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gutsby · 1 month

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Abstaining Game

Pairing: dbf!Joel x Reader

Summary: The only thing worse than an anti-sex retreat is an anti-sex retreat with your former fuckbuddy and dad’s best friend. Especially when sharing one cabin.

Warnings: 18+. IF HE AIN’T GRAYIN’ I AIN’T STAYIN’ 🗣️ [Age gap]. Unprotected p-in-v. Forced proximity. Joel making you fuck just his middle finger when he’s mad. Daddy kink. Overstimulation. First-time squirting. Angst.

Translations: ‘Don’t piss down my back & tell me it’s raining’ is a fun Southern phrase for, ‘Cut the bullshit’ or ‘Don’t lie.’

Sequel to Waiting Game & Hating Game (last rhyme I swear)

October 26, 2024

Dear Joel,

Roses are red,

We’re a couple of sluts,

Abstinence camp is awful,

I miss you rearranging my guts.

You were just about to put your pen back down to paper and add the finishing touch, signing an equally lascivious farewell, when the letter was snatched out of your hands. A tyrant in khaki capris and an artichoke-colored polo eyed over your words with a pointed look and frowned.

“Letters to the boyfriend have to be G-rated,” Marlene said, crumpling the thing in her fist before chucking it.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” you returned shortly. Then, “That was actually meant for my dad’s friend.”

You sat tight a moment as the dots came to connect in the woman’s parochial and prudish mind—waiting for the wince of disgust to twitch at the corners of her eyes when she put two and two together. Once it did, you grinned. Even when she plucked the pen out of your hand and told you to sit outside, if you can’t participate in this one simple activity, you smiled bigger and strolled at a comfortable pace out the canteen door.

Anti-sex ‘summer camp’ wasn’t bad at all when you didn’t give a fuck what your counselors told you to do.

It was ridiculous, really. Absurd. Tommy Miller catching you sucking his brother’s dick under the table at your father’s birthday dinner, losing his shit with you both, then threatening to tell your dad everything if you didn’t agree to this stupid retreat and stop seeing each other. You’d barely been trapped in the shithole for twenty-four hours, and you already knew this angle wouldn’t work.

What many of your fellow campers affectionately called the ‘Firefly Fuck-Free Zone’ or the ‘Federal Dickriding Response Agency’ (F.E.D.R.A.) was in fact a secluded enclave south of Austin where khaki-clad monsters forced you to reckon with your sexual urges like one might treat a mutated strain of the Cordyceps fungus. You weren’t meant to keep them for long, and if you did, someone like Marlene would surely shame you for it.

Frankly, Tommy was dumb as shit if he thought this anti-boinking boot camp would have an effect on either one of you—Joel wouldn’t ever bang you again after what happened that night, but it wouldn’t be because of some arts and crafts bullshit he did out on a FEDRA ranch.

He just didn’t want your dad to find out and kill him.

That was a fair concern to have. You didn’t blame him.

Presently, you kicked your feet up on the porch outside the cafeteria, where the rest of the group was finishing up letters to their loved ones—this latest activity was meant to be ‘making amends’ to the people in your life—and you tipped your head back to survey the landscape.

Nothing but sweetgrass and gently rolling hills as far as the eye could see. Somewhere across the plains there was another cluster of cabins, though you couldn’t quite see it, and someplace within that minuscule cluster, you knew there was a middle-aged man. Dark grey eyebrows furrowed in concentration and chest heaving gently. Likely hunched over an old oak desk about five sizes too small for his frame as he gripped a pen and scribbled:

Dear Tommy,

Fuck you, you fucking fuck.

Sincerely,

Joel

You grinned again just thinking about it.

If anyone had a reason to be ticked off and terrified, it was Joel. And you, you guessed. You still hadn’t gotten your period—but that wasn’t due for another few days.

For now, you’d settled on worrying yourself over what would happen after the retreat had ended; what would you and Joel do once you went back to school? What would become of his life back in Austin with a supremely pissed off brother and a best friend who didn’t know his kid had been fooling around with a man twice her age?

Silently, you thanked your lucky stars Joel’s part of the camp was kept separate from yours, because you didn’t think you’d be able to keep a straight face if you saw him.

The whole thing was sickening, if not slightly funny.

You slipped Joel’s old pack of American Spirits out of your boot and fished in your back pocket for a lighter.

Then you crammed both back when you heard a boom:

“LAKESIDE GUIDED MEDITATION STARTS IN FIVE.”

The tinny intercom rang a deafening pitch in your ears. You clamped a palm over the left side of your head and winced, having forgotten this exercise in mindfulness was supposed to be the last event to wrap up your day. You just wanted to slink back up to your cabin and sleep. Or eat. Or slip your fingers between your aching legs and indulge in some much-needed Joel Miller reminiscing.

Then you recalled how masturbation was also off limits to all would-be sexaholic campers—if there was any time to sneak off and get busy by yourself while your counselors were otherwise occupied, now would be it.

Just as you cast a glance over your shoulder to see if a stealthy exit was even possible, a voice trilled overhead.

“On your feet, skank.”

You looked back fast, and damn did Tess look smug.

Your bunkmate crossed her arms over her chest and leaned against the doorframe, seeming to feel your thoughts before they’d even been fully processed.

“If you skip meditation, I think Marlene’s gonna take you behind the rec and shoot you in the head,” she added.

“How kind.”

“Yeah? Certain death?”

“Better than the dick deprivation,” you grumbled, only half-kidding as you dragged yourself back to your feet.

Theresa Servopoulos was no avid fan of penis herself—she much preferred women when she had her pick of it—but she grinned all the same and clapped a comforting hand over your shoulder before the two of you started walking down the mess hall’s front steps. Then she only laughed a little bit when you almost ate shit treading down the winding rocky trail to the lake and cursed your present lack of intercourse for causing your clumsiness.

“You realize it’s only been, like…a day, right?” she said.

“Might as well be a million,” you muttered, “I feel like I’m never getting laid again.”

“Oh?”

Tess gripped your elbow when a root protruding from the path nearly sent you flying again. She tried not to smile.

“Well…my fake brother’s mad at me for going behind his back and fucking his brother,” you explained, coolly.

Stupidly.

“Wait—you fucked your brother?!”

That stopped Tess in her tracks. The two of you were approaching the cusp of a clearing, just feet away from where the forest gave way to the shoreline of the lake. Folks were already congregating at the water’s edge.

“Any day now, ladies,” Marlene called through cupped hands. Tess was still regarding you with eyes the size of saucers as you traipsed across the way to that voice.

“Not my brother,” you hissed.

“You said your brother’s brother. That makes this guy your brother, too,” Tess whispered—still far too loud.

“Not my actual brother, he’s just— fuck—”

Suddenly, two scraps of red fabric were catapulted in your direction. Tess caught one. You caught the other.

“Tie ‘em over your eyes.” Marlene ordered.

“The fuck?” you mumbled, but ventured nothing more as you were ushered to join the group sitting cross-legged on the ground in front of you. Everyone else was tying bandanas around their eyes like all of this was normal.

“Another trust exercise,” Tess’s voice was low as you dropped your asses one after the other on the sand. Speaking like a seasoned veteran of the anti-sex retreat, she helped you get yours on and shot you one last ‘You-better-not-have-actually-fucked-your-sibling’ look before letting you help her secure her blindfold, too.

Just as Marlene began describing in great detail what this blind, guided meditation in self-love and elemental trust was meant to look like, your friend opted to give voice to her concerns the second the opportunity arose.

Still seated side-by-side, still blind, Tess leaned over.

“Please tell me you’re not here for bangin’ your brother.”

You had to stifle a laugh.

“I am not.”

“Then explain, Cersei!”

Just then, a throat cleared behind you. Evidently another camp counselor at your rear was telling you, wordlessly, to shut the fuck up and listen to the instructions. You and Tess just scooted closer and lowered your voices.

“So this guy, Tommy…he’s been like a big brother to me for years. Worked with my dad and always had my back for the wild shit I did back in high school,” you began.

“Uh-huh.”

“His big brother, Joel, is like…old as shit, but wildly hot.”

“Dangerous combo.”

“And Joel’s my dad’s best friend. Drove me back from college over fall break when he was visiting Boston, we took a little motel detour on the road trip home, and bam—” You snapped your fingers for effect, “We fuck, right?”

“Right.”

“—imagine you’re standing at the edge of a waterfall—”

Marlene couldn’t be serious with this hippy dippy shit. You tuned out the rest of what she said and continued:

“It’s incredible. But the condom busts open at the end—”

“Oh shit.”

“—deep breath in…and release…and again, we—”

“Freak the fuck out, right? I’m poppin’ Plan B like candy.”

“As you should.”

“—hold that breath in right there—”

“A week later, me and Joel hook up at my dad’s birthday party. Only we fuck up, ‘cause Tommy catches us, and—”

This time, the counselor who’d cleared their throat to shut you up took to nudging you both in the back with the toe of their shoe. You straightened up, tilted your head back, and scowled at them through your blindfold.

“Do you mind?” you said, turning in place but unable to see anything behind you. You imagined whoever had just butted in on your conversation was probably frowning. They said nothing in return, just huffed like a child.

“Anyway.” You pivoted back to Tess, “Tommy flips his lid, tells us he’s gonna snitch on us to my dad if we keep fucking around like that, and then he…sends us here.”

You heard your friend fight back a chuckle beside you.

“And abstinence camp is supposed to cure you of this awful disease? Wanting to fuck daddy’s best friend?”

Oddly, you wanted to giggle too. You weren’t sure what was so funny, or why Tess’s tone made you want to say something equally out of pocket and lewd, but then you were leaning over before you could even think twice:

“That old man’s dick is like a fuckin’ drug, dude.”

You wished you could’ve seen her face when you said it. But you didn’t need to catch a single glimpse to know she was grinning big and dumb when she whispered,

“Prehistoric cock must’ve been pretty nice, huh?”

You choked. She snorted. You returned, next, shortly,

“Best senior citizen schlong I’ve had in my life.”

You weren’t sure which one of you burst out laughing first. Maybe Tess. Probably you. Either way, both of your sides were splitting in seconds, as the ridiculous and just marginally offensive descriptors for Joel’s dick trembled at the tips of your tongues. You felt like a teenager again, telling your friend your filthiest desires for the DILF-next-door—except this time, you’d actually fucked him. Small perks to seeking out middle-aged men in your twenties. You had to clamp your hand over your mouth to rein in the peals of laughter as Tess wheezed quietly beside you.

Then you felt hands.

Two palms under your armpits, yanking you up.

You stumbled back, graceless and still staving off half a laugh as your back struck the counselor’s chest.

“Just…take her back up.” You heard a female’s voice to your left, low and not sounding particularly amused.

Take you where? Was this the part where Marlene dragged you behind the rec and shot you in the head?

About damn time.

Whoever had grabbed you grunted in acknowledgment. You swayed in their arms, trying to regain better footing, but the grip tightened up in a second and thrust you sideways. You staggered, cursing your captor.

“Fucker,” you hissed.

Fucker said nothing.

Their hands slipped from your pits to one of your wrists, leading you away from the lake in long strides. You were moving so fast you scarcely had the chance to pull the blindfold back, so you just kept walking. Marching.

“Can you slow the fuck down, please?”

You imagined the face of the person leading you forward might’ve twisted in a scowl. Their lips didn’t stir, though.

In a matter of minutes, your feet were crunching on the flat, gravelly terrain you knew to lay under the cabins. This person was leading you back. Likely to throw you off to your room in the next several moments—but not before ripping you a new one for disrupting the peace back down at the lake. You weren’t stoked to hear it.

“Alright, just—” You tripped as you were led up the rickety steps, cursing again, “—just leave me right here.”

A set of knuckles at your spine thrust you forward.

“No? Okay. Fine. Whatever.”

You shook your head as you entered the cabin and heard footsteps follow you in. It occurred to you then that now was probably a good time to take off the blindfold.

Before you could, though, it was ripped off for you.

“Pack your shit.”

Dude.

You spun on your heels.

“DUDE!”

Your eyes moved up the very khaki shorts you despised, the puke-colored polo, the neatly embroidered camp logo, and a nametag strangely labeled ‘Lucien Flores.’ Everything in the ensemble screamed ‘camp counselor.’ But the face above it—it wasn’t one of their own at all.

It was far too lax. Fresh with an easy, shit-eating grin.

“Sweetheart—”

He started to speak, only to get the wind knocked out of his chest when you threw your arms around him.

The barrage of kisses came without you ever really intending to place them at all. You were just so stunned, practically overcome with joy to see Joel Miller in all his ruggedly handsome glory, then confused. What was he doing here, and why was he dressed head-to-toe as a counselor? And why were you so into that on him?

You doubted you could even ask the questions, and he was barely more able to answer the longer you stayed latched to his neck, kissing him everywhere your mouth could get to. You’d just stood on tip-toes to press your lips to his when you realized he wasn’t reaching back.

His hands hung limply at his sides. Still, he smiled.

“Abstinence camp ain’t taught ya much, has it?”

You parted your lips to drag your teeth along the grey-spattered scruff on his cheek—biting but not quite. Begging him to kiss you back, grab your ass, anything to quell this anguish twisting low in your stomach at the lack of contact. Joel didn’t seem keen on answering to it.

“I’ve learned plenty, Miller,” you panted against his jaw, before moving below it to sink into the skin of his neck, “Lemme show you all the stuff FEDRA told us not to do.”

Yes, you sounded desperate. No, you didn’t really care. You were much too busy fiddling with the front of Joel’s shorts to concern yourself with anything but his cock. It made it all the more gut-wrenchingly horrific and disconcerting when you felt his hands push yours away.

“No,” Joel said, simply. Then, nodding to your luggage at the foot of your bunk, “Pack your stuff, sweets. C’mon.”

He was seriously trying to break you out?

You admired the cojones on the man, but you wanted to fuck real quick to get it out of your system. Needed it.

“Joel, I—” You swallowed thickly, shaking your head.

What your mouth couldn’t finish, your eyes said clear as day: I want you to take me right here. Quick and dirty. But, again, Joel seemed completely impervious to your pleas. Almost callous in the face of such a desperate request made from your eyes to his. He moved over toward your suitcase when you didn’t want to budge.

Luckily for you, you’d never unpacked. All that was left were the clothes on your back and a water bottle on the nightstand. Joel grabbed the latter and turned around to snag the suitcase on his way to the door, when he was met with you. Obstructing his path and frowning a little.

“Joel?” You raised a brow.

“Mm?”

The man in front of you straightened up, rolling a nonexistent kink from his neck before regarding you.

His gaze was alarmingly sedate.

“Y’know, you’ve got quite the knack for makin’ shit difficult—”

“Just a quickie, Miller—”

“I ain’t fuckin’ you here!”

The sudden boom of his voice should’ve startled you. But then a broad, warm palm came to rest on your shoulder, and Joel’s expression dropped immediately. There was still a tightness to it, somewhere deep within, and you couldn’t quite work out why he seemed so…off.

Then you caught sight of something steely in his gaze.

It just might’ve clicked if Joel didn’t reach for your face and elucidate things for you himself, eyes narrowing.

“I know my old man dick is like a fuckin’ drug and all…”

Shit.

Cheeks squished between his two big hands, you had only to stare. And blink. And silently regret being so loud when you were talking to Tess before. It didn’t look good.

“Joel—”

“No, no, my senile brain must be mistaken—it was actually that prehistoric cock that did it for ya.”

Your face heated with shame. You blinked again.

But just as you tried to shake your head between Joel’s hands, he pressed his palms tighter and drew you closer.

“Senior. citizen. schlong?” he intoned, painfully slow.

“Joel, I just—”

“Need to fuck someone your own age, it sounds like.”

The man in front of you released your face just as fast as he’d grabbed it, and when he stepped back, you couldn’t help but feel a pang of desperation. That wasn’t what you’d meant! It sounded so puerile and cruel coming out of his lips like this, but you had to tell him it was a joke.

“It was a joke.”

No time to mince words now.

“Real fuckin’ comedic genius,” Joel snorted.

He rolled his eyes and tried to sidestep you, but you mirrored the movement. When your hands flew to his chest to keep him from moving, please, just listen to me, Joel, he pretended not to hear it, or feel it, against him.

“Alright. Enough,” he muttered, “‘S’time to go home.”

“No!”

“No?”

“No.”

For the first time, you saw Joel’s nostrils flare. You pressed into his sternum again, hoping to hold him in place so you could explain yourself, but it seemed he wasn’t planning on staying stationary. Joel dropped to your bunk—or Tess’s, technically—and situated himself comfortably on the bed before shooting you a look. You barely had had a moment’s time to contemplate your next move when he yanked you onto the cot with him.

Joel didn’t try to kiss you. He didn’t attempt to remove one article of clothing from your body or his. He just sat there, staring, while you straddled his hips staring back.

“If you wanna fuck me so bad, go right ahead,” he said, motioning indistinctly in front of him, “Be my guest.”

When you stilled, he added, “That is all y’want, right?”

With your palms laying flat on his chest and a head full of conflicting thoughts—you did want to bang him, obviously, but not before you’d gotten a chance to set things straight, not when he was looking at you like this—you chewed your bottom lip. Certainly you couldn’t continue while Joel still believed you were embarrassed by his age, his lips downturned and humorless as ever.

“C’mon,” he tried again, a touch more venom laced in his words as he spoke, “Show me how much ya want it.”

You needed time to think.

“Why are you…dressed like this?” you said, stalling.

But Joel wouldn’t be kind enough to give you that time.

“Stole the uniform so I could sneak out and over here and get you out. Are we gonna fuck now or what?”

His hands moved over your own to guide them to his lower half, just above where your clothed core was touching his. Your fingers moved mechanically, almost reluctantly, to undo the button and zip of his shorts.

Was that a flash of hurt you saw in his eyes?

You’d never been good at this communication bullshit. Neither had Joel. The two of you would probably just have sex now to hash out your feelings, as was par for the course for a pair of emotionally stunted individuals. It still pained you to see him look at you like that, though.

“Tess and me were just kidding, baby.”

You palmed the bulge in his boxers and heard him grunt. When you nudged his cock out of the fabric to stroke him, his eyes fluttered shut and he sucked in a breath.

“I would never say those things to hurt you,” you added.

“Didn’t hurt me none,” Joel returned instantly. Then, feeling you flick the pad of your thumb over the head of his cock, he exhaled and held his face firm in place. Like he didn’t want you to see the effect you had on him.

You let go of his cock to take off your socks and shoes. Then your top. Then your shorts. Then you slid down his body a little, unsure if this was the time to be trying something new. Or even doing this kind of stuff at all.

At first, you just sort of lowered yourself to Joel’s groin, his dick resting comfortably between your tits. Then you started to move, and your hands were cupping either side of your breasts to push inward on his member. Before you even fully knew what you were doing, you were squeezing Joel’s dick with the soft, supple flesh and stroking him gently. Gaze glued to him all the while.

His eyes cracked open to catch you watching him. Evidently, Joel couldn’t contain all of his reactions, because he audibly groaned when you got going.

Sliding your tits up and down his shaft, feeling him pulse between them. Sensing a warmth pool in your own lower half but being too focused, and slightly ashamed, to act. You just wanted to make Joel feel good, even if your words weren’t able to do the trick with apologizing.

“Come here,” you beckoned him with just one finger as you slid off the bed, to the floor. Joel sat up, and you kneeled obediently between his legs. The two of you shared a tense, sexless look for a second before you lowered yourself back down and resumed the position.

This time, Joel could—and did—stir his hips to create some friction between your tits. His brow pinched inward with a muted concentration, and you wanted to say it looked handsome on him, that you were sorry for saying those stupid things to Tess and making him doubt your affection for him, but you kept your mouth shut. You had to remind yourself that emotions had no place between two needy, unfeeling people who just wanted to fuck.

Maybe that was how it should’ve been from the start.

But watching Joel’s face twist and contort in pleasure nearly wiped the thought clean out of your brain forever.

You felt many things for him, whether you liked it or not.

You really wished you hadn’t said the things you’d said.

Joel braced his hands at the edge of the bed on either side of him, hips working a steady pace to fuck your tits. He was staring mostly at the spot where the head of his cock was poking up through your cleavage with each thrust, entranced by the sight, and in a second, a full-throated moan was fighting its way out of his chest. He spit in his hand and paused to smear the stuff on his shaft, on your tits. Spit again and rubbed even harder.

Seeing him so cold and detached, you wanted to apologize again. Maybe beg him to say something kind.

Instead, you mumbled, “I love it when you fuck my tits.”

Joel scarcely acknowledged the remark, just letting you work yourself over him, meet his shallow thrusts, look sweet and wait patiently for him to cum all over you. When it seemed he might be ready to do it, though, Joel withdrew from you the next second and moved back on the bed. He pulled you into his lap, straddling again, but this time situated over the side of the bed—him sitting up, you perched on the flat, sturdy expanse of his thighs facing him. In the space between your bodies, Joel slid a quiet and almost careless hand to your heat, flicking the sheer fabric of your panties to the side in one go.

The moment his fingers made contact, you flinched.

It wasn’t that you were opposed to his touch, you just felt unfairly balanced in this situation. Joel appeared so stoic; you, a complete and utter wreck. Fighting fifteen different emotions at once and feeling unusually vulnerable spread open to him now, you almost didn’t register what he was doing—or what his hand might find.

Joel’s groan brought you back, though. When he rubbed his knuckles over the seam of your cunt and practically choked out twice his lung’s capacity, you had to look.

Aloof as he tried to be, the man’s desire was painted all over his expression. And his crotch. And his hand.

Well, actually, that last bit of arousal was yours.

“Fuckin’ soakin’ me, sweetie,” Joel breathed.

You perked up at the term of endearment. Watching one glistening fist of his make its way back and forth against your body, smearing sticky wet pleasure all over your mound and your folds, you found yourself gnawing your lip once more, this time for entirely different reasons.

Joel seemed to soften—even if only for a glaring carnal need, you didn’t care. You sank into this gentler touch.

“Khakis kinda suit you, Miller,” you said, off-handed.

Really, Joel looked almost as comical as he was sexy in that camp counselor getup: tan shorts stretched tight over even tanner legs, polyester top sitting pretty on wide, hulking shoulders, that silly stitched logo for the camp emblazoned over his left pec, and, of course, the nametag that didn’t belong to him but to Lucien. The whole thing was so alien to his lumberjack-chic demeanor that he nearly seemed boyish. Endearing. Some spearmint-scented hottie you might’ve had a crush on at camp years ago. You couldn’t help but smile.

Joel tried not to hold your gaze for too long.

“Don’t go pissin’ down my back and tell me it’s rainin’.”

When he slid one finger to your entrance, you tensed again, but smiled just the same and let out a breath. You felt him prod at the warm, wet skin and thumb at your clit, and something told you that he’d wanted to grin too.

“I’m serious,” you said, “Scout’s hon—ohfuckfuckfuck.”

Joel pushed one finger inside you. In spite of the ease with which he slipped between your walls, that gentle sensation made it wonderfully snug. He gripped your hip and started moving his single digit in and out, and in spite of yourself, you squirmed a bit. Joel never failed to call you out for doing that; today would be no different.

“Easy, sweet pea,” he hummed when you jumped again.

But you couldn’t help it. Your hands quickly anchored themselves to Joel’s shoulders, your legs spread wider, and your hips started stirring—bucking, really—against each teasing touch. It was still just one thick finger of his.

You glanced down and saw that it was his middle finger, in particular. The double meaning wasn’t lost on you.

“Another,” you pleaded.

“Nuh-uh.”

“You’re a mean ol— mean man.” You tried to correct course when you felt a mention of ‘old’ slip back into your vernacular, and inwardly, you cringed at your words.

Joel had already heard it. He cocked one eyebrow.

“Mean ol’ man?” he scoffed, still fingerfucking you softly. When you bucked against it, he nodded as if to say ‘fair enough.’

Then, before you could chime in, he nodded some more.

His expression was hard.

“Fuck my hand,” he said.

“What?”

“You heard me.”

You weren’t quite sure what he meant for you to do. When he nodded a third time, the gesture was accompanied by a quick dart of his eyes to the place where your cunt was being penetrated by his one finger. He curled the finger inward, and when you twitched at the hot throb of pleasure that followed, he grunted.

Fuck my hand.

Nails still searing tiny half-moons into his shoulders, you acted more out of impulse than by command. The look from Joel sure didn’t hurt, though. The second you started rolling your hips, he nodded again. Holding onto his praises for now and simply showing approbation.

“Like that,” he murmured.

All you were doing was rocking back and forth over his finger, whimpers percolating quietly in your chest, but the act alone made you feel desperate. And Joel smug.

It was like he wanted to see you getting off to this one, comparatively smaller part of him without being filled. Bucking plaintively to find that fullness and coming back empty every time. Your whimpers turned into whines.

“Need more,” you keened.

“Yeah?” Joel replied gently.

“Yeah.”

A beat, then:

“Tough shit.”

But he said it so goddamn sweet you had to do a double take to make sure you’d heard him correctly. When you met Joel’s eyes, you saw a hint of amusement lingering behind them. Then he squeezed your hip again and started helping you move into his hand, up and down.

“Only givin’ more fingers to good girls, y’hear?” he said.

“What about your cock?” You couldn’t help it.

Joel just breathed out through his nose. In a second, he went from camp counselor to disapproving father figure.

“Greedy little thing, ain’t ya?”

That was all he needed to say, but the firm plunge of his middle finger certainly put a finer point on it. He curled the digit again and, upon grazing that spongy surface inside you, saw another desperate plea in your eyes.

And pleasure.

The pleasure ran almost as intense as the desperation.

Your head fell back when Joel got to making those ‘come hither’ motions again and again, thumb circling your clit, eyes trained on your figure with a marked concern. Like the prospect of not drawing an orgasm out of you in the next two minutes might very well ruin the man’s night.

“‘S’alright, honey,” Joel said quietly.

Then, finding your gaze when your head tilted back,

“Be a good girl and let go for me. Let go for daddy, hm?”

Fortunately for him, that one low hum and another flick of his middle finger and thumb were all you needed to find your release. You came on his hand with a sharp, pitiful cry and a ‘Fuckthatfeelssogooddaddyplease,’ hips working feverishly against his hand as you rode out your high. The sight of you bouncing up and down on his open palm and the way your eyes rolled back, begging him to fuck you full of his cock next, felt wildly obscene.

Joel loved obscene. Needed obscene. Hot. Febrile. Raw.

He nodded again.

Before you’d even descended fully from those staggering heights, his finger was moving too—joined by two more. Joel stuffed his index and ring fingers inside your still-pulsing hole and pretended not to hear your soft cry.

After all, you’d asked for more before. Joel was just sating your desire; your overwrought body would be fine.

“Joel,” you hissed, seizing his wrist.

“Too much?” he returned.

You tried to verbalize some answer but were cut short by a punishing stretch—all three fingers plunging in and out of your sensitive, drooling cunt and making it full of him.

“Too soon?” he tried again.

“I—”

“Too fast?”

“N—”

“Too…old?” Joel pressed after a beat.

There was an air of feigned condescension in his tone as he took on a faster pace gliding his thick, calloused fingers between your walls. You might’ve screamed if you hadn’t found your forehead pressed to his and the warmth of his irises boring into yours while he did it all. At this distance, you could discern a trace of hurt again. Something needing to be soothed inside Joel Miller.

You rutted your hips and shook your head, skull still stuck to his as you did so. Whimpers coming low.

“I didn’t…mean it,” you managed at length.

“What? That I’m ‘old as shit but wildly hot’?”

Joel wedged his fingers straight down to the knuckle and nearly tore a shriek out of your body. His eyes were surprisingly soft. Making sure your pleasure was all there.

“Hyperbole,” you choked, voice hoarse.

Then your jaw grew lax when a hand cupped your chin. All you wanted to do was melt into Joel, but you sensed something brewing again behind those honeyed eyes. Blinking was all you could do to keep your composure.

“You’re right, darlin’,” Joel said, “I am too old for you.”

Right after a clench in your tummy, a hurried word leapt up to your tongue, ‘NO!’ and you had to swallow a moan to keep from succumbing to the pleasure Joel was bringing with his fingers. Sandwiched between two orgasms was no time for a serious argument to take place, but there you were, fighting against it anyway.

“N-No,” you stammered. Stupid.

“I am.” His voice came softer somehow, more resigned.

When outright rejection of the claim seemed futile, you tried to pivot. Climax still closing in as fast as ever.

“I don’t care about that,” you hissed, exhaling hard when the first ripples of bliss crept up toward your stomach.

Joel watched you with careful eyes.

“Yeah? And Tess?”

“Joel—”

“Or Tommy.”

“I don’t—”

“Everyone else?”

Almost against your will, those minuscule ripples turned to waves of full-blown euphoria, and then you were clenching again on Joel’s hand and crying out in climax. You willed your gaze not to stray from his, but it was tough. Especially when the eyes beneath your own seemed so fucking morose and removed from you.

Don’t do this to me, Miller. Don’t do it, don’t do it.

In the wake of what should’ve been consummate satisfaction, you found yourself retreating to a place more akin to starvation—suddenly eager to get your mouth over his and start kissing, tonguing, and scraping your teeth like you’d missed out on a full week’s worth of meals. Feeling selfish but also uncertain how else to proceed—was Joel Miller breaking up with you here?

You couldn’t be sure, because he kissed you back. Joel kissed you and cupped your cheeks, then chased your frame all the way down to the coarse, scratchy sheets of the bed, where he was quick to climb on top of you.

Hell, it seemed breathing was too tough to accomplish with your frenzied pace and the continuous stream of open-mouthed kisses placed anywhere and everywhere. A groan from Joel trembled between your lips as you helped him get his shorts and boxers the rest of the way down his legs—all but dragging them with your heels—and he tightened a fist in your hair when they were off.

“I shouldn’t’a come here,” he mumbled.

“But you did,” you panted.

Both of you got lost in another onslaught of kisses, and you tried not to sigh. Joel was still battling something.

Even as he peeled your panties off and lined himself up with your entrance, he seemed resolved to stay quiet. Holding your gaze and not saying what had to be said.

He was a lot like you in that way.

You kept kissing him anyway.

The events that followed seemed to you little more than fleeting, happy scenes from a film you’d always wanted to see—an eager Joel, a caring Joel, an I-don’t-think-I’m-physically-capable-of-holding-you-any-closer Joel. The weight of his cock a welcome friend and the kisses somehow far too intimate to be considered friendly at all. You’d almost forgotten you were at a camp designed to prevent this very thing from happening between two stupid, impulsive people like you, and you didn’t care.

All you knew was a yawning stretch—that aching, empty void filled to perfection by Joel’s member—and the shockwaves of pleasure that vibrated in bands all the way down to the balls of your feet. You felt safe and secure caged between two muscular arms, and you reveled in a warmth that spanned every inch of your body touching his. The weight suffocating and somehow not oppressive; Joel cradled your head to make sure of it.

“Ain’t…hurtin’ ya, am I?” he said when you winced.

You shook your head against his sweaty palms to say that he wasn’t; you were just adjusting. He scanned your face for any trace of insincerity but found nothing.

In this tender position, your brain was ready to burst—whether from guilt, shame, ruthless self-loathing, or a sobering sense of closeness, you weren’t sure. All four seemed to form the impetus for the words that came next, which were soft, repeated apologies against Joel’s mouth. He swallowed each one without a second thought.

“Quit sayin’ it,” he rasped, low.

“I’m sorry, Joel, I’m sorr—”

Soft lips again. ‘S’okay, honey.’

You weren’t sure why, but your face felt extra hot.

Joel pressed his thumbs on either side of it while he kissed you and went deeper. Then he squeezed even more, and your breath hitched quietly in your throat.

Aw, shit, he could probably feel your heart running amok in your chest and thrumming like crazy right now.

“Ain’t nothin’—” Joel paused to send one measured thrust along your cervix, “—to be sorry for. Nothin’.”

Your legs tightened at his sides when his hips started to snap in quick, stuttered motions, desperate for more friction and depth. He got both, and he groaned feeling you tighten around him as he filled your cunt to the brim. The silky warmth of your walls drawing him in was almost too much, and every now and then he’d have to slow to mutter some, ‘’S’fuckin’ chokin’ me, honey, ya feel that?’ or ‘This pussy’s just made to take me, huh?’

Joel asked like he actually needed the reassurance. As if the slick, dripping arousal coating his length and the sounds of your whimpers mixed in with those wet slaps weren’t enough—as if he had to have deeper consolation.

He was splitting you open and looked guilty as he did it.

Still shaking with each thrust, you helped him slide his shirt over his head and bring him bare, chest-to-chest with you. You couldn’t ignore the tension any longer.

“Joel, I fuckin’ love— I need you inside,” you managed.

“You do?”

“Uh-huh.”

His face softened.

“‘S’mine, isn’t it?”

He said it so fast you couldn’t make out if it were really a question or a simple statement of fact. His balls routinely smacking your ass, eyes searching yours, always gentle.

“Say that you’re mine.”

No, Joel—don’t do that, don’t say it like that.

Your visceral reaction was to recoil. You couldn’t because he had you pinned, but damn did you want to—not him, not this, not now, Joel, why would you fucking say that?

The look in his eyes now surpassed the hurt from before. It was open and aching, even as he drilled your body in two at a near-ruthless pace. Asking you so sincerely.

The obstinacy inside you was almost laughable. Damn near sent your head spinning in a fit of hysterics at how much you wanted to say but wouldn’t; how much you sensed lay waiting to fly off Joel’s tongue but couldn’t. If you were any more emotionally pent-up you might’ve ruptured a blood vessel and lost all ability to think.

It didn’t help that you were both about to cum.

Or that Joel’s right hand was fumbling for your clit.

His expression was steady as ever when you jumped, made a whining noise below him, and grabbed his wrist. You looked down to where your bodies were joined and got a dizzying glimpse of that sight: cunt swallowing Joel’s cock repeatedly, pleasure pooling between your two bodies, then a digit at that little bundle of nerves.

He kissed your hairline and hummed.

“C’mon, pretty girl. Whose pussy is this?”

His thrusts sped up, along with his thumb.

“Don’t.” Not an answer but a warning: tread lightly, Joel.

He kissed your forehead again. And again. For a second you thought he might stay that way until you both came, but then his lips were finding yours, mumbling softly,

“Say no one’s gonna fuck you but me.”

“But—”

“None of those pencil-dick douchebag Delta Sigma whatever-the-fuck ya call ‘ems—” Joel continued, unfazed, “—not your lab partner, not your hallmate—”

His cock was gliding in and out of you at a punishing pace now. Wonderfully slick with sounds obscenely piercing to your ears. You could feel Joel digging in the depths of your tight, throbbing cunt, could see his expression contort with much the same pleasure you were experiencing yourself, and could very well smell the faint aroma of American Spirits still staining his breath. Joel Miller was a sick fuck for what he was doing to you, and he knew it. You nipped at his lower lip in between tender kisses and quietly-spoken words, and whimpered.

“—not your TAs, not your professors—” he pressed on.

You opened your mouth to let a lewd moan escape when Joel lifted his hand to shove a thumb inside. Instinctively, you sucked the whole thing straight down to the knuckle.

“Nobody but me, y’hear that?” Afforded better leverage with his finger wedged between your teeth, he shook your head a little as he fucked you. Watched you bob and nod a wordless ‘yes’ in doe-eyed complaisance while his cock drove shockwaves of pleasure straight through you.

He rubbed his thumb back and forth, and you let him.

You drooled all over that man’s finger like it might’ve been supplying oxygen to your lungs, and when Joel leaned in and said, ‘Ya like that, sweet pea?’, you answered in the affirmative. Or at least as close as you could get while Joel was filling up his two favorite holes.

Your orgasm was maybe two strokes away from shattering bones, it seemed. Now was his chance.

Swiftly, Joel retracted his touch just far enough to drag a string of saliva out of your mouth—then deliver a taut but gentle slap to your cheek. The soft thwack, combined with the sounds your bodies were making down below, served only to elevate the pornographic pitch of your moan:

“Joel!”

“That’s right.”

Joel’s mouth hovered an inch over yours, half-smirking, as if waiting to suck the words clean off of your lips. You whined when his thrusts got quicker and the mouth that was grinning got to kissing your own again. Talking dirty, too.

“Show me who this cunt belongs to. Say it,” he grunted.

You clenched, kissed him back, were just barely aware of the words you were trying to form when you stuttered some unintelligible, ‘Y-Y—ohfuckdaddyjustlikethatoh—’

Oh.

Your eyes widened to Joel’s, and before you could even begin to process what was happening to your body, his name just snapped off your tongue like a shot. A shriek. Some blissfully half-strangled moan that Joel captured between his teeth as he fucked you into the mattress and held your body tight to his own. His palm was wet.

Your legs were wet.

The soft, heaving juncture between your bodies was wet.

You were only dimly aware of the sensation as you dug your heels in Joel’s back and let out a series of cries and moans, but then that fluttering feeling inside made you flinch. A pulsing between your thighs and a…warmth.

You were still blinking through a post-euphoric haze when you felt a soft heat simmer and sink within you.

Did Joel just…cum inside you? Again?

“You dumb motherfucker,” you hissed without hesitation.

You’d just managed to shove him away—not far, but away—when you scrambled into a sitting position and slapped a hand over your stomach. Expecting to feel a churning and an awful pinch as you came to make out some vague sensation of Joel’s seed painting your insides, you were surprised when you didn’t get it at all.

In point of fact, Joel had just sprayed a full Jackson Pollock onto your stomach and was blinking, still fisting his cock as you quickly made your way back to your feet.

Where was that wetness coming from?

You stood and stared down at your stomach. Your legs. The translucent, trickling something that had paved a clear path between your thighs and all over Joel’s front. It didn’t make sense, unless—

“You fuckin’ squirted!” Joel cheered.

Your first instinct was to make a face.

That shit only happened in poorly produced pornos and movies based on books by Colleen Hoover, not real-life human beings. What the hell was this man on about?

“Be fucking serious,” you scowled, reaching for a stray shirt on the floor. Before realizing it was even yours, you hastily swiped several big globs of Joel’s cum with it. Your face grew even more enflamed, and yourself, oddly…ashamed. You couldn’t quite make sense of why Joel was grinning so big, or why you felt so embarrassed by what appeared to be a natural bodily function, but you suspected it probably had something to do with the state of sex education in Texas. Those fuckers definitely skipped squirting in favor of abstinence-only rhetoric.

Still weird. Still gross. You wished Joel would stop smiling.

“Lose the look or I’ll slap that fuckin’ grey off your head.”

Admittedly, neither aftercare nor communication was your métier. You started throwing on clothes, annoyed.

Meanwhile, Joel was swiping moisture off his abdomen three thick fingers at a time and wiggling the residue up for you to see—‘All it is is a sign of good lovin’, sweets, ain’t nothin’a be ashamed of!’—and you gave him just one finger in return. You were sliding your shorts up your legs and attempting to scrap the jizz off your FEDRA top when Joel started shrugging on his stolen clothes, too.

Your back was turned to him, eyes scanning the almost too-calm outdoors through the window a minute later, when you felt an arm snake close around your waist.

“Tastes a little like honey,” Joel crooned in your ear, doubtlessly smirking as he swayed you, “Only sweeter.”

You rolled your eyes. No cunt tasted like a honeycomb.

And you tried to say as much when he stroked over the strip of exposed skin between your shorts and the hem of your shirt, squeezing you tighter, but Joel was too good. He spidered a teasing touch over your tummy and yanked you back into his chest when you squealed and tried to break free. Then your sides, your ribcage, your shoulder blades—anyplace Joel could tickle, he tried to—and most spots, you were squeamish as hell. You clamped a hand over your half-open, giggling mouth, and when you felt him flip you around, you didn’t protest.

Suddenly, Joel’s hands were on either side of your face. He wasn’t smiling quite so big anymore but nevertheless maintained a kind glint behind his eyes. They were soft.

“‘M’sorry,” he said.

Then, pausing as if to consider his words, he said,

“You did great.”

He stopped again to press a kiss on the tip of your nose.

“So good.”

When he saw another smile twitch at the corners of your lips, as though asking him for more, he kissed those too.

“If that was your first time with…that…I’m, uh…”

“What?”

Another beat. Another stupid, stubbled grin.

“The luckiest…senior citizen sonovabitch, I guess.”

At the tail end of that, and once Joel had punctuated his sentence with another tender peck, you met his gaze again. Somehow, it had only gotten softer. His thumbs were searing the gentlest of imprints in the apples of your cheeks, his breaths were even and warm, and if you hadn’t known any better, you might’ve thought the man was contemplating saying something else to you then.

He didn’t.

The bridge to an old Billy Joel song made sure of that.

“And when she’s walkin’, she’s lookin’ so f-i-i-i-ine.”

You heard gravel crunch outside the cabin.

“And when she’s talkin’, she’ll say that she’s m-i-i-i-ine.”

Footsteps bounding up the half-rotted, cedar steps.

“She’ll say I’m not so tough just because I’m in love wi—SHIT.”

Tess’s face went blank the second the door swung open.

Thankfully, both of you were clothed. You and Joel leapt apart like she’d just caught you in doggy, though. And Tess looked like she might’ve seen an asscheek or two with the way she was staring at you both, letting the screen door slam shut, and a wordless ‘what-the-fuck’ caught somewhere in the tepid air between you three.

You stared at Tess, and Tess stared at you. Joel peered over her shoulder for the arrival of any more onlookers or folks just wanting to sing ‘Uptown Girl’ in your general vicinity. Fortunately, no one else appeared behind her.

But Tess looked awestruck enough for fifty people. She blinked and visibly swallowed as her gaze shifted to Joel.

“So FEDRA does dick appointments now?” she hissed.

“No!”

“I’m not—”

“He’s from the other camp.”

“You’re shitting me. Absolutely shitting me right now.”

You brought both hands to your face in a stifling, quiet desperation, unsure what to do. Joel just blinked back.

“I’m—we’re—” he started.

“Fucking!” Tess bit back, “You are so fucking. Raw.”

She wasn’t wrong. Her sixth sense for knowing who was having clandestine sex in her bed was kind of insane.

But, where you expected a look of horror to crawl into those taut, too-smart-for-her-own-good features, you found your bunkmate starting to raise her eyebrows.

Then laugh.

Tess threw her head back and laughed because she thought you were boinking a FEDRA camp counselor.

Joel shared a similar look of surprise but didn’t laugh.

“Yeah, I’m uh…J—” Again, he made as if to speak, to introduce himself, but Tess cut him off. About to wheeze.

“Lucien Flores, you dirty dog!” she cackled.

Joel glanced down at his nametag, started to shake his head, and probably didn’t anticipate Tess smacking him on the shoulder in a semi-congratulatory sort of way. Given a little more muscle to the playful punch, she just might’ve knocked him over. Joel was then trying to pry the pin off his polo just as you stepped closer to her.

“Tess, he’s…” You considered spilling the beans en masse but quickly decided against it. You’d have to stick to the barest of bones if you had any hope of escaping this place. So, resuming, you squeezed her arm and just said:

“Flores is gonna bust us out. Get your shit and we’ll go.”

Theresa Servopoulos didn’t need to be told twice.

And when she scrambled over to her sex-stricken bunk, inquired with a hurried but patently grossed out expression about who the fuck had wet the bed while she was gone, Joel didn’t hesitate—he said it was him.

“FEDRA man with a piss kink. I like you already, Lucien.”

#ONE CABIN 🏚️#ONE BAND #ONE DREAM #ONE DIRECTION #IF YOU THOUGHT I WAS GONNA BE NORMAL ABOUT THIS YOU WOULD BE MISTAKEN HAHAHAHA #joel miller #joel miller tlou #joel miller smut #joel miller imagine #joel miller one shot #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #the last of us #tlou #the last of us fic #joel miller x you #dbf!joel

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giggly-squiggily · 3 months

Note

Hello Squiggily!

I wanted to ask if I could maybe participate in the Candyheart Event with ❤️ Me + You for SatoSugu? 😊

Apologies in case my last ask made you uncomfortable, I'm very sorry!

Yours, Crystal ❤️

Crystal! :D It's always great to hear from you! :3 And no worries about your headcanon from the previous ask! I wasn't uncomfortable at all :3 Your satosugoshoko thoughts never fail to make me happy! I hope you enjoy this! ;3

Me + You: "No way! I didn't know you were ticklish!"

“Boink!”

“SATORU!” Geto hollered as he twisted, glaring at the cackling blonde before him. “Would you stop doing that?”

“What? I’m totally innocent!” Gojo winked at him, rocking on his heels with his hands behind his head. “Didn’t do nothing!”

“Sure- the sky just so happens to be reigning ice cubes today!” With a growl, the other boy shook his collar, letting said offending cube fall into the grass by his feet. “Do that again and I’m kicking your ass.”

“Didn’t dooo it~”

Annoyed, Geto made the bold decision to turn away, pulling his phone out of his pocket as he went to check his texts. Seems like Shoko would be late- they’ll have to start their movie night later-

His collar was pulled back, another ice cube cheekily deposited.

“IT’S GOING DOWN!” Geto raged, tossing his phone and jumping into a surprised Gojo. Into the grass they went, wrestling like two kids in a sandbox as Geto tried weaseling the remaining ice cubes down Gojo’s collar. All the while Gojo was laughing like a child, halfheartedly fighting back with tickling fingers. “Whahatch your hahahnds, ahahahss!”

“No way! I didn’t know you were ticklish!” Gojo abandoned his loose efforts for a more direct attack, rapidly scribbling into Geto’s sides and making the other boy squirm and giggle. “Coochie coochie coo!”

“Shuuhuhuht your mohohohuth! Aheahhaha, bahahahhahstahahhard!” Geto snorted, falling to his side next to his friend as Gojo carried on tickling. “Shahahahhatorohohohoru stahhahahhahap!”

“No way! This is a discovery of a lifetime! Ah tickle tickle tickle! A tickle tickle tickle you long haired dork!” Gojo cooed down at him, easily avoiding the hands smacking at him and grabbing his shirt. “Look at you, laughing like a whittle baby!”

“Iihiihihm ehehehehehnding yohohohohur lih-EHEHEHHHEHEHF!” Geto all but squealed when his hips were snatched, arching with a scream as Gojo kneaded into the soft spots.

“Sure you will, buddy.”

Send me a candy heart and I'll write a dabble for it!

#Candy Heart Valentine Event #chve2k24 #tickle #tickle dabble #jjk #satoru gojo #geto suguru #fluff #satosugu #they're dorks your honor #and they are in love <3

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bucknastysbabe · 2 months

Text

This is pure crack taken seriously. Fuckin in publix places. Dedicated to @valeskafics thanks now you owe me money.

Rating: Explicit

Tags: Public sex, the Targtower horrendous family vacation, Daeron is in the picture (he isn’t), Bodyguard Criston, age gap, almost daddy kink, spitting in mouth, sink sex?, pnv!sex, v!fingering, oral fixations, Degredation, dirty talk, Criston is Old, Aegon is the FBI’s sex crimes hound he has a 20 mile radius

Taglist: @bambitas @moncherrii @aemonds-holy-milk @fairysluna @lovelykhaleesiii @arcielee @sugarpoppss2 @targaryenbarbie @gemini-mama

I do not work at this establishment Nope not at all

It was obscenely hot. Your family was on the annual trip to Clearwater for a summer vacation to the beach. Also known as the Targtower explosion failure tour. You and Daeron had coined it that two years ago when Aegon had drunkenly exploded the back yard trying to set off fireworks.

Your mother wheeled your decrepit father around, a floppy sun hat on his spotted head. Viserys was…rotting…sort of? Cancer sucks. It wasn’t really like he was there anyways, all of you were sent to boarding schools. Ole’ Vizzy invited his eldest daughter, her children, and Uncle Daemon to the grand beach mansion this year. Probably because he’d be dead next year.

Whatever it may be. It will be chaotic. Aemond was already scribbling furiously in his totally not a diary journal. Your family had stopped to get subs and some refreshments at one of the many Publix shopping centers dotting Florida. It was a busy Friday, so the whole clan was rotting along with Viserys in line.

Aegon slipped off to, “Stock up on booze.”

No surprise there. You eyed the family bodyguard Criston to gauge his reaction. He looked bored, gaze following Aegon. You ogled Criston’s summer wear. He looked pretty fucking good with some bitty shorts and a summery button-up polo. You’d been fucking the man since, well, every holiday or vacation since last Thanksgiving.

Which you thought would be hard. Not really as most of your family didn’t give a fuck about anything but themselves or were on something. Otto had been the closest to catching the pair of you. Taking a step behind Helaena you whispered, “Come up with something.”

Criston’s dark brows furrowed as he mouthed back ‘what?’ You rolled your eyes and murmured, “Find a reason for us to fuck off from this line, mom knows the orders!” Criston’s confusion settled into a calm facade. He spoke up, “Ali, the squirt and I are going to get some ice and other stuff, just text?”

“Sure, go ahead, this line isn’t moving anytime soon,” she sighed, waving them off.

Free from the hellish deli line you echoed “Squirt?”

Criston rubbed the back of his neck, laughing, “I mean I am 20 years your elder, and I make you squirt?” He stopped and peered at the signs, gasping when you dragged him toward the bathrooms. The bodyguard questioned frantically as you moved.

“W-what are we doing? Oh my, no, I know what you’re thinking, no!”

His big hands paused you by the shoulders. Criston sternly stated, “I’m supposed to be watching over everyone, not boinking in a public restroom! At a Christian establishment!” You frowned, throwing the man puppy eyes, pressing yourself into his trim frame. The grocery workers were probably disgusted but not surprised.

Leaning up to whisper you whined, “Come onnnnn, live a little, they’re just in line, a quickie? C’mon Criston, m’so fuckin’ wet for you baby.”

His jaw clenched down on a ragged growl. You stroked a hand down his chest, “Enjoy it while we can, soon I’m going to be frolicking around in my bikini while you gotta watch my dad.”

That seemed to win over the man, sighing and dipping into the women’s bathroom with you, taking up the biggest stall. Criston shoved you against the black stall, growling, “You’re such a damn brat, what got you all wet in the car, hm baby?”

“Mmm, I was watching you drive, your hands, wanted them ‘round my throat, fingers on my tongue baby.”

Criston’s dark eyes rolled a bit, the big hands in question slapping down on your ass as he hissed, “Drive me insane, goddamn.” He closed in toward your face and kissed, moaning soft and low. You shoved down his shorts, gently pulling at flushed cock. The bodyguard gasped and bit your lip, snarling, “Needy aren’t we?”

You nodded, opening your full lips. Criston spat into your mouth muttering, “Filthy girl.” You mewled when he picked you up and propped your ass on the sink. He told you to shut up while thick fingers slid up your skirt, ripping the thin material of your panties off. You bit down on your knuckles, whining like a damn puppy.

“Cock slut.”

You loved when he called you that. You also loved when he took your destroyed panties for his own keeping. Criston was a bigger whore than you. Folded so easily when you made the first move.

Criston murmured, nipping at your ear, “Goddamn you didn’t lie, little dirty slut, gonna have to fuck you now, god, don’t know how anyone just doesn’t look at you and know.”

“K-kn-know what?”

“What a deviant, cock-hungry slut you are baby,” he laughed quietly, pressing a couple kisses to your lips and jaw. You gripped weakly at his hair, panting in sharp little mewls. His dark eyes greedily roved over your tits falling out of the low-cut top, writhing on his thick fingers, begging for his cock.

Criston hissed, shoving his fingers down your throat to quiet your desperate begging. Tears fell down your eyes as you realized he removed

them between your legs to shove down your mouth. You shivered— more tears leaking down your red cheeks as you helplessly tasted your own essence.

The bodyguard grinned sharply, cooing into your ear, “Figured that would keep you quiet. Fucking whore.” His dark hair fell forward as he gazed at your cunt, adding, “Lookit’cha, already trying to suck me in, hah.”

He aligned his weeping cock with your horribly empty pussy, bullying his way in, free hand coming to rest at the small of your arching back. You shook at the sudden, deep intrusion, suckling Criston’s thick fingers with a mewl. The bodyguard was making forceful little thrusts

into your cunt, trying to keep the noise level at a minimum.

He mouthed at your shoulder, neck, panting dirty nonsense. You grew tighter around him, the lurid nature of this situation making you throb harder. Criston chuckled in your ear, strained from his very methodical fucking.

Usually the man wanted to be soft and sappy, fuck for hours. Or go to pound town. He was currently stuck in an awkward predicament and couldn’t do either.

“You’ll be bringing your pretty ass to my room every night after dragging me into this shit.”

You nodded eagerly, squirming on his length. Criston groaned at your unexpected response, his girl already fuck dumb on his ass, she’d have some sexy bratty remark right now. He refocused on jerking his hips up, hitting that soft spot at the roof of her pussy.

Criston shoved his left thumb in her mouth to get it wet before snaking it down to her engorged clit, throbbing and twitching in time with his direct little thrusts. He groaned raggedly at her involuntary shiver, milking his prick further along.

A pair of voices giggled from outside the stall, “Oh my god, they’re fucking? Don’t forget a condom!”

Criston’s eyes widened. He needed to wrap this up before anyone got suspicious. He pulled out a bit to slam back in, swirling his thumb, even popping a puffy nipple into his mouth. The brunette even began to massage her warm tongue.

“Mm, Mm! Cri- mmmmm!”

He grinned up from her tits, rumbling, “Come for me pretty girl, come on, do it now, we have a time limit!”

He didn’t mean to mention the time limit. Whoops.

You nodded, eyes rolling back as you were deposited into bliss. Criston hungrily replaced his wet fingers with his mouth, kissing away and swallowing desperate noises. Shuddering against his bigger frame he coddled and pet you, cock pumping along until he tensed and blew his load partially in you, partially in a papertowel, groaning your name.

His sappy puppy eyes were out now, the elder man breathing softly against your face. He hummed, “Alright, let’s get dressed yeah?” You nodded and tucked your tits away, putting wild hair into a ponytail, and straightening your skirt. The panties would have to be missing, hopefully no cum would leak out.

Criston looked a bigger mess, his curls all over the place, shirt askew, shorts on the ground. He breathed out huffily, “Please help me.” You smirked at him, getting Criston presentable for the great outdoors, of Publix. Regardless, both of you looked like you’d been fucking in a bathroom. Whatever.

The deli line had only moved 3 more spots, finally putting your mom and Vizzy, now asleep, in the front row. You held some sunscreen while Criston had the box of ice. Aemond raised a brow and scoffed. Aegon, significantly drunker than you’d last seen him sniffed loudly.

“It smells like someone was fucking? Who was fucking?”

You watched in horror as Aegon sniffed out Criston like a hound. He snatched up Criston’s fingers and stared before guffawing, the body guard shoving your eldest brother away. Aegon was on hand and knee now, laughing, “Sorry, I- HAHAAHAHAHAHAH- okay, m’god I prom-AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAH”

You kicked his shin, Aegon yelping and tripping. Eventually Otto stepped in and handed out orders of food. Why was he wearing a pimp outfit? Oh my god?

You grabbed some peach Tea while Criston snatched an energy drink. You hummed, “I mean how many times can you say that you’ve been fucking in Publix?”

“Yeah, that’s ten swats.”

#crack fic #hotd smut #hotd fanfic #ser criston cole x reader #criston cole x reader #targtowers

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cheesus-doodles · 2 years

Text

Rindo Out of Juvie HCs

Yandere BFF Rindo

Masterlist

‎

Recommended Readings: Yan BFF Rindo HCs ; In Juvie HCs

A/N: I did say September but in my defense its only one day off and it wouldn't be if Sep had 31 days... Also I have a Ko-Fi store now to sell off my excess merch! :) as usual, its super late now, will edit any errors and more info on shop tmr!

the day Rindo walked free from juvie was easily the best day of his life by a long mile

this baby boy have been counting down every day till his release day

having you check in with him just once or twice a week (with Ran's help, much to Rindo's distaste) pales in comparison with him being able to check in on you any time he wants to, which is generally multiple times a day

have kept notes on everything that you tell him (and that he drills you on), frantically scribbles down whatever he can remember after every meeting you have with him either on notebooks that you bring him

even made Ran do the same as well after every meeting you held with the older Haitani, much to the amusement of his older brother

visitation time was hardly long enough to drill you about everything and anything

reviews the information again and again to make sure he doesn't miss anything

and if he did, he could question you at the next visitation session

being separate from you after becoming your bestfriend and having to trust you to take care of yourself (the horror!!) was the worst part of juvie if you asked him

or second worse rather

the absolute worse being having to sit by and watch everyone else from the newly-formed Tenjiku (all threats) leave before him - the dread settling in his stomach every time they disappear behind the external walls of juvie before Rindo can go out and protect you from them that is

even if the Tenjiku executives didn't know about you now, they sure would sooner or later

they were all the worst kind of delinquents (him not included though cough)

and you were the stupidest, most naive, and blurrest person alive in his eyes

you would probably trust a stranger holding a knife to your neck if he said to, not to say Izana who had already helped you previously

plus the fact that Kakucho had been regaling you with the tales and adventures of him and Izana, which is as good as brainwashing with you

didn't help that Izana's release date was a week or so before Rindo's, which the boy absolutely knew Izana would use the opportunity to meet you alone against his pleas

okay maybe not pleas - Rindo didn't 'plea' with anyone, not even for you (maybe with you though) - but definitely not threats, not with the ease that Izana could beat his and Ran's ass

but the Tenjiku leader had been oddly fascinated with you ever since Rindo had very hesitantly begged for help to take care of you while he was in juvie

and he didn't trust that white-haired boy as far as he could throw him

they were going to eat you alive without your bestfriend there to watch over you, Rindo just knew it

the closer the Haitaini brothers' release date came, the more angsty and irritable Rindo became - you were so close yet so far away

Ran even let Rindo go first in the outward processing queue so that he could get out just that bit earlier and stop with that amusing anxiety tap dance routine

he knew his younger brother well

Rindo nearly ran you down with how fast he was racing out to meet you outside the day he was released

of course you would be outside waiting for him, but this boy wouldn't tell you how relieved he was to see you still alive

did boink you on the head when you were a bit too happy to see Ran as well

you even remembered to bring him a clean set of clothes and his favorite snacks like he had requested

that's good news, means you're still listening to him

hopefully that also meant that you had been listening to him telling you not to talk to anyone more than necessary, and that applied especially to Kakucho and Izana

drags you straight back to his house, because as far as this boy was concerned, you ain't ever leaving his sight again

yes, maybe bathroom matters, but he was going to sit outside and call to you every few minutes just to make sure you were okay

sit tight, because Rindo is going over every last bit of detail in his notebook with you, like those parts involving you interacting with any outside of him and Ran

but especially about any time you spent with Izana

or at least he tries to, sternly telling you to concentrate on answering the questions he's asking, but you don't seem as serious about the topic as he is, more ecstatic about having your bestfriend back

asked him about what juvie was like on the inside, what kind of food he ate, whether there were stores inside that he could buy things at, whether he made any new friends

the last part had Rindo stare bewildered at you for a bit - did you think juvie was some sort of childcare center?

his interrogation session somehow turned into a homework session where he helped you through the last few topics you had been struggling with

only realized later when you had fallen asleep at the table, but all Rindo could do know was sigh and carry you up to bed and tuck you in

didn't want you to catch a cold or wake up with a dead arm

at least he managed to go through all your papers, books and files and look for any signs of written correspondence that you failed to get round to telling him about

because this boy knew you well - if you didn't tell him about you being penpals with someone while he was in juvie, its about a thousand times more likely that you simply forgot about it or got distracted by another talking point rather than you trying to hide information from him

decided to call it a day as well - Rindo was exhausted from the rollercoaster of emotions he had on top of dealing with being released from juvie in just one day

would never admit to it, but decides to snuggle in with you for the night since he hadn't the time to prepare another bed for you and you were currently snoozing away

wakes up before you but gets caught by Ran anyway, fiercely denies anything and everything before Ran could even ask

the older Haitani knew better though

this baby boy even followed you all the way to class the next day, though he did get particularly irate when people stared openly at you (more like the reappearance of him)

regular beatings will resume until behavior improves

Rindo also arranges to meet with and thank Kakucho, who had been watching out of you all this time, for his help

arranges it at night well after you had fallen asleep and he had triple checked that his bedroom door was locked (Ran was asleep, and Rindo didn't want to risk you wandering off and getting into who knows what kind of trouble)

Rindo did ask you several times about Izana and what he wanted with you, but as usual, you didn't have the answers he were looking for

apparently Izana only wanted to hear about you and Rindo, and asked you to tell him about the relationship the two of you had

and that sounded alright to Rindo at the beginning, but the more he prodded your accounts of your meetings and the details that slowly leaked out, the more his unease grew

he was sure there was more to this then surface level curiosity, given Izana went to all the trouble to arrange for a bodyguard for you

but from your side, you could only tell him what you knew, and not any deeper analysis

takes the opportunity to have a chat with the Kakucho to try and find out if he tried to talk you into doing things Rindo didn't approve of, and if he knew what Izana wanted with you

your bestfriend quickly realized that he had no beef with Kakucho though - he was a very respectful boy who kept you at an arm's length even while he followed you pretty much everywhere

Kakucho refused to divulge anything that happened between you and Izana, only confirming that the meeting did happen

which Rindo could respect, given Izana was Kakucho's (and his) boss and good friend but still

and then the more worrying signs started to appear

you started to sneak away during the time when you should have been class, when you knew Rindo wasn't looking out for you

or at least you thought that Rindo wasn't watching, but he was - be it directly or indirectly with Ran's and a few more coerced classmates help

secretly followed you one of those days, only to find out that you weren't going far - you were just headed up to the roof of the school building to take a call

but when confronted about your little excursions, you tried to lie to him

keyword being tried, since you failed spectacularly at too - instead of telling the lie (that was most likely fed you) about who you were calling, you told Rindo it was a salesperson calling, immediately followed by telling him that Izana was asking you to skip out to meet him before you slapped your mouth

he could have facepalmed

and you were also still too naive, spilling everything Izana had asked you to do when Rindo asked, despite you saying that you were supposed to keep it a secret

the younger Haitani felt faint when you said Izana had held your hand before, but at least the tiniest bit of relief came when you told him that he didn't do any more than that

your phone was confiscated by Rindo on the spot for an indefinite period of time - you could still use it for very limited amounts of time every day, but only when closely supervised by him and never alone

and you were moved into his bedroom for the forseeable future until he could determine just how bad the situation was

you thought you were having a long sleepover, and Rindo didn't correct you

you weren't allowed to leave his room without him there, let alone the house

not even to school - there was no way Rindo would risk that now

made sure to punish you for trying to lie to him though - no late night snacks for a week

and he wasn't going to walk you to the bathroom at night no matter how scared you were

okay he will if you're scared

wanted to do something worse such as whipping your hands, but the thought of you crying was too much for him to bear

instead, Rindo took his anger out on your poor classmates and random rival delinquents he found around Roppongi again

breaking bones especially viciously and pummeling anyone that pissed him off even slightly

and of course brought you along to watch - Rindo wasn't going to leave you alone at home by yourself and hearing you cheer for him like you always did before juvie helped him feel better

he didn't know too much at the moment - how much for Izana's bidding have you been doing behind his back?

were you listening to Izana over him, your bestfriend?

reluctantly asked Ran for advice, but for the first time, even his older brother had nothing for him

just reminded Rindo to keep out of the way of Izana, and that even the two of them couldn't beat the Tenjiku boss

and that was before you very proudly told him that you had "cheated" on your test because Izana had asked you to

though your cheating was more rolling a dice then actual cheating

but what if he started asking you to do more serious things? and why were you even listening to what Izana asked you to do?

you should only be listening to him - Rindo, your first and bestfriend

Izana wasn't your friend, no one else was, and he reminded you of that frequently, though his words seem to flow over you like water, as it always did

Izana' influence was starting to seep into every aspect of your life, infecting you like a virus, and Rindo was a very unhappy boy

he just wanted to go back to like how life was before juvie, was that impossible?

‎‎

Rindo could feel the beginnings of a headache starting to throb in the front of his mind. Letting out a groan, your bestfriend proceeded to repeatedly banged his head into the table of your favorite cafe as you watch on owlishly, carefully sipping away at your hot tea. It baffled him that you could just sit there and pretend everything was all right when nothing was - everything in his world and yours was clearly wrong. How did you not see this?

But then again, Rindo comforted himself as he finally pulled himself upright once more, you were you. Hand grasping at his own iced drink and taking a long gulp, the blond-and-blue haired boy begin to speak again. It had been a week since he was freed from that awful juvenile detention center where he was locked away from you, yet he still couldn't quite understand. "Start from the top again. How long have you been writing to Izana?"

Ran had already long wandered off somewhere after a filling lunch, uninterested in hearing Rindo grill you about the same question for the umpteenth time.

"Since he sent that letter to Kakucho," you blurted out, nearly spilling the tea on yourself.

"Put that down before you hurt yourself again," Rindo chided. "How many times did you write to him?"

You carefully set your cup back down on the table. "Once a week, that's what Kakucho told me to do! He never wrote back though."

That meant that he was most likely using your letters as a report or test of some kind, the younger Haitani concluded as he jotted the new information down mentally, recalling the sudden increase in letters that Izana received after sending out that initial letter to Kakucho. Were your letters included in those as well? But then again, letters were so much more benign compared to the problem he had on hand. "Alright. How many times has Izana called to talk to you?"

He watched as you counted out the times on your fingers, before holding it up to show him. "About five times!"

"And how many times have you met him?"

Your gaze dropped almost immediately, your hand coming up to scratch sheepishly at the nape of your neck. "Ahh..."

"And you can't lie to me," the blond-and-blue haired boy interrupted before you could begin. This had to be one of those topics that Izana told you to keep from him, but Rindo needed to know. "You can lie to everyone else except me, you understand?"

You nodded furiously. "I met him about three times," you replied sincerely, as you leaned forward to whisper, though it seemed that lowering your voice did little to keep your words from being overheard.

"Is there a problem with that?" Murmured that absolutely abhorrent voice that Rindo had grown to despise yet couldn't help respect from behind him, the boy whirling around only for his eyes to confirm his worst nightmare.

"Izzy!" You perked up, waving at him. Izzy?! Your bestfriend felt like hurling - it was quite the task just to keep his face stern and stop himself from collapsing straight into despair right there and then. How much had he missed? How did Izana know they were here?

But the Tenjiku boss barely acknowledged Rindo's presence, instead moving to take the chair to the right of you, pressing a familiar red jacket into your arms. "A gift for you."

And the boy instantly recognized that. "Absolutely not!" You were not going to own a Tenjiku gang jacket, and you were definitely not going to wear one. No way in hell.

"And what are you going to do about it?"

Rindo rustled as Izana threw one arm carelessly around you, smugly quirking one eyebrow back at him, armed with the full knowledge the younger Haitani brother could do little against him. But you shook off Izana's arm, turning to lightly slap his shoulder instead. "Izzy! Don't bully Rindo!"

But before said Haitani even had time to pale (did you even know what you had done??), your attention was drawn away by the entrance of yet another Tenjiku executive, this one a lot more familiar to your irate yet anxious bestfriend. "Kakucho! Come come, sit here!" You patted the chair next to you, which the black-haired boy obliged.

"Izana, Rindo," Kakucho greeted, as he slipped into the creaky wooden chair, careful to avoid clipping your arm.

"Are you still not feeling well?" You questioned, raising one hand to press against the other's completely reddened face, to which Kakucho quickly dodged from, throwing both hands up in surrender. Was he...blushing?

"Oh no you don't. Don't you even dare to think about it," Rindo hissed, making to stand. So this shit he thought was on your side, watching out for you in his stead, was a two-faced traitor. His day was getting bad to worse, and there was no sign of relief at the end of the tunnel.

Kakucho only looked bewildered at the reaction, seemingly understanding what he was saying but not why, instead turning to throw Izana a look that Rindo knew well. Weren't you Izana's girl?

"It seems me and Rindo have quite a bit to catch up on," Izana announced, reaching into his pocket to pull out a few notes to pass you. "Why not you and Kakucho go get some ice cream? It'll make him feel better."

Leaping to your feet excitedly at the thought of the sweet treat, you paused, turning your doe eyes on Izana. "Don't hurt Rindo," you reminded the white-haired boy, as if you held any power over him, before you yanked Kakucho to his feet. "Come on, let's go!"

"A companion for Kakucho for one. And an experiment." Izana admitted, those unblinking eyes of his trailing you as you all but dragged Kakucho out the door of the cafe by his hand, eagerly chattering about god-knows-what to a burning Kakucho, that red jacket tucked neatly under one arm. Rindo kept silent, willing the tanned boy to continue.

And mercifully, he did, leaning back in his chair as he started to speak again, turning that wretched gaze on him. From Rindo's initial request, Izana had deduced that you were an innocent thing: a bunny in a wolf's world. A new plaything for him that he wanted to experiment on - would you listen to the instructions from a complete stranger? How far would you go for him? Could he make you do things against your will?

But you were such a cute thing, so pliable to his words and so obedient, yet so resistant when it came to Rindo. You would never do anything to hurt Rindo. "But my cute little Kakucho fell first it seemed," Izana finally looked away. "I suppose I could share."

Rindo took the breath he didn't know he had been holding, slumping back into his seat as the pressure left his shoulders. "And is that the truth?"

Izana shrugged, picking up your once-hot cup of tea and downing the remaining tea before standing. "I'll be round tonight. Make sure your door's unlocked." To pick you up. It wasn't a request.

Rindo sank his face into his hands as soon as the other departed. What the fuck did you get yourself into? What the fuck was he going to do now?

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dustykneed · 1 month

Note

didn't you say you were putting the Spicy™ stuff on your ao3? i would like to find it hehe

YEA djdhdjs i've been looking for good sites to host the Spice™ so i can organize it on my ao3 (i've made a pillowfort acc actually but ohhh man. i'm a lil bit embarrassed to just show up and start only posting smut lmao)

but thank you so much for the interest anon!! I'm so happy that other people enjoy watching the sillies (ahem) boink sappily as much as I love drawing them FJSHKSKS. it still sorta blows my mind that there's people on the internet who like seeing my scribbles etc haha tysm for hangin around <333333

#dust talks

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shepherds-of-haven · 1 year

Text

I posted 1,173 times in 2022

801 posts created (68%)

372 posts reblogged (32%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@shepherds-of-haven

@emeraldgreaves

@queen-scribbles

@bi-stander

@bimollymauks

I tagged 1,071 of my posts in 2022

Only 9% of my posts had no tags

#shepherds of haven - 960 posts

#spoilers - 217 posts

#alpha build - 166 posts

#alpha preview - 161 posts

#<3 - 156 posts

#mc - 139 posts

#silly - 130 posts

#mild - 123 posts

#chase - 108 posts

#chase trinaeste - 107 posts

Longest Tag: 140 characters

#kato puts up with literally everything while ari is simultaneously icked out by chase's antics and sincerely apprehensive for his and mc's f

My Top Posts in 2022:

if a stranger was to walk into the shepherds compound and observe MC and RO (in crushing stage) interacting, how would you rank the ROs in terms of what the stranger would think of them from ‘just two friends!:))’ to ‘oh my god can they just get a room’

Ooh, I love this question! (I have a vague feeling of deja vu like I've answered something like it before, but I'm too lazy to go looking--)

Blade: it depends on the person and how strong their shipper senses are, but 96% of strangers would look at them and go "oh wow what professional colleagues and intimidating figures of power. they seem to be equals and he clearly respects her" and that would be about it! Most people can't perceive that Blade feels any emotion at all beyond stern professionalism, flat dead-eyed stoicism, or an extremely dry and hard to pin down sense of humor 🙃

Trouble: the genuine surprise of 'oh you guys aren't married?? ...you're not even dating? YOU'RE ONLY FRIENDS???' They would be so completely confused and thrown off lol, like genuinely mystified because their behavior has no explanation otherwise lol

Tallys: probably only other Elves would be able to cotton to the fact that Tallys and MC are shagging because of very subtle things that Tallys was doing (especially if MC is Elf-raised), like certain inflections or tones of voice Tallys might address MC with, but pretty much everyone else would be completely oblivious and might not even know that they spend a lot of time together at first glance, thinking them to simply be coworkers!

Shery: I think a particularly perceptive person or someone with strong shipper goggles (I count myself among this group lol) would totally be able to tell that Shery has a crush on MC, like RIGHT AWAY, but wouldn't think much of it beyond that--they wouldn't assume that they're an official couple or anything! It'd probably be like 50% of people (who cared to notice) would notice, and 50% of people would be oblivious!

Riel: "they are acquaintances and business associates", and the buck stops there --I think long-time business partners of Riel's would be able to tell that he clearly held MC in high regard, but they would never have a suspicion that it was anything beyond that!

Chase: I think a lot of strangers would assume MC and Chase are boinking just by the way he outrageously flirts with them... So I'd say most strangers would think they're together just from wandering into the scene and witnessing their interactions, but ironically people somewhat acquainted with Chase (like Thieves Guild members from other cities, etc.) wouldn't bat an eye, because he already has that reputation among their circles, so they wouldn't think it means anything in particular!

Red: I think probably 70% of strangers would be able to tell "those two are clearly into each other/have great chemistry" or at least would think "oh those two look good together/would make a good couple", but not automatically assume that they're in a relationship or be like “omg get a room!”!

Ayla: most strangers would see that they're good friends and that Ayla gives MC special treatment in comparison to how she acts towards others (like the difference would be quite obvious), but it wouldn't be something obviously or overtly romantic to a total outsider!

Briony: I think most people would be able to see the situation for what it really is (two people crushing on each other) because it's just so clear and obvious, especially with how transparent Briony is with her emotions, but they wouldn't read into it more than that! Just like when you see two people working at, like, a store or a coffee shop and you can clearly see them flirting with each other, but also that they’re not actually in a relationship. You might be like 👀 or you might be like “oh maybe that’s just how they interact” and then not think much more on it!

Lavinet: I think most strangers would be able to tell Lavinet and MC were close, not just strictly coworkers, and possibly even mildly flirtatious, but wouldn't think much of it beyond that, especially with Lavinet's differing status: they might automatically dismiss the opportunity even before it arose because it’s just so far-fetched to them. Keen-minded nobles might be able to glean more of the true situation, though!

195 notes - Posted July 12, 2022

the shepherds when they find out MC is on the way home with another super-strong new friend/completely unnecessary addition to their growing army in tow

196 notes - Posted August 1, 2022

seed: MC who smokes can’t light their cigarette so Trouble offers them a light and they have to cup their hands together to shield the flame and it’s a strangely tender and intimate moment

sapling: MC who smokes can’t light their cigarette so Trouble casually leans forward to touch the lit end of his cigarette to theirs in an ✨ indirect kiss ✨

tree: Trouble can’t light his cigarette so MC casually conjures a flame between their fingers and lights it for him and that is the exact moment he forms a massive crush on them and is left absolutely speechless

218 notes - Posted August 31, 2022

See the full post

226 notes - Posted May 24, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

See the full post

257 notes - Posted January 17, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review #Tumblr #NOT CHASE BEING THE MOST USED CHARACTER TAG!!!!#and yet he lost the character popularity tournament...#what a fun year it's been! looking forward to more great memories next year! <3

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deans-baby-momma · 4 years

Text

Mommy’s (Not So) Good Girl-22

I can't wipe the smile off my face as I head back to my dormitory. Dean had driven almost 70 miles, an hour one-way, just to speed a few hours on a college campus with me.

I grab the knob on my door and open it, walking into the room. Sheila and Debby are sitting on Sheila's bed. They look at me and smirk.

"What?" I ask.

"Now, I know you made your bed this morning before you left for class," Sheila begins.

"And now it's a rumpled mess. Look-" Debby says, pointing to my side of the room. "-the sheet is barely hanging on and the comforter is practically in the floor!"

"Plus it smells like sex in here," Sheila claims. "So we want to know who'd you boink today? Valentine's Day 2010."

I can feel the heat of the blush rise up on my cheeks. I can't exactly tell them who had been in my room, in my bed, buried inside me could I? So I just stand there embarrassed and flustered.

Dean's cum was dripping out of me into my panties and my roommate and her best friend was questioning my activities. Shit!

I relent and tell them, "Just a guy from back home."

"Oooo, so he drove all this way, just to see you for a few hours and a quick romp in the sack? On Valentine's Day?!" Sheila questions.

"It must be love," she continues, a dreamy look in her eyes. "Girl, why haven't you told me about him?! Who is he? How'd you meet?"

"Where is he?" Debby interjects, but I don't hear her. Sheila's words have me panicking.

Love? No, Dean doesn't love me. He loves my mom! But then the words he said right before we had sex come back to me. "Can I make love to you now?”

OH. MY. GOD! Has Dean fallen in love with me?!

Trying to quell my overactive mind and flailing heartbeat, I focus on their questions. Thinking quickly, I come up with answers.

"His name is John. We went to school together," I lie. "And he only had a few hours today so he drove up here to see me for Valentine's Day and now is on his way back."

"How long has this been going on?"

"Huh?" I asked, confused.

"Dude how long have you been seeing someone?!" Sheila asks, rolling her eyes.

"Oh. Since last summer, "I tell them as I begin to try to remake my bed. "My 21st birthday actually. " Well, at least it's not ALL a lie.

"Oh," Sheila says and then her eyes widen. "OH! He is daddy isn't he?!'

“I really don’t want to talk about that,” I say as I begin picking at the hem of my shirt. “It’s private.”

“Okay, I’ll give you that. But,” Sheila says as she and Debby head toward the door. “When do we get to meet him? You know put him through the test, give him the ‘You hurt her’ talk?”

“Soon,” I fib. “As soon as he can get away and get back up here.”

SPRING BREAK

I wake with no problem Friday morning, knowing that after turning in my projects for Commerce and Statistics, I will have 9 ½ days of time off to do absolutely nothing.

Well, Dean. I plan to do a lot of Dean during Spring Break. I have ideas and intentions of getting my mother's boyfriend in my bed, in my arms, in my pussy.

Ever since Valentine's Day, I had memorised and analyzed every single thing that was said and done and could only come up with one result.

Dean Winchester has fallen for me. He is in love with me! The thought causes a flutter in my chest and puts a smile on my face because I feel the same. And I can't wait to go home for Spring Break and tell him; to say the words I've never told anyone else.

As soon as I submit my report to Professor DuMire, I take off running out of the lecture hall and to my car. If I leave now, I can make it home before Ben gets out of school and Mom or Dean gets home. It will give me time to put my plan into action.

But when I pull into the driveway an hour later, my good mood quickly deflates when I see mom's car in the drive. 'What is she doing home so early?'

Parking behind her Fusion, I turn the key off and look toward the house. 'Well not everything is ruined,' I think to myself. 'I still have time to enact my scheme for seduction.'

I open the door, pulling my duffel from the backseat before heading inside. As soon as the door opens, Mom appears with a baseball bat raised, ready to strike.

"Mom?! What are you doing?" I ask.

"Oh! Abs," she says, relief evident in her tone. Show lowers the weapon and keans it against the staircase. "Thank god it's you."

She looks over her shoulder. "Ben, it's okay. It's just your sister. Come say hi."

'Ok,' I think. 'There's definitely something going on. She's never made Ben talk to me unless he wanted to. "

I'm torn from my thoughts as sixty pounds of kid tackles into me. Ben wraps his arms around my waist and I can feel him shaking.

"Ok, what the fuck is going on?" I demand. "Where's Dean?"

Mom's face falls as she says, "Ben, why don't you go upstairs and play your game."

Ben lets go of me and does as she asks with no hesitation. As soon as he is out of earshot, Mom turns back to me.

"He's gone. Uh, his brother showed up here. Apparently some bad guys were after him so he faked his death last year." She heads into the kitchen so I follow.

"So his brother came back? Where are they? Gone to the bar? Gone to catch up?"

"No," mom answers with tears in her eyes. "Sam showed up and then the next day the people who were after him showed up. Your brother and I ran out of the house. Dean took us to his uncle Bobby's house while he and Sam came back to deal with it.

"When it was safe, Dean came and got us and brought us home but then he packed up and left with Sam. Said it wasn't finished and that as soon as it was, he'd be back. That was 2 weeks ago"

My heart was breaking in my chest at the thought of Dean in danger. "Have you heard from him? When will he be home?"

My voice is calm and collected although inside I was going crazy. 'No, this can't be happening! He can't be gone! I love him! I was going to tell him I am in love with him!'

"He calls when he can," she explains. "Trying to keep more things from coming here to use us as bait so he calls to check in but that's about it."

I will the tears I feel welling up to stay at bay as I ask my next question. "Mom? Do you think he's coming back?"

"Truthfully, Abby…..I don't know."

I hold the tears off until I get to my room. As soon as the door closes, I release them and throw myself on my bed, muffling my sobs with my pillow.

When I slide my hand under the cushion my hand hits something. I grab it and pull it out. It's an envelope with my name scribbled across the front.

As soon as I see the messy penmanship I know exactly who wrote it. Dean. I rip it open, gently piling the page from its confines.

A new set of tears plague my eyes as I read the letter.

Abigail,

I'm a man, maybe I'm a lonely man

I'm in the middle of something I don't really understand. And maybe you're the only woman who could ever help me to understand?

Maybe I'm amazed at the way you're with me all the time, Maybe I'm afraid of the way I leave you.

Maybe I'm amazed at the way I really need you.

Baby girl, there is no maybe about any of this. Before you, I was a lonely man. I didn't know what caring deeply for someone meant until I met you (the grown up you). I am amazed at how well you understood me and took me for who I am.

I understand that life had to go this way to bring you into my path. I am amazed at how well we got along, even before we began making love. And I'm definitely sure am afraid of the way this is ending, me leaving without saying goodbye to you and I sure as hell am amazed at how much this hurts; how fucking much I'm going to miss you. I love you.

Dean (Daddy)

@lostinaseaoffictionalbliss @spnbaby-67 @tftumblin @sea040561 @delightfullykrispypeach @larajadeschmidt13 @vicariouslythruspn @squirrelnotsam @death-unbecomes-you @sandlee44 @blacktithe7 @deanwanddamons @hoboal87 @marvelfanbrenda @vicmc624 @smoothdogsgirl @elliloumom @stoneyggirl @kricketc29

#series #Mommy's (Not So)Good Girl #dean winchester #lisa braeden #abby braeden #ben braeden #dean x lisa #dean x abby #fluff #smut #angst #deans-baby-momma #between s5 and s6 #supernatural #spn fanfic #supernatural fanfiction #canon divergence

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soymimikyu · 4 years

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Witcher Episode 6 Notes

Continuing to take notes for a “reason”...but these are my top thoughts, comments, and ramblings on this episode.

* Dragons! In my opinion, this episode was the height of story telling for the season.

* I want to know where Jaskier met a sexy goose for the comparison and why he didn’t say swan? Maybe he is unfamiliar with swans? I mean, as demonstrated in the previous episode, he is more of an ichthyologist than an ornithologist. (Unrelated -- why is Adamantine Dreams such an excellent piece of music...go listen to it and try to disagree).

* How does Jaskier come up with names...Julian Alfred Pankratz is great!

* What exactly is Jaskier describing when he is talking about twigs, flowers, flora, fauna, and cacti? It seems sexual and my initial guesses are bedding -- but fauna? I suppose if you skin an animal...but you have to treat hides before you “should” use them....one can I suppose use them “fresh” for this purpose.

* How will Jaskier immortalize the Doof Knight (Not to be confused with the most excellent Doof Warrior)? The ship comment was glorious, but he seemed legitimately sad about Eyck’s death...

* Borch knows about Yennefer’s meddling in her courtly assignment! How?!? Does Aretuza interact with dragons? Or is he just magically knowing?

* AHHH Geralt call’s her Yen! It was adorable to see him show so much emotion -- in a gruff way

* The Doppler looks like the most irritated parent during a long car ride with children in the back seat constantly asking questions. I wonder why Dara did hesitated to kill him and Ceri was so murderous. Maybe she got it from her Grand Mother :)

* Where does Jaskier keep his clothes? All I seem to recall him carrying is his instrument. Does Roach also carry Jaskier’s stuff? I wonder how the two of them get along...maybe Roach really like’s Jaskier’s singing. I absolutely can see Jaskier complaining about Geralt to Roach.

* The “only my nonsense” line made me groan.......

* Seriously Yen and Geralt have the best boinking music. This time it was not as Jaunty, but really good still! (Ahhh Torment is also a really good piece -- unrelated again! Yes I am commenting on what I am listening to while I make these comments).

* Farmer Geralt! He would grow winter wheat and make bread to sell at the farmers market. Roach would pull the buggy! (Idea: Geralt, Yen, Jaskier, Ceri all run a farm. Think little house on the prairie, but more interesting).

* More fighting scenes should have bread in the background. Those were beautiful loaves of bread.

* In the 30 years Yennefer served on a court, she became damn competent with a dagger. Clearly that was her hobby while mopping up political messes.

* Do we ever learn who is the god head of the white flame religion? I can’t remember.

* CREDITS SONG! AHHH IT IS JUST AS GOOD AS THE WITCHER SONG.

There are other notes and comparisons scribbled down, but these were the important ones.

#the witcher #jaskier #jaskier and roach #geralt and jaskier #geralt and yennefer #jaskier does not know birds #farmer geralt #bread #bread fight #jaunty boinking music

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bechloesupercorp · 1 year

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ava finding out that "bisexual" in french is "bisexuelle" (pronounced BEA-sexu-elle) and exploiting the ever loving fuck out of it with her puns

#ava going “i guess you could call me” *french accent* BEAsexuelle #bea going absolutely RED #and dont forget lesbian and “the good” [lesbiennes et les biens]#ava just learning the different ways to say queer identities in different languages #bea indulging her bc she loves her #heh #avatrice #ava silva #sister beatrice #warrior nun #boink scribbles #hcs

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mekairu · 4 years

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Instructions: tag ten people you’d like to know better

Tagged by: @kaspbreaker ,thanks bruh, you are a real sweetheart ;A;

Name: Online I go by Meek, its a nickname I adopted and enjoy!

Starsign: Aries, I have no idea what my others are but I’m year of the Rat, baby.

Hogwarts house: Hufflepuff, I really click with Slytherins.

Height: 5′2, someone bring me a stepping stool

Favorite animal: I love so many animals hhhhh. I will cry over lizards and catch them to share in my delight. I wanted a pet komodo dragon.

dogs or cats: Both. I’ve grown up with both and they are both so good and funny.

When you made your blog: Back in high school but I didnt use it until I was in college

Why you made your blog: My childhood friend made me make it and I hated it, but I love her

Reason for your url: I made up the name forever ago and have used it for everything since

What i am wearing: Bi-colored shirt tee with Thor on it from Ragnarok and comfy sweats.

Dream vacation: I’d love to tour Europe!! I want to go to so many museums and see art and all the different sites and culture and the FOOOOD. Mmmm it just sounds so fun to spend a good chunk of time with some friends exploring around.

Instruments: Does singing bad karaoke count?

Celebrity crushes: Don’t judge me but I’ve always thought David Tennant was a great actor. He can go feral at the right moments and hilarious

random facts:

What’s your job: Quarantine!

If you could go back to school would you: I might take some script writing classes, but rn I am very tired of school and need a break and to figure out what I want.

A job you had that would surprise people: I once babysat the hamster that Rhino from Bolt was based off of. His name was Boink because he kept bouncing off the walls in the studio in his ball.

Do you think aliens are real: No, at least nothing that we can reach, do you know how big space is? So big.

What’s your guilty pleasure: I love watching trashy RP videos of SCP games and this one series called Half-Life VR: but the AI is self aware. Whenever I’m really down on a late night I like to watch these cuz its just a bunch of guys messing around and trying to make each other laugh and its pretty great. I try not to think of things as a guilty pleasure because we deserve to like what we like, but I keep it to myself a lot cuz I know my friends aren’t into it.

Tattoos: Nope! I am a wuss and have zero pain tolerance. But I want more piercings.

Any phobias: Rollercoasters. I will freeze up in line and start having a panic attack when dragged to one.

Do you talk to yourself: I sing to myself when doing chores or drawing

What movie do you adore: My mood always changes with movies... but I always adore Over the Garden Wall, FMA, and ATLA. I watch those over and over.

The first thing that you remember you wanted to be when you grew up: I wanted to be a herpetologist because I thought lizards were cool and Godzilla. I thought one day I could make Godzilla....

Tagging some buddies that havent been @elvhendisaster @k524 @theawkwardghost137 @22-stars-on-the-moon @selkie-scribbles @renarde-noire, do it if you want or not. Its very long.

#meek things #long post #tagged

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ghost-chance · 5 years

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It occurred to me in my binge-watching that we’re missing out on a great opportunity here. I give you several common occurrences in Supernatural to choose from - get five in a row to win! (Middle is free because Dean’s ALWAYS a dramatic little bitch. Also, there’s no limit to what Castiel “doesn’t get” so just mark it if he gets confused about something commonplace...like sarcasm...or personal space...or PORN...)

Comment if you hit Bingo!

Free to use and reblog but no reposting without credit given or with signature cropped out.

-------

Also, forgot to add earlier: don't tag this with "Wincest" or I'll tag your blog with BLOCKED. Please don't taint my scribbles with brotherly boinking - living near Arkansas is enough exposure to incest for a lifetime.

#Supernatural #Sam and Dean Winchester #Castiel #Supernatural bingo #SPN

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askmicrowaveayem · 7 years

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Boink! The Gaster Brothers Pt. 1

[Archive] [Cast]

The Gaster Brothers BOINK! in particular is going to contain some disturbing themes. We will try our very best to tag everything appropriate, but if you see that we’ve missed something please let us know. Subjects that will crop up and be tagged include: child abuse, child slavery, torture, dismemberment, murder, and more.

For all of it’s happy moments, this is not a happy story and does not have a happy ending. Please take that into consideration if you are interested in reading this story.

They were stopped for the night in the woods, and that meant a fire, and that meant gathering wood.

Once the pit was dug and the area cleared, that’s just what the skeleton boy did, moving through the woods around the campsite to pick up twigs and smaller branches.

He’d chop them into smaller pieces back at camp. But for now, he enjoyed being a bit more on his own. Not that he was always around someone else, but the merchant was always at least sort of present around him.

Right now, though, Hugh was back at the campsite, tallying up their goods and checking the distance to the next village, and the skeleton had a few long minutes outside to be alone.

He was lost.

How on earth had he managed to get lost in his own stretch of woods? One moment everything seemed normal and he was headed back home for supper and then he turned around and it was all… different. The trees weren’t the same. The air didn’t feel quite right, and he had gotten scared.

He had started to run, hoping he would find something that looked familiar, but the further he went the more panicked he became and soon he was walking through the dark hugging himself and trying to get a good look at the stars.

They would point him home.

The little skeleton stood in a clearing looking up, trying to figure out his sense of direction. He was small, no more than eight years old, and wore a dirty tunic and shawl, but looked well-cared for. The mud had only been tracked onto his clothing that day after playing with his friends.

But now his friends were gone, away and comfortable in their houses and here he was, alone in the dark without a clue as to where he was.

He lit the fire. He put potatoes by it, hoping they would bake quickly near the coals. He warmed water.

He thought he heard someone walking around, and looked up. Hugh was still by the covered wagon, scribbling by the light of one candle in a desperate bid to finish before his eyes gave out. The mules were off to the wrong side of the campsite to be the sound.

He stood slowly and walked in the direction of the sound he’d heard, hoping to not attract attention, but he was sure he’d heard something thundering through the underbrush.

He thought he might have seen a figure in a nearby clearing, but it was so cloudy tonight--it blocked so much of the light.

He shuffled closer, glancing back to make sure the merchant hadn’t noticed, and then slipped into the woods. His tunic was a little short and his pants caught on the briars, but he was used to walking in bare feet and didn’t make much sound.

Whatever he’d seen, it was definitely smaller than he was.

It was too cloudy to see the stars.

The little skeleton stood in the clearly for awhile, hoping that maybe there would be a break in the clouds, just enough to make out a constellation or certain star. When it never came he trudged back into the woods.

He spotted a dot of light in the distance and started running towards it.

It didn’t take long for him to nearly barrel into a dark figure stalking through the woods. A tiny, hoarse, mouse-like scream left his mouth, barely audible even to the figure right beside him.

He stumbled back and fell onto his rear.

He was confused for a long moment, flinching away from the sudden shape running at him, and then… realizing it had fallen.

He bent down, trying to see better, and realized it was a skeleton. Smaller than him, perhaps up to his ribcage. He didn’t know how ages worked very well just yet--he was still learning as he went-- but he was certain this skeleton must have been very young.

“Sorry,” he said to the smaller one, “Are you okay?”

Big black eye sockets looked up at him, the tiny white dots focusing on the figure’s face.

Another skeleton!

He grinned and shot to his feet, nodding quickly. He didn’t recognize him but… that was okay! It was someone and maybe they were traveling to his village? Maybe they could show him home? Take him to one of the main roads or pathways?

‘I’m okay!’ He signed, ‘I got really lost and don’t know where I am. Can you show me where the nearest road is?’

He wouldn’t make it home for supper but his parents were probably worried sick by now. They would be more relieved than angry.

“...Um?” he said, shifting back a bit, watching the other skeleton… move his hands a lot.

“I… don’t understand,” he added a moment later, seeing the hope on the younger’s face. What did any of that mean? Maybe the merchant knew? He knew a lot of things. Maybe this was normal? He just had to get back to camp before Hugh noticed he was gone, and figure out how to explain the tiny skeleton, or maybe he could just leave the other here in the woods? He’d probably be okay, right? He really shouldn’t be gone for very--

“BOY.”

...he’d been gone for too long.

He scrambled to his feet, shooting the skeleton an apologetic look over his shoulder, and racing back to camp. “I’m here! I’m sorry!”

… Oh. He didn’t know wingdings. That… that was understandable if he didn’t live in his village, but… problematic.

He winced at the shout, the voice loud and unpleasant. The little skeleton watched the other run off and, despite how mean that voice had sounded, it was his only hope of getting back home tonight.

He followed.

He stumbled back into camp, panting a bit, and saying, “I just went out to see about a noise!” hoping it was explanation enough.

The human didn’t go to the cart to get out his cane, so the skeleton slumped a little, relieved. He’d messed up, but it had been okay.

“What kind of noise?” Hugh asked, moustache bristling as he talked.

“Uh, um,” he said. “Rustling?”

He hardly noticed the little skeleton coming up behind him.

The tiny skeleton pushed through the bushes and into camp, standing behind the other and off to the side.

Hopefully this one knew wingdings.

‘Hello! My name is Gaster and I’ve gotten lost. Can you point me to the nearest main road?’

Hugh startled a bit at the sight of the second skeleton, glancing between the little one and his much more familiar bag of bones, scratching his chin.

“...found a really young one now, didnt’cha?”

Gaster’s face fell.

That… wasn’t a very good thing to hear. He started to worry. This man probably didn’t understand wingdings either.

… He thought about running.

Hugh snorted and shook his head in a little version of a laugh. Still, he spotted the kid’s face falling, and quickly readjusted himself, getting down on the little skeleton’s level, his voice softening. “Hey, there, kiddo, don’t worry, it’ll be alright. You’re prob’ly pretty lost right now, huh?”

He turned to his own skeleton. “Go put on some more food for the little guy.”

Gaster nodded hesitantly and relaxed a little. He was lost. He was hungry.

… Maybe this man just gave a bad first impression.

He frowned and tried signing again, ‘Can you understand me?’

He watched the kid’s hands, frowning a bit, and turned to his skeleton. “You know what he’s doing with his hands?”

“No sir,” the skeleton replied, pulling out two more potatoes and a hunk of cheese. He didn’t mention meeting the boy in the forest.

He pouted and let his hands drop to his sides.

Gaster suddenly wished he had made more of an effort to talk like his mother wanted. Now he was stuck with two people who didn’t understand him.

His face brightened as he got an idea.

The little skeleton held out his hand and started to motion writing on it.

...welp. The little thing could apparently write--or thought it could. Out of the corner of his eye, Hugh glanced over at his own skeleton, who was obediently putting on more food. Hopefully, the boy would either mistake the motion for more of that weird gesture or would know better than to touch Hugh’s pens without permission. For today, at least, he just said, “Sorry, kiddo. Don’t understand you. C’mon, let’s warm you up by the fire at least. Food should be warming up soon.”

What!? How could he not understand that gesture? It wasn’t even wingdings!

Gaster made another frantic attempt to make like he was writing, but could follow him to the fire nonetheless.

Ugh.

At least he was nice enough to give him something to eat.

He put a hand on the little skeleton’s shoulder and led him over to the fire, letting him sit down on one of the big rocks scattered around it.

“You know how old you are?” he asked as his own skeleton shuffled by to add some food into the kettle over the fire and stir it into a thin soup. A jar of something to drink was brought by, too. Hugh offered the little skeleton a mug. It was alcoholic, but alcohol was a good bit safer than water and kept better than most anything else.

Gaster took the mug and nodded a thanks, drinking some of it, just enough to quench his thirst. It was a lot stronger than what he was used to but it wasn’t too bad. It wasn’t like he expected this man to have something weaker for when he met kids.

After handing the mug back he held up eight fingers.

Hugh took the mug back and filled it again, just in case. He hid his surprise at the actual response he was given. He’d picked up a smart one, hadn’t he? Could supposedly write and counted and everything.

He nodded and shifted aside a bit as his skeleton kept preparing the meal.

“How long you been out here?”

If he could write and count, maybe those sorts of things could stick around past death? Or maybe someone else was around.

Either way, he’d be happy to keep this one under wraps and get out of this forest quick.

Gaster wasn’t sure how to say ‘just tonight’ or ‘a few hours’, so he did the best he could and held up a single finger for ‘one day’.

Hugh nodded like he understood very well. “Been lost for a bit, then? Don’t worry, we’ll take care of ya, shorty.”

He gave the skeleton a smile, and his skeleton gave them both bowls of soup, a potato, and a hunk of cheese to melt in either.

That… no he hadn’t been lost for awhile. That wasn’t very long at all!

He frowned but took the soup and potato, nodding a thanks before eating hungrily.

The skeleton sat down once both the others had begun eating and began to pick at his own meal, scratching his wrist idly where a dark rune was tattooed on the bone just below his hand.

Hugh set the cup of alcohol close to the kid, hoping he’d drink a little more. It was strong and tended to hit pretty hard, though the food might slow it down. Either way, he’d much prefer it if the little skeleton slept sound through the night and didn’t put up a fuss in the morning.

Gaster caught sight of the rune and gave it a good, long stare. He liked runes. He didn’t know many but he knew more than your typical eight-year-old.

He ate his meal and drank a little more to wash it down.

With a full belly, a lot of panic, hours of walking, and alcohol, he would sleep pretty soundly despite everything.

It probably wasn’t the sort of rune he would have learned in a class, but it was recognizable as one. At least part of it was for a connection with an object at a distance. The rest was more obscure.

Hugh noticed the skeleton finishing up his meal and said, “You’re welcome to sleep in the wagon. It’s too late to travel tonight without worrying about animals or attacks, but it’s comfortable in there. Warmer than out here, certainly.”

Hugh and his skeleton finished up their own meals, the plates and dishes being stacked. The skeleton would rinse them and sleep outside.

They’d be moving before dawn.

The little one should still be asleep by then, with any luck.

Gaster nodded. That made sense.

He would try and thank them both for the meal as best he could before crawling into the wagon and sleeping. He was used to waking up a little before dawn.

When he woke up this time they were moving. His eyes tried to focus on what was happening, piece together the night before.

He had helped mom and dad with the chores before running off to school. He had gone back home, helped out more, and then ran off to play with his friends in the woods before supper.

He had… he had gotten lost and…

Gaster sat upright abruptly.

He flinched when the little skeleton suddenly sat up.

Hugh was steering the mules right now, and he’d climbed into the back for a short break from walking alongside the cart. Their pace wasn’t fast, but if he could lighten the load by walking, that’s what he was supposed to do.

With the extra skeleton on board, he hadn’t intended to rest long, but he’d apparently come in at exactly the wrong time. Or maybe his entrance had started the little one?

Either way, he looked apologetic and raised his voice just loud enough to be heard over the rumble of the wheels and hooves. “Are you okay?”

He looked fearfully at the other skeleton, but didn’t answer.

Instead he scrambled towards the front of the wagon to reach out and get the man’s attention to maybe try and ask him where they were going.

His eyes widened and he caught the little skeleton around the waist, hauling him back. “Hey! No! Don’t--don’t bother him right now, okay?”

Gaster nearly tripped, stumbling as he was grabbed. He spun around to face the other skeleton, wide-eyed with fear, and signed out of desperation. ‘Where are we going!?’ He pointed in every direction, hoping maybe that would get the point across.

He sort of got the message, heart still pounding after grabbing the kid. Fucking near miss.

“W-we’re just going to the next town. That’s all.”

He calmed a little, but still looked scared. What if it wasn’t his town?

Gaster made a walking gesture with his fingers to try and ask how far. If he knew how far it was then he would probably be able to tell if it was his town or not. A few hours of walking blindly in the woods couldn’t have meant he got that far.

“Um,” he tried to guess at what the skeleton might be saying, but it was really confusing and he was only really good with normal words, and then only some of them, so… “...you...don’t have to walk? Unless he tells you to walk, just take advantage of him saying nothing and ride along. It’s gonna take until noon for us to get there.”

He looked horrified.

Noon? Noon!? No! This had to be in the opposite direction!

Gaster started to scramble off the back of the cart.

The kid almost made it off the cart before his magic activated.

He caught the little skeleton just before he was about to jump off the back of the cart and hauled him back inside until he could get a good grip on him.

“Don’t,” he said, deactivating his magic but keeping his grip firm, hands on the little skeleton’s forearms.

Gaster struggled in the other’s grip, his tiny little arms trying to push the other away. He looked up at him, tears starting to build in his eye sockets, and pointed frantically in the opposite direction.

His home was that way! That way!!

Oh no. Oh God. Oh fuck. The little one was crying.

He understood what the little skeleton was saying this time. He understood perfectly.

“H-Hugh!” he shouted, and hated the break in his voice. “I-I think this one already belongs to someone!”

He shouldn’t. He wasn’t supposed to take things that weren’t theirs. Don’t touch anything that Hugh didn’t say he could. What was he supposed to do??

The mules came to a rocking stop.

‘Belongs’ was a strange term, but right now that was the last thing on his mind. He turned to look at the front, hoping that the man would just let him leave and walk back on his own. He couldn’t have gotten that far. A day of walking wasn’t that bad, right? He could do it.

The man came into the back and looked down at the two skeletons, frowning a bit.

“He trying to get out?”

His skeleton nodded, still holding the little one tight.

“Keep him still. This’ll take a minute.”

The human moved past them, heading towards one of the many stacks of items they had and digging through them. He pulled out a compass, a metal ring, and a plack of wood and ink brush.

His skeleton stiffened, but did as he was told, wrapping his arms all the way around the little skeleton and holding him still, uncertainly trying to comfort by rocking him a little.

His struggling stopped as he listened to their conversation, eyes blinking away tears.

He looked at the items and immediately pieced together what was going to happen, remembering the rune on the others arm.

Oh god… Oh god! No! Gaster let out a rough, meek little scream and started to kick and bite and scratch as much as he could at the skeleton holding him, at the man getting closer.

The skeleton squeezed his eyes shut and grit his teeth, holding the other tight and trying hard to ignore the pain. Hold him still. As well as he was holding up, it didn’t mean the kid’s attacks weren’t affecting him. He yelped and tried to jerk away when he was bitten, but quickly regained his grip, bearing with the pain.

Finally, Hugh came up behind the little skeleton and gripped his neck in one large, rough hand. He tugged down the back of the kid’s tunic enough to reveal the back of his ribcage and spine, gripping his neck tight to force the kid still as he fixed the metal loop through the kid’s back, the wooden runic charm attached to the ring.

The tunic was pulled back into place. The ring and rune hidden easily beneath the clothes.

“You can’t run now. Best shape up and start listening,” Hugh said.

He wouldn’t.

This man was not his father. This man was a stranger kidnapping a child. Gaster only stopped when the hand was around his neck, gagging a bit until it was released. He kept on pushing at the skeleton holding him.

Run. He had to run.

He frowned when the child continued to struggle, watching his own skeleton’s eyes go wide with panic as he kept being shoved.

He turned to grab his cane.

The skeleton’s eyes widened even more and he gripped the child tighter, murmuring, “Stop, now, please, stop it now--” quietly enough the human hopefully couldn’t hear.

He didn’t stop. Gaster flailed his arms, still trying to get away.

The cane was long and black, made of oakwood and topped with a cut gemstone. Fake, but still strong and good enough looking.

His skeleton flinched when he saw it coming.

The newcomer wouldn’t have the chance.

He struck the back of the child’s skull with enough force to send both skeletons to the ground.

A split second of the most intense pain he had ever experienced in his life so far.

Gaster’s eyes went blank and he fell to the ground, unconscious.

The skeleton crashed to the ground with him, taking the blunt of the landing.

He finally let the child go, his arms shaking and his bones covered in scratches.

“Tie him up back here and gag him,” Hugh said, wiping the tip of the cane off and placing it back in its corner. “We don’t have time to civilize him before next market. Just keep him quiet and out of sight. Don’t let him run off.”

He nodded in understanding, and as Hugh went back to get the mules walking again, the skeleton got to work.

Gaster would be unconscious for hours. When he did finally wake up his skull was pounding and his eyes spun, unable to focus on anything.

He could barely remember what had happened.

The skeleton was packing up from the day’s sales when he noticed the other was awake, setting a box inside the wagon and spotting the opened eyes. He shuffled away, looking for something for the other to drink, and returned a moment later with something cold and seasoned. He poured it in a cup and ungagged the skeleton, bringing the cup to the other’s mouth.

He choked on it at first, then drank without thinking about it too much.

His head hurt.

Where was he?

He couldn’t move his arms or legs.

He rubbed the other’s shoulders near the neck junction, trying to help him relax and drink more easily.

He spoke softly, in case the head injury made his hearing more sensitive.

“Can you understand me still?”

The words were mumbled and a little loud, but Gaster managed the slightest little nod.

“Do you remember what happened?” he asked, pausing after each question to await the answer before offering the drink again.

He drank a little more.

Did he?

… He had been kidnapped.

The man had hit him really hard over the head with something.

Emotions started to well up and he tugged at his bound wrists and ankles weakly. He started to cry silently and nodded again.

He tried to keep rubbing the other’s shoulder and back, hoping he would relax, his fingertips accidentally brushing against the metal ring.

“Shh, hey, it’s--it’s gonna be okay. It’s not that bad. You just started on the wrong foot.”

He smiled comfortingly.

His entire body tensed upon feeling the ring, lurching forward. Despite how much his head screamed he started to struggle, to try and feel where it was.

What was it? What was it!?

“S-stop struggling!” he said, voice still quiet but taking on a much more urgent tone. “Do you want to get in trouble again? Just relax. Hugh said he’d feed you tomorrow if you started behaving. That’s good, right? That’ll be something to look forward to…”

What!? Gaster turned and looked at the other with wide eye sockets. He… he was this guy’s slave?! Food was going to be hung over his head as a reward for obeying?

No. No this wasn’t happening.

He struggled through the swirling in his head and summoned an attack in his hand, a small bone flickering blue for a few seconds before eventually taking on the color permanently.

Gaster tried to burn the rope holding his wrists with it, but it was weak.

On instinct, he tried to knock the bone away from the bonds, hitting the little skeleton’s hands just enough to make him lose his grip and burning him along that arm. He yelped as his HP dropped.

“Boy! What’s going on in there? What’s taking so long?”

The voice came from outside, but Hugh himself didn’t appear. The skeleton froze and waited for him to finish speaking before saying, “Coming! T-tripped! I’ll be back out in a moment!”

The bone fell from his hands and dissipated soon after.

Gaster glared daggers up at the other skeleton, tears running down his face and teeth grit together.

He didn’t shy away from that look, though he felt awful about it. His hand still ached, but the kid would have to learn how to behave if he didn’t want the both of them getting in trouble.

He hoped the kid wouldn’t be… really awful to have along. He’d. Kind of been hoping for a friend, maybe, when Hugh first put the ring on?

He moved closer, placing the gag back in the other’s mouth and carefully holding him still as he untied the child’s hands, then retied them both individually, locking him between two metal poles keeping the frame of the wagon. It would make attacking the ropes a much more difficult task.

Then, another short apologetic glance over his shoulder, he hurried back outside, not keen on losing his own privileges or dinner over the younger one’s misbehavior.

It would already be bad enough if Hugh realized he’d lied about tripping, or that he’d somehow lost HP due to a sear on his hand.

He tried to bite him when the gag was placed back in his mouth.

He struggled when he untied his arms, trying to get away, but was much too weak.

Gaster watched him leave, glaring and crying.

… When he did finally get out of sight he started to sob silently, his little body retching with each gasp through the gag.

He wanted to go home.

He wanted his mom and dad.

Why were they doing this?

His injuries, tears, and lack of food wouldn’t let him stay awake for very long.

The other skeleton appeared periodically, carrying wares back into the covered cart and stacking them in place. He glanced at the child occasionally, but didn’t disturb him anymore.

When he was done stacking, Hugh took inventory in the day’s dying light while the skeleton made a meal. In town, there was fresh produce, so he quite happily boiled meat that hadn’t been dried, sliced fresher bread, and poured milk.

It was almost looking like a good evening before Hugh shouted for him again and called him to the back of the wagon.

Gaster drifted in and out of consciousness throughout the day, his concussion making staying awake difficult already and nothing else helped either.

His head swam and he heard shouting, eyes flickering open weakly.

“...whole roll of fabric! Do you know how expensive fabric is?!” the human was shouting, pointing at one of the crates, red in the face.

“I’m sorry, I--I didn’t realize anyone was even near them! I didn’t notice!”

“Ten feet of fabric, boy! Ten feet! Who can steal that much and just walk away without being spotted?”

“I don’t know, they must’ve done it when I was looking away from the cart, I--”

Crack! Crack!

The skeleton fell to the ground, clutching his face after two swift blows to his cheekbones with the cane.

He whimpered, but didn’t complain or argue any further.

He watched, eyes half-lidded at first, but growing wider and wider as he watched the man strike the skeleton.

Gaster couldn’t shout or say anything. He could only watch in horror.

“...on yer life, I swear…” the man grumbled, the words hardly loud enough to be heard as he brushed past the skeleton and returned to checking their stores, eyes still narrowed and face still reddened with anger.

The skeleton glanced up and made accidental eye contact with the child.

He quickly looked down and away, shakily getting to his feet and stumbling back outside, one hand still clutching his face.

He didn’t complain.

He didn’t even look very surprised.

Gaster tried to hold his gaze as long as he could, eye lights watching the other skeleton stumble away.

… He had to get away. He had to get back home.

He struggled to summon another blue attack and tried really hard to sear through one of the ropes holding his wrists despite the weird angle.

“You stop that if you know what’s good for you,” Hugh said, turning to watch the little skeleton struggle.

Gaster froze.

The attack faded.

… Maybe if he ‘behaved’ he could run once he was untied.

Maybe waiting was the best option right now.

He curled into a ball and cried.

#BOINK!#mayem #the gaster brothers #rage #dings #hugh #undertale #RP log #child abuse #child slavery

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