your fingers stroke where he strains.

"I have never meant anything more.”

Your fingers pluck at his belt, but he eases them gently away. Catching your wrist with his spare hand, pinning it to the bed. His thumb sweeping against your skin, soothing as you squirm against him.

The fingers at your clit slip down to press just inside you. As if he’s thinking about it for just a moment, giving you what you’ve long desired.

But instead there’s a finality to his words, as his touch slips back up. Increasing the pressure until you’re moaning into your pillow, the tightly-wound stream about to snap.

His words, murmured into your hair, as you come undone.

"I won't let you throw your life away."

But how can you live, knowing that he won't be yours?

Not in the way you want him to be.

The man you’ve chosen to marry - a high-born Mandalorian from another clan - is kindly enough, but he is not your knight.

No one could be.

Your only solace in this union is that Din is going with you, honor-bound by his own sworn duties.

A blessing in spite of everything. You do not think you could do this without him.

But it does not make the lead-weight of your feet any lighter. The room spins in front of you, stretching long and think as your hearing fades out to white noise.

It's only the grip of your fingers into the King's bracers that keeps you upright. Nails digging into steel, as you take one step at a time.

Your wedding is as beautiful as it should be. As you've always dreamed - your dress in pretty layers of white and gold. Up since daybreak, primped and pampered.

It's enough to almost, almost, have you regret meeting Din. If you had not known a love such as him, you might have been content for a marriage like this.

But of course, it's no more than a fleeting thought. Immediately shut down.  

Better to know and grieve, than to not know at all.

You're still as stone, at the end of the aisle. All the movements practiced the night before - the events that had sent you rushing into Din’s arms after.

It hadn't seemed real until then.

Your lips feel carved into that smile. Hewn since the day you were born, your true feelings hidden in the dull sheen of your eyes.

Disconnected, as they drift. Annoyance flickering deep in your mind, when they slide over your groom.

His armor is ill-fitting. The leather straps at the shoulder stretched to their limits, hooked on the last notch. Too much space between the plates of his cuisses, and his poleyn.

You've spent weeks preparing for this, and he couldn't even dress in his finest for the ceremony. It feels like an insult, after everything.

Maybe if you blur your eyes, you can pretend it's him. Just until this is over.

The Cleric chants the words you’ve known since childhood. Repeating the phrases as your palm presses against your groom's. Each phrase bringing you closer to the end.

Only propriety and decades of lessons keep the quaver from your voice. They sound just as you practiced as they slide from you, even when repeated through muted lips.

There's a crackle of energy at the joining words. A golden string, glimmering.

Only now does your hand twitch. Resisting the urge to pull away. If you don't right now - right this very moment - then you will not get the chance again.

Your groom feels it. The slight tremble - his grip tightening around yours. The barest sweep of his thumb against your knuckles.

The movement startles you.

Just long enough for the string to loop around your joined hands, and then tighten.

It's too late now. Bound forever, until death do you part.

“You may now kiss your bride.”

Your eyes go to his helmet, as the ceremony winds to an end. His finger and thumb catching on the hinge, as his head tips towards yours.

You can’t bring yourself to meet him. Not until his lips press to yours. Not until there’s an intimate familiarity to them.

The gasp that slips from you is quiet. A hushed thing, breathed into the chaste kiss. There’s scruff on his jaw where his skin should be smooth shaven.

The height is off, too - something you’re only just now noticing.

It’s like your heart remembers how to beat again. Confusion and hope swirling in you in equal measure.

You squeeze the hand in yours, as the kiss breaks. Eyes shining as you both turn towards the crowd, life finally flickering in them agin.

It’s here, that everything begins to fall apart. Almost fool-proof.

With a bang, a man stumbles through the arched door at the end of an aisle. The pale blonde of his hair is mussed - eyes wide and red-rimmed as he shouts, a finger pointing towards the pulpit.

“Stop them!” It’s a high, hoarse thing, “He’s an imposter-!”

There’s a rippling murmur, gasps and cries as the man’s voice carries.

But your husband’s hand is is tightly grasping yours.

“Trust me?” He mumurs, and you’re nodding.

Following behind him as he darts to the side, making for the hallway. Your skirts bundled up in a fist as your heartbeat pounds behind your ribs.

There’s voices behind you. The stomp of feet, though the guests and the hired protection do not know the castle the way the two of you do.

Ducking down one corridor, and then another. News hasn’t spread fast enough - there’s murmurs from guards that you pass, but they’re not quick enough to stop you.

The sky bleeds red when you burst outside. A ship waits, engines roaring - the same one you watched drop out of the sky years ago, with his first arrival.

“Su cuy'gar!” A voice calls from inside - another Mandalorian hailing as he rushes down the ramp, “You’re late. I’ll stall, but you need to go.”

It's one you recognize as a member of your Father's own guard, hand-chosen. Boba Fett's reputation for ferocity and loyalty preceeding him. Only now do you realize just where that loyalty truly lies.

“Vor entye, ner vod.” Din clasps his arm, a farewell woven into his thanks.

“Ret'urcye mhi, princess,” Boba’s head dips in a nod, “We’ll handle things from here.”

You’re whisked inside, and ship takes off just as guests begin to pour from the door. Boba blends into the crowd as you watch the scene from above, becoming no more than another bystander.

They grow smaller. Doll-sized, and then ants, and then the stars are streaking as the ship makes the jump - shooting you out into hyperspace.

It’s here that your legs finally give out. All that tension building up until it snaps, until you’re collapsing into the co-pilots chair.

Din’s hands are on you in a second. Gloves shucked with his teeth, discarded on the floor. Warm and familiar as they cup your face.

“I am sorry,” His voice is rough. Still distorted beneath your betrothed’s helmet, but you know it’s him, “I couldn’t let you marry him.”

“I know,” You head turns, lips pressing into the palm of his hand, “I was so afraid. I wanted to run, I almost did-”

He feels how you tremble. A ragged breath as his touch turns soft - smoothing over your cheeks, knuckles brushing your neck.

Your name is breathed out, as you relax against him. As your hands start to wander, tugging at the edge of his cuirass.

“I don’t like this on you.” Your voice sounds thick, in your own head. Biting through the emotions that threaten to choke you, “It’s not yours.”

“No.” He hums, and it sounds like a laugh, “Though as my wife, you may remove them now. If you wish.”

Din’s words makes you ache with want. His wife.

You wonder if he’s teasing you, or if all that he said is true. He’s never allowed you to remove more than a piece or two before.

“Is your armor here?”

“Mine is in the bunk. Along with your things, I had them packed while you were getting ready today.”

You smile then. Relief in knowing that this was planned. That he had put the ball in motion, in those few hours you shared before dawn.

Maybe he had daydreamed about it for even longer. Knowing he could not, but still unable to help thinking through things. How he would always choose you, if only you were to ask.

And you finally had, at the very last second.

He lets your hands slip across his chest, mirroring that first night. New, in the way you slip the leather straps free, until pieces are left stacked on the floor.

The flightsuit beneath is his own. Your fingers have traced the stitching night after night, patterns you know by heart. And for the first time, he lets you tug at the zipper under his chin. Guiding it down with you, exposing tanned skin beneath.

It leaves you greedy. Fingers mapping every inch that appeared. Tracing over old battle wounds and scars from a lifetime ago. A pounding in your heart as each second stretches to the next.

Expecting him to take this back. To wrap himself away again, hiding from your eyes.

Soon, only his helmet and small clothes remain. Your fingers drifting to where he’s half hard, another part of him you already know well.

But his hands wander as well. Plucking at the ribbons that weave up the back of your dress, encasing you.

“Are you fond of this?” He’s asking, just as a fingers hooks beneath. The sharp tug that follows the shake of your head has the seams splitting. That ribbon starting to fray, and then snap.

Your gasp is almost as loud, as the fabric rips. The straps drooping down your arms as the dress starts to pool around you, dragged down by the layers of tulle.

“I’ll get you another,” Din rasps - watching, as you wriggle free.

Seeing the layers of lace beneath, meant for another man. Deep down, knowing it was always meant for him.

His bare hands catch at your hips. Sliding over skin, then up.

"I'll marry you again, cyar'ika. Properly,” Din’s words make you shiver, as his touch drifts across your arms, “As many times as you want, as long as you're mine."

“Yours.” You echo.

Reminding you about binding rituals of the ceremony - all the excitement of the escape almost making you forget.

But when his fingers catch yours, dragging your hands to the curve of his helmet, it’s impossible to think of anything else.

Intent in his movement. The tip of his head towards you, the muscles in his chest going tight as he holds his breath.

“Are you sure?” The beskar is cool beneath your touch.

You know what he offers you. Something akin to the vows you recited, something spoken in his own language.

“Yes,” He echos, “I’ve never meant anything more.”

There’s a weight, one of which you’ve never known. That this wasn’t just to save you. That he’ll wind up right back here as many times, until you believe him.

The lift of your hands is slow. Revealing the stubble on his neck, then chin. You’ve seen bits with the tip of his head. A knowledge that the hair is dark, but then there’s the soft curve of his lips.

Ones that you know the shape of, tracing yours fingers over them in the darkness. Pressed against every part of you, night after night.

There’s a patch of hair missing against his jaw. His nose, and you resist the urge to press your lips to it. A hint of curls, grey-flecked at his temples.

And then his eyes.

He needs the mask, you realize. You would have fallen immediately, looking into eyes like that. Warm and dark, as brown and pretty as his hair.

Everyone would have known what you meant to him, if that had caught him looking at you like this.

The exhale of your breath is low. Only a heartbeat until your mouth is pressing to his, insistent.

Hungry, unleashed fully for the first time. His hands slide up your hips, as the helmet hangs from your fingertips. Curling around your back, pressing you to him.

He’s dreamed of taking you countless times. Your own desires mirroring his - something flickering in your mind, now. A thought that maybe, you should move.

Down to his bunk, perhaps.

But there’s something about here. The cockpit, the streak of stars behind you. His strong thighs spread and bare in the seat before you, as you stand between them.

It’s easy to crawl into his lap. To straddle him, your clothed core already damp when you fit yourself against him.

You can feel groan in his chest as your palm flattens against him. One of his real ones - not modulated through metal.

“Please,” It’s hushed, whispered against his mouth. A rock of your hips, grinding against him.

He catches your hand, dragging it down again.

“It’s yours,” He husks, “It’s always been yours.”

Pleasure blooms low in your belly. Your fingers cupping against his length, before they slip beneath the fabric to curl around him.

Eagerly easing him out. His hips lift so you can shove his small clothes down. The weight of his cock trapped between your belly and his, as his own fingers trace the damp fabric at your core.

“I need you,” You breathe, arching into his fingertips. How they press and rub at you through the lace. It’s far past want.

Want was those early days, stolen glances from beneath your eyelashes as your solemn guard. Finding excuses to make him laugh, so sure he must be smiling beneath the helmet.

Din wears his expressions so openly without. His own desire shown in the grit of his jaw. Those lips that part on a groan, as your fist gives a slow pump.

The lace at your hips tears as easily as the ribbons that held your dress together. A pivot of his chair until he can lay you back against the metal panels of the dashboard, chilling fevered skin.

You whine at the distance that now stretches between you, but his hands only tighten where they grip at your waist.

“Shh, cyar’ika. I’m not going anywhere.” He soothes you, as the reason he moved you suddenly becomes clear.

It’s easier for his fingers to fit into you this way. The flip of his hand, as it faces palm-up. The tip of one stroking against bare skin. A familiar stretch as he slips to the first knuckle.

And then, as a shallow gasp slides from you, he sinks further than he’s ever been.

Had to hold back, before. Give you just a taste of what you’ve been wanting. This - the feel of him nudged so deep inside you.

“I know,” Your husband soothes, as his thumb nudges at your clit - distracting you.

From the slow plunge of his finger. How that quick twinge of discomfort bleeds into a pulsing throb you know well.

It’s not long before your hips are lifting. Your breath growing shorter, as a second fingers slips in to stretch you out. Getting you ready.

His cock is heavy where it rests on your thigh, the tip sticky against your skin. Flushed and swollen - making you realize that maybe you had been too hasty, thinking you could take him before.

Your own hands drift - and this time, you watch. Catching how dark and blown-wide his eyes get. The peek of his tongue between his lips when your fingers pinch at your nipples.

The way he inhales, when he feels you clench down around him. Back arching off the console, as his fingers curl against a spot that you never knew existed inside you.

“There,” You moan, as nudges against it again, “Din, please-”

His jaw grits, his voice low, “Yeah? Are you close, ner riduur?”

You’re used to the pretty names he calls you - a hidden way to show his affection. But never like this, with the soft purr of his voice. The way the words slide so easily from his tongue.

It must mean something special.

“Yes,” Your fingers pinch harder, teeth sinking into your bottom lip. Biting back the panting gasp of your breath, as his thumb presses against your clit.

“Come for me.” It’s a command, but there’s a razor edge of need in his words, “Always sound so fucking pretty. Let me hear you.”

You’ve always had to hold back. Muffled into pillows, his palm of his hand as it clamps over your mouth.

The cry rips from you today, as you reach your peak. Eyes fluttering shut as the star-lines streak across your bare form - still bright, even as your vision darkens.

Your nails scrape against his skin, as he leans into you. Din’s mouth sealing to yours as you’re hauled into his lap, his thick fingers slipping free.

The kiss is messy, your mind still swirling as you reach down. Desperate for more, now that you’ve had a taste.

He pants into your mouth, “Don’t have to, cyare. This is-”

The words breaking off with a groan, as your fingers squeeze around him. His own need evident with how he throbs against your palm.

“‘s not enough,” You’re breathless, the dregs of pleasure settling low in your belly, “I’ve waited, we’ve waited-”

“Long enough.” He rasps, a flash of teeth in the darkness when you lean back.

Your nod is sharp. Determination in the pull of your shoulders as you lift up, angling his cock between your thighs.

A breath, and then you’re lowering yourself. The pressure you felt before is nothing compared to now - a muffled cry, as your nails bite into his shoulders.

As he stretches you open, even with how slick and ready you are. His own hands tug at you, trying to keep you from dropping down too quickly.

But you take him. You were made for him, after all. You decided that long ago. Even if you had joined with another, you’d never be theirs like you are his.

And you always were a quick learner. That competitive streak in you takes over now - figuring out just how to move in the cramped space.

That sting easing into pleasure, with the roll of your hips. The movement is familiar - you’ve sat astride him before, just never like this.

Never feeling this full, when your thighs are finally flush against his. Din’s hands guiding you like they often did - grasping at your waist, keeping your rhythm steady.

Even as it threatens to stutter, with just how good he feels. The angle you ride him sends him across the place his fingers found. Each drop of your hips sending you higher, eager to follow his murmured encouragement.

“You feel so fucking good,” It’s ragged and low - close to the tone he has when he comes, spilling across your belly, “Been waiting so long so have you like this-”

“Yours,” You sigh, again. Finally able to say it aloud, “I’m yours, we can have each other any time we want.”

Din groans at that, his hips bucking into you.

“Mine.”

It’s possessive. The hairs on the back of your neck standing up, as his fingers slip down again. Needing to know just how it feels to make you come around him, after imagining it for so long.

Your rhythm goes sloppy with his touch. Unable to figure out how to keep moving with your mind so clouded with pleasure. Chasing his touch as you bounce, head tilting back as his lips press against your throat.

Up, and then up, until he’s kissing you again. Your arms twine around his shoulders, curls tucked between pinched fingers as he brings you over the edge again.

Sharing a breath, as you moan into his mouth. His cock filling you as you clench down around him, almost as if trying to keep him inside as your orgasm pulses through you.

Din used to worry about monsters and beasts darkening your doorstep, never knowing he’d create one in you. Hungry like you’ve never known, eager for more even as your energy slips from you.

With his own desperation, he’s not far behind. Not with how you tight you are. Ready to give you everything, now that he finally can.

His jaw grits as he buries himself in you. Doing most of the work now, your legs leaden in your afterglow. Rutting his hips against yours, notching himself deep into where you’re wet and warm.

“Princess-,” Din rasps, like he used to. A low huff of a breath as you correct him.

Your lips at his ear, as you croon, “Riduur.”

“Fuck,” He groans at that, his voice dropping low, “Riddur, where do you want me?”

It makes you moan, the rough tone in his voice. How that name in his native tongue affects him just as much as you.

Your hips begin to move in earnest, skin slapping against skin. Those dark eyes on yours as you answer - finally able to express your hearts desire, after all these years.

“I want to feel you.”

His breath grows harsh, as your hips roll.

“Come in me. Please, Din.”

There’s no need for you to beg. He’s already there - a rough grunt as his hips near lift off the seat. Tugging you down and flush against him as he spills inside you.

You can feel him throb, as his warmth floods your walls. Threatening to spill from you, to leak onto thighs that are already sticky with your release. Sweat-dewed with exertion.

That heady ache of need fades, when you both come back down. It’s just bliss now, warm in your limbs. In his embrace. For the first time in weeks, you feel like you’re able to breathe.

The stars streak across his skin, illuminating pieces of his face. So like the stained glass back home, each feature split and soldered with darkness.

“Do you regret it?” His voice is low, barely audible over the hum of the engine, “Leaving with me?”

Your head tilts back, as you look at him again. A sight that you cherish, one you hope you can indulge in, but never take for granted.

And after all the questions that led to today - this one has been the easiest to answer.

“No,” You catch his hand, pressing it to your heart. Mirroring his words earlier.

“It’s always been yours.”

In every world - you would have gone with him.

Sometime amongst the late hours, you wind your way downstairs.

Fitting together in the narrow bunk, not minding the small space. Drifting off with a hand cradled against his neck. Thumb brushing his cheek, loathe to leave the warmth of his skin.

Soft dreams swirl in the moments you do sleep. In between the times when you wake - reaching for each other. Another hour spent twined together, re-learning every inch.

Not fearing the dawn, this time.

Because for once... your life is yours.

thanks for reading! and jana, thank you so much for hosting this event, I was so excited to celebrate with you! 💖

Su cuy'gar! - a friendly greeting (lit: "still live," i.e. "so you're still alive.")

vor entye - thank you (lit: "I accept a debt")

ner vod - my brother

ner riduur - my spouse / wife

ret'urcye mhi - goodbye

[recareels]

take it slow just as fast as i can

character: boothill notes: i just rly, genuinely think boothill would be obsessed with feeling every fucking inch of you, that’s all c: | title credit: body like a back road by sam hunt warnings: 18+ minors do not interact, fem reader, thinly veiled body worship, mentions of scars + implied stretch marks and cellulite, marking (biting and bruising), implied multiple orgasms, tiny bit of angst right at the end words: 830

boothill knows your body better than he knows anything else in the cosmos. 

boothill knows your body better than he knows his own—better than he knows his scorched, excavated homeland, better than he knows the smooth metal ripples and ridges, cold curves and contours of his own so called ‘body’, better than he knows his cherished 9mm revolver—the ivory grip, pretty pearlescent nacre shimmering up at him delicately from between the gaps of mechanized fingers, stamped with that gilded eagle sigil; the artfully notched cylinder, embossed with decorative arrows—six, one for each chamber—and the angular hammer, piped with shimmering aureate; the golden barrel, intricate inclinations carved to sharp, exquisite perfection. 

boothill knows every curve, every dip, every edge of your form—all of your lines and dimples and scars, and could map them out with his eyes closed and recite each corresponding story: a single metallic fingertip tracing along the jagged strikes of silver etched into your skin; his hard thumbprint pressing into the dents peppering your thighs, a cool knuckle skimming over that scar on your knee. 

and boothill loves appreciating them, appreciating you, appreciating how it all comes together to create one of the most magnificent masterpieces he’s ever had the pleasure of touching, the privilege of loving. 

it’s become somewhat of a ritual now to take his sweet time admiring your figure before he fucks it, feeling every part of you plush and pliant beneath his grooved palms, revelling in the soft gasps that stutter your chest and dainty shivers that ripple your flesh as he kneads it. 

he fills his touch with it, grabs healthy handfuls and squeezes—so soft, so supple—alternating between harsh groping, iron fingers sinking into your thighs, your hips, your tits, and gentle caressing, bullseye gaze watching with sheer wonderment as his palms glide over your silhouette, slick lips parted and damp with panted breath.

sometimes he’ll just let his hand rest on your ribs, observing the way it rises and falls with each of your quiet breaths, feeling oxygen expand your lungs as it flows in, then feeling your chest depress with every exhale pushed up your throat. 

he loves to experience the thrum of your pulse beneath his fingertips—nothing more than a faint fluttering pressure against his receptors, but present nonetheless—an undeniable confirmation that you are indeed here, alive, his. 

so beautiful, he murmurs from between your thighs, one large hand pressed flush against your heart, his chin resting on your stomach. a work of fudgin’ art, baby, I swear to the stars. 

it all gets him going so goddamn easily, instils a hunger in him so ferocious that it chews on his wires, zipping through the cables in sparks of desire until it devours his brain, gorges every thought and notion until all he can conceive, all he needs, is you. 

he can’t help but lick and kiss and bite and suck, desperate to leave his own impermanent marks on this gorgeous canvas. bruises blossom in the shapes of his fingerprints, sprouted in clusters of five across your form. engravings of razored teeth litter your thighs and hips, his gnawing just a hint shy of too strong, leaving behind wide crescents of thirty-two little crimson pinpricks. petals of thick saliva dry hard and stiff on your stomach and neck and collarbone, planted into your skin by puckered lips and chaste kisses.

it’s customary that he murmur sweet nothings into every claim he creates, knowing that his words will seep into your tissues in the form of gentle vibrations, knowing that they will stay, even after his marks fade.

your body is art, too, you tell him softly, after he’s made you cum several times on his cock, iron shimmering with a thick coat of your arousal, slick he refuses to clean off. a tender finger traces along the tears laden across his torso, rough and saw-toothed—scars he refuses to let heal. 

no, he murmurs, rubbing his mouth into your shoulder as he speaks, eyes closing briefly with a slow, deep inhale. not the way yours is. 

your body is a storybook of your life, inscribed with tales and memories—the way your body developed as you entered womanhood, too quick for your delicate skin to keep up with, procuring shimmering streaks across your breasts and bum; the time you flipped your childhood bicycle, kneecaps scraping concrete, bloody and raw; that dark dash seared along your inner arm, a constant reminder of an earnest mistake, when you accidentally nudged the rim of a pot filled with boiling water. 

his body was carved in a lab, too precise to be real, too perfect to be human, constantly torn apart and put back together; rearranged, scrambled, chock full of modifications he never asked for, never agreed to. a true horror story—a weapon of death and destruction, a film of inevitable demise clinging to the metal.

he fears that’s all it ever will be. 

[moonstruckme]

could i req any marauder finding r’s sh scars and being loving about them? going through hell rn. it’s okay if u cant, love u mae

Wishing you all the best sweetheart, hope you're doing what you can to support yourself and let others around you support you too <33

cw: past self harm

modern au

Remus Lupin x fem!reader ♡ 1k words

“Did his wife cheat on him?”

“Why would you think that?” 

“I mean, if not, why does the mother-in-law hate her so much?” 

Remus shrugs, a secret smile playing on the edge of his mouth. His knuckles run over the skin of your shoulder idly as he keeps his eyes on the laptop screen. “Suppose you’ll have to wait and see.” 

You huff a laugh. “What’s the point of watching with someone who’s already seen it if you won’t tell me anything?” 

“It’s only ever really fun for the person who’s already seen it. I get to watch you go through the agonies I did.” 

“The agonies.” You roll your eyes, leaning deeper into his side. You could be a bit more convincing about holding this against him, but Remus’ bed is almost as comfortable as Remus himself, and you’ve found it impossible to pretend at being any less smitten with him than you really are. He sees right through you every time. “If you’d mentioned the agonies in your pitch, I might not have agreed to this.” 

“You’ll like it,” he promises, leaning back on you in turn, your shoulder pushing into his arm. 

The two of you are having the laziest of afternoons. What had started as a coffee date had turned into a trip to the bookstore across the street and then a walk in a park, and when it had gotten too warm out for the both of you Remus had invited you over for lunch and somehow you’ve ended up here, sitting on his bed in a borrowed pair of sweatpants while you watch a film on his laptop and he touches you like you’re a fascination he’d like to spend years studying. 

It’s an indolent, distracted sort of touching. Almost like he’s mapping you out in his subconscious, so that someday he’ll know you by instinct and memory but he’s in no hurry to get there. Like he’s got time. It’s also hypnotic. As captivating as Remus’ film selection is, you’re having a difficult time keeping up with the plot when your eyelids are so, so heavy. 

His knuckles stroke over your neck, the bare skin of your collarbone, down the slope of your shoulder. You don’t realize your shirt has slipped off the top of your arm until he does.

You freeze, Remus doesn’t. His fingers continue to graze lightly over the neat rows of scars, slowing as though losing momentum. You close your eyes. 

Emotion rises like a gag reflex in your throat. Apprehension and shame and a guilt you don’t quite understand. Like you’re wrong for ever having had the audacity to hurt, like this is something you’re doing to him, somehow, even though it’s long over and was only ever a misguided attempt at making yourself feel better. It’s nonsensical, and you feel it anyway. 

Remus is quiet for a long while. 

His touch moves back up your shoulder, to unmarred skin and safer territory. He asks, “You okay?” 

You swallow. “You mean, like, presently?”

“Yeah.” There’s the faintest hint of teasing in Remus’ voice. He sweeps his thumb over the back of your neck, an attempt at soothing you. “Or in general, whatever suits you.” 

“Yeah, I’m okay.” 

“I’m sorry if I overstepped just now. I didn’t know.”

“No…no, you’re alright. I wasn’t…” You rub your lips together, taking in what you hope is a subtle breath through your nose. “You’re fine.” 

“Does it bother you to think about them?” he asks. You can feel him looking at you, now, but you keep your eyes on the screen. It’s the only way for you to have this conversation. 

“Not really. It was just something I did for a while, you know?” 

“Yeah,” he says softly. “Yeah, that makes sense.” 

You sit there for another quiet minute, you watching the movie and Remus watching you. The coil of apprehension in you starts to loosen. Your breaths come easier. 

“Sorry,” you say, not bothering to force lightness into your tone, “I didn’t mean to spring that on you. It’s not a secret, but it’s not something that tends to come up, like, casually.” 

“No, hey, you’re fine.” Remus sounds serious enough that you turn to look at him, and you find him with a hard notch between his brows, a surprised sort of frown on his lips. “If anyone sprung anything, it was me. You haven’t done anything wrong. I don’t imagine it’s an easy subject to broach.” 

“It’s not a big deal to me anymore.” You’re beginning to sound almost as if you’re pleading with him. 

“Alright.” 

“And it was a long time ago now.” 

“It’s okay, love.” 

“I just know people sometimes get freaked out, and I don’t want you to worry—” 

“Hey.” There’s a tenderness to Remus’ voice as he cuts you off. His honey-toned eyes are soft. “It’s okay. Can I hug you?” 

You nod mutely. The hand currently resting by your neck slips down to hug your ribs, and his other arm comes around your front, palming your bare upper arm. He rubs up and down comfortingly, seemingly mindless of the faint lines under his touch. 

Remus’ lips touch to your hair. When he pulls you tighter against him, it feels almost like you’re rocking. “You’re alright,” he murmurs, to you, to himself. “You’re alright.” 

“Sorry,” you whisper, self-conscious now of your nervous blithering and slightly stunned by the way he’s touching you. 

“For what, sweetheart? Don’t be sorry. If you want to talk about it—about anything—I will always want to hear it, but you don’t owe me any explanation, alright?” 

“Yeah.” Your lungs deflate a little, a relief you hadn’t known you needed. “Thanks.” 

“Don’t thank me, either.” Remus is teasing again, the press of his lips to your hair at once firm and fond. He lets you go but keeps his arm around your waist, dropping his head to rest on yours again. “You’re just fine, yeah?” 

“Yeah.” You snuggle into his side, somehow safer than before. “I’m good. I’ve been good.” 

His thumb sweeps over your side. “And you can tell me if you’re ever not. You’re perfect regardless.”  

[yanderenightmare]

Bakugou Katsuki

TW: NSFW, noncon/dubcon, kidnapping, captive darling, gross Bakugou

fem reader

Thinking about hermit forest-dweller Bakugou who lives alone in his lodge…

You got a little lost off the beaten track and were so relieved when you happened upon his homey red-wood cabin, spotting smoke from the chimney and feeling your stomach gurgle from the promise of warm food when knocking on his door.

You’re so terribly sorry to bother him – but your phone has no cell reception, and the map you brought with you had gone pasty and torn in the rain and you have just no idea where you are or how to get back.

He’s rather handsome for a loner, you think. Rough around the edges – hairy and reeking of beer and barnacles. He grunts out a “come in” after you’ve explained yourself, and you follow with a relieved smile, already thanking him.

But only a short second after you’ve taken a step over the threshold comes a hard cack to the back of your head. And for a cloudy moment, you’re something akin to numb all over – only barely registering the harsh feeling of splintery wooden floors against your cheek where you’d fallen to – slowly succumbing to the darkness that forced your eyes to glide close – but not before you could recognize and curl your brows to the big pair of black mountain boots in front of you.

When you wake up, you’re in a bed. It’s a welcomed softness – a warm pleasantness against your wintered skin after you’d wandered aimlessly around in the cold rain – now getting toasty from the heat of the fireplace. 

But there’s something more – something not right. 

You’re not wearing any clothes. And your hands have been roped behind your back in a strict knot, keeping them locked tightly together. 

And you’re being rocked against the sheets – back and forth, back and forth – and you can barely breathe because of it.

And there’s something on top of you – and something fat and wet stuffing your cunt from the back, fucking your taut hole while your eyes flutter with sleep and the start of a pounding headache.

You try screaming when it dawns on you – try twisting your arms free – try getting up, but your mouth has been filled with what you think is your underwear and only muffled cries manage to escape it.

He gruffs out something like, “Quiet, whore.” Planting a harsh slap against your ass while keeping his rhythm steady, thrusting his thickness inside the wet welcome of your quivering little cunt as it seeps with slick for him, soaking him so sweetly it’s even trickling down your thighs in slim lines.

You cry, feeling the stranger touch and fuck you, his heavy hands gritty from work groping the soft fat of your ass while his booted feet kick yours further apart once you try pulling them closed – punishing you with another mean slap to your plush. 

The ache in your belly tells you he’s been at it for a while. Having fucked your tightness sore with his girthy meat – shoving it so hard it bends in order to fit all of him inside. His heavy-hung balls swing beneath him, clapping with wet slaps against your budding clit – making your cunt squeeze and suckle him despite your efforts to ignore it.

He groans at the feel before thrusting in all the way to the hilt in one harsh jab – spewing his gross warmth right into your womb. 

You’re shell-shocked. Eyes terror-wide, drying as you stare into nothing – waiting for it to make sense – but it doesn’t. A stranger had just spunked inside you and you can feel the warm fatty liquid trickle down your cunt and thighs once he pulls his chubby member out.

“S’been a while since I had my balls emptied like that. Good puss’ milked me dry.” He grumbles with satisfaction, lifting his pants from the pool around his boots and buckling himself back up – giving your puffy cunt a wet slap before he’d quite simply just walked off and gone about the rest of his day – returning to use you later.

From then on, you wear nothing but an old red flannel shirt – it smells of man sweat and other things and is so well-worn all the buttons are gone. The clothes you came in were used as easy firewood. He’d burned it all – every article in your backpack except one – the panties you’d worn – which he instead nailed to the wall like it was another pelt or the head of an animal he’d hunted down.

He keeps you on the floor most of the time. You’re leashed with a fat metal chain meant for a rottweiler – and a leather collar kept snug around your throat with a lock and a tag that reads Pup. He must’ve had a dog at some point, but you’re guessing it died – and you’re its replacement – and whether you want it or not, he’s going to train you into being his proper bitch.

During morning news, you take care of his morning wood – sometimes with your cunt and sometimes with your mouth. He’s still cuddly after waking up, needy for warmth, wanting you skin-to-skin – mostly seating you down on his lap, bouncing you lightly on his cock with his chin resting in the grove between your neck and shoulder. Groaning tiredly while pawing your tits. 

If he doesn’t blow his load before the news is over, he’ll bring you with him in the shower. And in the steamy heat, he’ll wake up to give you a real pounding. Your face mushed against the tiles – chin and cheekbone bruising from the force of it while he holds your arms behind your back and rams up into your cunt faster than the droplets fall to the floor. Quick juts until finally creaming inside you, resting his forehead between your shoulder blades while dumping every last drop in deep.

After a long day, he likes when you suck his balls while he drinks his beer and eats his dinner, watching sports. Licking the sweat off the back of his cock, no doubt tasting the dried piss from when he’d taken a leak in the forest. Sometimes he’ll say it. “Suck it clean, slut- be happy I didn’t take a shit, or you’d be tonguin’ my ass with that pretty face too.” Always threatening you with something gross that’ll kick you into the right gear – motivating you to be his little cock-eager whore – down there on your knees with your hands bracing against his thighs, throating his length while he holds a firm hand at the back of your head, fisting your hair so tight strands rip free from their roots while you desperately try and will away your gag reflex in order to please him – eyes squeezed tight with slobber making spit bubbles down your chin.

You’re not allowed dinner before swallowing his load. Dinner – being the leftovers he’ll scrape off his plate into a dog bowl. The first time around, you’d looked up at him like he couldn’t be serious, and he’d only squeezed your face rough and said, “Be happy I don’t piss in it, slut.” And then he’d spat on you, once on your face, then once more in your mouth. It was thick and tasted of brown nicotine and ash and you haven't gotten rid of the taste since.

He’ll throw his feet up on your back while you bow down to eat out of your bowl – using you like a warm footstool until the game is done. If his team wins, he fucks your cunt like usual – but if they lose, it’s your assthat’ll pay the price.

When you’re allowed on the couch, he likes sitting opposites so you can take his muddy boots off and massage his feet. They’re still clammy with sweat from work when you peel his woolen socks off. Chipped dry toenails and scaley callouses, the skin yellow and cracked and rough where you dig your fingers in. 

He’ll take his cock out after a while and gather your smaller, softer feet around it – rubbing himself through them while you keep rubbing his soles. When you’re busy with one, the other rests heavily on your tit, pawing it. Sometimes, he’ll even bark at you to suck on the toes.

But it's only until the news is over. After that, he has you crawl over to rest on his chest, nose stuffed with the musk of sweat, wood oil, and leather while he sinks his fat erection all the way up into your womb – storing it there, where it will stay nestled and warm while you watch a western or hunter’s documentary.

He’s hairy like a bear and it makes you feel extra naked. Feeling it tickle your soft skin while he rests an arm on your back – a hand absentmindedly twiddling with your pretty hair.

When he’s not outside cutting down trees and hunting or inside on the couch with a beer, he’s in the meat locker – skinning animals and sectioning flesh. He often fucks you in there. Bent over the cold metal slab, your face in the stags' blood while he growls at your ear how that’ll be you on one of them hooks if you don’t squeeze his cock harder. 

But he’s not always so mean.

He’s nicer to you when you act cute for him. When you lie belly-up, raising your thighs and keeping them spread wide for him – covering your gash with your hand while you work it into a nice glossy welcome, wet and ready to get fucked like a little breeding cow. Pretty words on your pretty lip while you beg him with pretty pleas, asking him to stuff you like one of those animals he’s mounted on the wall. 

Rich city sluts like you need to be taught you can’t fuck around in his forest without paying your dues. And you’ve learned your lesson – riding him like he’s a mechanical bull from the rodeo like a good tramp should – jumping on his fat shaft with your perky tits bouncing in his face. 

[viceroywrites]

deja vu - part four

planning out your road trip through the pacific northwest, you find yourself inexplicably drawn to the town of gravity falls.

little did you know that this town held more memories than you could have possibly imagined.

too bad you didn't remember any of them.

stan x fem!reader / ford x fem!reader

choose your own adventure / contains fluff and angst (w/ happy ending)

part three | part five (stan route) | part five (ford route)

tag list: @awitchersbard | @theilluminatidragonqueen | @jazzypop-op | @jonndoe | @chaimshelii | @starship606 | @swimmingrascalbatdragon | @stanfordsbaby | @gxstiess | @skrunkle11 | @valinbean | @funkyenby | @therealgoofygoober69 | @theblueraven | @adrian920155 | @im-kinda-bored | @miarabanana | @leo4242564 | @soupieoopieisloopie | @marvelous-maniac | @opossumclown | @m4x-3dw | @nothingbutcloud | @reivelmin | @grimometry | @walmartjim | @reiofsuns2001 | @bunni-teeth81 | @satorisgirl | @pen900 | @creat0r-cat | @lackingoriginalthoughts | @fries11 | @sunniskyies | @policedeer | @just-a-fellow-reader | @sadslasher13 | @kittenlover614 | @margibees | @lunnybunny12 | @the-hufflebird-girl | @sawendel l | @shamrockfish | @atseoks l | @luckybatbones | @ryuyukawa | @mekkori | @bigbodycity | @kawaii1369 | @333brat333 | @frizzothehobbit

Ford woke up the next morning with a slight pep in his step. Usually, he spent most evenings tossing and turning before finally being able to rest or waking up in the middle of the night unable to fall back asleep. However, last evening, he was able to sleep soundly. 

Perhaps it was the prospect of getting to take you anomaly hunting, getting to reshow you all his findings and re-experience the wonder in your eyes as you took it all in.

Perhaps it was the fact that he got to say good night to you after all these years, a tired smile across your face that looked truly radiant to him. 

Perhaps it was the polaroid that he clutched closed to his chest that evening, recounting the scent of your perfume that you wore that night as he buried himself into your neck, his cheeks flushed from the alcohol.

Whatever the reason, he felt well rested and raring to start the day. The scent of strongly brewed coffee wafted in the air as he made his way to the kitchen. He assumed Stanley must have gotten up before him and was excited to share how yesterday went with his brother.

As he got closer, he could hear his brother’s gravely voice speaking to someone. Ford was surprised by this considering the kids usually were asleep still, opting to sleep in during their summer break.

Maybe it was Soos or maybe his brother is just rambling to himself, Ford thinks as he finally rounds the corner.

The sight before him catches him off guard.

You and Stan sat close together at the kitchen table, shoulder to shoulder, two mugs filled with coffee already by your sides. Spread across the table was what looked like a map to a campground with red circles dotted across, the red marker laying at the edge of the table. You were dressed in pajamas but Ford immediately recognized Stan’s brown leather jacket on your shoulders that envelops your frame. 

“You’re telling me I’ve lived here for 30-something years and there was gold right there!” Stan exclaims, his finger pressed against a spot on the map that you had marked with a star.

You chuckle against your mug as you take a sip of your coffee, “You could have been swimming in gold all these years. We’ll have to see if there’s any left at that lake in particular though.” 

“Oh, there better be! I got 30 years of gold to catch up on!” Stan says, rubbing his hands together in excitement.

Ford clears his throat, making his presence known as he stands with his hands behind his back.

You both look up to see Ford, and you immediately get up, excited to share your plans with him. “Morning, Ford, come join us. You’ll never guess what me and Stan planned for today!” You say, heading over to the coffee pot and pouring some into a mug,  “But first, coffee, right?”

“That would be lovely, Y/N. Thank you.” Ford replies, pulling up a chair to your left. His tense expression softens at the sight of you so energized with a wide albeit tired smile across your face. You walk over to him with the mug, handing it off, your fingertips brushing against his before you pull away once it’s in his grasp.

“You take your coffee black, right? I think that’s what I remember but let me know if I got that completely wrong.” You admit with a sheepish grin to which Ford shakes his head. “No, you’re correct.”

“So I was a bit bummed out that my camping gear was going to go to waste last night so Stan suggested we all go on a quick camping trip.” You begin explaining, taking a seat, “There’s a campground about thirty minutes out that has a hiking trail, a lake, and it’s a great place for stargazing at night.” You push the map in front of Ford, pointing out each of the details. “Most importantly, there’s gold.” Stan interjects, pointing at the star.

Ford rolls his eyes at his brother’s antics, still perplexed on why his jacket was on your shoulders. ”You know you have to pan for the gold, Stanley, it isn’t just laying there for you to take.” He says tersely, causing Stan to blink at the sudden edge in his brother’s voice. 

“Yeah, I know, Poindexter. I know I’m not the brains of the two of us but I wasn’t born yesterday.” Stan says, wondering what had his brother so bothered. His eyes look over at you and immediately it hits him in the face.

Oh shit.

The jacket.

“So… what do you think? ” You ask, leaning forward expectantly. As Ford looks into your eyes, he sees the joy in them that he can’t bear to take away from you. 

Maybe anomaly hunting and restoring your memories could wait a day.

“I think it’s an excellent plan, I’d love to go, I’m assuming the kids are coming along,” Ford says, looking over at Stan with a raised eyebrow. “Of course, they’re coming! They’ve been itching to get out of the Shack more often, especially Dipper since Mabel’s been hanging out with her friends this whole week.” Stan scoffs, getting up to pour himself more coffee.

“Yay!” You grin, enveloping Ford into a quick hug out of pure excitement before shrugging off the jacket as you get up from your chair, “I’m just going to double check we have all the camping gear we need, might need to stop by the store for smores and food obviously.” You exit the kitchen, grabbing your keys from the counter to take an inventory of the gear.

Ford’s cheeks are bright red at the sudden sign of affection to which Stan snickers at, “Your cheeks are matching your sweater, Ford.”

“Haha, very funny, Stanley. You’re not off the hook.” Ford says, attempting to calm the flush of his cheeks by pressing his normally cold hands against them, “Mind explaining to me why she was wearing your jacket?”

Stan’s posture straightens in response and he groans, “Jeez, I didn’t peg you to be the jealous type. Look, last night, she was up on the rooftop in just her pajamas. Said she had a bad dream. I felt bad because she was shivering, ma raised us to treat a lady with respect so I offered her my jacket. If anything, you should thank me - otherwise she would have gotten hypothermia.”

“That’s statistically impossible, Stanley, given the weather conditions in the summer.” Ford attempts to explain but drops it as he sees his brother’s “really?” look. Ford continues on with his question, “But what’s this about a bad dream? Did she give you any details? You know we discovered that her dreams may actually be her memories but with bits and pieces missing.”

“Nah, she didn’t say anything else.” Stan shrugged, “Didn’t wanna pry, though it was bad enough that she had to go up on the roof to get some fresh air.”

“I guess I’ll see if she’d be open to talking about it today,” Ford sighs, wondering if you’re starting to get your memories back of when Ford was deep into his research… and his involvement with Bill. He had to admit there was a selfish wish that he hoped those memories would not start resurfacing until you two had gotten closer. 

Stan observes his twin’s brows furrow and sighs, nudging Ford on the side. “Hey, I know that look. You’re overthinking this… let’s just enjoy today alright? She’s here for the next week or so, the least you could do is make new memories with her.” This snaps Ford out of his ruminations and he sighs, his shoulders relaxing, “You’re right.”

“And hey, at least if you make new memories-” Stan cuts himself off, ready to counter Ford’s argument to defend his stance before grinning, “Wait, what did you say? Did you actually say I was right?”

“Yes, you’re right, Stan.” Ford groans, crossing his arms as he knows his brother is relishing in this moment.

“Give me one second.” Stan says, stepping out of the kitchen. Ford wonders where his brother is going before Stan comes back with an object in his hand, “Okay, say that one more time.”

“Stanley, I’m not going to say it again so you can record it on that voice recorder and play it back over and over again.”

“Aw, come on!” 

-

After the kids wake up, you share the plans with them, beaming as they seem elated to get out of the house and go on an adventure with their Grunkles and you.

“It’s like the road trip we took last summer except we aren’t stopping at all those tourist attractions that Grunkle Stan tried to get revenge on.” Mabel comments in between bites of pancakes.

“Yeah, and he doesn’t get captured and almost eaten by that spider lady he was hitting on.” Dipper interjects.

You and Ford look at Stan with raised eyebrows.

“What? There's stiff competition in the tourist trap industry, so I had to show 'em who’s top dog! Also, she was a very pretty spider lady.” Stan defended himself.

Wrapping up breakfast, you all disperse to get ready - the kids head upstairs to pack their duffel bags for the overnight trip, and Stan heads outside to change out your car battery before swinging by the store to grab the remaining supplies. As you’re packing up your backpack, you hear a knock at the door and turn your head to see Ford, his own bag slung over his shoulder. 

It was the first time you were seeing him in different attire since you arrived two days ago, wearing a yellow button-up with the sleeves rolled up, a white undershirt and a pair of dark jeans, forgoing his usual red turtleneck and black pants.

“Changing up the look for today?” You comment on the difference, your eyes roaming up and down to assess the outfit. You had to admit, he looked really handsome... not that he didn't usually.

“Well, it probably would be a bit impractical to wear a turtleneck on a hike considering we’re not hiking in the mountains.” Ford explained, tugging at his collar.

In reality, Mabel had stormed into his room whilst he was packing, insisting he had to wear something to impress you and this was their compromise. 

“That’s fair, I’m sure you’d be sweating up a storm after the first mile.” You chuckle before shooting him a compliment with a sincere smile, “You look really nice, Ford.”

Ford stammers in response, his cheeks red, “Uh… why thank you.. You do too, though you always look nice..” He fumbles over his words. At 60 years of age, here he is, bumbling like a fool, feeling like a middle schooler trying to ask out his crush.

Your laughter sounds sweet to his ears as you can’t help but giggle at his awkward charm. “Thank you, Ford, that’s sweet of you. You ready to head out?” You swiftly change the topic in order to save him from further embarrassment.

“Y-Yes! Let’s get going, I think the kids are ready.” Ford says, following you out.

The five of you end up piling into your car, able to stuff all your bags into the trunk with the camping gear in the cargo box on your roof rack. The seating situation ended up being a bit of an issue, Mabel and Dipper piling into the back automatically but both Stan and Ford reach for the passenger door. 

“I gotta sit in the front to navigate, Ford.” Stan explained, holding up the map to the campsite in his hand.

Unable to argue with that logic, Ford begrudgingly gets in the back with Mabel and Dipper. 

The next half an hour of the drive along the Redwood Highway is filled with Stan pointing out each of the other tourist traps, sharing stories of how they pranked the Mystery Shack, including a time where they taped Soos to the ceiling, and Mabel and Dipper teaching Ford the game Punch Buggy.

“Who invented this game? It’s pure torture!” Ford groans, his arm sore after Mabel and Dipper had socked him a few times in a row.

“Grunkle Ford, I think you just need to improve your reaction times.” Dipper chuckles.

Finally arriving at the campground, you are grateful to see that there were plenty of spots still open, opting for one with a firepit nearby the lake. The moment you parked, the kids ran out, taking in the sight of the crystal clear lake and roaming around to explore the campground. 

“Let’s set up the tents before we head out for the hike to the stream. I know we’re gonna be tired after it and get lazy.” You explain to Stan and Ford who nod and follow your lead as you open up the cargo box, grabbing the tents and handing them both one to set up while you put up the hammock and canopy. 

“Uhh, Y/N, are two tents going to be enough for all of us?” Stan asked as he began to hammer the spikes into the ground. You nod, “Yeah, one of them is pretty roomy so at least three people should be able to fit inside.”

Unfortunately, you had overestimated how much room was in the bigger tent as Ford and Stan tested it out themselves, only an inch of room left over.

“Well… I guess I’ll just sleep under the stars tonight, not a big deal.” You glance over at the hammock, grateful you brought it with. 

“Are you sure? You’ll be eaten alive by mosquitos out here.” Ford says with concern.

“I have a mosquito net in the hammock, thankfully. I can also douse myself in bug spray before I sleep for extra precaution.” You explain, lifting the hammock to reveal a net that you could zip up to shield you from the bugs.

“It’s your tent, Y/N. I’ll just sleep in the hammock, you and Ford can take the tent.” Stan offers, “Besides, I snore… loud. I don’t think anyone wants to be stuck in a tent with me.”

You mull over the offer before smiling graciously, “Alright, thanks for offering, Stan. I’m gonna go find the kids and we’ll head out for the hike.” You walk away. Once your back is faced away from the twins, Stan grins mischievously at his brother, “You know it might get awfully cold at night.. Make sure to keep ‘em warm.” Ford’s face turns red, swiftly elbowing his brother in the ribs.

“Ow! Why’d you have to elbow my good rib?!”

After finding Dipper and Mabel, you all begin your hike to the stream where Stan wanted to pan for gold. The massive trees that towered above you provided much needed shade as you followed the trail. Along the way, Ford would make commentary on the various flora, listing off facts off the top of his head despite studying them years ago. 

“How does he know all of this? I work in the Parks and I don’t even know this much.” You mutter out loud in awe. Stan chuckles, “Ford’s practically a walking encyclopedia. I’m sure he talked your ear off back in the day..” You recall the memory of your first time meeting Ford that had finally returned yesterday, sitting in front of him as he easily explained the theory surrounding seismic refractions with ease, like he had spent the last 20 years of his life studying it.

“Yeah… he kinda did. But I don’t think I minded, I get the sense that he gets passionate about the things he loves. There’s like a spark in his eyes when he gets to just share his knowledge to someone who’s willing to listen.” You admit with a smile. “Yeah, I never really understood what he was talking about half the time… but I get what you mean.” Stan comments fondly.

“Y/N, look at this cool rock I found! It’s kinda funny looking.” Mabel says, running up to you with a rock with several ridges and grooves. Stan looks at the rock himself, “Looks kinda like the mole I got on my back.” to which Mabel groans at the mental image. 

You laugh softly at Mabel’s reaction, taking the rock from her as she hands it off to you to examine before you recognize it, “Well, actually, this funny looking rock actually has a gemstone inside of it - if you’d wanna see?” You explain with a grin. 

Mabel’s eyes light up and she nods eagerly, “Can I crack it open?” You chuckle at her enthusiasm, handing her the rock, “Of course. Luckily, I brought some of my excavating tools with me.” You rummage through your backpack before pulling out a wooden hammer for her to use. 

You had a pickaxe but you had the hindsight to not give a 13-year-old a metal tool that she could easily poke her eye out with.

“Go crazy, Mabel.” You encourage her and she takes your lead, placing it down on the ground and giving it a swift wack. This catches Dipper and Ford’s attention as Ford was in the middle of explaining to Dipper the various types of mushrooms that gnomes use for homes.

The rock split open, revealing the shiny interior. You reach down to pick it up, showing Mabel the different layers of quartz. “This gemstone is actually called a thunderegg. Funny name for a funny looking rock, I guess, but all of them have different patterns depending on how long they’ve been here.” You explain, handing it back to Mabel, “When we get back to the Mystery Shack, I can polish it for you so it shines a little bit better.”

She puts it up to the sun, watching it sparkle as the light refracts off the quartz. “It can get shinier than this?!” Mabel exclaims excitedly to which you chuckled, “It certainly can!” She glances between the gemstone and the sunstone that hangs on your neck, “Could you show me how to get it on a necklace like you have yours? I have a bunch of string and craft stuff at the Shack we can use!”

You clear your throat, “Actually Mabel, you might want to ask your Grunkle Ford. After all, he’s the one who made this for me.” You admit with a shy smile.

“Grunkle Ford, you old softie! I didn’t know you could make something like that!” Mabel says as she turns to Ford with a teasing grin, almost squealing in delight. Ford rubs the back of his neck bashfully, “Well, I do like to dabble in artistic endeavors every now and then. Though I’ve only ever done a project like this for Y/N.” He admitted.

You find your own cheeks getting warm, grabbing the necklace and glancing down at it with a sudden fondness. You look up to see Ford staring at you in a pining manner before quickly looking away, suddenly engrossed in the mushrooms at his feet. 

“Alright, you two, let’s get moving! We’re burning daylight here and I need to get to this gold as soon as possible before these greedy suckers get to it first!” Stan’s voice cuts through the moment, though his expression was more amused than annoyed.

“R-Right!” Both you and Ford stutter, picking up the pace.

You finally make it to the stream, watching in amusement as Stan immediately begins to roll up his pants the moment it comes into view.

“Alright, pan me, Y/N!” Stan says, placing his hand out. You roll your eyes playfully, reaching into your backpack to grab some pans you had snagged from a gold panning site during one of your shifts at the Parks. You handed it over to Stan before holding up the two other ones you had, “You wanna help your Grunkle get some gold?” You ask Dipper and Mabel.

“Oh, I’ll help but this’ll be my stash, Grunkle Stan!” Mabel grins, taking a pan and kicking off her socks and shoes to join Stan in the stream. Dipper quickly follows behind Mabel and you get ready to join them in the water, kicking off your sandals before pausing as Ford takes a seat on a nearby log.

“You’re not gonna join us, Ford?” You ask, rolling up your pants up to your calves. Ford shakes his head, placing his bag next to him, “I’m going to catch up on some reading, go enjoy yourself, Y/N.” 

“More gold for us then!” Stan says, shaking the pan in the water. You’re distracted by Dipper and Mabel’s laughter, coming behind the two of them. You crouch down, grabbing a clump full of mud and rocks beneath a larger boulder and placing it into the pans. You demonstrate how to properly pan for gold, letting the two of them shake the dirt loose. You feel a splash against your side and look over to see Stan shaking the pan a little too aggressively.

“Whoa, pump the breaks, you might be losing out on gold shaking it like that.” You say, walking over to Stan as the twins seem to have the hang of it. You lean over, pressing up against Stan’s side as your hands cup underneath his. “Once you have most of the dirt out, you want to be a little bit more gentle with your agitation or else the gold will come out.” 

Your hands guide Stan’s, shaking the pan with a bit more delicacy, letting the water wash out the remaining dirt to reveal large flecks of gold. “Now we’re talking!” Stan says excitedly, accessing the gold. He looks back up at you with a sheepish smile, “Uh.. thanks for helping me out.” You shoot him a warm smile, “No problem, didn’t want your efforts to go to waste. Besides, it looks like you got some catching up to do!” You nod your head over to Dipper’s pan which sparkles with gold.

Stan wasn’t sure whether his heart beat racing was because of his excitement over the gold or from having you up so close to him.

He tries to push the thought, not wanting to dwell on the weird feeling as he takes the challenge, throwing more clumps of mud into his pan, “Oh it is on!”

Ford watches from afar, a journal precariously propped up on his leg as he sketches out the scene before him - you with your hair tied up, clutching your stomach as you laugh at the antics of his family. He smiles fondly as the real reason he wanted to watch was to be able to have the opportunity to sketch you. 

When he started the journals, they were mostly dedicated to his research though he had a fleeting thought every now and then to sketch you into a few entries as you helped him with several of his discoveries.

There was also a part of him wanting to relish in this and have his own memories to look back on, knowing how fleeting this moment was and how uncertain the road ahead of getting your memories back was. 

“Grunkle Ford, look at all the gold Dipper and I got!” Mabel ran up to him, holding her pan with a decent amount of gold. Dipper follows behind her, noticing that his great uncle was sketching something in a journal. His eyes lit up in curiosity, “Did you see an anomaly out here, Grunkle Ford?”

Ford looked up from his sketch, taken aback by Dipper’s question, “No, I was just sketching some of the scenery!” Mabel’s eyes narrow and she looks over at Dipper with a skeptical look that he returns. The two of them rush to Ford’s side, Mabel’s hand slamming on the sketchbook to keep Ford from shutting it. They both look down to see the detailed drawing of you and Mabel squeals loudly, causing you and Stan to look over.

“Everything ok over there?” You ask, pulling out the bits of gold from Stan’s pan and collecting them in a pail you had brought with you. “Y-yes, everything’s fine over here!” Ford stammers. You look over at Stan who simply shrugs, “I stopped asking a long time ago.”

When you turn your attention back to Stan, Ford lets out a sigh of relief before starting back at Mabel’s wide grin and Dipper’s amused smile. “So that’s why you didn’t wanna join us in the water.” Dipper pointed out. “Grunkle Ford, you should totally show her! She would love this!!” Mabel suggests excitedly. 

“Unfortunately, I don’t think that would be the best idea, Mabel.” Ford explains with a sad smile, patting Mabel’s head as she deflates in disappointment, “I fear that it might scare her away if I’m too forward with my feelings. I caused her a lot of pain before and I wouldn’t want to put her in an even more uncomfortable situation when she regains all her memories… but maybe if she gives me a second chance, I’ll show it to her.” Mabel slightly brightens up with a smile, nodding.

The twins head back into the water, depositing their gold into the pail before starting back up. Somehow, panning for gold had turned into a splashing contest after Mabel accidentally sloshed her pan too aggressively, causing it to hit Dipper in the back. Splashes were exchanged back and forth in a playful manner with Stan and you managing to get caught in the crossfire. 

“Oh you two are going to get it!” Stan says in a menacing tone, using his pan to splash them back in retaliation. Laughter filled the stream, and you glance over your shoulder to see Ford completely dry with his nose in the journal. You walk up, wringing out the water from your top. “Looks like you’re doing more writing than reading.” You point out with a grin.

Ford shuts his journal immediately at the sound of your voice, placing it back into his bag swiftly, “S-Sorry, I tend to get engrossed in whatever I’m doing.” He looks up finally to see your clothes completely wet and blinks, “You’re soaking wet, Y/N.” You chuckle, grabbing his hand and pulling him towards the water, “Yeah, and you’re completely dry so let’s change that.”

“Y-Y/N, wait a second, I-!” Ford’s protest is cut off the moment you tug him forward a bit too forcefully. He loses balance on his feet, causing him to fall forward… with you tumbling down with him. Your back hits the water, causing a huge splash to which Stan and the twins turn around to look at. You look up to see Ford on top of you, his arms on either side of your head with a look of concern etched across his features.

“Y/N, are you alright?” Ford frets over you, not realizing the compromising position you’re both in. Heat blooms into your cheeks at the sight, the fabric of Ford’s shirt now damp and clinging to his shoulders and chest. You begin to sit up, causing Ford to back away. “I-I’m alright, sorry for tugging you so hard.” You mutter, eyes widening as Ford cradles the back of your head, his own eyes assessing your face carefully. “Um, Ford, what are you doing?”

“Well, I have to check for bruises or lacerations. Traumatic head injuries are no joke, Y/N. Now follow my finger with your eyes.” Ford instructs, placing his index finger in front of your eyes and moving it up and down and side to side. You follow his instructions but get distracted by a flash in your peripheral vision.

Ford and you look over to see Mabel with a camera in her hand, a wide grin spread across her cheeks, “That’s definitely going in the scrapbook!”

-

After making your way back to the campsite, Stan got started on a fire to help everyone warm up while your wet clothes hung on the tree nearby. Thankfully, you all brought a change of clothes, slipping on a sweater over your shirt as you step out of you and Ford’s tent.

You blinked, seeing Stan sitting alone on a log next to the fire, stoking the flames with a large stick.

“Where’s Ford and the kids?” You ask, looking around as Ford and the twins were nowhere to be found. You approach the fire, letting out a sigh of satisfaction as the flame warms your hands as you extend them outward.

“Apparently what I thought was a mosquito was actually a fairy. Almost swatted it before Ford stopped me.” Stan said, swinging around the bug zapper he brought. “Ford went to go see with the kids if there were more nearby.”

“A fairy? I know Ford mentioned there were anomalies out here but I didn’t expect them to be straight out of a fantasy novel..” You said in surprise, taking a seat next to Stan and grabbing a Pitt Cola out of the cooler near his feet.

“Oh you think that’s bad? There’s tons more apparently.. My memories of all of ‘em haven’t quite come back but I found a gnome in our backyard just this past week if that tells ya anything.” Stan chuckled, taking a sip of his own drink.

“Well, I guess I’ll have to see what else is out there. Ford mentioned wanting to bring me anomaly hunting one day while I’m here.” You comment, curious if there were more threatening anomalies out there considering Ford had mentioned wanting to take you on a safer one.

“Of course Poindexter suggested anomaly hunting as a date.” Stan snickers.

“I wouldn’t call it a date, I’m sure he’ll want to bring Dipper and Mabel along like he did tonight.” You say.

“I doubt it, he’s been wanting to get one-on-one time with you any chance he gets. Thought he was ready to fight me earlier when I rode in the front with you.” Stan scoffed, tossing another piece of dry wood into the fire.

You watch as the flames grow before your eyes, the smoke pluming into the sky. Bringing your knees up to your chest as you hug them, you ask Stan about his brother, “What was Ford like… before you guys reconnected? Did he do something that caused your guys’ relationship to be rocky?”

Stan’s body stills at your question, placing his Pitt Cola down and leaning back with his hands holding him up. “Why do you ask?”

“It’s just…” You take a breath, your brows knitting together to find the right words, “Even though our first impression… I guess second impression since obviously we knew each other.. Either way, it was pretty bad. But he’s shown me that he can be kind and thoughtful. I just can’t wrap my head around how he could be capable of hurting me in the way that he describes.”

Stan stares back at you, a conflicted look in his eyes, and you stare down at the ground, embarrassment running over you, “Sorry, I shouldn’t be bringing this up.. He’s your brother for god’s sake and I’m asking you these probing questions about him behind his back.”

“No… I get why you’re asking them.” Stan finally responds, causing you to look up. His hand rests on his neck, rubbing it in thought, “From what I remember, Ford and I growing up were like two peas in a pod. Inseparable. I did something stupid when I was a teenager that pretty much sabotaged Ford’s chance into his dream school.”

“Guess some good came out of that… obviously he met you.” Stan says, staring back at you finally. “We didn’t talk... for ten years after that. Honestly, those years in between when we didn’t talk are still pretty blurry but I can tell you that when he finally reached back out, it wasn’t for the reasons I had hoped.”

“Were they selfish reasons?” You ask, trying to understand how they just recently made up if they reunited over thirty years ago.

Stan explains, “In a way. You see, Ford got in his head way too much. He still kinda does but back then, we got into a huge fight after he pretty much pushed me away again. Told me to take his research and go as far away from him as possible. It felt like he cared more about his research more than anything else. More than himself. More than me.”

“He did tell me he pushed away the people who cared about him the most in his pursuit to prove his worth. I guess we were those people, including Fiddleford.” You reflect before asking the main question on your mind, “I still don’t get what happened between you guys reuniting back then and then just making up this past summer.”

Stan pauses before sighing as he pinches the bridge of the nose, “I was hoping Poindexter was going to be the one to explain all this portal nonsense to you but I guess I’ll try my best.”

Stan proceeds to explain in the most condensed and simplistic way he can the background behind Ford’s research, building the portal and how his brother got sucked into the portal after Stan pushed him into it by accident during their fight and was stuck in another dimension until last summer.

You stare back at Stan like he has two heads, wondering if Ford bribed him with a couple bucks to prank you with this elaborate tale straight out of a sci-fi movie.

“Yeah, that’s the exact same look I had on my face when Ford told me about the portal.” Stan chuckles, watching as you digest the information. 

“So Ford’s been literally trapped in another dimension for the past 30 years?” You finally speak, your brain moving on from denial to confusion.

“Yup. You ever notice he speaks kinda prim and proper all the time, it’s by choice but also because he’s thirty years behind on any slang or pop culture reference.” Stan shares before staring at you intensely, “Don’t get me started about his reaction when Dipper told him Pluto wasn’t a planet anymore.”

“Wait a second, this portal…” You get up from your seat on the log, heading back into you and Ford’s tent before coming back with your small black journal. Stan stares at the journal and shakes his head in disbelief, “No wonder you and my brother dated.”

You roll your eyes, choosing to ignore the comment before flipping to a specific page and opening it up to Stan, “Did the portal look like this?”

Stan stares at the paper, squinting his eyes as he looks at your rough drawing of the portal before nodding, “Yeah, that’s the portal, alright.”

“So that’s what Ford was working on in my dreams… it was the portal that he thought was going to be the answer to his research.” You say, the realization hitting you as you stare down at the drawing, “Maybe this portal is the reason we parted ways.“ You were beginning to put pieces of you and Ford’s history together, it was becoming more and more clear 

Stan wonders if he might have shared too much with you, seeing the gears turning in your head. Maybe he should have held his tongue, waited for Ford to explain all this stuff to you since he usually had the answers. 

You place a hand on his broad shoulder, interrupting his thoughts, “Hey Stan… sorry for putting you on the spot but I really appreciate it. I feel like I understand what’s happening in my dreams way more.” You pause before saying, “It also helps to know that Ford didn’t just push me away but other people during that time.”

Stan’s shoulders visibly relax and he feels a sense of comfort in your touch. “No problem, glad I could explain it in a non-sciencey way. Trust me, when Ford explained it to me, half the stuff he said flew right over my head.” 

You both hear footsteps approaching and turn around to see Ford carrying a mason jar that contained a pink fairy that fluttered around in confusion with Mabel and Dipper trailing by his side. 

“Y/N, look at this fairy!” Mabel says excitedly, running up to you. 

You approach Ford, crouching down to observe the fairy. Your eyes widen in intrigue, watching as there is a distinct trail of glitter that follows it as it flutters about. You glance up at Ford, “Is the fairy gonna be okay in there?” 

Ford rubs the back of his neck sheepishly, “I’ll release it, Mabel insisted we catch one to bring back to show you.” 

“This is your first time seeing an anomaly, right, Y/N?” Dipper asks, curious if you remember any of the anomalies you saw with his great uncle when he first started his research.

“Well, first time that I can remember at least. Your Grunkle Stan was telling me there are apparently gnomes that live near the Mystery Shack.” You chuckle, placing your hands on the jar.

“Those gnomes kinda still creep me out to this day..” Mabel commented, now sitting next to Stan with a skewer stacked with marshmallows to put over the fire.

You look over at Ford for an explanation who simply shrugs and Dipper chimes in, “They.. uh tried to marry Mabel and make her their gnome queen.” 

First, the fairy, then Ford getting trapped in an interdimensional portal, and now, this.

You wonder how many more crazy reveals your brain could take in a single day.

“Wanna do the honors and release it?” Ford asks, handing the jar off to you. You take it cautiously, slowly opening the lid and wincing as you pull back the lid. The fairy immediately bursts out, leaving a trail of pink dust behind as it flies into the night sky.

You glance back at Stan and raise an eyebrow, “How did you think that was a mosquito?”

Ford chuckled at your question, “I was thinking the same thing when he almost fried it with his bug zapper.” 

“My vision isn't the greatest, okay? I got cataracts!” 

You, Ford and the kids laugh, coming together in front of the fire. You were shoulder to shoulder with Stan and Ford, Mabel sitting on the ground in front of you while you braided her hair and Dipper being in charge of roasting both him and Mabel’s marshmallows after she lit hers on fire.

You come to find out that Stan’s talent to spin an elaborate tale translates well into telling spooky ghost stories by the fire, wriggling his fingers and using his hands to help emphasize his points. Surprisingly, he ends up having a captivated audience, even Ford listening in amusement with his arms crossed.

Seeing the kids starting to yawn and their eyes getting heavier after a few hours, you all decide to call it for the evening. Stan and Ford work on stamping out the flames as you walk over to Dipper and Mabel’s tent, making sure they have their flashlights on them in case of a late night bathroom run before zipping up their tent.

Out in the woods, the dark sky above is littered with stars. With the light source of the flames gone, the constellations in the sky are even more clear. Ford watches you staring up at the night sky in awe. He recalls the nights where the two of you would sit on the roof where you most likely sat with his brother the other evening, noting all the various constellations. 

He wonders if you remember his favorite ones or if just by association to the memory of him, they’ve been wiped clean from your brain.

Ford approaches you, his eyes glancing up at the wondrous view above the both of you, “Beautiful, isn’t it?”

“It really is…” You reply with a smile, “I haven’t seen them this clearly in years. Usually light pollution ends up making it hard to them at all.”

“Do you have a favorite constellation?” Ford asks though he already knows the answer.

Perseus.

“Perseus is my favorite.” You answer, extending your arm outward to point it out to Ford. His eyes follow your finger to the constellation, staring up at it. Not that he needed you to point it out for him, he often would look up the stars during his travels with Stanley and find it. 

Wondering if you were out there somewhere staring at it as well.

“The Hero Constellation… a great choice.” Ford hums before letting out a yawn.

“Getting past your bedtime?” You tease, causing Ford to laugh softly.

“You know I’m not that much older than you, Y/N. You’re making me feel like an old geezer.” Ford banters back.

Stan pats you both on the shoulder, “Well, this old geezer is gonna hit the hay. I didn’t get any sleep last night since we spent the whole night planning this.” He starts approaching the hammock before staring at it with his hands on his hips before looking back at you.

“Hey, uh, how do I get in this thing?” He asks.

Ford slaps his forehead and you roll your eyes mirthfully, walking over to show Stan how to get into the hammock.

“You can head to bed, Ford. This might.. take a while.” You tell Ford, trailing off as you watch Stan attempt to put his foot in and almost flip the hammock over.

Ford nods, despite wanting to wait up for you, he knew it would be infinitely more awkward trying to fall asleep with you laying right there in front of him. “I’ll sleep on the further side so you don’t have to step over me on your way into the tent. Good night, Y/N.” He says.

“Good night, Ford.” You reply with a wave as you try to hold the fabric of the hammock taut to give Stan enough stability to slip inside.

“Yeah, good night to you too, Ford.” Stan calls out wryly to which Ford proceeds to flick off his brother playfully before slipping into the tent.

-

After assisting Stan into the hammock and helping put the mosquito net over him, you slip into you and Ford’s tent. You try to move as carefully as possible, not wanting to disturb Ford who laid inside a sleeping bag on the other side of the tent. You glance over, seeing Ford sleeping peacefully next to you.

You notice he still has his glasses on and you reach over carefully, slipping them off gingerly. Ford slightly stirs which causes you to halt your movements before his breath evens out again, showing that he was still deep in sleep. You place his glasses off to the side and finally slip into your sleeping bag.

Your eyelids grow heavy the moment your head rests on the pillow, the lack of sleep from the night before catching up to you. You drift to sleep, not thinking about what dream might await you this evening.

The sensation of the metal desk presses against the small of your back. You feel like a mouse cornered by a cat, Ford’s frame towering over you as your hands are pinned down. A lump forms in your throat as you stare back at the man you love, his eyes bright yellow and his pupils narrow.

“So you’re Bill?” You say cautiously. 

You had seen Bill briefly move into Ford’s mind to help him solve an equation that had stumped him or share a finding to help with his research but never fully taking control of his body.

“That’s me, I’m sure Ford’s told you all about me..” Bill grins, “After all, I am his muse.”

You bristle at the term, the exact reaction Bill had hoped for to get under your skin. 

You listened to Ford go on and on about how amazing his muse was, how he helped ease his mind, how he understood him like no one else did.

All while you stood there, feeling insignificant as each day went on.

A shudder ran down your spine as a cold hand reached up to cup your chin, tilting your head side to side while Bill’s eyes assessed you like a specimen in a lab, “Listen, Y/N, you’re becoming a bit of a distraction to old Fordsy.”

“Distraction? What do you mean?” You say defensively.

“Every time you try to get him to go to bed, every time you and that hillbilly try to goof around and pull him away from his work, it delays him finishing this portal.” Bill points out.

“He’s a human being, not a robot. He can’t just keep working himself into exhaustion.” You protest.

Bill’s eyes narrow.

He doesn’t like that response.

“Listen, Gemstone, you really want to get in the way of Ford’s dreams? I thought you loved him,” Bill cackles, his hand sliding down to press tightly against your throat. The pressure pushes the gem on your necklace further into your skin, causing you to wince.

“I-I do.” You wheeze out, your airway feeling restricted but not being choked quite yet.

“Then if you do, take my advice. The sooner you leave him alone to work on and finish this portal, the sooner he can rest. Don’t you want him to be able to show this to his old man and finally hear that he’s proud of him?” Bill says with a maniacal grin.

He knows he got you with his last question, your face morphing into guilt.

You knew how important this was to Ford, how he needed this portal to work so he could make something out of all his research and hard work. You knew how desperately Ford wanted that validation from his family, from his dad.

“We have a deal?” Bill asks.

“Alright… I’ll leave him alone.” You cave, gasping for air as Bill removes his hand.

“Good, glad we were able to come to an understanding. I’ll make sure Ford gets all the knowledge I can offer and you two can finally start the life you always wanted together, right?” Bill says with a grin before crouching down to be eye level with you.

“Now don’t tell, Ford, about our little meeting, okay? We wouldn’t want him to worry and get distracted, now would we?”

You shoot up in a panic, a sense of dread filling your body. Your eyes dart to see Ford lying there and you immediately back away, the memory of his hand on your neck fresh in your subconscious. Your legs kick the sleeping bag away, not caring what noise you make. Your hands tremble, fumbling with the zipper of the tent before finally getting it unzipped enough to slip out of the tent.

The air hits your cheeks but it’s not enough to stop your racing heart.

Your feet carry you over to the lake, crouching to the ground as your hands cup together to splash the water onto your face. The cool liquid pricks at your skin but the sensation is enough to shock you out of your fevered state. 

Your fast breaths slow down in pace and after a few splashes of cold water, your breath has begun to even out.

Suddenly, you feel a hand on your shoulder, causing you to jump.

“Are you okay?”

[the-travelling-witch]

𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐔𝐏 𝐌𝐘 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐋𝐃

summary: when you ask about your boyfriend's home, you get more than you bargained for; but considering it's him, you don't mind, right?

pairing: jade x gn! reader

warnings: fluff, a little suggestive, nonsexual nudity; i’m suffering from a serious case of eel on the brain so you must suffer with me; can’t stop thinking about bioluminescent eel brothers and just mixed that in with jade’s ceremonial robes home screen lines

twisted wonderland masterlist

“I’m captivated by the human custom of changing clothes to suit the occasion,” Jade hummed as deft fingers tied your previously crooked tie and then straightened out the collar of your uniform shirt. “It reminds me of fish who change their scales to match their environment.”

“That sounds like an interesting ability to have,” you chuckled as you combed the long black strand of hair behind his ear, mesmerised by the way the ambient light of the nearly empty Mostro Lounge reflected in his heterochromic eyes. Even with him sitting down and you standing between his legs, he was tall enough to where you were nearly on eye-level. “I’ve never really thought about it, but I guess mers don’t really wear clothes then?”

“It depends on the mer, really, though accessorising is far more common than what you humans would consider clothes. Those in brighter waters seem to enjoy bejewelling themselves for outings, though it doesn’t serve much of a purpose in the deep.” Jade smiled, though this smile lacked the usual nerve-wrecking edge it held when others were around. When he was satisfied with his work, his hands slid down to rest on your waist. 

“On top of having to learn how to walk, having to wear all these layers of clothing must have felt really restricting,” you said, your hand mapping the path from his jaw down to his shoulder to play with the lapels of his blazer. “Though I have to say, you do look very good in your school uniform.”

“Fufu, you flatter me, my pearl,” the merman chuckled. “Even so, you look much more lovely in anything you wear. I’m still not accustomed to clothes with excess fabric. My people aren’t like aquarium fish with their long tail fins, after all.”

“I’m still in awe you managed to pull off this transformation of body and habitat so gracefully,” you thought out loud. “If my living conditions changed so drastically, I would’ve felt like a fish out of water… Quite literally, I guess.”

“Admittedly, those first months were rather rough, that’s true. But the world above the Coral Sea holds so many new experiences, I do not regret my decision.” His hands gently squeezed your sides at that, his eyes never leaving yours. Faintly you wondered whether his people could enrapture humans with just their gaze or if it was your own heart which rendered you defenceless against him.

“I’m also glad you came here, Jade,” you confessed, voice coming out barely above a whisper. This time you couldn’t stop your palms from cupping his cheeks between them as he brought you just close enough to where Azul couldn’t reprimand him for indecency. “Would you mind telling me more about the differences you experienced? I want to learn more about your home, too.”

“Gladly,” the moray smiled at you and it warmed your heart despite the hint of sharp teeth showing through. “Let’s see… Ah, I enjoy looking up at the stars, especially when out in the mountains. It’s a very different feeling than from the ocean and it makes me forget the passage of time, even though I have no particular interest in astrology.”

“Sounds like a date in the making, if you ask me,” you grinned knowingly. Every so often, Jade pestered you into switching clubs to the mountain lovers club and while you had yet to relent, you did join him on hikes frequently.  

“I will hold you to that,” he promised, eyes crinkling at the edges as if he had gotten just what he wanted. Knowing him, he probably had been gunning for exactly that without you noticing. “Now then, what else did I find astounding when I first came here? Most of it are probably minor things to you, like sneezing, cracking your joints or getting a sunburn. Still hearing the first two was very alarming initially. Azul and I thought Floyd had broken a bone.”

“To be fair, sometimes it does sound like something went incredibly wrong when someone cracks their spine or neck,” you shuddered, reminded of the sounds Ace and Deuce had produced in the past which had you halfway to the nurses office already. “A sunburn must have been a nasty surprise though.”

“That it was,” Jade sighed. “There’s hardly anything worse than drying out for a merman, so we didn’t spend much time in the sun anyway. But to learn that a human’s skin is so easily burned by something they need for their health… Speaking of sunlight, considering it does not reach the depths of my home, everything seemed excessively bright up here too in the beginning.”

“Woah, maybe I underestimated how cold and dark your home is, by my standards at least. Like, no sunlight at all? I’d probably freeze,” you laughed, goosebumps forming under your blazer and shirt at the mere thought.

“Hm, I guess it must seem so to you. When I first learnt about the summer temperatures at land I also thought it wouldn’t be bearable,” Jade chuckled, a spark of mischief in his eyes that you couldn’t place yet. “But an environment devoid of light gives way to many new possibilities in which life can evolve. Sure, you have to always be on guard for what’s lurking around the next corner but you also get to appreciate the colourful glow of bioluminescent fish and plants.”

“The first part sounds terrifying, to be quite honest.” You knew he only ever brought these things up to get a reaction out of you but you still wondered what his life was like to be able to say it with such a calm expression. Instead, you chose to focus on something more pleasant. “Though the bioluminescence sounds beautiful. Back home there were beaches where algae turned the sand and waves a fluorescent blue, so I wonder what it would look like underwater.”

“Would you like to see?” Jade asked, one hand sneaking from your waist to intertwine his fingers with yours. Anticipation was almost tangible in the air, yet you couldn’t figure out why for the life you. So despite the hairs on your neck standing on end, you nodded. Immediately, Jade had risen to his full height and was pulling you along through Octavinelle’s winding hallways.

“Jade! Where are we going?” You laughed, not expecting the sudden switch up. Though that was probably on you; despite hiding it much better than his brother, Jade still tended to do only what was fun to him. 

“Oh, you’ll see,” your boyfriend smiled conspiratorially over his shoulder, eyes twinkling like a kid’s on Christmas. He was seriously cute when he got excited about something, even if it meant finding yourself at the end of his teasing more often than not. Considering he was very fond of growing all sorts of things in his terrariums, perhaps he had managed to raise some sort of luminescent plant and this was a ploy for him to gush about his terrariums? 

Confusion set in once more, however, when you walked in a different direction than his room. Sure, you didn’t know the structure of Octavinelle all too well but you’d think you’d find the one room you had visited most in the dorm. Wracking your brain in order to figure out what was happening in his, you almost bumped into the moray as he came to a halt in front  of one of the many doors. You had never been here before, so you braced yourself for any- and everything as he twisted the doorknob.

The first thing you noticed was the smell of salt and the humidity in the air. Then you noted how you couldn’t see anything in the pitch black darkness. As if he heard your thoughts, a small, dim light flickered on above, revealing tiled floors leading up to a large pool. Of course Octavinelle would have a pool of this size. 

Following Jade to the edge of the pool, you peered into the water to find only your reflection staring back at you from the water, the lack of light turning it from clear to near intransparent.

“Seems kinda of irresponsible to cultivate plants or fish in a school swimming pool, don’t you think?” You voiced your doubts as you remembered why you came here in the first place. “How deep is this thing anyway? I can’t see anything in there.”

“Who said anything about fish or plants?” Jade’s chuckle reverberated around the room from behind you and when you turned to see what was so funny, you saw him neatly folding his uniform blazer before starting to unbutton his shirt.

“Wait, hold on.” You held up your hands as you tried putting one and one together, just to end up at three. “Not that I particularly mind where this is going but what’s happening right now?”

There was a shit-eating grin stretching across Jade’s lips and revealing his sharp teeth as he shrugged off his shirt, sauntering over to where you were standing as he slipped his gloves off. 

“Didn’t you say you wanted to see bioluminescence for yourself?” At his newfound proximity, you quickly averted your eyes from his swimmer’s body, to feign at least some form of decency, which seemed to amuse him even more. “Have I never told you that my people possess a form of bioluminescence ourselves?”

“You conveniently forgot to mention that.”

“An oversight on my part, my apologies,” Jade hummed, a hand placed over his heart, sounding not sorry at all.

“That aside, it’s not like I brought any swimwear,” you sighed, looking at his eyes and decidedly nowhere else. “Nor can I breathe or open my eyes in saltwater.”

Out of thin air, seemingly, Jade procured a small phial of shimmering liquid; the same one Azul had given to you when you went to the Coral Sea. At his unreadable smile, you raised an eyebrow but nonetheless took the potion from him. “How much of this did you plan out?”

“Fufu, do you really think I would carefully steer a conversation a certain way just to give me an excuse to bring you here?” When your answer was a resounding ‘yes’, he grinned even wider. “I see, this is the impression you have of me.”

“Also, this still doesn’t solve our first predicament,” you reminded him, yet already finding your resolve to deny him weakening. Damn the effect he had on you.

“I can’t see the predicament you speak of at all,” Jade mused, hands landing on your hips again as his fingers pinched the fabric of your uniform. “Perhaps this is a good chance for you to experience how a merperson would feel, swimming freely without any restrictive layers. You were so eager to learn earlier.”

“Jade Leech, are you suggesting I go skinny dipping in a public college pool?” You only received a closed-eye smile as a response as his hands tugged more of your shirt out of your pants. “I can’t believe you. And I can’t believe myself for going along with this…”

The vice housewarden was more than okay with undoing his former handiwork and helping you out of your tie, blazer and shirt. When it was time to remove the rest of your clothes, he left you to your own devices to do the same. For a second you contemplated leaving on your underwear but decided against it at the thought of having to walk back to your dorm with it either soaked or missing.

A splash behind you drew your attention as you draped your last article of clothing over the back of a chair you had found and you chugged down the potion, then ambled over to the pool’s edge again. Dipping your toes in, you breathed a sigh of relief when the water wasn’t too frigid, yet still settled for sitting down and hanging your legs in first.

After a minute or so of acclimating to the temperature, you wondered where your boyfriend had gone, unable to see anything in the dark water. Just then, a cold hand wrapped around your ankle. Despite knowing what -or rather who- it was, you still jerked your leg upwards, but it wasn’t like you got very far, Jade’s strength keeping you exactly where you were. A pair of mismatched eyes stared at you from right under the surface before Jade’s head emerged and broke through the water’s surface. 

“Looks like I caught myself a pearl,” he mused before gliding his webbed fingers up your bare claves, sending a jolt up your spine, but not from the coldness. Crossing his arms over your knees, he laid his head down on them so he could look at you properly, his bare chest resting against your legs. If it weren’t for the long shadow of his tail moving right under the water’s surface, he would have reminded you of an overgrown housecat.

“Oh no, whatever shall I do now?” You played along, running your hand through his wet, teal hair and gently caressing the fins where his ears would be. Sighing under your touch, his long nails absentmindedly traced over your thighs, careful not to  hurt you. “Please don’t eat me.”

Cracking his left eye open at your teasing, he pressed a lingering kiss above your knee, his teeth lightly gracing the skin there as he pulled away. Definitely not enough to hurt in any way, but enough to remind you of the danger he could pose; a notion that sent adrenaline racing through your body for all the wrong reasons. He winked at you, maybe as a promise for later. “We’ll see about that.”

As he parted from you, he pushed himself up in a display of awe-inspiring core strength and pulled you against him by your waist and thighs, taking you with him as he slowly sank under the surface again. Your hands tried finding purchase on his shoulders, yet continued to slip over the slick covering his skin. Jade, however, had no difficulties holding on to you.

On instinct you had closed your eyes and held your breath as you submerged but the careful caress of a thumb over your cheekbone prompted you to open them and take a tentative lungful of air. Just as back in the Coral Sea, the sensation was weird and unfamiliar but you didn’t drown, which you noted down as a pro.

Whatever you wanted to say died on your tongue as you looked at Jade. Bright spots glowed on his chest and the stripes running over his ribs glowed in an equally stunning teal. Backing up so he was a good arm’s length away, you studied the rest of him, finding that the stripes over his hips as well as clusters of spots on his arms and fins all seemed to be luminescent.

“You’re so beautiful,” you whispered, more to yourself than to him, yet he still pulled you flush against his torso again. Without much hesitation you started tracing the constellations you could reach. “They’re like stars.”

The moray was glad you couldn’t see his face from your position for an uncharacteristically genuine expression of shock decorated his face. Nobody back at home had ever complimented him so genuinely without any ulterior motives. Yes, he had been the one who instigated this little stunt but he hadn’t factored in that you always managed to tug on his heartstrings in the end. At first, he had been a little wary, wondering what you thought about his merform, especially after he had chased you around the sea like this before, but he realised he shouldn’t have worried.

“And you flatter me yet again,” he chuckled instead, tone and expression back to his usual show of amusement. Still, he looped his long tail around your middle once as his hands wandered over your curves and stroked along your skin that was so much more delicate compared to his. “Should I perhaps be wary that you are lowering my defences for nefarious reasons?”

“Ah and here I was hoping you wouldn't notice,” you sighed, fingertips brushing over the bright spots littering his tail as you held his gaze, his yellow eye almost glowing against the darkness that surrounded you. “Despite all the warnings I’ve intended to steal from you. This, to be precise.”

Maybe it was the fact it was just the two of you down here and the rest of the world was forgotten, that drove you to be so straightforward and sappy. But the rhythmic beating of his heart underneath your palm dispelled any feelings of shyness or awkwardness at the -frankly cliché- confession of affection. 

Not that Jade seemed to mind either. Before you caught up to what was happening he closed the gap between you and pressed his lips against yours. Perhaps taking the potion earlier was inconsequential after all as Jade moved with the intention of robbing you of all air anyway, the webbed fingers on the back of your head keeping you exactly where he wanted you. You cursed your lungs for burning with the need for oxygen, never having yearned for gills as much as in this moment, if it meant you could keep kissing him for just a second longer. Before he parted from you completely he bit down on your bottom lip, not enough to draw blood but just so to leave it tingling from his attention. 

“What a silly little darling,” Jade mused, tracing the shallow indents of his teeth with the pad of his thumb as he drank up the expression on your face. The coil of his tail around you grew just a tad tighter, yet still careful not to hurt you, as a sudden wave of possessiveness washed over him. “Everybody knows you can’t steal what’s already yours.”

© the-travelling-witch 2024 - do not repost, translate, copy or edit

if you like my content, reblogs, comments and asks are always much appreciated ♡

➺ send in an ask to be added to or removed from my tag list

twst tag list: @savanaclaw1996 @honehbee42

[toxicanonymity]

Hunger.

7k, raider!Joel x f!reader

Raider master list ⭐ Joel master

raider playlist 🖤sweet pea (smutty)

SUMMARY: Joel takes you on an eventful trek. You have a bit of a meltdown and he comforts you in a way he hadn't before. He kills a guy. And later, Joel finally goes down on you because he craves you and can't physically resist. WARNINGS: I8+ oral f receiving 🎉, unsafe P in V, creampie, jacking off, brief violence (og raider typical?), hurt/comfort, neglected animal (he's ok), angst, dark fluff, emotional tension, POV changes. A/N: 1/3 smut. Can read alone - Joel has been resisting the urge to kiss you. Carter is Joel's right-hand man. Jack was your bf Joel killed. Happy 6 months to the 1st raider Joel fic, have some oral.

—You 🌸🫛—

You're reading in a clover patch at one end of the trailer while Joel chops wood. Two of his men come up the hill, and Joel tells you to stay put while he talks to them. Even when Joel addresses you, they don't look in your direction. They stay in the doorway of the trailer. You put your book face down and start looking at the clovers while you try to eavesdrop.  You can't hear what they're saying, but it sounds like someone might have tampered with one of the vans. You brush your hand through the leaves, and one catches your eye. Without plucking it, you gently separate it from the others to make sure it's not an illusion. There really are four leaves. You smile and get down on your stomach to look at it. You think about leaving it so it can grow more. That's what you did when you found one earlier in the week, but you pluck this one.

The men go back down the hill, and Joel goes inside for a moment before emerging again. You're laying the clover leaves flat between the pages of your book when Joel calls you inside. Then he leans against the trailer with an arm above his head, the side of his wrist resting near the top of the door frame as he waits for you.  He's wearing a body holster now. "C'mon, let's go," he shouts so you can hear him. 

"Ok," you call. 

You just want to finish pressing the clover into the page, but he rushes you: "Now." 

"What for," you ask.

"Cause I said." He disappears inside, and his back looks so broad, framed by the holster straps. 

You come in and pout in the window nook with your book closed, waiting for him to explain. There's a belt on the kitchen table.  Joel emerges from the bedroom and tells you he's going down the hill to help fix the van, and you're coming.  

“you good in that?” he asks, looking at your spaghetti strap dress. You nod. You like the dresses he gave you, and it’s still warm enough, you think.  He confirms, “Sure ya won’t be cold?” and you nod. He seems glad. 

He approaches the kitchen table holding something strappy and leather. He pulls out a chair and faces you in the window nook. 

"C'mere," he says. "Gonna carry your gun today." 

"Oh," you put down the book. Sounds exciting. Sounds like he trusts you. "Yeah, sure," you try to play it cool. He takes your knees and swings your legs toward him. 

"Gonna see if this piece'a shit's worth anything. If not, ya wear mine okay?" He thumbs the shoulder strap of his holster. 

You frown and mutter, "I like when you wear it," eyeing the muscles straining his white shirt.  He suppresses a smile, but you see it in his eyes. 

"Gimme your leg," he commands. You give him your leg on your shooting side. You watch his face. He has a toothpick behind his ear.  He bends your knee and puts your foot on his thigh. He lets the skirt of your dress fall all the way down your raised leg, exposing your panties. His eyes linger there, and he draws in a slow breath as he unbuckles the strap of the holster. He wraps the strap around your thigh and mutters, "good."  He slides the strap into the buckle, then tightens it. "Too tight?" He asks. 

"No."

He fastens the buckle on your inner thigh, and his massive hands map your thigh, checking the fit. You flinch in pleasure as his fingers graze the edge of your panties.

There's a long ribbon dangling from the other end of the holster where another strap should be. He laces it through two hand made grommets on each side. There are two more empty holes on the top of each side. 

"Here," you offer and take both ends of the ribbon from him. You tie it in a bow on the outside of your thigh. 

"That gonna hold?" He asks. 

You shrug. "Feels ok, what do you think?"

He's not listening. His eyes have returned between your legs. You spread them a little more, and innocently widen your eyes. He wets his lips, and his gaze remains for another inhale, then he pries his eyes away, sticks the toothpick in his mouth, and lets your foot down.  You stand up and he hands you your gun, then adjusts himself, quickly cupping his crotch through his pants as you slide the gun into the holster. 

"Walk," he mumbles. 

You walk the length of the kitchen. 

It's a weird sensation, having one of your legs burdened by a weight while the other one is free. But aside from that, it's fine. 

"Alright?" He asks.

"Yeah." 

He nods, "Good. C'mere."  You stand right in front of him, between his knees. "Hold your dress up for me."

You hold it up over the holster. 

"Higher. Belly button." 

He grabs the belt from the table and when he picks it up, ribbons are dangling from its holes. The ribbons have their ends burned and melted like a shoelace for threading.  He fastens the belt securely around your bare middle, then threads the loose ribbons through the empty grommets on the top of the holster and secures them. 

He turns you to the side, tugs at the ribbon, and mutters, "good." Then he can't help but grab a handful of ass, and your bottom lip creeps under your teeth.

As he turns you to face him again, he takes the toothpick out of his mouth and gives you a serious look. "Comin' with me today, sweet pea. Ya do what I say, understand?"

You nod.

"I say get outta here, ya run. I say stay put, ya don't fuckin' move." 

"Got it."

—-

He puts the toothpick behind his ear and picks up a few pieces of jerky off the counter as he stands up. He hands you a piece. 

You take a bite and chew it as you walk down the hill. You watch his jaw flex when he chews.  You tell him, "This one's good."

"Cause Carter made it," Joel notes.  You cringe at yourself,but he doesn't seem offended. "Turkey," he adds. 

Turkey, that's why. Much better than venison. You haven't had poultry in a while, not even grouse. Traps have been empty. 

"I love yours," you tell him. 

Joel gives you an appreciative pat on the back of your head, then his hand trails down your back, over the swell of your ass. He slides his hand under your dress and palms your butt cheek. He lifts it, then lets it drop. 

Joel brings you around the front of the stash house where the vans are normally parked and tells you to wait. There’s only one van. One of the other guys took the second van to get gas and isn’t back yet. 

You reach under your dress and adjust the holster as you sit down on a patch of grass to watch. Joel's muscles glisten and flex as he lifts the hood of the van and props it open. He looks around the inside of the van and dabs his head with a bandana that he tucks back into his pocket . He looks under the van while you pick tall blades of grass and braid them together. 

When he's done, he tells you they need a part. Need to go to the junkyard and see if they can find one. You’re going with him and Carter on foot.

—

The junkyard is a few miles on the other side of Joel’s trailer. You go down that side of the hill and walk through the abandoned mobile home park to get there. It’s the first time you’ve seen most of it close-up, aside from through the scope of Joel’s rifle. The rest of the journey is mostly on a dirt road, and you have to climb through a fence to get into the junkyard. 

It feels like you’re there for a long time. You hear the weak bark of a dog in the distance. Joel thinks it’s coming from the woods. It stops.  There’s a house that looks abandoned, but Joel thinks there might be junkies in it. He says they gather around there. He’s even found one sleeping in a car. When Carter finds a part they think will work, they have trouble taking it off the truck. They don’t have the right tools. Brute force isn’t an option because it could easily break. 

The three of you cautiously approach the house and the barking starts again. The structure is run down, and the windows are busted out. It’s small, can’t be more than a couple of rooms. 

—--

As Carter sweeps the house, you go around back with Joel, and there's the dog. He's skinny and his bark is weak and strained. He's chained to a pipe on the side of the house. The pipe has been pulled a little bit outward so it's leaning, but he wasn't strong enough to free himself. He's a scrappy little mutt with a floppy ear. Probably less than 20 lbs (9 kg). You and Joel both stare at the dog, then Carter calls from inside, “Miller!”

Joel looks around to make sure you’ll be alright for a minute. “Don’t move. Stay alert. Hand on your gun.” 

As Joel goes inside,  Carter says, “Think he’s alive.” 

“Infected?”Joel asks. 

“Nah, see the track marks?”

“Piece’a shit left his dog to die.” 

Outside, the dog watches you. He sits attentively with his head down.  You put on a soothing voice for him. "Hey, buddy. Whatcha doin'?" He lowers his head almost to the ground as he slowly stretches his arms out, then his tail starts to wag hesitantly, staying close to the ground. He begins to whine.  There are a couple of bones behind him with no meat left on them at all. 

Carter comes out to watch you.  There's a metal bowl upside down out of the dog's reach.  "He needs water," you say. Carter looks around then reaches into his backpack and hands you his water. You pour some into the dish for the dog, and his tail begins to wag with more pep. When you reach out to touch the dog, he flinches and backs away, then cautiously returns and gets closer to you than he was. 

Carter gets closer, and when he reaches out for the dog, it growls and barks ferociously. Carter isn't afraid–it's too small to be afraid of. He reaches for the dog's collar and the dog chomps his hand with a vicious growl, high pitched from his throat. He doesn't want to let go.

"DAMN!" Carter yells. "SHIT," he shakes his hand.

"No," you firmly tell the dog. The dog lowers his stomach onto the ground and raises his brows pathetically with a whine. 

"He's just scared," you tell Carter as he rinses the wound with the rest of his water.

"I know, I know," Carter nods. He puts his water back in his backpack. "Feisty little fucker." He spits on the ground. 

“We’ve gotta get him out of this,” you mutter.  

Carter tries to stop you. “Don’t touch–”

You hold your hand out to the dog, and Carter sighs in resignation. The dog reaches his neck out to sniff you, then licks you. He lets you touch him. Then you touch his collar and he growls, but not as bad. The collar has inner spikes that must be hurting him. It's too big and has some slack hanging down from where it's been tightened.

Joel comes outside with a bag of tools clinking heavily against each other. 

"What the hell's goin' on out here?" You give Carter a hopeful glance and he doesn't snitch on the dog for biting him. 

You look at Joel. "He's gonna die if we don't get him free," you explain.  Joel lunges toward the dog and you try to warn him, "WAIT-"  Joel stops short of bending over and instead looks at you. The dog goes after his ankle, bearing his teeth and going nuts.  Joel shakes his leg free. You tell the dog, “No" and he submits on the ground with a whine. Joel looks at the dog and raises his gun. 

"You wouldn't," you whine. "He's protecting me."

“Course i wouldn’t. Damn.”

Joel steps closer and aims at the drain pipe behind the dog, shooting the chain to break it. It hurts your ears but it works. The dog yelps and skips out from the building, chain dragging behind him. Joel takes the bag of tools back to the truck where they found the part, leaving Carter with you while you try to free the dog. 

"C'mere," you sit back on your knees and open your arms for the dog. With the freedom of movement, you can work the collar off him. The dog whimpers and paws at the collar with you. When he lets out a sharper, high pitched whimper, you freeze as it triggers a memory. Your chest feels hollow and long-buried grief stabs at the backs of your eyes. You push it away. You don't want to cry. You want to be tough and whatever else you need to be for Joel to always take you with him. The dog whimpers again and you return to the task. You free him from the collar and he trots away from the house. 

— Joel ⛓️ —

When he gets back, the dog is playfully pawing at your knees.  You scratch behind his ears and he rolls over. One look at your face and Joel knows what you want. 

"Alright, let's go," Joel says and looks at the ground next to you. He steps forward and the dog growls. "It's ok," you tell the dog and you reach for Joel's hand. 

“Maybe he wants to come with us,” you say as casually as you can. 

Joel clenches his jaw and shakes his head. 

"I can take care of him," you plead, your eyes big and watery. "He's not big, he doesn't need much." 

Joel shifts his weight as he looks at you for a moment. "I know ya get bored-"

"Not because I'm bored," you protest. "He's hungry."

"No," Joel tells you firmly and your tears overflow. God damnit, not here. He's hungry because he was chained. He'll be fine now.

Joel doesn't want to share resources, doesn’t want the barking to attract attention, and doesn’t want someone to come after the dog–after you–if there’s anyone left to come. The junkie inside is as good as dead, but they run in packs and they’re dangerous.  

"It's for your own good, sweet pea.” Joel really thinks it is. 

You shake your head no. "I had one," you sniffle. "Before." 

Joel’s nostrils flare at the shake of your head, then his stomach drops. He doesn't want to know about before. He does, but he really doesn't. He covers his mouth with the crook of his thumb as he rubs both sides of his beard. Before. It gets harder and harder to avoid. He shakes it off.  All he can do is keep you safe and take care of you the best he can, which means taking care of only you. He shakes his head no again, then reaches into his backpack. He throws a piece of jerky as far as he can. “He’s fed, Gonna be fine.” He throws another piece. 

You watch the dog run off for the jerky, but you're in a trance, thinking about something else. 

“Let’s go, baby,” Joel steps forward, wraps a hand around the inside of your bicep, and gently pulls.  You try to resist walking, and his grip gets firmer. You stand there watching the dog, feet planted on the ground, muscle tensing under Joel's grip.

Joel faces you and cups your face with both hands, making you look at him. He gets a few inches from your face and lowers his voice.  “Ain’t gonna spank ya in front’a Carter, but ya better move.”  He means it. Non-negotiable.

He grabs your arm again, and as he starts dragging you away, you blurt out, "Her name was Daisy. She saved my life."

Joel ignores it.  “Move. Now. Or I’m pickin’ ya up.”  You relent and stop resisting. Smart. He wouldn't want to regret bringing you with them.

Joel squints into the ground as the two of you walk. Carter walks ahead, not wanting to get in the middle of it.  “Maybe this one could save me, too," you suggest. "if you’re gone.” 

Damnit sweet pea, you sure are smart. Nice try, but that's what Carter is for.

"Dog that size?” Joel laughs. You compose yourself. You walk in silence for a few minutes, but Joel is still thinking about it. “How,” Joel asks, and adjusts his backpack. “How’d she save you? Must’a been bigger, right? meaner?”

Carter looks over his shoulder with a side-eye at the word “meaner,” but doesn’t reveal his injury.  

You don’t answer Joel. You're checked out. You keep eyeing the tree line, but you wouldn’t. . . There's no way you’d run, right? 

You look at him with your eyes red. “You don’t wanna hear it.” 

The vacant look on your face makes Joel stop in his tracks to face you. “Tell me,” he demands. 

You sniffle and look toward the tree line again. “Can I go pee?”

Joel can’t read you right now, which disturbs him. “Yeah,” he mutters and puts his massive hand on your back, guiding you to the edge of the forest. 

He starts to come in behind you, and you ask him, “Do you mind if I go?” 

He swallows and furrows his brow as he looks at you. You must read his concern, because you hand him your bag. He nods. He steps into the woods, but tries to give you some space, without losing track of you. He doesn't wanna have to chase you down, but damnit he'll tackle you if he has to, to save you from yourself. His stomach is uneasy.

There���s a hollow, rusted truck about 30 paces away. You go on the other side of it. Joel knows you’re not just pouting about leaving the dog. There's more to this. But you’re right, he’s not sure if he wants to know. 

Until he hears you sniffling, and it's not just sad, it's scared, painful.

Ah, fuck it. He moves as quietly as he can.

“Sweet pea,” he says softly as he walks around the old hollowed-out car. You’re squatting–not peeing, just hugging your knees, facing the abandoned car. You're shaking and your cheeks are wet. There's not much space, but Joel gets between you and the car.  He takes his backpack off and drops it to the side.

“She wasn’t afraid like me, Daisy,” you choke out and wipe your cheeks with the heel of one palm.  “They,” you croak. You pause and try again. “He had a gun-” you close your eyes. “Pointed at, pointed at me," you take a deep breath and keep your eyes pinched shut. "He was, he was gonna—but she wouldn’t," you choke on a breath. "She wouldn't stop barking.”  

"Shhhhh, it's ok." Joel cuts you off. It's too hard to see you re-living this. He doesn't want you to get to the details. He squats down. His head is full of pressure, and his heart is full of rage. You take shaky, shallow breaths. 

He puts a hand on your shoulder and lets his knees into the ground. “Breathe,” he says. “Breathe, sweet pea.”  You lean forward, letting your weight into his arms, and he holds you for a minute as you regain your breath.  He cradles your head.  "Yeah, you're okay, I got ya."  He buries his mouth in your hair. "I got ya, baby," he whispers. You wipe your eyes on his shoulder and your cheek catches on the holster.  When you lift your head, you apologize and he shakes his head no.  He brushes a fresh tear off your cheek, and arousal stirs in his pants.  

“Who did it,” he asks, unable to mask the darkness in his question. 

“Just a guy,” you tell him. A guy like himself, Joel assumes with disdain. 

“What kinda guy” 

You sigh and he hates making you think about this, but he needs the answer. “Mean. Had a gold tooth.” 

Joel takes a deep breath and nods. 

"FEDRA," you add, and Joel's face goes cold. His mind goes blank. For a moment, he doesn't even breathe as the life is sucked out of him and replaced by ice cold rage. FEDRA. Not a guy like him.

 “How’d ya get away?” Joel asks. 

You look at him for a second, doing a double take at his face.  You shake your head. “You don’t wanna hear it." You bury your head in his neck again. You’re right, he doesn’t want to, but he insists.  

“Tell me.” 

“Jah–” you stop and look at Joel’s face. His jaw clenches. He knows what's coming, but the thought of FEDRA has fortified him with numbness. 

“S’okay, sweet pea.”

“Jack shot’m.” 

Joel takes a deep breath and looks up at the forest canopy, then bows his head and looks at your knees, bracketed by his own. For a moment, Joel is filled with an uncomfortable appreciation for Jack. But that fades into, no, it should have been Joel, he should’ve had you all along, he should’ve been there to save you *and* your dog. 

“He take good care of ya?” Joel asks in self-loathing. 

You shrug. 

“Better than. . .now?” He can take it.

“No,” you shake your head. “He didn’t shoot him dead.” 

Jackass fucking moron cuck. He left that motherfucker breathing? Suddenly Joel is glad he killed Jack. 

Joel nods, “I see.” He keeps nodding slowly, looking to his right at the moss on a far off tree, clenching his jaw.

"And I didn't have a gun," you add. "Cause I killed a guy Jack said not to." Joel scoffs. You could've killed the guy yourself if not for Jack.

You continue,  “and. . . Jack didn’t cook.” Joel chuckles, caught off guard -- he'd forgetten his original question. You keep going, “And he didn’t–I didn’t–I didn’t feel the same,” you wipe your eyes.  This has gone far enough, and Joel knows it's his own fault. His stupid question.  He takes the toothpick from behind his ear.

You look at him with your eyes all watery, and Joel's cock twitches. The next thing he knows, his massive hand is wrapped gently around your jaw. You put your hands on his shoulders, then straddle him. You wrap your arms around his neck. 

"Mmm," he sighs as your warm crotch meets the bulge in his jeans, and he swells harder against you. He holds your face about two inches from his, looking down at your mouth, then your nose, and your eyes again. He puts his toothpick in his mouth and looks past you as he lets go of your jaw. You bury your head in his neck, blinking warm tears into his skin, making him harder. He whispers your name. He relaxes and takes the toothpick out of his mouth just in time for a branch to fall on the car with a loud clang. 

"All good?" Carter yells from the treeline. 

“Shouldn’t stay here long,” Joel mumbles as he puts it back behind his ear. ”Bad area.” He eases you off his lap back onto your feet, as you both stand up. He brushes dead leaves off his pants and your knees. He adjusts himself, puts his backpack over one shoulder, then reaches down and you take his hand.  You walk a few steps together and he looks back at you slightly behind him. He realizes you’re shaking. He drops your hand, goes in his backpack, and pulls out a flannel that he packed even though you said you were fine. He unfolds it, holds it out, and helps you put it on. 

“Thanks,” you whisper and rub your nose. He keeps his hand on the back of your neck as you walk.

Joel stews and broods as you leave the forest together. He wants to go back in time and kill everyone who’s ever hurt you, anyone who let you get hurt, and anyone who failed to hurt the people who hurt you. His muscles are all tense, and his veins are throbbing.

When you get to the treeline, Joel asks Carter, "Can ya gimme five?"

"Sure thing, boss.".

“No ones gonna miss that asshole," Joel mutters as he checks his gun then sets his sights on the house. 

Joel can’t go back in time, but by God, he’s got to kill someone. He drops his backpack then hurries back to the abandoned house, rifle in both hands. When he gets there, he puts the rifle around his back and grabs the dog chain off the ground on his way in. 

—---You 🌸🫛-—

You and Carter look at each other. “How’s your hand?” you ask him. 

“It’ll be fine,” he reassures you. “I dunno where the little bugger went,” he looks around for the dog.  

You both ignore the sound of the chain thrashing around until you hear grunting and look toward the house. Punches are landing. Carter puts a hand on his rifle but doesn’t move yet. Joel grunts and yells between punches. A minute later, Joel steps out of the house, walking backwards, with the chain pulled taught, and a bloody man dragging behind him. Joel kicks him up against the wall, hits him in the face with the butt of his rifle, then wraps the chain around the drain pipe where the dog was tied up. Joel hits the man again, then aims the rifle and calmly shoots him. Even if you never see the dog again, you're certain the dog is better off without that man. Joel wipes blood splatter off his brow and scowls at the ground as he walks back to you and Carter.

“Ya good?” Carter asks him. 

Joel nods. He’s sweaty, chest heaving.  You try not to let your eyes linger on the remaining blood. You observe his throbbing veins instead. The whole scene has you clenching your thighs.

You walk mostly in silence. When you stop for water, you realize you're being followed. Joel doesn’t notice, but you see the dog duck behind an old car when you turn around. You keep a straight face.

You hear something in the distance. Dust is kicked up down the road. Carter says, “Finally.”  It’s the van that still works, picking you up. You didn't know it was coming and wish the dog could follow you the rest of the way home, but you don’t say anything. You're glad he's unchained. 

—–

When you get back to the stash house, Joel works on the broken down van. When he’s done for the day, he takes you back to the trailer and washes the grease off. When he comes out of the bathroom, you're sitting in the window nook looking at your book, but thinking about the dog. He comes over, wiping his hands off on a towel. "Wanna go out 'n' shoot?" He seems to want to cheer you up.  

Joel goes first. He looks through the scope at the trailer park. Ever since those guys showed up one night, he's looking for other raiders or troublemakers. Then he lines up a shot at the usual target. Your eyes are on his biceps. When Joel is about to take aim, the rare sound of ducks honking startles you. They should’ve already flown South. Joel gets up on his knees and aims toward the front of the flock. He hits one, shifts ahead of the flock, and hits another. It gives you butterflies. You hear a thud as the second one hits the ground. 

“Nice!” you tell him. He winks at you and puts the gun strap over his shoulder. You smooth your dress under your butt as you stand up, then adjust the thigh holster. Joel groans as he stands up. You peer down toward where the birds fell, and something is moving up the hill. A bird, moving strangely. A dead bird, in a little dog's mouth. 

You gasp. Joel looks at you, then follows your eyes. The bird is as big as the dog.  His mouth is open wide to fit the neck.  He crests the hill and drops the bird. "Good boy!" You praise. He does a happy circle and trots back down the hill. 

You look at Joel and try not to smile. Joel puts his hand on his hip and shifts his weight to one leg. He looks down at the ground and rubs brow with the flat of his index finger, squinting. When the dog returns with the second bird, Joel mutters, "alright, big guy," and squats down to accept the bird from his mouth.  Then you barely hear him mutter, "good boy." The dog does another circle and trots around the other side of the trailer. 

 "How'd he find us, all this way?" You marvel. 

"Must have some hound in’m," Joel shakes his head. “Guess ya made an impression.” 

Joel starts a fire and boils two big pots of water. The dog keeps a respectful distance, lounging in the same clover patch where you were sitting earlier. Joel chops the heads and feet off the birds, and tosses them on the ground. The dog scurries over, wagging his tail. He drags one of the duck heads over to the grass to chew on with his butt in the air and his tail wagging furiously, all the way upright now. 

Joel beckons you back inside to wash up and change. He takes a quick shower while you take off the flannel and wash your hands in the kitchen sink. You take off the belt, untethering the ribbons, but you leave the holster on. You sit back down in the window nook.

—-

When Joel comes out from the bathroom, he sits down, manspreads, and pats the kitchen table in front of him, looking at the skirt of your dress as you get up from your seat. You unholster your gun and set it down, then use your hands to help yourself onto the surface, sitting on your dress so your thighs won't stick.  Joel spreads your knees so he can be between them, and grabs your ass to scoot you closer. 

He lifts the dress to look at the holster, and he puts his toothpick in his mouth. 

"s'prised it worked," he mutters. He eyes your legs and runs his hands all the way up your thighs with a deep breath.  "Looks good on ya, too," he murmurs. He thumbs the ribbon of the holster, then unties it. He unbuckles the real strap, too. Then he lifts your knee, slides the holster out from under you, and sets it aside with the gun. He runs his hand over the indentation in your skin from the buckle. "that hurt?" He asks. 

"No." 

He puts his elbows down on either side of your hips, and his biceps rest against your thighs. He looks back and forth between your breasts and takes the toothpick out of his mouth. Without taking his eyes off you, he throws it into the kitchen sink and it hits the metal with a light plink. 

He furrows his brow and looks at your body, then puts his cheek flat against your breast at the lace neckline of your cotton dress while he palms the opposite tit. He turns his face to nose your nipple, and it hardens through the fabric of your dress. He dampens the cotton with his mouth as he flattens his tongue against it. One hand holds your back, near your shoulder blade for leverage, with his thumb hooked under your arm. 

He kisses wetly at your breast through your dress, then glances up at you. His hands slide up to the straps of your dress. He gently nudges the straps off your shoulder. His fingers skim your nipples as he curls his thick fingers into the lace neckline, then pulls the dress down below your tits.  He presses his wide tongue onto your nipple and closes his eyes as he latches onto it. Then he lets go with a soft pop and sucks below the nipple as he massages the other breast.  You're gushing arousal with your legs wide open.  He inhales through his nose and his stomach growls. 

"Joel," you sigh, resting your hands on his muscular back. You watch his vein 

His only response is "Mmm," into your nipple.  You're throbbing, and the more attention he pays to your tits, the more your cunt aches to be filled. You want to let him explore your body, it's not something he normally does, but it also makes you want his cock so bad. You want him to slide you off the table and sink you onto his massive erection. He's really taking his time.  You take a deep breath and try to relax. Your clit twitches. 

Joel pulls down the dress a little more, exposing an inch or two below your breasts. He switches sides, dragging his mouth to his right, your left.  With your left nipple in his mouth, he looks up at you and makes sleepy eye contact. His pupils are blown wide. 

"Joel, I want it," you plead.

His tongue trails as he moves his mouth an inch to the right of your nipple, then he closes his eyes again. He licks and sucks the outer curve of your breast, massaging the other one with a thumb lightly brushing the nipple, then the heel of his palm flattening it into your breast. His eyes open to watch his massive hand moving languidly on your breast. 

You whine his name again and slot your fingers into his dark, curly hair. He doesn't look up. You finger his curls and the pads of your fingers lightly caress his scalp. He pulls his mouth off your breast and backs his head away enough to look at your body. You let your fingers fall out of his hair and rest back on his shoulders. One of his hands moves to rest on your hip, his fingers curling around your flesh and his thumb brushing the hem of your dress. 

His voice is low and husky. "Ever feel like ya just. . ." He meets your gaze with hungry eyes, then looks at your lips. "gotta have your mouth on somethin’?"

His eyes fall down your body as he sits back and palms himself through his jeans.  You whisper "yeah," with a smile and begin to scoot off the table so you can suck him off. He abruptly leans forward and stops you with both hands firmly on your hips. He doesn't let you move. His brow furrows. He looks back and forth between your breasts and noses a nipple again. He murmurs low and gruff into your supple skin,  "Ain't talkin' 'bout you."

Your chest erupts in goosebumps.  He drags his hands down your dress to the bare skin of your legs, then slides his massive palms back up your thighs, slipping his fingers under your dress, leaving his thumbs hooked on top. You brace your hands on the table to lift your butt for him. His hands keep moving up, reaching your hips.  The fabric of your dress bunches above your ass, then he curls his fingers under the waistband of your panties and begins to take them down. You let yourself back down on the table as he slides the underwear down your legs. It dangles between his fingers as he brings his hand to your neck and caresses the side of your throat with his thumb.

You feel the damp cotton against your throat and smell your own arousal as he grips your jaw. He locks eyes with you for less than a second before his gaze drifts downward. He returns his other palm to your breast, fingers slotting under your arm to hold you steady as he pushes you down until your back is flat on the table. He nudges your thighs farther apart.  He sucks in a sharp breath through his nose and hums "Mmm." 

He drops the panties on the table. He spreads you open and thumbs your folds, bringing the moisture up to your clit.  He hunches over to bring his face between your legs and his left hand reaches up to fondle a breast.  He drags his nose through your slick and inhales, then moans at your scent. He plants his mouth on the crease of your thigh. He sucks the skin into his mouth, then lets go. He runs two knuckles through your folds, then gently nudges his middle finger  inside. Your walls spasm around the intrusion and he breathes, "god damn." 

He pumps his finger once and adds a second digit. You moan, and he hums a deep "Mmm," in response.  He takes his fingers out and sucks one, then both into his mouth.  "Fuck," he breathes. 

He doesn't waste any more time, spreading you wide open with his thumbs and burying his face in your cunt. He starts at your entrance where your wetness pools and licks up from there, punctuating the first lick with a kiss on the clit that makes your thighs tremble. Then he laps at you more selfishly, like he's thirsty, like he needs to drink you. His tongue starts flat and stiffens as he digs for more and explores each crevasse. He moans into your folds.  You've never felt anything as powerful and precise as his tongue.  It's stronger than his fingers.  It makes you tingle in one swipe, then presses into the tingle for relief.  He holds you gently until you wriggle in pleasure and he holds you down firmer with one forearm across your lower belly.  

He breathes through his nose and moans as he devours you. When he pauses, he draws in a deeper breath through his mouth then exhales vocally against your wet cunt. 

"Feel good?" He asks with a glance to your face, then plants his mouth on your clit. 

He slides one then two fingers into your core again and you gasp then answer "y-yeah," as he sucks your clit while he pumps them. 

He takes his arm off your abdomen to unbutton his pants and take his stiff cock out. He pulls his face away from your pussy. You're throbbing, and your body races to replenish all the moisture he's sucked up. He gathers some on his fingers then also spits into his hand and wraps it around his length. You want it inside you so, so bad. You hear the squelching as his hand moves up and down his shaft. 

He brings his face between your legs again and puts his arm back on top of you to hold you still, angling his elbow so his thumb is planted at your clit. He laps at you again, moaning into your throbbing, swollen lips. He firmly licks between your clit and hole, then thrusts his tongue into your entrance and you whimper. He tilts his head and jabs his sharpened tongue into you again and again, pumping his cock all the while.  He noses your clit as he sucks and laps, then fucks you with his tongue again.  

You writhe under his arm. "Yeah," he whispers before planting his mouth again. He works your clit with his thumb as he thrusts his tongue into you, dragging it against the top wall, and your desperate cunt twitches against him. You let out a long whine, and his thumb gently rubs the top of your clit, over your hood. 

"Joel," you whimper and it turns into a moan. 

His thumb slows down, and he gathers more slick on his fingers. He wipes it on his shaft, then pulls you by the thighs closer to the edge, unsticking your bare ass from the table. You sit up on your elbows and whimper, "want you. . ."  

He's holding his cock, chest heaving. "Want this?"

"Yeah-yes," you whimper. "Please."

He gazes darkly at your cunt and decides, "Ain't done yet."

You whine his name as he puts his face between your legs again. He sucks your clit for a few seconds until you're whimpering, then he plants his mouth a little lower.  He flattens two fingers to rubs your clit while he fucks you with his tongue. You moan his name as your climax seizes you, and you clench around his tongue. He moves his hand from your clit to your mound to hold you steady as you come. He withdraws his tongue from your hole and laps up and down your folds for a few seconds as you continue to twitch. 

Then he stands up, holding his stiff, wet cock.  His face is flushed, and he's shiny from the nose down.  He braces a hand on the table and teases your clit with his swollen tip.  You flinch in pleasure, still reeling from your first orgasm. He notches his tip at your wet little hole, holds onto your thighs,.and shoves himself into you with a groan. He stays in for a moment, sighing “Ohh, fuck,” admiring your body as it rushes to accommodate him. You spasm around him, still twitching with aftershocks.

He backs up then slams into you with a low growl from his chest. It's a lot to take, but god it feels good. He lifts your legs and puts his arms under your knees, wrapping his hands over to hold your thighs as he buries his length in you, grunting and sighing. His balls slap against your ass. His biceps flex, and It isn't long before you begin to moan and writhe, and squeeze his cock. 

"Good girl," he breathes. "Good, sweet pea."

He closes his eyes and fucks you through it. He breathes deep and slow, like he's trying not to come yet.  He slows way down, moans, then bottoms out and begins to pulse. He brings his hands to either side of your body and hovers over you while he thrusts slowly with each warm burst he releases. You milk his cock until his balls are empty, then your contractions fade. 

Joel hovers there, admiring your body. Then he slides out and sits down on the chair between your legs again. His armpits are warm and humid on your thighs.  He puts one hand on each breast and lowers his head to rest his cheek on your lower abdomen, tickling you with his beard. He wipes his mouth on your belly and a spot of drool from the corner of his mouth hits your skin.  He stares off at the front door of the trailer in a trance, gently cupping your breasts. He mumbles, "Taste so good, sweet pea." 

You reach for his hair and he doesn't stop you from fingering his curls. His eyelids droop, and after a few seconds, he closes his eyes.  You lightly massage his scalp again. 

He only allows himself a minute or two before he tenses and clears his throat. He lifts his head and slides his hands under your arms, helping you sit up straight. 

“I'll check the birds,” he says as he tucks his cock away.  He squeezes your thigh and gives you a wink before he stands up to go outside. 

------------

------------

Thank you for reading and engaging 🖤 It means the world to me when you show him your love! whether this post is new or old. I also love when people throw a comment when they re-read. It's like adding coals to the fire that keeps me warm and writing lol.

You can find more raider!Joel oral on the raider master list under hypotheticals/imagines/HCs.

My tag lists are being phased out. . . please subscribe to notifications on @toxicfics.

-----