#Thr good wife

[angelofverdum]

The Good Wife

I finally watched The Good Wife, and I LOVED it. When I put this show on my watchlist I think it was on season 6 and a lot of things happened and I couldn't watch it, but I finally did and I'm so happy.

Also, I think I have never been happier to never have read a spoiler about a show.

First, I love Alicia. Lead characters are usually so boring, and even tho she was The good wife, she was growing, so we literally saw her go from wife to badass lawyer.

Julianna Margulis is a really good actress. I haven't seen a lot of her work, but she nailed it as Alicia Florrick. I always find it refreshing when the lead actor is good at their job.

Now, even tho I loved the show because some episodes were amazing (Looking at you, season 5). It had these storylines that they started and ended abruptly.

Characters disappear without explanation. The best example was Robyn. They knew they needed to replace Kalinda, so instead of sticking with Robyn, they forgot about her then they brought Jeffrey Dean Morgan to play Alicia's new love interest.

They also loved to go in circles. The whole plot about Alicia's campaign was a waste of time. The Lemond Bishop thing ended up with Kalinda just leaving, which doesn't make any sense to me.

The political plots were so boring. Anything that involved Peter was boring. Seasons 6 and 7 were awful. They focus too much on Aliica's love life.

For me, Alicia's most interesting relationship was with Peter. Not in a romantic way, I think Will was the right one, but how their relationship worked.

They should have made them friends. I know Peter sucked, and he was an asshole, but in the end, he was the only one Alicia didn't betray. I don't know; I liked their dynamic.

So the reason that I was so happy to never read anything about this show: Will's death. I was SHOCKED. I didn't even like him that much, but I was sad that he was gone.

The one thing I knew was that Archie Panjabi and Julianna Margulies didn't get along, and they couldn't be together in a scene.

So, when I saw the first season and Kalinda and Alicia's friendship started to develop, I knew I was en route to a lot of frustration.

When I met Archie she was doing the Fall (Gillian Anderson's best performance, btw), and I read about the thing with Julianna, but I wasn't expecting that she would leave the show.

I thought she finished the whole show, and that remarkable last scene between Alicia and Kalinda at the bar was one of the last scenes of the show.

Kalinda was my favorite character, and the way she was treated by the writers was terrible.

It annoyed me how they dressed her. She was an investigator working on the street. Wearing high-heeled boots and short dresses didn't make sense. Look at the way Robyn and Jason dressed. But of course, Kalinda was a sexy and mysterious investigator.

And the hair? In all 6 seasons, she let her hair down once, ONCE. Insane. Even in some sex scenes, she was having her hair up.

I wish they developed more of her character.

And I can't believe that Julianna and Archie hated each other so much that they couldn't suck it up and work together for the sake of the show. And they had a lot of chemistry, the way Kalinda went soft for Alicia only? Crazy. She got rid of her abusive husband because Alicia felt threatened.

And Kalinda and Lana? They had me giggling and twirling my hair every time they were together. Thank god I didn't watch this live because I could've died of frustration. I wanted more.

Look at this shit. I have watched her scenes together like 300 times.

I saw Eli was a fan favorite. He was ok to me, sometimes way too much.

Cary was also a favorite. Pretty privilege I guess.

Diane. I mean, how could you not love Christine Baranski. I think I have never seen her play a serious character before. I really liked Diane, but some plots were boring to me because I knew about the spin-off. So, some things weren't possible.

Last season was a drag. It was just so boring, and I couldn't wait to finish it. But seasons from 1 to 5 were fun. I was so invested in the show. I couldn't stop watching.

I find it funny how Jason ( who everybody loved bc JDM I know) was exactly Kalinda but male version.

P.S Alicia and Kalinda had one of the most devastating break up on tv

I'll watch the good fight now.

[nightmareonpeachstreet]

Arlecchino "Will Become A Winged Demon and Make You Duel Her Because You Didn't Finish Your Homework and You Need to Learn to be Strong to Survive on Your Own" and Arlecchino "Fuck You if You Ever Look at Her Wife Funny She's Been Depressed and Suffering for 500 Years and She'll Spoil Her if She Wants to" are the same person

[cxvrrie]

Cause I will get back to my son..

AND I WILL GET BACK TO MY WIFE!

vengeance saga was so good, I pull up the demon slayer art style

[avartheradiant]

just fell to my knees

[averageludwig]

HUGE MASSIVE MLB PARIS SPECIAL SPOILERS AHEAD

OH MY GOD OH MY GOF OMG I WAS SCREENSHOTTING HIM NONE STOP LOOK LOOK LOOK

LOOOKSKS AOMGGG THIS WAS SO SGOOD HE IS SO SILLYY I AM ABOUT TO BLOW UP

ITS OVER.

[tillman]

Just learned tomato pie is a regional thing mama mia. You guys gotta get more italian americans inventing random shit.

[dash-n-step]

Every FNAF lore video is like "here's some stuff you can parse from the games, now here's a bunch of stuff I've taken from theory videos and vague connections through the books, and I'm going to pretend that it's all equally 100% what happens, while making jokes that don't subtract from this confusion" and then the next lore video builds up on that, ad infinitum

[silverselfshippingchaos]

the current mood

[bylroos]

not @ my mother deciding the fucking ALDI’S PARKING LOT would be the best time to casually—not even looking at me while she did it—drop the question “so are you going by ace now.”

not @ her less than an hr later telling me my fucking aunt who i trusted outed me to her. not even out of malice but out of excitement??? apparently???? i feel like i have no right to be pissed but also every right to be pissed.

[rustystars]

me & my sister seem to rewatch eureka at least once a year but every time it shocks me how hard i go for carter & allison like oh godddd when i was 12 i thought you were the height of tv romance. & i was right

[orangetintedglasses]

And writhe the worm would. The accusation alone was enough to drain every drop of color from his face; the way Wolfwood's sharp-toothed grin almost gleams in the dark likely has him in a veritable death grip. Most people working for the Eye knew what happened to defectors-- and thanks to the implications, Ashton was definitely starting to put some pieces together wrong-- "n-no...! No, I would never, I-I just-- I g-get a lot of downtime here, s-so I've gone through the database a few times! You have a file...!"

Who doesn't have a file in this database?

"Ashton." the blond piped up, deciding now was probably the best time to interrupt, before the man went back to groveling. Besides, there was another reason they were here-- so he'd act as 'good cop' in this bit, offering the panicked man a blithely warm smile as he turned to look at him. "Are there Plants anywhere in this facility?"

"O-oh, uh... yeah, of course, down in main hub, but that's where they've pretty much set up camp... are you an engineer, or...?"

"Something like that."

"I figured... y-you're dressed kinda funny for an assassin, you know?" he said with a lopsided grin, then cleared his throat, like he was kicking himself for saying that at all, "b-but, uh, yeah... there are a few. Some of them have been acting a little weird, so it's good that you're here-- you can use the scanner next, if you--"

Ah! No! No thank you--!! Vash's hands flew up immediately, not looking to test the maxim of his earlier pondering and loosing a nervous sort of laugh on pure reflex, voice jumping a few octaves, "n-not! Right now! One thing at a time, yeah? Maybe the more dangerous thing, first...?"

The man blinked, then opened his mouth in surprise, nodding rapidly. Potential crisis averted...

"Right! Right, of course, of course, um-- let's just see where they are... the halls look clear enough, so their patrols might be out. You might only have to deal with-- ah, yeah, l-look--"

A long, bony finger tapped one of the lowermost screens, right next to where a rather bulky-looking man was lingering in the hall. Not next to the door, but definitely nearby, walking into view of the camera and stopping to look around.

Wolfwood cringes at the tech that's shoved at him.

Accepting this means that the Eye will know where he is and where he's been. Well, assuming that the Eye is still around, which he's pretty sure they are. Leaving a trail behind is not his style, unfortunately, if there are vials here and some more ammo... they're going to need that access.

A little voice in his head says 'hey you can kill that guy for it,' but he hushes that promptly.

"Right," he grumbles, placing his hand on the scanner solemnly. No matter what he does, he'll never be able to erase this piece of his identity. It doesn't matter how close he gets to Vash or how 'good' he's being—all people like him end the same way. "You sure do know a lot about me for someone who wasn't even placed in JuLai. What, have you been researching what happens when you defect?"

He can't help but grin maliciously, playing into whatever game this is. Sometimes teasing the low-lifes like this gets them to squirm, and he'd really like to watch this worm writhe beneath his talons.

Getting into the armory isn't going to be just a walk in the park. If raiders were eyeing it up already, they're going to have people stationed there—most likely. His Grader should be enough to get them both in, but the extra goodies they snag should help them clear the facility. Hopefully forever.

[prozacwhorehouse]

instagram feeds - mgg x snl cast member gf ⭐️

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hey guyss so this is not the promised piece because im still working hard and hardly working BUT i am happy with this sort of trailer for concept 😌

all pictures are taken from Pinterest but collages made by me !

instagram feed concept entirely inspired by @gibson-g1rl i love your insta aus 💗💗

hope you enjoy and i cannottt wait to get the full works out xx

y/ny/l/nforreal

❤️112k 💬 9k | liked by gublergram, marcellohdz and others

y/ny/l/nforreal not a moment of peace in this office @snl

marcellohdz: who is that dashing gentleman in the first pic

—> y/ny/l/nforreal: @marcellohdz idk I think it’s Colin Jost?

longfellow_michael: YOU are the reason there’s no peace.

❤️ by author

—> egonwodim: longfellow_michael disrespect my baby one more time. 😡

martinherlihy: Hey so I think you put the wrong selfie because I’m not in that one lol 😂😂

—> y/ny/l/nforreal: Noo i dont fink so

criminalmindsfanatic: MATTHEW LIKED???

—> hotchqueen4: HELLO??

—>mggrumple: THR FRIENDSHIP WE NEVER KNEW WE NEEDED

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mggupdates

❤️8k 💬358

mggupdates: Matthew with mystery girl in New York City, rumored to be comedian and SNL cast member y/n y/l/n

y/nfan: YUPPP THOSE ARE HER NAILS AND SHE HAS THAT RING!!!

—> unknown9495: @y/nfan I noticed that too!!

mggy/nfanclub: someone posted that they saw them it’s def her!!!

—>user63: @mggy/nfanclub pls tag me omg

movieluvr: livinggg for this friendship/relationship 😫

—> girlpwr88: @movieluvr46 i want him so bad

—> prncsspch: @girlpwr88 him?? I want HER

spencerreidswife: we lost him guys 💔

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y/ny/l/nforreal

❤️ 116k 💬 13k | liked by gublergram, marcellohdz and others

y/ny/l/nforreal recently in nyc

marcellohdz: sonny ANGEL 💜

—>y/ny/l/nforreal: @marcellohdz you need to be stopped

gublergram: rubber duck

❤️ liked by author

—> randomuser281: @gublergram MGG WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE??

—> whore4spencerreid: @gublergram HUH??

—> mggstan: @gublergram oh they for suree dating

—> spencerreid2005: @mggstan they could also just be good friends??

—> emilyprentissfan0: @randomuser281 someone PLEASE tell me if they’re dating

janewickline: coffee dates with my wife >>>

—> y/ny/l/nforreal: @janewickline marry me.

—> janewickline: @y/ny/l/nforreal I do. 💍

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y/ny/l/nforreal

❤️106k 💬18k | liked by y/ny/l/nforreal, yourbsfuser and others

y/ny/l/nforreal my friend wrote a book and it is quite nice. now he’s giving free copies out on his book tour which is why he’s broke anyways go read 💚

gublergram: thank you y/n this is the best publicity I’ve ever recieved!

—> y/ny/l/nforreal: @gublergram sure thing do you need a money loan too

—>yourbsfuser: @y/ny/l/nforreal Y/N 😭😭😭

—>spencerreidwhore: she ends him every day and I love to see it

y/nfancentral23: BROKE SHE CAME FOR HIM BYEEE

user18834: FRIEND?? we were all ROOTING for you 💔💔

randomuser: can we talk about how cute it is that she’s promoting his book 🥹🥹

—>matthewy/nshipper: @randomuser890 IK I love them so bad 😭

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gublergram

❤️382k 💬30k | liked by y/ny/l/nforreal, kirstenvangsness and others

gublergram you make me laugh every day. maybe it’s because you’re a comedian im not sure happy birthday 😊

y/ny/l/nforreal: wow thanks get rid of these pictures

—>gublergram: @y/ny/l/nforreal no

cmaddict: he’s def so in love with her omg

—> snlbiggestfan: @cmaddict1 I meannn who wouldn’t be

—>randomuser: THE it couple I love them so bad

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gublergram

❤️300k 💬27k | liked by y/ny/l/nforreal, aubreyplaza and others

gublergram bet you didn’t know y/n is also a professional makeup artist. i look spookier than ever @y/ny/l/nforreal

y/ny/l/nforreal: I just screamed

❤️ by author

cmfan3747: stoppp she’s doing his gublerween makeup now 🥹🥹

—> hater123 @cmfan3747 she’s almost 20 years younger than him. mad weird

—>yourshipnamestan @hater123 so they’re both adults hope this helps! ❤️

y/nfandom45: when is it my turn for a relationship like theirs 💔💔

—>user284: real asf 😖

—>troller293: so you want an inappropriate relationship with an inappropriate age gap?

—>user48: bro shut up

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y/ny/l/nforreal

❤️130k 💬 22k | liked by gublergram, marcellohdz and others

y/ny/l/nforreal it appears your smile has always been contagious. happy birthday old man

gublergram ❤️

gublergram: old man? i retract my previous comment.

❤️ by author

bsfsusername: THE LAST PIC HELLO

—> y/ny/l/nforreal: @yourbestfriendsuser the og hitch hiking ant

marcellohdz: gross ushy gushy caption delete this

—> y/ny/l/nforreal: @marcellohdz I still love you!

—> marcellohdz: @y/ny/l/nforreal better. 😊

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mgg x SNL cast member tag list <3

@sarcasm-and-stiles @mystargirl-interlude @rubyirene @ashrrams @ghostatrixx @forevermorepassionate @saint-boudica @reidmarieprentiss @awakeforu @spencerlicious @kittycat-april @baudarling @delusional-4-fake-people @avenlymars @angelinajolie0213 @arusio @littleslayofhorrors @jezabelle9299 @jaemnationnn

[pedrospatch]

fall into temptation | one

Jackson! Joel Miller x Preacher’s Daughter Reader

series masterlist

summary: Of all the women to catch Joel Miller’s attention—it just had to be one of the goddamned preacher’s daughters.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. SLIGHT PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION OF READER, mentions of her hair which she can put up into braids as well as her style of clothing. despite the nickname Joel gives her, it does not speak to her body type or size. AGE GAP (reader is in her 20’s and Joel is 56, i know, i know but this is self indulgent because my birthday is next month idk just let me have this one) canon language, canon violence, several mentions of religion, terms pastor and preacher are used interchangeably here and there, mentions of the bible and religious symbols (cross), innocent/virgin reader, very brief scene of attempted sexual assault, no explicit smut (yet). asshole Joel, protective Joel, hints of softish dom Joel (if you squint). reader has two sisters, the only physical description for them is their hair, which they can also braid as well as their style of clothing.

MOODBOARD FOR AESTHETIC PURPOSES ONLY, NO MENTION OF RACE OR BODY TYPE.

word count: 8.4k

Jackson, Wyoming

Fall 2024

Joel had seen him around the community before. 

He’s an older man in his late sixties or possibly his early seventies with thinning, snow white hair and silver, wire rimmed glasses that always seemed to be perched on the tip of his pointed nose. He was a good, kind man from what Joel could gather—offering up warm smiles and friendly waves to anyone who happened to cross his path, stopping to greet and say hello to familiar faces. The hem of his starched white shirt is tucked into pressed black slacks and even from where he stood across the road near the horse stables, Joel noticed the book clutched in his right hand, old and bound in supple, worn black leather with the words Holy Bible etched into the cover in flaked gold lettering.

Jacob, he thinks his name is. Or was it Josiah?

Something biblical—a name fit for a man who was so fucking clearly devoted to the big man upstairs.

Joel knew his own name was a biblical one, but he was the furthest thing from a man of God. After all that he’d done in the past twenty years, there was only one place he was going and that place wasn’t exactly known for its pearly gates or sweet cherub angels playing harps.

Joseph? Was that it? 

He couldn’t be certain.

Not that Joel really even cared to know his name. 

It’d been a couple months since Joel arrived back in Jackson with Ellie after Salt Lake City and the truth of the matter was that he preferred to keep to himself whenever it was possible. Joel had zero interest in getting to know the people of this settlement, not unless he had to for the sake of patrol duties—and that’s only if he hadn’t been able to weasel his way out of getting assigned with a partner who wasn’t Tommy or Maria, the only two people in the whole fucking community Joel could stand being around. Minus his kid of course, but even he and Ellie could really only take each other in small doses lately. Perhaps it was their tense, strained relationship that was to blame for the fact that Joel Miller walked around this place with a standoffish attitude and a permanent scowl plastered on his face. 

Most people were smart enough to scamper off in the opposite direction when they saw him coming. He was never offended by it. It’s what he wanted. He wasn’t here to make friends.

In fact, the closest thing he had come to a friend outside of his brother’s wife was Esther, the woman Maria and Tommy had tried setting him up with when he first got back to Jackson. He wouldn’t go as far as calling her a friend, either. That’s a little too generous. Friend? No, more like a good fuck when he couldn’t drown his bitterness with Seth’s barrel aged bourbon and he was in need of a different kind of distraction.

But there was a reason this particular man piqued his curiosity. Actually, there were three reasons he managed to garner Joel’s attention and all three of those reasons were trailing behind him in an orderly, single file line, each one more fucking gorgeous than the last. He was positive he’d never seen them around before—because how could he possibly forget the faces of the most beautiful women in this town?

They’ve gotta be sisters, Joel thought to himself, his hand resting on the neck of the horse that he’d ridden out to patrol that morning, a dark, chestnut mare named Willow. Although he was supposed to be walking her inside the stables and back into her stall, he found himself far too distracted. While the three women weren’t identical to one another, the similarity in their traits such as hair color and their skin tone confirmed his suspicions that they were related. They all styled their hair in neat halo braids and wore slightly different color variations of the same getup—pressed, long sleeved blouses tucked into knee length floral printed skirts and worn, leather oxford shoes.

Clutching the brown leather strap of his rifle in his opposite hand, Joel leaned himself against Willow and squinted against the bright afternoon sunlight in an effort to get a better look at them. 

The first two were slightly on the older side. If Joel had to take a shot at their age, he would guess the women were in their thirties—a man of fifty six, he still had about two decades on them, easy. Joel let his gaze shift, his dark brown eyes flickering to the last one. His breath audibly hitched in his throat and part of him wondered just how fucking dumb he had to be to be drawn to the youngest one of the three. It couldn’t be fucking possible—you couldn’t be that much older than your mid twenties, if that. 

Joel’s grip on the strap of his rifle tightened. 

All three of you were beautiful beyond words—why the fuck did it have to be you who held over his interest?

“Take a picture,” Maria remarked with a tiny laugh. She dismounted her horse and peered at Joel over the black stallion’s back. “It’ll last longer.”

She’d led that morning’s patrol, her first time back on duty since she had given birth to her son in the spring. Joel had returned to Jackson right on time to meet his one month old nephew, Noah. 

He cleared his throat and shrugged. “Just tryin’ to figure out what their deal is, that’s all.” He paused, then remarked, “Didn’t know polygamy was a thing around here.”

His comment must have struck a nerve in his dear sister in law—fiercely protective of the people who were under her leadership, Maria hadn’t found the sister wives implication the slightest bit amusing. 

“Watch it, Joel,” she admonished, shooting him a warning glare. “He’s the town’s pastor and those girls happen to be his daughters. So let’s keep our wise ass cracks to ourselves, shall we?”

His daughters? He almost couldn’t believe it. Surely the girls must have taken after their mother because they sure as hell didn’t get their good looks from their old man. They hardly looked anything like him.

“Pastor,” Joel repeated with a small hum. He then remembered her pointing out an old church house back during the winter when she’d given him and Ellie the grand tour of the community. “So he ain’t got a real job like the rest of us?”

Maria rolled her eyes. “His job is a real job, Joel. It might be hard for you to believe, but there are still a lot of people of faith around here,” she explained to him. “He provides them with comfort and with hope—”

He snorted sharply through his nose. “Hope?”

“Yes, hope,” she snapped at him. 

“Hope for what, Maria? That things will go back to fuckin’ normal? That the end of the world is temporary?”

Maria crossed her arms over her chest, jutting her chin. “Some people never lose hope, Joel. There’s a lot of people who need this man and he serves a much bigger purpose than what you’re giving him credit for.”

“And what about the girls? They have it easy too? Do they just stand there lookin’ pretty on Sundays while their old man reads verses out loud from the most useless fuckin’ book known to man?”

“If you must know, they work in the schoolhouse,” she answered, tossing him another glare. “They’re teachers. The oldest one, she teaches Ellie’s class. The middle one, she teaches the primary school aged children and the youngest? She takes care of all of our little ones. She prepares our preschool kids for her sister’s class by teaching them numbers and basic literacy. Shows them how to start counting, reading and writing, things like that. She also helps run the commune’s daycare.”

“At least they have real jobs,” Joel mumbled under his breath. 

“What was that?”

He feigned innocence. “Nothin’. Nothin’ at all.”

“That’s exactly what I thought.” Maria pointed her finger at him. “Come on, let’s get these guys back into their stalls. It was a long ride this morning, I’m sure they could use some rest.” Taking her stallion by the reins, she started leading him over toward Logan, one of the stable hands who helped take in the horses coming back from patrol. 

Joel took Willow’s reins in his hands—but before he could even think of moving another muscle, he glanced up and saw the preacher leading his three daughters past the stables and right past Joel. His self control faltered. All that he could do was stare at you, his eyes fixed on you so blatantly that one of your sisters had taken notice. Grinning, she turned back towards you and lifted a hand to her mouth. She used her palm to shield her lips from Joel’s view and whispered something to you over her shoulder.

Shit. 

He’d been caught gawking.

He thought about making a beeline for the stables but it was too late. 

Perplexed by whatever it was that your older sister had just said to you, you gave her an odd look, but then followed the subtle nod of her head. 

Glimpsing over in his direction, your lips parted in complete surprise and you came to an abrupt halt in the middle of the dirt road when you found your gaze meeting that of the much older, rugged man standing there with a gun slung over his shoulder.

Unsure of what else to do, Joel simply offered you a polite nod of his head. The gesture was innocent enough but it startled you. He could tell by the way you let out a small gasp and turned away from him, your eyes falling to the ground as you scurried to catch up to your father and sisters like a spooked little mouse. 

Joel couldn’t help but shake his head and laugh.

“Is the preacher aware that his precious little daughters pay frequent visits to The Tipsy Bison at such late and ungodly hours?” Joel quipped. He gestured to a booth nestled over in a corner of the dimly lit bar with a subtle jerk of his chin. “S’gotta be the third or fourth time I’ve seen them here in the last couple of weeks.”

Tommy’s eyes followed his brother’s gesture. “Oh man, not again,” he said with an exasperated sigh. He shook his head. “Those girls, they ain’t got no fuckin’ business hangin’ around this place and much less at this fuckin’ hour. But the middle one, she’s a whole lot of trouble.” He paused, just long enough to nod at one of the three sisters, the one who was wearing her hair loose around her shoulders, twirling a lock of it around her finger as she made flirtatious fuck me eyes at the group of drunk patrolmen sitting a few tables away. “She’s somethin’ of a rebel, that one. Likes to drink a lot, get herself involved with things that she ain’t really supposed to be messin’ with. She’s the one who convinces the other two into sneakin’ out and comin’ to the bar when their old man goes to sleep.”

Joel chuckled in disbelief. “You fuckin’ serious?”

“As a heart attack. And then there’s the older one. I know she likes to drink too, but she’s a lot calmer than the other one. Ain’t gotta worry about her all too much, y’know? She tries to be the chaperone—it don’t always work out that way, though. Her halo ain’t exactly perfect either.”

“What ‘bout the youngest one?” Joel asked in the most nonchalant tone he could possibly muster. “Where does she fall on the scale between angel and devil?”

You’re carefully perched on the edge of the booth, your pretty features twisting in disgust with every sip of the rich, amber colored liquid in your glass. Unable to stomach the burning alcohol, you set it off to the side, abandoning it in favor of a glass of water instead.

“Her?” Tommy grinned, leaning back into his chair as stated, “Oh, she’s an absolute angel. She’s just ‘bout the sweetest fuckin’ thing you’ll ever see in your whole damn life, big brother. She’s gotta be the kinda girl who all the little birds and woodland critters sing to when there ain’t no one around,” he laughed. “She’s real good. Too good. Wouldn’t surprise me if the lord sent her down from heaven himself.”

Joel tossed him a skeptical look across the table.

“She really as innocent as she seems?” 

“I don’t think she even knows what it’s like to hold another man’s hand,” his younger brother laughed again and reached for his beer, taking a generous swig. 

Joel hummed softly and lifted his glass of whiskey to his lips. The mere thought of you being so pure and so innocent—untouched by anyone else—caused something to stir deep in his lower belly. 

“She’s the old man’s pride and joy,” Tommy continued, breaking into his train of thought. “Kind. Polite. Behaves. Doesn’t get herself into any kinda trouble—I mean look at her, she can’t even choke down a glass of whiskey. She’s just too good of a girl.”

Joel proceeded cautiously with his next question. “Any of them taken?” 

Surprised, Tommy raised his eyebrows. “Joel, don’t fuckin’ tell me—”

“No, I ain’t interested,” he interjected, rolling his eyes. “Just a curious motherfucker, that’s all.”

He didn’t seem too convinced by Joel’s answer. “They’re all single from what I know. To be honest, there ain’t a whole lot of men around here their old man would approve of,” he remarked. “Don’t get me wrong, he’s a nice man and all, but when it comes to his daughters, he’s real strict. Not that controllin’ has done him much good, though.” He lowered his voice as a fellow patrolman walked past their table. “The middle one’s fucked her way through this entire town and then back again. She even made a pass at me while Maria was pregnant with Noah, if you can fuckin’ believe that.”

Amused, Joel snorted into his drink. Ballsy. “How goddamn drunk was she?”

Tommy ran a hand through his jet black curls. “Wasted. Oldest one ain’t exactly the Virgin Mary, either.”

“And the old man doesn’t know?”

“Nope. Ain’t nobody gonna snitch on grown women in their thirties.” Noticing the amused expression on Joel’s face, he adds, “By the way, just in case you haven’t figured it out, this stays between us, Joel.”

He smirked. “Which part?”

“All of it. And take it from me, those girls? S’best you keep your distance from them,” he warned as he stood up from the table. He picked up the blue denim jacket draped over his chair, shrugging into it. “Don’t go gettin’ any dumbass ideas, alright?”

“Look, if the wild one makes a pass at me, I ain’t gonna turn her down. S’not like I’ve got a pregnant wife at home.”

“Joel, I fuckin’ swear. If you even think ‘bout it—”

He held up his hands to stop him. “Relax. Was just a joke.”

“Right. M’sure it was.” Tommy snorted. “Listen, I gotta get back home. Don’t wanna leave Maria on her own with the baby for too long.”

“How’s she been holdin’ up?”

“She’s been so tired. Jugglin’ motherhood, runnin’ this place, and bein’ back on patrol duty. I keep on tryin’ to tell her to slow it down, but she just won’t listen to me.” He let out a small sigh and waved a dismissive hand. “But anyway. If you’re all good to head out, I can walk you back to your place since it’s on the way to mine?”

Joel looked down at his glass, still half full. “I think I’m gonna hang back for a while longer. I’m on the roster for evenin’ patrol tomorrow, s’not like I’ve gotta be up at the ass crack of dawn.”

“Suit yourself.” Clapping him on the back, Tommy bid him goodnight and started towards the door. 

As soon as he was gone, Joel looked over towards your booth. He watched as you whispered into the ear of your eldest sister who nodded her head in understanding. You stood up and said something else to her, then spun around on your heel, long skirt flowing along with the movement. Head down, you hastily made your way across the bar, being careful so as not to bump into anyone along the way.

You were leaving. Alone. 

In the middle of the fucking night? While drunk morons poured in and out of the bar?

She’ll be just fine, he tried to convince himself. 

Joel frowned to himself, gripping his drink tightly in his hand as he scanned the room.

Sitting at a nearby table was Kent, some idiot he’d been stuck with a time or two for patrol. He clocks the smirk that crossed the younger man’s face, his eyes following you all the way to the door. Leaning forward over the table, he whispered something to his buddies, his smirk widening. His comrades, all who looked and behaved more like teenagers rather than grown men, lifted their beers to him, nodding in encouragement. Drunk off his ass, Kent drained the rest of his own beer, slamming the glass bottle down onto the table before clumsily stumbling to his feet. 

Joel momentarily froze as soon as he realized what was happening. 

Kent was going after you. 

Joel’s lips pressed together into a tight, thin line.

Setting his drink down, he stood up from his table and slipped on his jacket before following suit.

Joel stepped out of the bar and into the night, the chilly evening air nipping at his face. He took a look around. 

You were nowhere to be seen. Neither was Kent. 

That couldn’t fucking be good. 

“Where the fuck did you two go,” he muttered to himself under his breath.

That’s when he heard it. 

The sound of muffled screaming coming from the side of the building. Joel didn’t hesitate. Following your smothered cries for help, he whipped around into the dimly lit alley nestled in between the bar and the commune’s mess hall. You’re pinned underneath Kent with your skirt bunched up around your waist. One of his hands was covering your mouth while his other hand clawed its way up your bare thigh. 

“Aw, c’mon now, sugar,” Kent slurred his words together. “It’d be a fucking shame to let someone as cute as you stay a fucking virgin. Don’t be coy—I know you’re just like your stupid slut of a sister. She’s got no trouble spreading her fucking legs for me, y’know.”

Red.

It was the color that flashed in Joel’s mind. It was all he could see as he went up behind Kent, letting his hands reach for fistfuls of his leather jacket. He lifted him off of you with ease, slamming him hard against the brick wall of the mess hall. Pulling him forward, Joel slammed his body into the wall once more, knocking all the wind out of his lungs. 

“Miller, what the fuck are you doing!” Kent gasped out, frantically pawing at the older man’s hands in an effort to break free. “Get the fuck off me!”

“Takin’ advantage of an innocent girl?” Joel hissed at him, tightening his grasp on the collar of Kent’s jacket. “Think that makes you a fuckin’ man?”

Though he was still intoxicated, the sheer terror of being caught in Joel Miller’s hands sobered him just enough that he started sputtering an explanation. “I wasn’t fucking taking advantage of her! Her and her whore sisters were making eyes at me and the guys all fucking night! She fucking wanted it! She asked me for it, couldn’t even wait long enough to get back to my place—”

The lie came straight through his chattering teeth. The same teeth he would be picking up off the ground in the next minute or two. 

Joel knew he didn’t need to ask. Still, he turned to you, his rage only intensifying when he took in the sight of you lying there on the ground, the hem of your light blue floral skirt hiked around your waist. 

“That true?” He questioned you. “You wanted it?”

You stared at him with wide and fearful eyes.

A single tear slipped down the side of your face.

“Answer me, darlin’,” he prompted. “You wanted this?”

“No. I didn’t.” Your voice was small, barely audible.

But he’d heard it loud and clear. 

“She’s lying!” Kent tried to tell him. “She’s—”

Joel delivered the first punch, a blow so hard he’d felt the younger man’s nose crack underneath his curled fist. He struck him again and again, the blows coming in harder and harder, turning Kent’s face into a bloodied pulp.

If Joel didn’t get a grip, he would kill him. Part of him wanted to fucking kill Kent for putting his hands you—and more so for accusing of you wanting it. Pathetic fucking bastard. 

Holding Kent up by the throat with one hand, Joel pulled his switchblade from the back pocket of his jeans with the other. Fingers curled tightly around the hilt, Joel held up the knife into Kent’s view. He had left his eyes purple and swollen, but judging by the pitiful little pleas for mercy, it was clear that he could still somehow see the sharp blade being held an inch or so away from his face. 

“If I ever catch you anywhere near her again, I ain’t gonna be so fuckin’ generous,” Joel growled warningly. “I ain’t gonna let you walk away next time, boy. That understood?”

He nodded. “Un—Understood.”

“Good.” Joel released him, stepping backwards as he fell to the ground. “Get the fuck outta my face. Now.”

Kent managed to scramble to his feet and staggered off, disappearing from the alley. 

Chest heaving, Joel inhaled a deep breath through his nose, then exhaled it through his mouth before turning to you once more. 

Petrified, you still hadn’t moved a single muscle.

You looked fucking terrified. Whether it was from Kent’s assault or the way Joel had nearly beaten him to death right in front of you, it was hard to tell.

Crouching down beside you, Joel caught your subtle flinch. He proceeded to move slowly as he reached for the hem of your skirt. Delicately, he gripped the soft, flowing fabric and pulled it down into place. Joel then held his hand out to you. 

You hesitated for a split second, but accepted his hand and allowed him to help you up to your feet. 

“You alright, little dove?” The nickname had fallen from his lips before he could even think to stop it. 

“I think so,” you replied, nodding your head. You’d started to tremble and even though it had nothing to do with being cold, Joel took notice of it and he shrugged out of his camel colored jacket. He gave it to you, draping it over your shoulders. The scent of him instantly enveloped you—a mouth watering masculine mixture of clean soap, woodiness, and musk. It was far more intoxicating than the scotch you had tried back inside the bar. He didn’t utter a word to you as he wrapped his jacket around your body, both of his hands pulling gently at the lapels to bring them together in front of your chest. That was when you glanced down and saw he’d injured his hand. You gasped lightly. “Are you okay?”

Maybe it was the adrenaline, but Joel hadn’t even noticed that he’d split his knuckles wide open. Giving it a light shake, he assured you gruffly, “M’fine.”

Without thinking it through, you gingerly grabbed Joel’s hand, holding it in both of yours. “It doesn’t look like nothing,” you countered. You inspected it as best as you could in such poor lighting. “You’re bleeding.”

“Trust me, I’ve had a whole lot worse,” he deadpanned.

Ignoring his remark, you asked, “Can you move all your fingers for me? Just to make sure that it isn’t broken?”

Joel felt a strange warmth radiate in his chest. 

Fucking hell, Tommy had been right about you. 

You really were too good.

“Darlin’ I already told you m’fine—”

“Please?”

That word, and the way you’d said it, sent a shiver up the length of his spine.

Joel started wiggling his fingers in your palms. He winced slightly at the soreness. More than that, he knew his cuts and bruises would be all the fucking proof Tommy and Maria would need to know that he had been the one who rearranged Kent’s face. 

“See?” He spoke after a minute as he continued to move his fingers up and down. “Ain’t broken.”

“Let me clean you up,” you offered. Looking up at him, you cradled his hand as if it were a fragile baby bird you wanted to take home and nurse back to health.

“That really ain’t necessary.”

“You just saved me from—it’s the least I can do for you,” you insisted. Seeing him open his mouth just to protest again, you cut him off. “Please?”

There it was again.

Christ. That word sounded too good coming from those plush, pretty lips of yours. 

Joel sighed out in defeat. “Alright then,” he relented. “I s’ppose there ain’t no harm in lettin’ you clean me up a bit, little dove.”

Pleased that he had finally accepted, you carefully let go of his hand and took a step back, beckoning for him to follow you. “Come with me,” you said to him. “I know somewhere private we can go.”

When you came to a stop at the old church house, Joel shook his head and took a step backwards. 

Puzzled, your brows knitted together. “What is it? What’s the matter?”

He backed away further. “I ain’t goin’ in there.” 

You tossed him an amused glance. “It’s a church.”

“Yeah, I know that. I ain’t exactly a man of God.” 

You couldn’t help but giggle. “So? What does that have to do with me taking you inside to clean your hand up for you?”

Shuffling his weight from boot to boot, Joel shrugged. “Just don’t think I belong in there, that’s all.”

“Do you think you’re going to melt if you step foot inside?” you teased him. After a minute, it became apparent that he was being serious about it. Joel’s discomfort about going inside the church wasn’t some kind of joke on his part, it was real. “Don’t be silly. It doesn’t matter that you’re not a man of God. That doesn’t mean that you’re going to explode or burn into a pile of ashes for going inside, you know.”

“After all the terrible shit I’ve done?” He looked up at the building, shaking his head again. “I just might burn, little dove.”

You bit back a small smile. You’d already grown to be quite fond of his sweet nickname for you. 

“There’s a first aid kit inside I can use to patch you up,” you told him. “It won’t take long, I promise.”

His lower lip rolled in between teeth as he thought it over. “I ain’t too sure about this—”

“It’s only going to take me five minutes to get your hand cleaned up and then you can leave. Okay?”

You were as stubborn as you were sweet. How the fuck was he supposed to say no to you?

Reluctantly, Joel finally agreed to it. “Okay.” He followed you up the creaking, wooden porch steps towards the double doors. He’d just started to wonder how the two of you were even supposed to get into the building after hours when you leaned down, lifting the old mat on the floor to reveal a set of keys. Unable to help himself, he scoffed, “Serious?”

“Doesn’t everyone keep a key under their mat?” 

“Yeah at their fuckin’ house. Not their church.” 

“Well to be fair, this is kind of like a second home. I spend quite a bit of time here,” you confessed.

Joel raised an eyebrow at you. “So much time that you’ve decided to keep a set of keys under the mat?”

Sheepishly, you nodded. “Sometimes when I can’t sleep at night, I’ll come here alone and sit with my thoughts for a while.” You shrugged. “Maria let me have the spare set of keys. She knows I come here and so does the rest of the council. I trespass with their full permission,” you kidded with a small grin. 

Unlocking one of the two doors, you stepped over the threshold and waited expectantly for Joel. But he stood there, making no move to join you on the other side. 

“This place gives me the fuckin’ creeps,” he admitted. 

You laughed. “It’s only the outside that’s creepy, I promise.”

Grimacing, Joel finally walked inside, his back and shoulders stiff with tension as he stepped into the place of worship. 

You closed the door and flipped on the lights, then opened a second set of double doors with another key from the ring. 

“Whoa.” He was pleasantly surprised. For as old as this place was, the interior of the church was quite nice. He could tell that it had been well cared for in its lifetime—the former contractor in him had little choice but to appreciate the high ceiling, the large windows, and the satin finish of the white paint on the rustic, wooden panel walls. 

There were a total of twelve pews, six on each side of the church. There was an older, antique piano in pristine condition nestled over in one corner of the room and in another, there was a large chalkboard propped up on a wooden easel, biblical verses that had been the focus of the congregation’s previous gathering still scribbled across it in white chalk. 

“See?” You nudged his arm with your elbow. “This isn’t so awful, right?”

“S’ppose it ain’t all that bad,” he muttered. 

Your eyes twinkled with pure amusement, adding, “And you didn’t burn into a pile of ashes.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Joel grumbled out in response. “Can we just get this over with so I can get outta here?”

You tossed him a playful little eye roll then nodded towards the pews. “Go ahead and just have a seat anywhere,” you instructed him. “I’ll be right back.”

You disappeared down a short, dimly lit corridor.

Letting out a heavy sigh, Joel slowly made his way down the aisle holding his injured hand against his chest. Now that the adrenaline had started wearing off, it’d started throbbing with pain.

There was an altar at the front of the church—if he could even call it an altar. 

It was a plain oakwood table with a white fair linen cloth draped over it and nothing else. 

Above it, bolted onto the wall, was a wooden cross.

He averted his eyes, turning away from it. 

Of all the shit to be intimidated by in this world. 

A fucking slab of carved wood. 

Joel’s attention shifted over to the chalkboard. He squinted at it, silently reading the verse to himself.

God is faithful, and he will not let you be tempted beyond your ability. 1 Corinthians 10:13

“But with the temptation, he will also provide the way of escape, that you may be able to endure it,” you recited the rest of the verse from behind him.

“No offense darlin’, but it sounds like nothin’ but a whole lotta gibberish to me,” he remarked to you over his shoulder. 

“No offense taken, Joel.”

Whirling around on the heel of his worn boot, Joel blurted, “How did you know my name?”

“You’re Tommy Miller’s brother. Everybody in this town knows your name.” You held up the white tin box in your hands. A big, red cross had been spray painted onto the lid. You sat down in the first pew and patted the seat right beside you. “Come sit.”

He sauntered over and dropped down next to you, watching as you opened up the box and started digging through its contents. “You know my name,” he stated after a few seconds of silence. “Sure would be nice for me to know yours.”

Smiling politely, you told him your name.

Joel repeated it. It rolled almost too sweetly off his tongue.

“S’real pretty, little dove. Just like you.”

His compliment nearly knocked all of the air out of your lungs and for a split second, you have to remind yourself to breathe.

Cheeks burning, you murmured a small thank you and plucked a bottle of saline solution from the kit along with a piece of clean cotton. You tried not to think about the way his eyes were fixed intently on you as you unscrewed the cap and poured a bit of the liquid onto the cotton. “It shouldn’t sting,” you reassured him, reaching for Joel’s injured hand. It was rough and calloused, a stark contrast against your own soft and smooth. You set his hand down on your knee, a strange sensation fluttering in the depths of your lower belly when the warmth of his skin seeped right through the fabric of your skirt. 

Comfortable silence fell over the both of you like a curtain as you started cleaning the blood off of his knuckles and his long, thick fingers. 

“You really believe in all this stuff?” Joel spoke, his question echoing off the bare walls of the church. 

You continued dabbing at his cuts, thinking it over in your head for a moment.

“I honestly don’t know,” you admitted.

Your answer took him by complete surprise.

“What do you mean you don’t know?”

“I have always been taught to believe in God, Joel. It’s all that I’ve ever known. I grew up in a religious community,” you explained to him, making sure to keep your eyes focused on his hand. Tossing aside the bloodied wad of cotton, you picked up another piece adding more saline to it. “After the outbreak, things changed, of course. I couldn’t imagine how He could let something like this happen. When we lost our mother to infection about five years ago, I stopped praying. I finally stopped holding onto the ounce of hope I had that He would make the world right again. I refused to believe in God. Sometimes I still do,” you confessed quietly.

“You said you spend a lot of time here. Why come to church if you’re not even sure you believe in any of this shit anymore?”

“I’m always here because there’s still a part of me that thinks there’s a chance for me to believe again. When I told you I come here when I can’t sleep at night, it’s true. It’s my time to be here completely alone, the time that I use to mend my broken relationship with God. Or at least, I’ve been trying to mend it.” Taking a little glass pot of homemade antibiotic ointment one of the women in the town made and traded, you took off the lid and scooped out some of the salve with the tip of your finger. You applied it carefully to his cuts and continued, “But lately, the more that I try to pray and talk to Him, the more foolish I feel. It’s just not working. It hasn’t been working for a long, long time.”

“Then why keep tryin’ if it ain’t workin’ anymore?”

“Because I don’t really have much of a choice.”

“Your old man?” Joel guessed, wincing slightly as you went over a particularly sore spot on his hand, right over the torn up knuckle of his index finger. 

“Mhm.” You nodded. “My father never lost faith in Him. He knows how I feel, but he refuses to let me give up on God. He won’t ever let me miss church or go to bed without reciting my nightly prayer. He won’t let me abandon our faith. Not until the day he is cold and buried in his grave.”

“So what I’m gettin’ is that he forces you?”

You finished applying the ointment and wiped the remnants lingering on your finger off on your skirt.

“Force is such a harsh word. I wouldn’t say that—”

“He’s forcin’ you,” Joel said, flatly. 

“Joel—”

“You can twist it however the hell you want, sweet girl,” he cut you off. “But if you’re tryin’ this fuckin’ hard to make yourself believe in somethin’ just for the sake of appeasin’ your dad because he can’t or won’t accept how you really feel ‘bout all this, well I hate to break it to you, but you’re bein’ forced.”

Your eyes widened ever so slightly at his words. 

You had never thought about it like that before.

Placing the lid back onto the pot of ointment, you put it back into the first aid kit and then set the tin box down onto the floor. You sat back and clasped your hands together in your lap, not knowing what else to say to him. 

He was right, after all. 

Joel’s fingers lightly squeezed your knee. “Hey.”

You brought your gaze over to meet his. “Hm?”

“Can I ask you somethin’ ‘bout your dad?”

“What is it?” 

Joel chose his words carefully. “Has he ever—he ain’t ever done anythin’ to hurt you, has he?” he asked you, earning himself a perplexed stare. He continued to elaborate. “What I mean is, he ever put his hands on you or anythin’ like that?”

Oh. That’s what he meant.

“Never,” you assured him quickly. “He would never lay a single finger on me or my two sisters.”

He gave your knee another squeeze. “Just needed to make sure of it, sweetheart. Back in the day, I used to hear and see awful things on the news ‘bout—”

You were quick to cut him off. “Look, my father isn’t perfect, but he’s not like that. He’s a good man who only wants what is best for us. He’s strict and he can be tough, but it’s only because he cares. He just doesn’t want us running down the wrong path.”

“The wrong path?”

You shrugged. “Life here in Jackson is decent, but there’s a lot of temptations he doesn’t want any of us falling into. He wants to protect us.”

“By controllin’ you.” 

It had been a statement, not a question. 

Giving him a wry smile, you assured him, “Joel, it’s really not as bad as you’re making it sound. I could be a whole lot worse off than this, you know.”

There was another short bout of silence.

Joel’s dark eyes fell to your blouse, noticing how a couple of the top buttons had come undone. 

He caught the slightest glimpse of the soft curves of your breasts—all it had taken was just a peek at them for his cock to twitch against the zipper of his jeans.

Don’t you get hard in a fuckin’ church, Miller.

His gaze wandered down a little further and that’s when he caught sight of the cross hanging from a delicate gold chain clasped around your neck.

Joel expected the sight of it to calm the straining in his jeans. Somehow, it only made it worse. 

“Earlier, when we were standing outside,” you had started to say, “You said you might burn if you came inside the church because of all the terrible shi—things that you’ve done.”

“S’right.”

You peered at him with curiosity. “So what exactly have you done, Joel?”

Joel leaned back into the pew, shaking his head at you as he finally pulled his hand from your knee. 

“You really don’t wanna know, little dove.”

“Why not?”

His answer was honest.  “Don’t want you to be scared of me.”

Angling your body towards him, you placed one of your hands on his thigh. Your fingers burned right through the dark blue denim of his jeans.

Joel’s lips parted slightly, taken aback by the bold move and the sudden shift in your demeanor.

Were you the same girl who’d nearly had a fucking heart attack a couple of weeks ago when Joel had nodded at you back at the stables? 

“I’m not scared of you,” you murmured, softly. You gave his leg a squeeze, pulling your plump bottom lip between your teeth. Between that and the wide innocent doe eyes that you were giving him, it was taking every last ounce of strength Joel had inside him to keep a straight face, to pretend you weren’t driving him absolutely wild with desire.

He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d felt such an incredible need to have someone. 

Want, sure. 

He had wanted Tess. He had wanted Esther. 

But Joel didn’t just want you. 

He fucking needed you. 

And he didn’t know why.

“I’m not scared of you,” you repeated, trailing your hand further up his thigh, setting a fire neither one of you would soon be able to contain. 

Joel leaned forward, bringing his face dangerously close towards yours. His warm breath fanned over your lips. It was still laced with bourbon. “You sure ‘bout that, darlin’ girl?” 

You tried to answer him in the steadiest voice that you could muster, but it was impossible for you to hide the effect this man had on you. 

You breathed out a shaky, “I’m sure.”

Lifting his uninjured hand, he reached up to tuck a loose lock of hair that had fallen out of your braids behind your ear. As his hand fell away, the palm of it grazed against the silkiness of your cheek. 

Though brief, the contact sent an electric current through each and every last single nerve ending in your entire body. 

Exhaling sharply, your eyelids fluttered closed. You nearly whimpered out his name. “Joel?”

“What is it, babygirl? What do you want?”

“I—I want you to kiss me.” 

Joel leaned in even closer, stopping only when his mouth was less than an inch away from yours. 

You heard him chuckle softly. 

“Y’know, I’d expect better manners from a good girl like you,” he tsked lightly, his nose skimming near the corner of your mouth. Closer. “What’s the magic word, little dove?”

“Please.”

“S’much better.”

Your heart pounded with anticipation.

It was almost too much for you to handle. 

Joel closed the remaining gap of space, capturing your lips with his own. He remembered his brother talking about you at the bar—how he had told Joel that you had never even held a man’s hand before.

It occurred to him that he was giving you your first kiss. Him. Joel Miller. The town’s resident asshole and a man who was well over twice your own age. He was the one giving you your very first kiss. 

The guilt suddenly started to creep in, sinking into his bones.

What the fuck had he been thinking? 

And what about you? 

Where the fuck had your common sense gone?

Probably ran off together with Joel’s.

“Sweetheart,” he murmured, pulling away slightly in an attempt to stop it from going any further. He tried again, mumbling against your lips, “We gotta stop. This ain’t right—”

You were having none of it. 

None. 

Clutching fistfuls of Joel’s denim shirt, you swung your leg over his thighs and straddled his lap. Your knees rested on either side of him on the bench. 

“Please,” you nearly pleaded. “Just kiss me. I want it—I want this. I promise you that I do.” You placed both of your hands on his broad shoulders, sliding them around him as you slowly sank down further onto his lap. “I want this, Joel.”

Suddenly, he realized that you were asking him for more than just his kiss. 

Now he knew for sure that all common sense had left that pretty little head of yours. 

“Baby, y’need to think real hard ‘bout this—”

Desperate, you uttered one final, “Please.”

Joel bit back a groan. How could he deny you? 

He couldn’t. Simple as that. 

“You sure ‘bout this?”

Your fingers toyed with the curls at the nape of his neck. “Yes. I’m sure.”

“C’mere then, darlin’ girl.”

Joel cupped the side of your face in his large palm and tilted his head up towards yours. Your mouths fused together and although he tried to be gentle, it was proving to be much too difficult—how could he be gentle when you were practically clinging to him? Holding onto him with fervor as if you’d been holding onto dear fucking life itself? 

Temperatures rising, you quickly shrugged out of his jacket, letting it fall to the floor behind you with a soft thud before wrapping your arms around him once again. You melted against him as your mouth molded to his in a perfect fit. 

His teeth nipped at your bottom lip, silently asking for permission to explore the cavern even further. 

Eagerly, your lips parted, granting him access. His tongue slipped past them, meeting yours in a slow and sensual heated dance. 

You breathed him deeply into your lungs, a little moan vibrating at the back of your throat. 

Joel’s hands went to your waist and he yanked the hem of your blouse free from your skirt. 

“Can I feel you, baby?” he asked, breathlessly. His mouth abandoned yours and he began to trail hot, open mouthed kisses underneath your jawline. 

Dazed, all you could do was nod in reply and utter, “Mhm.”

Joel’s hands slipped under your blouse and he slid them up the length of your sides. “Fuck, you gotta be the softest fuckin’ thing,” he cursed against the delicate, tender flesh of your neck. His lips latched onto your pulse point, suckling at the skin there as his fingertips dug into your hips. He needed to feel more, but he forced himself to wait. The last thing he wanted to do was make a wrong move or move too fast and scare you off.

“Joel,” you mewled his name. “Joel, I need—”

You trailed off, moaning when his mouth released your skin with a loud, wet popping noise. 

“Tell me, sweet girl. Tell me what you need and I’ll give it to you,” he promised. “Anythin’ you need or want, I’ll give it to you. Just say the fuckin’ word.”

“You, Joel. I need you.”

His hips involuntarily bucked upwards and you let out a startled gasp the moment you felt his bulge, hard as a rock, brush against your clothed cunt. 

Tearing away from him, it suddenly hit you. You’re in a church, straddling a much, much older man in a pew—and if that wasn’t sinful enough, the warm and slick arousal pooling between your thighs only proved that you were ready to fall into temptation, give into the lust and give your body to Joel. But it was none of those things that worried you. It was something else. 

You pulled yourself out of his arms and jumped up off his lap, nearly tripping over your own two feet.

“Darlin’ are you—?”

You didn’t even hear the rest of his question.

Knees trembling, you somehow managed to make your way up to the altar. Heart pounding and head spinning, you planted both of your hands firmly on the table and steadied yourself. Part of you hoped that Joel would just get up and leave. But a bigger part of you hoped he wouldn’t. 

Joel rose to his feet. “Listen, ain’t nothin’ wrong if you changed your mind, alright?”

“I didn’t,” you choked out. “That’s—that’s not it at all.”

“Then what’s the matter?”

Embarrassed, you tried to explain yourself. “I have never done anything like this before. I’m a—”

You couldn’t even bring yourself to say the word out loud. 

“You’re a what?”

Blazing heat flooded your face. “Joel, please don’t make me say it,” you groaned. “For the sake of my sanity, don’t make me say it.” You heard the sound of his brown leather boots as he walked up behind you, one heavy footstep after the other.

“Turn around, sweet girl.” 

Joel’s command was firm but still gentle. 

Swallowing dryly, you obeyed and did as you were told. He stood close and you found yourself at eye level with his chest. 

“Look at me.”

You tried, but couldn’t. 

“I said, look at me.” Joel gingerly took your chin in between his thumb and index finger. He lifted your face, forcing your gaze to meet his own, timid and submissive meeting bold and dominant in a sweet and tender exchange. “Never known the lovin’ of a man, have you little dove?”

He backed you up against the table, pinning you in between it and himself. Planting both of his hands on either side of you, he caged you in and brought his chest flush against yours, pressing your bodies together.

Close, but somehow not close enough.

Joel lifted his hand to your cheek, cradling it in his palm. His thumb swept over your quivering bottom lip.

You reached behind you, clutching at the fair linen as you tried with every fiber of your entire being to remind yourself that you were standing at the altar where your father preached and delivered all of his sermons to the faithful people of Jackson. 

The very same altar where your father encouraged you to kneel and pray in effort to mend the broken relationship you had with God. 

You couldn’t help but to think if you were to get on your knees tonight, it wouldn’t be for prayer.

“I asked you a question, darlin’.” Joel’s voice broke into your train of thought. “Need you to be a good girl and give me an answer, alright?”

“My father loves me,” you stammered out in reply. “He loves me and my sisters—”

“C’mon, babygirl.” He chuckled and shook his head at you, lightly pinching your cheek. “That ain’t what I mean and you damn well know it.”

Sighing softly, you finally answered, “No, Joel.”

“No, what?”

“No, I’ve never known the loving of a man.”

Joel slipped the tip of his thumb between your lips and leaned into you, his hardness pressing against your upper thigh. Even through all the clothes, you could feel every inch of him. “Do you wanna know how it feels, baby? What it feels like when a man makes you his own?” 

You nearly moaned around his finger. “Yes.”

“Yes, what?” he prompted, pulling his hand away.

“Yes, please.”

“I can show you.” Joel paused. “But not tonight.”

You stared at him in disbelief. Both of you were so clearly riled up and he was going to take a pass?

He almost laughed at your expression. 

“C’mon, don’t give me that face.”

“But Joel—”

“Just don’t wanna rush it, not with you,” Joel said in a tone so soft it nearly threw you for a loop. “M’gonna need you to be real patient for me, just for a little while, alright? You think you can do that, little dove? Think you can be patient for me?”

Your answer came without an ounce of hesitation.

“Of course,” you breathed.

You would wait an eternity for Joel Miller.

[entitled-fangirl]

Cheeky.

Gwayne Hightower x wife!reader

SMUT 18+

Summary: the reader gets tired of Gwayne's smart remarks.

Warnings: fingering, teasing, sub!Gwayne, uhhh, idk kissing and cursing?

A/n: based on an ask!!!!!! I'm rubbing my hands like a fly for this one. It's good

Masterlist

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

"Gwayne, please," she huffed lightly as she walked past him.

The man's attention immediately shifted to her and he began to follow her into their chambers. A smirk pulled at his lips, "To what do I owe the pleasure of your sweet company, dear wife?"

She paused and looked at him, "Why do you only mock me?"

His brows furrowed, "What?"

"You only speak to me with snide remarks and a quick tongue," she said as she put her hand on her hips. "It was charming at first, and now it grows tired."

His gaze softened immensely as guilt drew in his gut. "Do you truly think I intend to mock you when I do so?"

"Perhaps." She considered his question. "I… I do not know."

"Dear wife," he cooed and took her hands in his. "I only jest at you because I love your smile so. Your laughter is greater than the greatest music the finest musicians play." He rubbed his thumbs across her knuckles. "I apologize if you ever believed I thought ill of you."

She leaned forward and place a small kiss onto his nose, "I want you."

His cheeks turned the color of his hair as his eyes widened, "W�� What?"

She whispered lowly. "I need you."

His usual smirk returned as his eyes turned to confident. "My wife grows wet at my kind words, does she?"

She reached up to the back of his head and pulled his lips to hers, kissing fervently.

Gwayne pulled her waist to his, their bodies now flush against one another. "Is that a yes?" He panted against her lips.

"Kiss me, Gwayne Hightower, or I shall find another to."

Her unusual teasing sent a jolt down Gwayne's spine. "You wouldn't dare."

She pulled back and her eyes lit with a playful fire. "I will."

His head tilted to challenge her.

She huffed and turned to the door, but before her hand could touch the handle of it, Gwayne threw his back against the door to keep her from leaving. 

"I won't let another man touch you while I still draw breath, little wife."

She noted the way his chest heaved and a desperation came through his eyes. "Then do not let them. Undress and get on the bed."

He stared down at her, contemplating if she was truly asking him to do such a task. "My wife wishes to make demands to me?"

She grinned and leaned against him. "Indeed."

He nodded, and his voice was unusually soft, "Then I will do as she asks."

He moves from the door and walks to the bed, pulling at his clothing as he did so. 

She watches him with lustful eyes as more of his skin came into her view. 

Soon, he sat playfully on the edge of the bed in nothing but his small clothes. He held his arms out, his smirk growing, "And now?"

She took painfully slow steps towards him, "You're a beautiful man, Gwayne Hightower."

He squints at her, "Are you stroking my ego?"

She stood between his legs and took his face in her hands. Their faces neared. "If I stroke your ego now, I'll get to do what I wish with you later."

He let out a chuckle, "Is that so?"

She nodded, "Every time."

He hummed, leaning up to try to capture her lips, but she pulled away by a mere inch. His lips part in disappointment, but he tried again. She pulled away once again.

He closed his eyes as a breathy laugh left his lips, "You're a tease, my love. What must I do?"

"I want my husband to beg for me," she finally admitted as she stood straight.

Pure surprise overtook his features which then morphed into adrenaline. 

"I can do so."

His hands grabbed her waist, pulling her to him as he began to kiss up her clothed stomach. "Let me make you feel good."

She let him, playing with the redhead's hair as he did so. He slowly stood as his lips moved up her body to her neck. 

"Please, sweet wife," he begged before sucking at her neck and smoothing it over with his tongue. 

A whine escaped her throat at the feeling and her resolve slowly began to fade. "Gwayne…"

She felt his teeth against her neck as he smirked, "Yes?"

She forced herself to close her eyes to keep herself from giving into him right there and then. She took a deep breath. "Beg me."

His breath faltered. He was sure he had broken her. 

He considered a thought before giving in completely and kneeling down in front of his wife, his hands holding her hips still. 

The way his eye observed her, taking in every square inch as if she hung each star in the sky made a familiar feeling rise in her stomach. 

His earlier teasing smile was gone completely, replaced with an admiring one.

She reached down and brushed her fingers against his cheek, to which he leaned into her palm happily.

"Undress me, husband."

He wasted no time. He stood and pulled at the strings of her bodice, his fingers more clumsy than usual.

Soon she stood in her shift and only then did she turn to him again. "On the bed."

He backed up and fell onto the bed when it hit the back of his legs. He pushed himself onto the mattress and waited in anticipation. 

She crawled onto the bed, straddling him as a wide grin broke across her face, "You've been good."

He moved to say something snarky, but nothing came out. He only laid there gawking like an idiot.

She trailed a hand agonizingly down his chest and stomach, leaving goosebumps in its wake, "Do you deserve a reward?"

He blinked blankly and nodded, still dumbfounded. 

Her hand on his stomach trailed up her thighs, taking the seam of her shift with her, revealing her skin to him inch by inch.

He only watched with glossed-over eyes. Her hand began to move between her thighs. 

She let out a high whine as she sunk a finger into herself and the shift dropped, leaving Gwayne with nothing to watch but her expressions. 

She pumped her hand in and out of herself slowly, letting out small whines and moans.

Gwayne cursed under his breath as he felt himself grow hard with no outlet. His hips jerked subconsciously, but she didn't notice. 

She continued, two fingers plunging in and out of her now and she willed herself to look at Gwayne beneath her as she did so, "It feels so good, Gwayne… oh… oh, fuck…."

He let out a frustrated grunt, "you evil woman…"

Soon, her head leaned back and a final whine came from her lips as the spring in her stomach snapped and she came. 

She panted as she removed her fingers from herself and looked down at him. 

He looked ready to flip her and take her with no remorse, but he was holding himself back. He told himself he would. But by the gods, it was hard to.

It was worth it now. His reward was coming. 

She leaned down and kissed his lips with a cheeky grin. 

"My reward?" He whispered lowly.

"You already got it." She smirked as she swung her leg off of him and stood from the bed on shaky legs. She wrapped a thin cloak around herself. "Stop being so cheeky with me in the future, Gwayne Hightower, and I may give you a real one."

He watched dumbfounded as she left their chambers.

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

[vrystalius]

Hashiras and maybe upper moons? If thats alright! (Either one is fine with me) with a s/o who's loud but really pleasant to be around (and says a lot of dumb/funny shit) but they meet their twin who's a exact copy of them, but opposite personality and is like "who thr fuck are you??" When they try to greet them.

I just thought the idea would be funny, it's fine if you don't wanna write this. Have a good day!

Hashira’s reaction to your polar opposite twin

She’s the polar opposite of you— how would your husband react to her?

Pairing: Sanemi, Kyojuro, Gyomei, Giyu x fem!reader (The twin is also fem)

Sanemi Shinazugawa

You weren’t beside him in bed this morning, wich already kind of pissed him off. It was a silent contract between you two that you’re supposed to hold him every morning for a little while, giving him all the love and affection he missed out while being out on missions. Sanemi wants to start his mornings by you covering his face in kisses while he silently lays there and enjoys them, not forcing himself out of bed to drag himself downstairs to the kitchen to brew up coffee. But as he slowly made his way down, you were already standing by the kitchen counter, heating up a pot of water. Perhaps he can charge up on the needed affection right here and now.

Sanemi groaned softly, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his head on your warm shoulder. His whole body relaxed against yours as he took a moment to savour your warmth and smell. Your scent was different this morning, perhaps you used new perfume or something? Before he could dwell on that thought a little longer and find out what he really smelling on you, a harsh punch was delivered, right against his nose. His arms quickly let go of your waist as he held his nose, groaning loudly while checking for any breakage or bleeding.

“The fuck was that for?! Shit, god damn—“

He kept cursing and gave you a glare. That’s where Sanemi noticed that the woman he cuddled onto was not his wife, but a look alike? She looked like you but looked much, much colder and pissed. Your face usually looks so soft and warm, a big grin curling the edges of your lips upwards everytime you look at him. Your aura was always charged with happy energy of sorts. But this woman? She had the aura of a shithead. And he knows plenty shitheads, alright.

Turns out that woman was your twin sister. Sanemi could’ve guessed that based on your looks, but your personalities could not be further apart. While you are loud, bubbly and kind, she is dull, boring and hella mean. She didn’t stop glaring at him after finding out that he is the lovely husband you always talk to her about. Your sister almost seemed disappointed by what she was seeing, she mumbled something about expecting more muscles or more height. If she weren’t your sister, Sanemi would’ve gladly demonstrate the muscles he has by returning the punch she delivered to him earlier.

Overall, he’s not a big fan of your twin sister. Also, Sanemi from now on demands you to notify him when she’s around so that he can conveniently be busy on that exact day she is coming to your home.

Kyojuro Rengoku

Your loud and happy personality is one of the largest reasons why he even fell in love with you in the first place. Your ability to make almost every situation unserious and to make Kyojuro smile every day, despite how hard it may have been, really sealed the deal for him. He didn’t know you even had a twin sister before she randomly showed up in his living room after he had raided the fridge for food. Holding one half eaten tuna sandwich in one hand and holding a whole steamed sweet potato in the other, Kyojuro stood across your twin sister, staring at her with wide eyes while she gave your husband a judgemental look. He put the food back right where he found it, ashamed of being caught like this. If you had seen him, you probably would’ve helped him carry the food! But this woman’s stare made him want to find the nearest hole in the ground and bury himself in it.

“Apologies for seeing me like this, I don’t do this often!… Or at all!!”

For some reason, Kyojuro really wants your sister’s approval. He knows he doesn’t need it and having you is plenty, but her approval or even a hint of a smile would give him the reassurance that he really is the man for you. You were confused by how hard he was trying to gain her approval, practically drowning you in gifts and acts of services when she was around, trying yo demonstrate what a good husband he is. Not that Kyojuro doesn’t cook or clean when your twin isn’t around, he is just more motivated to do so when she is.

Overall, craves to be approved so he knows he’s being a good husband to you. Your husband gets a little nervous around her and can’t stand being alone in a room with her without you. Kyojuro is scared of being bitten by her or something.

Gyomei Himejima

He finds your personality charming and warm, like the sun hitting his skin. Gyomei likes listening to you while you loudly go on and on about something, before drifting away to a different topic and another completely different story. It’s his favourite activity by far.

The stone hashira had the pleasure of meeting your twin while playing his shakuhachi flute. You carefully informed him once that he is not the best at it yet and when playing for hours on end, some nearby neighbours of your shared estate started to complain. Apparently, one grandma even threatened to hit your husband with a broom if he doesn’t stop soon. So, Gyomei moved his shakuhachi playing to the top of the mountain, right in the center of his training grounds and near the waterfall. That way, the sound of falling water will cover the sound of his terrible flute playing while he trains. He felt small pieces of rocks hit his body while playing, causing him to stop. One hit him directly at his forehead until he finally realised someone was throwing them at him and that those small rocks are not from the waterfall behind him. He at first believed it was the old grandma bullying him like this, but after finding out that it was actually your twin sister not being able to bear his terrible flute skills, your husband couldn’t help but feel a little offended.

After that incident, Gyomei tried his best to come to good terms with your sister, for your sake. He tried inviting her to the estate and have dinner and to converse with her a little, but the whole time during the meal she was just silently sitting across him while you were talking the whole time. Your husband felt her stare bore through him the entire time. He felt weirdly threatened by her.

Overall, Gyomei doesn’t like or hate your twin sister. He feels a little scared when she’s around. What if she throws another rock at him? Also, he now feels very discouraged to continue is shakuhachi hobby. His flute has been collecting dust ever since. Despite his build and intimidating being, you know that your husband is a very soft man. Even the strongest hashira can get insecure.

“I believe your sister is due for an exorcism. I can perform it personally, if you’d like.”

Giyu Tomioka

Your husband loved your bubbly and cheerful nature. He found himself drawn by the way you could make him smile almost immediately by simply existing or giving him a smile yourself, the way your laughter cuts through his otherwise grey and dull day. With every joke or silly grin he tries to suppress his smile, though it does slip through every now and then. Giyu doesn’t particularly like PDA, but your bright eyes and giggles makes him want to hold you and never let go, even in public.

As for your twin sister, Giyu would meet her silent judgement and rudeness with quiet, almost eery patience. At least that’s the impression your sister got. But looking at your husband, you saw how her sharp gaze was slowly eating away at his confidence in both himself and his self-worth as a husband. You had to get either him or your sister out of there before your husband disintegrates and decides he will divorce you because he believes he’s not good enough for you. He’d watch her from the corner of his eye, silently, counting the seconds until she finally leaves your happy home. Sometimes, Giyu wonders how two siblings can be so different to one another. He remembers how he and his sister were not that extremely different from one another. Did your mother accidentally drop either you or your sister on the head when you two were young?

“Are you sure you two are siblings? You two look alike, but… your sister is very intimidating. She reminds me of Shinazugawa.”

Overall, Giyu respects your twin and doesn’t openly say that he dislikes having her around, but you can clearly see how uncomfortable and nervous he gets when she comes by. Especially unannounced. Your husband needs to mentally prepare for her arrival or else he might not break.

💠

@los-huesitos, it’s still not letting me tag you. I can’t even look you up but I can access your account per the comment where you asked me to tag you in future Gyomei works— I hope you enjoyed this anyway if you see this!

Now that the Halloween event is over (I’ll be making one last post for Akaza tomorrow though— a little late, yes, but it’s from someone who has been lovely enough to spam me full with boops- I of course returned with evil and super boops!) my blog has returned to the old colours! I am accepting requests again, although I have to work through all the old ones first!

Anyways, make sure to EAT, SLEEP and DRINK enough!!

Take care of yourselves <3

[rafedaddy01]

Sleeping with the boss part 3 his wife is a heavy sleeper and reader sneaks into there bed room to fuck rafe right next to his wife and he loves itttt🫠

🤍 of course baby! I’ll do this for you. I’ve actually been thinking of writing a part three but couldn’t think of how to do it!!! Here is part 1 and part 2

• boss!rafe x reader

• warnings: psa if you don’t like the reader and boss rafe requests or the 18!reader and older!rafe ones then simply don’t read them and please don’t leave nasty messages in my inbox or gross comments on my post I write this for people who want to read them and I answer every request sent because I enjoy writing for people and making them happy so don’t shame people for what they enjoy thank you

• rafe corrupted reader and now she can’t get enough of him, using his own tactics against him, entrapping him and fucking him next to his sleeping wife

—————————————————————————-

You couldn’t sleep all night. Tossing and turning. Horny and desperate. Rafe really gave you a taste of the good life yesterday in the washroom and it’s all you’ve been able to think about.

You decided enough was enough.

Pushing the covers off you and marching out of your room, (quietly) you tip toed towards Rafes room, gripping the handle and turning the knob you pushed the door opened. Examining the room and eyes landing on Rafes sleeping body, with his wife sleeping next to him.

You walked closer to the bed, standing over rafe and taking a peek at his wife. She had a sleeping mask on and ear plugs in, snoring soundly on her side, facing away from rafe.

Your eyes scanned over to rafe, his bare chest moving up and down with every breath he took in. He was fast asleep, but one part of him was certainly still awake. You looked down at his boxers, the little bulge forming, he was half hard. You wondered what he must be dreaming of to make him hard in his sleep.

You were certainly about to give him something to be fully hard about.

You climbed on the bed carefully, pulling the sheets away from his body and pushing his boxers down as you moved your panties to the side.

Rubbing yourself over him and getting him nice and wet with your juices and watching as his cock was now fully hard.

You grabbed him by the base and stuffed him inside you. Covering your mouth with your hand as you adjusted to his size.

“What the fuck” his groggy eyes opened as he rubbed them and found you on top of him, your nipples pebbling beneath your shirt, and your thighs on either side of his hips.

“Y/n? What the hell are you doing?” He whispered as he tried to sit up, but you pushed him back down with your palm, “shhh, it’s my turn to have some fun” you whispered against his lips before pressing a kiss to them. Sucking his tongue and biting his lower lip as you pulled away.

You sat back, rolling your hips and loving the way he hissed with every small move you made, he was trying so hard to contain himself and be quiet. His wife was right there for gods sake. She could wake up any minute.

Although you knew she wouldn’t.

You purposely made her afternoon tea a little too strong tonight to keep her asleep.

But rafe didn’t know that. And boy did you enjoy watching him try to contain himself.

“You like me fucking you like this?” You bounced on his cock “right next to your wife” grinding down on him “she could wake up any minute now” you turned your head towards her, “maybe I should just wake her up” you started to reach your hand out towards her.

“Y/n, don’t” Rafes hand wrapped around your wrist, yanking you towards him until you fell onto his chest.

“You think you’re in control here?” He grinned at you, bending his knees and thrusting up into you harshly, watching as your mouth fell open and a gasp fell out.

“I’m the one that had you in here in the middle of the night riding my cock” he thrust harder “ im the one that flooded your mind with such dirty thoughts you weren’t able to sleep” thrust “im whose cock your creaming all over” another harsh thrust as he slapped your ass

“Ra-“ you started to moan when his hand clamped over your mouth.

“You’re such a dirty girl, y/n. Sneaking into my room to fuck me while my wife sleeps right next to me” he pounded into you from underneath and you simply accepted defeat, falling further into him and whimpering with his hand still around your mouth.

“I’m in control here, princess, and don’t you forget it”

Taglist

@f4ll-for-you @rafeysworldim19 @baby19sthings @sevenwivesofrafecameron @rxfecameronsslut @findapenny @r1vrsefx @spencerreidsrealgf @rafescokenostril @thievin-stealing @rafemotherfuckingcameron @dilvcv @starkeysheart @wearemadeofstardust0 @theoraekenslover @mema10