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pedrospatch · 1 year ago

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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.

#joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x y/n #joel miller smut #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller series #joel miller story #joel miller self insert #the last of us fic #pedro pascal characters #fic: fall into temptation

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toxicanonymity · 17 days ago

Note

Hello sweet toxic! May I pretty please have an age gap fic or drabble with game version of Jackson Joel ( my favorite long and grey haired man )!

Maybe something where in the beginning Joel comes off as shy and nervous and sweet but once he and reader get together he’s got the nastiest fucking mouth she’s ever heard once he’s confident that she likes him as a love interest

parts

JOEL x f!READER | 1.8k

"He scanned you head to toe, then let out an alright fine sigh. 'Tonight, ya can leave any time. Ya’ain’t mine yet, so ya don’t gotta do anything I say...'"

NOTES: Hi sweet nonnie ❤️ I watched some tlou 2 gameplay for this, so I hope it helped. idk if I met the "love" interest part but she makes her interest known. Joel is quiet, then dom / dirty

WARNINGS: 18+ Age gap (Joel 60s/reader 20s-40s), objectification of reader, slutty descriptions of men as usual. Joel calls her "honey" and one time, "little girl" (condescending). Beginnings of D/s dynamic, no arrangement, no consummation. Joel holds out, a little grumpy/mean. talk of being owned. degradation, praise, body/pussy inspection.

He stood like a man who no one could bother. Stone cold and solid, with a face that always meant business. His clothes were rugged and worn-in like a cowboy, and the obscenity of his tight jeans left nothing to the imagination, from the back or the front.

The first time you became aware of him, it was from behind, and you did a double take. He ran a hand down the back of his head, smoothing his shoulder-length mane with his other hands on his hip. He was talking to Tommy, and when you heard his voice, the twang put you at ease. He sounded like a nice guy, nicer than he looked.

Your first time at the mess hall, he was kind enough to show you around. You took that as a go-ahead to follow him around anywhere. You began to watch him around Jackson. Not exactly stalking him, but you didn't have anyone else to latch onto. You learned where he went, and you happened to go there too. You were full of questions about how things worked. He always took it seriously. He was a good teacher and didn’t seem interested in anything but helping you when you wanted help.

He taught you how to ride a horse—he must not have noticed you arrived on one. Your loins buzzed as he demonstrated how to sit. His big hands on the reins and the horn were enough to make you wet, but the bulge of his jeans and the way it shifted as he started off at a slow walk. “Now look close, okay? See how I hold it?” You were looking very close.

He taught you how to shoot. Stood behind you and you never felt more safe than holding a pistol with his arms around yours, his chest against your back.

“Attagirl,” he said when you shot the glass bottle target. “Look at that,” he marveled.

To be fair, you weren’t (just) trying to get him in bed. You had lost your traveling party and you joined another one but you felt like the odd one out. It never felt like you had someone to look out for you, specifically you. You hadn’t felt the affection or encouragement of a big, capable man in a long time.

Still, there was no denying you had a crush on him. It felt like a shock that he didn’t have women following him around in droves, until you got to know him and found out he was pretty shy. He didnt't seem to have much interest in anything but practicalities and survival. He was sweet, but never crossed a line.

Even when you started crossing some yourself. He took you on an errand one day, and he was buckling in your seatbelt, and you stopped is hand. You put his hand on your thigh, and watched his face. He kept the same, composed expression, but he couldn’t hide the blush that rose to his cheeks. He left his hand there on your thigh for a moment, then pulled away without acknowledging your move. The time it took him to move his hand made you think he liked it there. It was as though he didn’t want to take it the wrong way, wasn't sure your intentions. He cleared his throat, finished buckling you in, and ran his hand over his smooth, gray hair. It was always so well-kept. You had to wonder what it’d look like first thing in the morning,

One night, at the tipsy bison, you came in by yourself in a short dress. He looked you up and down and gave you a curious look, but didn’t acknowledge you. He was talking to Tommy. Tommy craned his neck to get a look, raised his eyebrows, and gave you a nod before grinning at his brother and resuming their conversation. Tommy was hot, too, but he was taken. Otherwise you’d love to see him in nothing but that ponytail. You sat at the other end of the bar and Joel tried not to look at you, but Tommy gave you a wink.

Another night, you showed up to the mess hall too late for dinner, and he was on his way out. He lived close enough and offered to make you something at his place, no problem.

When you came inside, you took off your boots, he took your coat, and when he finished hanging it up, he looked back to see you in a thin, low cut shirt and no bra. His mouth hung open and you gave him a flirtatious smile, as though to say, what?

“Ya’ain’t cold, are ya?” He asked with a pink hue creeping up his neck. He rubbed his beard.

“No, are you?” You asked.

“No,” he muttered, then composed himself and went to the kitchen alone.

When he came to serve dinner, your eyes were on his jeans. The heft of his manhood was always apparent, but there seemed to have been some growth in the time since you’d been at his house. You leaned over the table as you ate your meal, and he tried to keep his eyes off your chest. It was a small, round table, and there wasn’t much of anywhere else to look. He looked at his meal as he ate. You looked at his forearms.

After he finished eating, he dabbed each corner of his mouth with his napkin, folded it, dabbed his beard, and cleared his throat. Meanwhile, your foot nudged his ankle. His face darkened. Your foot moved up his pants, and reached the seat of his chair. He didn’t bat your foot away, but he didn’t look at you until your foot slid right up his thigh and gently nudged the hard bulge in his jeans.

His strong chest heaved, and he didn’t make a move, but his face was reddening as he cleaned his hands with the same napkin.

He looked up as he finished wiping his hands. “Think I’m your plaything, little girl?” He harshly smacked the cloth napkin down on the table, then his strong hand wrapped around your entire foot in his lap. His eyes darkened with a forward tilt of his head, and his voice took on an edge. “Or you tryin’ to be mine?”

You rubbed your lips together and looked at him fondly. He raised his eyebrow to prod for a response.

“Wanna be yours,” you answered matter-of-factly.

“You dunno what you want, girl.” He pushed your foot away, then adjusted himself.

When he stood up to take the dirty dishes, the silhouette in his jeans made you throb. He did the dishes, and when he was finished, he opened a beer.

He walked through the dining area on his way to the living room. “Still here,” he muttered, but didn’t stop to talk. He sat down on the sofa and turned on the radio, not inviting you to join him.

You joined him anyway.

You sat on the sofa, not too close, with your hands folded in your lap.

“You wanna know what it means to be mine?” Joel asked.

“Yes, please,” you answered.

“It means I own you,” he said.

“Okay,” you agreed. “I’m yours.”

He looked at you skeptically. "I’ain’t agreed to own ya yet,” he clarified. "Ain't just something ya do. Takes work from both'a us."

"of course," you acknowledged.

“Gotta know it’s somethin’ ya really want, and if it is, we’ll agree on some rules, safe words and shit.”

“Okay,” you agreed excitedly.

He scanned you head to toe, then let out an alright fine sigh. “Tonight, ya can leave any time. Ya’ain’t mine yet, so ya don’t gotta do anything I say, okay?”

You nodded.

“But later on if ya *are* mine, you do what I say, when I say it.”

He was so serious and official about this, it sounded like he was briefing his men for some kind of operation.

“Okay” you agreed.

"so what's it mean to be mine?" He asked.

you shrugged. "You do what you want with me."

He nodded hesitantly.

“It means I take care'a ya, protect ya, and I own your body. it ain’t yours anymore,” he looked you up and down. “It’s mine,” he stated emphatically. “*if* I decide I want it.”

“Why wouldn’t you?” You asked.

He blew out air through puffed cheeks as if there was a long list.

“Ain’t got patience for brats.”

”I can be good,” you promised.

”Ain’t got patience for tears either. Too distracting out here, still gotta focus on survivin'.'

You tried not to show your worry.

”Ain’t sure ya can handle it,” he admitted

"Ain’t lookin to break in some tight little pussy while she cries and bleeds, either.” he cocked an eyebrow at you, and grabbed the massive protrusion in his jeans. “This ain’t no joke, honey. I don’t wanna hurt ya.”

“I’m not a virgin,” you insisted.

“Yeah? Well ya better fit four fingers 'fore ya 'spect me to try it."

“And I promise I’ll do what you say.”

Joel sighed. “Alright, take your clothes off.." He held up his hands to acknowledge your freedom "OR leave, and we’ll forget this ever happened”

You obediently stripped.

He took sips of his beer as he watched your body emerge from your clothes. “Alright,” he nodded. “Good girl.”

Once you were bare naked, he instructed you to turn around. You did just as he asked.

“God damn,” he whispered. “Now, c’mere.”

With him manspreading on the sofa, he made you stand between his knees and bend over.

“Spread your pussy for me,” he demanded.

You hesitated.

“Don’t have to,” he reminded you.

You reached back and tried to do it with one hand, one finger on each side of the lips. “Like this?”

”Both hands, darlin’. “

You spread your pussy lips for him with both hands.

”Good girl,” he said. “Wide as ya can. Wanna see your parts if they’re gonna be mine.”

You pulled wider

He let out a low whistle. “Juicy little thing. Sure would like to use it...But I’m thinkin’ it might not fit, honey.”

“Why don’t you try it?” You asked.

You turned around and tried to straddle him. He visibly tensed. You reached for the bulge in his jeans.

He snatched your wrist to stop you. “You don’t get to touch me without askin’,” he admonished you. “Notice I didn’t touch you that whole time?”

Your face heated in shame, and his hand loosened. You got off of him.

“That’s enough for tonight,” he said. “I’ll think about it.”

“You’ll think about it? ‘

“I’ll think about it.”

Your eyes were tearing up.

“Ya did good, honey, it’s okay,” he promised. He picked up your clothes and helped dress you. “Just ain’t the kinda choice ya make on the fly. You gotta think about it too, okay?”

You finished getting dressed and nodded.

“I’ll think about it too,” you agreed.

“Good girl,” he answered, rose to his feet, and gave you a kiss on the forehead. Then he got your coat and opened the door. As you began to leave, he stopped you, “Hey,” he lowered his voice. “Ya got a beautiful body. Anyone’d be lucky to own it.”

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Thank you for reading 🖤🖤

#joel miller smut #cw age gap #d/s dynamic #cw objectification #toxicanonymity ☠️#pixel joel #game joel x reader #joel miller x reader #tlou fanfiction

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winterzsurprise · 22 days ago

Text

Crimson Lovers • KSJ

Pairing: Seokjin x reader

SUMMARY: “I'd spoil you rotten, put you in the nicest, most expensive clothing and I'd still have more to spend on you for an eternity.” Jin whispered into your lips like a promise. If it weren't for your lust addled mind, you'd believe him. “You like wealth, princess? I have plenty. My coven has a dragon, he'd spoil you rotten, he’d stop at nothing to give you everything you'd ever wanted.”

Or alternatively, your friend’s only solution to you being a broke college student with a family to feed is to attend a private feeding party where the most affluent vampires are in attendance to drink fresh blood in exchange for money and get yourself in trouble with the infamous Kim Coven.

Tags: Vampire! Seokjin, Half-Faerie! Reader, Mythical Creatures AU!, SMUT, Cunnilingus, Magic slick (Seokjin passed out from it lmao), Blood sucking(obvs), not beta read.

Words: 5.1k

I just found this one collecting dust in the vault so I decided to post it here since it'll be a shame if I don't post a 5k words worth work. Its supposed to be the first chapter for a mythical creatures and reincarnation au bts x reader story but I immediately hit a wall.

I'll prolly pick it up in the future idk.

• MASTERLIST •

__________

Never in your life have you ever thought a single sheet of paper could weigh so heavily in the palm of your hands like it holds the heaviness of your future.

Depending on your answer, it does.

The card was a vibrant crimson with a nice golden design of modest swirls as margins for the text that are colored in silver, the material no doubt expensive. It was an invitation to a private feeding after all, how could it look shabby when only a selected few are given the opportunity to attend?

By selecting a few, you meant people from affluent backgrounds and some unfortunate people desperate for money.

It was obvious what category you’d fall into.

If you were to attend the party.

“Stop staring at it like it offended your ancestors, I'm just suggesting it.”

Soomin, your friend since high school, says.

“Where did you even get this? You don't know any vampires, do you?”

She shrugs, leaning back into her armchair. “Got a few favours. You were complaining about needing money and thought I could use some of them.”

Scratching your head, you read the card's contents with careful apprehension.

“Relax, it's not enchanted to track where it goes. It's just a normal card, you know I wouldn't force you into something if safety wasn't guaranteed.”

Before leaving the herd to pursue college far from the safety of family wards, your mother had enchanted your accessories with aura suppressors and glamours to prevent people from knowing your heritage.

You were told of horrors of the inhabitants outside the plane, both mortals and supernaturals turning over every leaf in the forest just for a whiff of a faerie.

Your blood is as precious as its golden colour, said to restore even the weakest mortal on its deathbed to pristine condition with a mere drop and turn a half vampire’s miniscule powers into a bottomless pit of a royal pureblood.

Faeries live in constant danger and you'd be damned if you weren’t taught to overthink everything.

“It’s anonymous, they’ll have you wear a mask, don't overthink it too much. My aunt used to tell me ‘your body is an emergency fund, every part of you is profitable. You just need to know the right place.’ or in my case, a man.”

She says, wiggling her fingers in front of your face where a gigantic pink diamond glimmered under the light above you, an engagement ring from the werewolf she bagged from dancing haphazardly on a stranger one friday night.

It's her pride, being able to capture the attention of one of the country's most attractive bachelors. It gave her a confidence that soared so high in the skies, she had nudged the space terminal. You couldn't even blame her for thinking so, knowing you'd share the same sentiments if it were you.

But still, daring to wander around without the wards your mother has spent years of creating to keep you safe, it makes your stomach churn.

Placing the card and pushing it as far as you could, you lean back into the chair.

“I don't know… It's really risky.”

“I’m just suggesting here,” she sighs, sliding the paper back in front of you and patting it. “If all goes well, you wouldn't need to work overtime for a year at least.”

“You saying that only makes me overthink it even more.”

She rolls her eyes playfully.

You knew she was right and the prospect of not working for a year is tempting. But a part of you frowned at the thought of risking your safety for a couple of zeroes in your bank account. Pride is such a fickle thing, so easily threatened and dragged through the mud when desperation kicks in.

But what is Pride in the face of your mountainous pending bills?

Not to mention, your mother and little brother's living situation back in the province. Soobin needed new shoes for school, you've seen how well-worn it has been—if well-worn meant clumsily glued back soles onto the upper body for the nth time with shoelaces frizzled and pulled taut from being twisted into knots and years of washing.

Your barista and supermarket cashier job nor your mother's job as a saleslady in the wet market doesn't reward you enough to save for his shoe while trying to sustain both you and your family, you need more. Taking on another 9-5 job is far from the solution.

Grabbing the paper with a newfound heaviness in your body, you sighed. The address encrusted in silver stood out in the seas of crimson reds, rooting your eyes onto the text.

“You asked for my help and I offer this–this somewhat long term solution.”

“But what if someone tries to track my blood back to me?”

Your mother and brother are counting on you, her salary from selling in the market aren't enough for the both of them. If you were to disappear they would sink further than you all already are, Soobin would stop attending school in favour of working. The guilt from seeing your mother bend over her back to be able to put food on the table would kill him.

It's a burdening feeling you wouldn't wish upon him. He should only know to have fun, make friends, and experience life in high school like a normal teen would.

You can't afford to put yourself in danger.

“I’ll put my name on the list instead. I promise you that you'll be safe, you just need to find someone to feed on you and then you can go, easy money!”

Seeing the hesitance in your eyes, she continued.

“Sometimes you just need to live a little. There's rewards in risking, you know?”

But then again, nor can you afford new shoes for Soobin with your minimum wage jobs.

With a defeated sigh, you looked up to meet your friend's eyes.

“How should I dress?”

________

He should've known better than attending parties the prehistoric council members had invited him into, you'd think centuries of politics would render him immune to these tricky situations yet here he is, standing awkwardly in the middle of the meeting room while holding said invitation and a cocktail. The old geezer was already gone by the time he realised his mistake.

The envelope was a deep hue of red, a foretelling sign of what the party might be about.

It wasn't a shock when he saw the neatly imprinted silver text on the thick crimson paper telling him of a private feeding gathering for both the fortunate and the unfortunate on Saturday.

While being a vampire himself, he never had to feed on strangers when he had his coven to fill him up for the next month or so. His age has allowed him longer intervals between feeding and at this point, he has grown nonchalant with that aspect of his life.

Obviously, he should've ripped it to shreds and incinerated the damn thing.

But a voice whispered at the back of his, urging him to join the small gathering. A nagging feeling tugging at him and telling him he'd miss something important if he were to dismiss the invitation. Yet when asked why he went, he said it's to oversee the event undercover.

He could still feel the burning curious gaze of his brothers on his skin.

Which brings him to his current predicament, fighting off the urge to yawn from the absolute boredom caused by newbloods breaking their backs to impress potential business partners and blood donors.

He silently thanked whoever thought it was a good idea to have guests wear masks. There would've been heaps upon heaps of scandals if he were to be spotted in a feeding party, not to mention, the newbloods trying to peacock their way to being sponsored by the Kim Coven and from the rising irritation burning his back, he might shave off a huge number off the vampire population.

He couldn't remember the times he had done his route around the hall, trying to avoid people vying for a morsel of attention and trying his best to not stay still in one place for people to recognize him but he did know that if he were to go around once more, he's leaving once and for all.

Downing his last martini, he stood up.

Only for a dizzying scent to knock him back into his seat. It grabbed onto his throat with a tight grip, stuffing his head and demanding his attention. It smelled like the sweetest of sin, honeyed and dripping thick on his tongue.

A faerie’s blood, although from a half, is still as tantalising as a pure blooded one.

He hears the murmurs, could feel multiple spawns’ auras spilling out of their body, their greed relentless and non-discriminating as it lashed out over each other, fighting to be noticed by the woman in the black bodycon dress. Why are they looking at her? How dare they lay their eyes on what's mine—

He immediately shook the thought away, making a note to review it later.

You strode into the middle of the ballroom with a sway to your hips, lips painted in the hue of blood stretching into a coy smile as vampires of all ages take a step towards your direction. The dress didn't leave much to the imagination with its thin fabric clinging onto your form tightly. From the spaghetti straps hanging flimsily on your shoulders to the low dip of its collar between the mounds of your chest and the high slits on one side to reveal the plumpness of your thighs, you were mouth watering in every way possible.

With pouty lips tinted in crimson red and hair loosely curled on the side of your face. You were a sight to behold.

Seeing you stride in with all that skin displayed for everyone to see, a ravenous monster at the back of his mind resurfaces. Greed and possessiveness of the others seeped into his skin, awakening something he had long buried.

A potential mate, his mind had whispered

Fuck, you're driving him insane.

Seokjin didn't notice his feet moving, following the alluring scent beckoning him close as if hypnotised but he did see the flirtatious narrowing of your eyes as he approached. If his power is spilling over the floor and deterring everyone from daring to get in between you both, he ignored it.

In fact, he revelled in their soured faces and shivering bodies.

He wasn't one for claiming territories nor was he the type to flaunt his power but for tonight, he'll make an exception.

No one is to dare interrupt him.

“What's a pretty faerie like you doing outside of their realm?”

He tried so hard not to stare at the delectable view of the mounds of your breast or the unblemished skin of your neck and chest but it's difficult with the view granted by his height. Your heartbeat pulsed nervously despite the flirtatious mask you so perfectly strut with.

He could practically taste your scent being this close and his throat dries up.

Fuck, you're gonna make him religious.

“The same as the other women in pretty dresses in this room, darling. Money.”

“Aren't you scared people might hurt you?” It was a genuine question, if he wasn't here to step over the pining prospects, he didn't want to imagine how they would've killed each other for a glance.

You would've been ravaged, you were bold for strutting into a room full of ravenous vampires. It was impressive as much as it made his blood curl. He pushed the thought away, he wouldn't want to scare you off by decorating the hall in gore.

Seokjin could feel your fear, could hear it from the racing beats of your heart under flesh and bones. You were nervous, no doubt ready to bolt the moment you were approached by the predators surrounding you in all directions yet you faced him head on with a false confidence he started to think is real.

If fear were to ever linger in the corner of your eyes, he had a feeling it wouldn't end well for every supernatural in this room.

No one should ever dare scare you.

“I'm desperate. So, if you aren't trying to take me for the night, I have other guys pining for me so excuse—”

“I didn't say I didn't want you, sweetheart. I'm just trying to get to know you better.”

You stopped, looking up at him through your lashes as you stepped closer.

Lithe fingers boldly reached onto his tie pressed neatly behind his blazer—nails painted in a sinful red hue, he notes— tugging and twirling it between fingers as you stepped closer and closer, further drowning him in your delectable fragrance. Your nervous heart beats echoed in his ears and it sounded like the piper's capturing tune, your scent surrounds him like a haze of amortentia, demanding his attention on your eyes, your lips, your skin and to the dip in your waist. All Seokjin could think about was you.

Your soft flesh flashing up at him, teasing him and urging him to have a taste, to feel the rush of your blood coating his tongue and down his throat, to run his hands over your skin and have his marks littering its unblemished surface.

Suddenly his clothes felt suffocating in the heat of his desire.

Was he seriously this floored for someone whose face he hasn't seen?

“All you need to know is that I need a name to moan, handsome.”

He could feel the thread of his patience running thin, lust leaking in and clouding his judgement. He smirked. “Name’s Jin. What should I call you then, sweet thing?”

Your arms reached around his neck, body pressing flush into his chest as you looked up at him through lidded eyes. The size difference not going unnoticed, if anything, it made him want to drive a stake through his heart.

“Cherry.”

He doesn't know who started it first, nor does he remember how you both ended up in a private room after the feeding contract was signed, doors locked behind you both as he pressed you onto its wooden material, the masks long forgotten on the floor. Seokjin felt your lust in how your scent sweetened further like heaven's nectar, grabbing onto his throat and drowning him.

It almost felt sacrilegious that he gets to know you so intimately like this. Almost unfair how your desires grappled with his patience like a cat with a ball of yarn, temptation lighting his skin alight.

Pulling away, his lips immediately zeroed in on your neck. His fangs ached to be buried onto your precious skin but he knows better than to harvest his rewards early. He sucked bruises and marked your throat yet the greediness in his chest didn't relent, if anything, it rampaged further at the sight of you littered with his marks.

They looked so pretty on you.

“You're driving me insane.”

“Shut up and kiss me.”

Taking your lips once again with his, you engaged in a wild dance of teeth dragging over his lips and tongue clashing with yours before picking you up and taking you both to the bed at the far corner of the room.

The straps of your dress falling from your shoulders shouldn't have the effect it does to him yet here he is, throat tight and mouth watering as he hovers over your pliant body, full chest spilling on the sides of your body, raising with your laboured breath with cheeks flushed with desire. His hands pushed the offending fabric of your dress to bunch over your inner thighs, eyes greedily drinking in every inch of skin being revealed to him before noticing how the thick flesh managed to look so small under his palms.

His mouth dries.

He can't wait to see how Namjoon feels about the size difference between you. The man would lose every morsel of control.

“Stop staring!”

“Why should I? You look so pretty like this.”

There's something so sinfully divine in how the fabric only seems to cover the necessary parts of your body, trying its best—and failing—to hide you from his gaze, the devil about to corrupt your purity with a bite.

You whined, hand reaching for him as you flush darker at his comment.

You'd turn Yoongi into a devout worshipper who'd dedicate a thousand songs because of this sight alone.

He ran his hands across your thighs, thumb inching closer to your heat under the fabric and every time it neared your breath hitches. Your heartbeat thuds a little faster, a new melody he's grown to love.

Yoongi would've somehow composed a song with it.

“If you stare any longer, I'm going to start charging you.”

He didn't mean to laugh as hard as he did at that.

“Not much of a threat for me, sweetheart. I'm fucking rich.”

Your scent flares as you let out a soft moan and he captures your lips once more before pulling away with a smirk.

“I'd spoil you rotten, put you in the nicest, most expensive clothing and I'd still have more to spend on you for an eternity.”

You whined and it sounded like the sweetest melody he'd hear once he enters whatever heaven there is for the supernatural.

Seokjin didn't have a kink for spending money on someone nor did he imagine he'd have one, but as he drawled on, he couldn't help but imagine you in the most lavish fabric to pose for him and his coven members, to see your form covered in the softest of silk and the rarest of gems only their money could purchase, his throat tightened.

Taehyung’s designed clothes would fit you perfectly.

“You like wealth, princess? I have plenty. My coven has a dragon, he'd spoil you rotten, he’d stop at nothing to give you everything you'd ever wanted.”

You didn't react to his revelation and he takes it as a win, a silent acceptance of his coven.

“Please just touch me.”

“Where do you want me, princess?”

You take his hand, lithe and small against him, and bring it close to where you wanted him most between legs, nudging his fingers between folds and shocks shoots through his body. He groans, the lacy fabric already drenched with your arousal, doused with your addicting scent.

“I want your fingers inside me, Jinnie. Please?”

If you asked him for the universe with that voice, he would learn how to shrink it and hand it over to you the next day tied with a bowstring.

Are you aware of the power you hold over him?

Instead of moving, he let you move his wrist, watched you with rapt attention as his fingers dipped down your folds, hovering on your clenching hole before rising to nudge your clit, teasing your already sensitive self and moaning from the slightest of touch.

If it wasn't for the unfamiliar signature of a faerie in your scent, he would've thought you were a succubus.

“Look at you grinding on my knuckles so prettily, already so needy for me.”

He pressed light figures of eight on your button and drank in the sight of your desperation with rapt attention. Your hips twisted, eager for more. Tugging the fabric aside with the other hand, he toyed with your clit, using different pressures and motions to figure out what brings you the most pleasure before dipping a finger into you.

Your velvety walls fluttered around him, pulsing with need and tightening oh so deliciously on his finger. His cock stirs in his pants as he adds another digit, he can't wait to bury himself into your warmth.

Seeing you thrash around in pleasure as his fingers drove and curled inside you, got his body crawling with the intense feeling of greed. He wanted to see more of you, to have you on the brink of breaking. Suddenly, the dress flimsily covering you grew offensive. He eyed the material restricting his movements before pulling away from your cunt and reaching up to tug your panties off of you, discreetly tossing it into his spatial storage.

The dress is already halfway off your skin, he could easily tear them apart to replace them with a better, more expensive fabric but decided against it.

He sheds the clothing inch by inch, placing soft kisses and gentle nibbles to newly uncovered skin, leaving you breathless beneath him. Your scent flourished with your magic. It was electrifying. Intoxicating how your power seems to react so well with his.

Like you were meant to be.

Sitting back, he admired the divine artwork before him, embedding the sight into the walls of his brain. Your arms moved to cross over your breasts from his gaze making him reach down to entangle your fingers with his and pressing a gentle kiss to your knuckles.

“Don't hide from me. You look so pretty like this.”

With you finally revealed bare beneath him, he wasted no more time, leaning down to your cunt where your scent was stronger and licked.

Your flavour explodes on his tongue and he groans. Whether it was just your scent he’s tasting or your arousal he could care less, mouth latching onto your folds and tongue lolling on your erect bead as he sucked. His head buzzed, intoxicated by the fluctuating aroma surrounding him. He could die happy between your shuddering thighs threatening to close around his face, he didn’t mind it though, he can go on without breathing if only he could taste your sweet nectar.

Tasting you felt blasphemous, like he broke every heavenly rule there is by having you drip on his tongue. Sinful and outright disrespectful, and he loved it.

Heat ravaged his entire being alight, desire running rampant and restless under his skin. His fingers roamed your uncharted skin possessively, digging his fingers onto flesh and dragging them down, cupping and squeezing whatever he could reach while his mouth busied with your clit. Your hands grabbed at his head, fingers threading and entangling themselves onto his hair, confused whether to push him away or to tug him closer as you edged closer to the precipice of your high.

“I'm so close…! Jinnie please!”

With your back arched, hair laid around your head like a halo and chest glistening with sweat stuttering as you come to a close, skin illuminated by the soft lights of the room, Seokjin swore he has never seen a more beautiful sight than this.

His fangs ached once more.

“Fuck..! I’m gonna—”

He pulls away, teeth sinking into the plush of your thigh and your body seizes with pleasure, the ecstasy caused by his bite pushing you over.

Your blood is light and rich on his tongue, syrupy and honeyed, like the sweetest nectar found only in the garden of eden, the flavour heightened by your climax. Seokjin could taste the sugariness of your orgasm as if it was his own and he groaned. It was dizzying, the taste clogging his senses and stuffing cottons inside his mind as he took and took. He has never realised how hungry he was until he’s bitten into your skin.

His head swims, intoxicated by the raw magic in your blood entering his system, intertwining and entangling themselves into his own before boldly integrating with the flow of his power as if they've always been there. Energy buzzed under his fingers now erratically plunging and curling inside your cunt, further sweetening your blood as you edged between pleasure and pain from overstimulation.

Then in the midst of all the pleasure and nirvana, something clicks into place and he jerks awake from the haze.

Forcing himself to pull away, he almost black out as if he’s been taken off of life support—he feels like he did. Head blank and lightheaded, blood drunk. Even in his bleary state, he could feel it. An additional trace of your magic latching onto his own, a bond unconsciously made.

The uncomfortable stickiness in his boxers didn't go unnoticed and he buried his face into your thigh, blushing for no one in particular.

He cursed under his breath before pushing himself up and wishing you both into the comfortable clothing he had stocked up in his pocket dimension before taking his phone out of it, immediately greeted by the onslaught of text on his lock screen, all two hundred of them from his brothers who had no doubt felt the addition and his intense pleasure from feeding on you.

Normally, he'd be embarrassed by the thought of them knowing what he's been up to but there were more pressing matters to attend to.

For example, the bond formed without your consent and his.

There's panic and confusion swirling madly like a hurricane through the six other bonds. He forced calmness down the lines tethered to his magic before turning back to the issue at hand.

He might have to wake you up and inform you of what happened.

But when he looked up and found your eyes closed, most likely blacking out from the intensity of the unprecedented bonding and the overstimulation from a vampire's bite, he figured that he'd deal with it tomorrow. You looked peaceful and he found himself mirroring the same sentiment, exhaustion weighing his bones. He dragged himself up next to you, arms wrapping around your torso as if he has always been doing so.

There's still insistent tugs down the lines of his bond, demanding answers and the constant buzzing from his phone but that's for tomorrow's Seokjin’s problem to solve, for now, he closes his eyes.

For the first time that year, Seokjin sleeps and wakes from the most pleasant rest he's had in centuries only to end it abruptly when he wakes up with the other side of the bed empty and he freaks.

______

“What the fuck do you mean you just left him?!”

“What the fuck was I supposed to do then?! If he's as high profile as you think, I don't think he'd appreciate waking up next to a one night stand!”

“Not all of them you—ARGH!”

Soomin groaned exasperatedly and loudly, folding over herself as she facepalms on the other armchair in your dorm's living room. Deeming it not dramatic enough, she grabs the pink throw pillow behind her and screams onto it.

Truth be told, leaving Jin earlier that morning placed a heavy weight on your heart. It felt so wrong to walk away from him, as if there's a string tying you to him and now it's pulled taut—which is a crazy statement to think about, there was no bonding ritual so how could you feel so dejected from closing the door behind you?

You have a couple of spare zeroes in your bank account now with bills paid and an expensive pair of black shoes already in transit for Soobin. Why would you be sad from leaving a one night stand?

You couldn't even believe you managed to bag someone that high in the social hierarchy. That party was a nightmare, walking in knowing all eyes would turn to you, all predatorial and hungry, it almost made you want to run back to your mother's arms. But you're an actress, theatre experience be damned if you weren't going to put on the greatest act of your life.

Fake till you make it, you always think and it led to you having the most earth shattering, blackout worthy orgasm as well as owning heaps of money.

Soomin has a different sentiment though, now standing up to crossover to where you sat across her before promptly hitting your body with the pillow.

“You're. So. Fucking. Stupid!” She screams like you had pissed and disrespected her ancestors’ grave, striking after each word. “That man might be Kim Seokjin from the most elusive clan in the world! Number one most sought bachelor and the country's most powerful sorcerer and you just walked away from him!”

“How could you be so sure it's him? All we got is a nickname.”

“His name is literally Jin which is short for Seokjin and he's a vampire wizard! You said he has a coven with a dragon? Well, guess what?! That dragon is Kim fucking Namjoon, another member of the Kim coven! That man is one of the richest in the fucking world and you just ditched his coven’s eldest!”

She swings for the last time and you weren't so fortunate the last few times—already letting down your guard when she began ranting—and it hits you square in the face. You groaned in pain, the zipper on the side of the pillow scratching your skin.

Soomin’s anger immediately dwindled as she realised her error and gasped, falling to her knees and hands already reaching to cup your face to check for visible marks, pillow left abandoned on the carpet.

“Can't be damaging the face that bagged the Kim coven.”

“No damage here.”

“Just my faith in your decision making skills. I mean,” she stands, now more subdued and more disappointed than angry, still you eyed the pillow warily. “You've been wearing yourself down to death for years not only for you but also your family. If you were taken into the Kim Clan, you wouldn't have to worry about money anymore.”

Despite being one of your closest and longest friends, there's always been a huge difference with how you both perceive money.

You're desperate for it, clawing and digging your hands bloody through the desolate desert for a chance of finding one small nugget to sustain your family while Soomin was familiar with it—she grew comfortably living in her parents’ spoils of years of hard work but never enough to buy the highest of quality items until her fiance came and suddenly, she had more than enough to spend for her luxury and you.

You strived and toiled for a smidge of stability whereas she revelled in anything life throws at her without worry because she has her parents to catch her if everything ever goes wrong.

She thinks of luxury as designer brands and ridiculously highly priced products that don't guarantee the greatest quality but you think of luxury as never having to worry about spending a cent over the designated budget for food shopping.

Even then, you loved her to the bone. Appreciated her like a sister from another mother.

“I can't afford to be distracted right now. I have a course to finish and a family to keep alive, I can't be hanging onto blind hope.”

Soomin's eyes softened, understanding and sighed. Turning around, she licked up the stray pillow before settling back into her chair and crossing her arms.

“I'm just… I just wanted you to be happier. It's a life mission of mine to make sure I won't die before seeing you living without stressing over details.”

“I know.”

“I love you, leaflet.”

You laugh and she smiles. “I love you too, queen.”

#bts x reader #bts x fem!reader #bts x y/n #bts x you #kim seokjin x reader #seokjin x reader #jin bts #kim seokjin #seokjin smut

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luci-is-a-bitch-x3x · 9 months ago

Text

Obey Me! Brothers React to: Under the Table Fun!

━☆*:･ﾟ✧✧ ♡ ❀ ♡ ✧━

Welcome! to this adventure! The characters may not be how you imagine! I apologize for any poor jokes, bad spelling, and terrible grammar. I don't know why I can't write the content I need to, and why I instead write weird content but uh yeah hopefully you guys like it. Without further ado, please enjoy the content. ♡

⚠︎Caution: NSFW Post⚠︎

Cw: feet, foot jobs? Exibistism? Idk tell me if I missed any warnings. I have no idea what this is but enjoy.

━☆*:･ﾟ✧✧ ♡ ❀ ♡ ✧━━☆*:･ﾟ✧✧ ♡ ❀ ♡ ✧━

Mc and the brothers are eating in the dinning hall like normal. Mc sits across the table from the character, and while everyone's eating and chatting Mc uses their feet to tease and pleasure the character. (I feel like once the brothers choose a seat at the table it never changes or a fight will break out, but we'll pretend for the scenario that sitting in different spots is allowed)

Lucifer's Reaction:

This man sits at the head of the table so good luck man. The odds of him sitting at a seat rather than the head of the table are low, but not impossible.

When Lucifer first feels something touch his leg he is surprised and suspicious, he immediately thinks it's one of his brothers pulling one of their idiotic pranks. Mans is traumatized by his brothers pranks.

..However when Lucifer glances under the table and sees it's Mc's foot he's amused. At first he thinks maybe Mc just wants to rest their feet on his lap while eating, but he quickly catches onto Mc's plans as they slide their foot up his thigh and begin rubbing it against his clothed groin. Lucifer will indulge in Mc's antics for a little bit, Lucifer may even let Mc give him a footjob under the table until everyone's eating dinner, if he doesn't think his brothers will catch them. But most likely Lucifer will stop Mc after a few minutes of indulging them. Lucifer will direct Mc's foot to a different part of his lap, allowing them to rest their leg on his lap as long as they behave and don't begin their actions again. Lucifer will even hold Mc's ankle with his non-dominant hand while he eats, no it's not cute and for comfort, hes just doing it to prevent Mc from moving their foot, don't let his trickery fool you.

Lucifer's reaction draws no attention to what's happening under the table, he's calm and collected and even when indulging Mc his face only gets a little red and he covers any sounds he makes with coughing or clearing his throat. If he gets to the point where he doesn't feel like he's hiding what's happening well, then he'll simply stop Mc's antics.

There is no way in the three worlds that Mc is getting the Avatar of Pride to cum during dinner with his brothers. An insane thought. According to him. Don't listen tho, remember nothing's impossible if you try hard enough, keep dreaming! One Lucifer is too prideful to pull his cock out for Mc to even give him a proper footjob so their job of getting him to cum with just their feet would be harder than it would be if he wasn't as prideful. Two there is no way, absolutely no way, anyone is getting this man to cum in his pants. Or so he thinks. That would destroy his ego, he's the Avatar of Pride man! That all said, Lucifer will be whisking Mc away as soon as dinner is finished, taking them to his room to finally get the release that is owed to him. After all he indulged Mc's bratty antics, and they got themselves into this situation in the first place.

Mammon's Reaction:

It's actually surprisingly hard to get a seat across from Mammon, I feel like he's the type to want to sit next to Mc on the side Mc's on, and he's not afraid to fight and complain over it, so it'll take effort.

When Mammon first feels something touch him from under the table, he helps or screams in surprise. What was he supposed to do?? It could've been a ghost or something scary! Mammon's reaction causes all the other brothers to look at him, and Mammon being Mammon he probably embarrassedly yells at Mc, so they have to play it off as wanting to scare him. Mc may wait to try again, or if they're bold enough they'll continue to try that night, it'll only take a few attempts for Mammon to adjust and get used to feeling Mc's foot touch his legs and be in his lap, so he'll eventually stop jumping and freaking out.

When Mc finally is able to get down to business and begins sliding their foot up Mammon's thigh towards his groin Mammon freezes, he tenses up and his face goes red, but he recovers quickly and eases up. He covers his face with his hand embarrassedly, but he stays silent, not throwing a fit or making a scene. Mc takes this as a sign to continue, they begin to rub their foot against Mammon's clothed bulge. Mammon will be a good boy and enjoy whatever attention Mc is giving him, he's greedy for all Mc's attention even if he is stressing. If Mc really wants to be spicy and bold, all they have to do is send Mammon a text. He'll do anything his human asks of him, even whip it out so Mc can give him a proper footjob under the table.

Mammon's Reaction does draw attention, I mean Mammon's loud and chaotic so for him to go quiet and his face to be all red, his brothers are going to be suspicious and tease him. Though his brothers probably won't catch on to what's happening unless Mc makes Mammon cum. If Mc makes Mammon cum then everyone in the room will know what's happening under the table, or at least that Mammon is cumming. Mans is too loud for his own good, couldn't even hold back if he tried, which he did.

Mc can definitely get Mammon to cum if that's what they are wanting. Mammon won't cum instantly but it won't take too much work to work Mammon off. When Mammon cums he moans loudly, even with his hand on his mouth everyone can hear it, so all attention is on him. Mammon makes his case worse, instead of trying to play it off Mammon panics and just bolts, he's gone running to his room so fast, leaving Mc with his brothers and his mess. I like to think Mc would have learned some cool spell that could just clean up the mess so they wouldn't get caught, they could just pretend they have absolutely no idea what's wrong with Mammon. Mammon is gonna be mad, he got embarrassed, humiliated even in front of his brothers, but he will get over it. He'll probably be going to Mc's room or dragging Mc to his room by the end of the night. He may even come up with a plan to try and get Mc back, though his plans usually backfire on him.

Leviathan's Reaction:

I'm almost positive that Levi canonly sits across the table from Mc, so doing this with him would be super easy. Just don't push your luck too much, Levi freaks and scares easily, if he doesn't trust that he can sit across from Mc without going through this every time then he'll just stop sitting across from Mc. So it can only be done occasionally.

When Levi first feels something touch him from under the table he freaks out, not nearly as bad as Mammon's reaction but that's because Levi freezes, he becomes a deer in headlights. He freezes his body tenses up and he looks terrified to see what's touching him. When he looks under the table and sees it's Mc's foot, he tenses up more, his face going red, if Levi could become any more frozen he would. I feel like Levi just knows what's going on, he just knows Mc's not just trying to be cute and rest their foot on his lap while eating.

When Levi feels Mc begin to slide their foot up his thigh towards his groin he knows he's done for. Levi is aroused and flustered before Mc even begins to rub their foot against his groin. Levi is frozen in place so Mc has time to tease and mess with the poor okatu. Levi will not be hard to get off, so if Mc doesn't want to put him through that they have to be careful with how much they push and tease him. No matter how long Mc messes with Levi, he'll be sweating, mans is stressing, he's an anxious frozen mess. If Levi snaps out of his panic he may take off running for his room, but he'll be sure to send Mc a D.D.D message. He may yell at Mc over text but he'll also probably beg them to come to his room and finish what they started.

Levi's reaction could cause suspicion and draw attention. It really just depends how much attention his brothers are paying to him that day, say Mc pulls this trick when Levi's in the middle of ranting, then his brothers are obviously going to notice how he suddenly freezes up and gets all flustered and sweaty. Levi darting away to his room actually doesn't cause that much suspension just because he runs away to his room so often. If Mc makes Levi cum he surprisingly won't draw too much attention, he may squeak when he cums but then he's gone, darting off to his room faster than ever before, nobody has time to see the wet spot on Levi's pants before he's out of the room, going to hide away in his room for like a week. Mans is too anxious to go to dinner for a bit.

Getting Levi to cum would be extremely easy. You don't even need to get him to whip it out, which he wouldn't do mans is too anxious for that, what if one of his brothers saw? He'd never live down the embarrassment. Depending on Mc and how fast they want the experience to be over they can have Levi cumming within the first few minutes if not seconds. Trying to give our boy the benefit of the doubt, so let's say minutes. As previously stated his reaction is so Levi like that even if he cums he won't raise suspension, just hiding in his room before anyone even realizes he got up. It doesn't matter if Mc makes Levi cum or not, they will be getting a D.D.D message, it'll probably be Levi yelling at them all embarrassedly. Mc is required to go bribe their way into his room and give him cuddles and apologies. Then Levi may end up wanting to have fun again, in the safety of his room of course.

Satan's Reaction:

Satan seems like the type to sit across from Mc, I think he sits like across to the right or left of Mc not directly across from Mc, but there are occasions when he sits directly across from Mc. So it's not too hard to do this with Satan, but it is a dangerous game to play.

When Satan first feels something touch him from under the table he tenses up, he doesn't know what to think, maybe it's one of the cats he's been hiding in his room. Maybe the cat escaped, followed the smell of food and naturally came to him to beg for food. The only way to see if his theory is right is to look and see. ...looking down Satan is puzzled when he sees it's actually Mc's foot. A million thoughts and ideas scatter his mind and he can't figure what's going through Mc's until he looks up and sees Mc's mischievous smirk. As soon as Satan catches on to Mc's plans his face goes bright red, but he doesn't make a scene or purposely draw attention. He sees what Mc's doing as a challenge, he likes winning especially against Mc. It's almost better than winning against Lucifer..almost.

When Satan feels Mc sliding their foot towards his groin he knows the challenge has started. He keeps himself calm and composed besides his face being bright red and him occasionally clearing his throat. Satan will do absolutely everything in his power to not focus on Mc rubbing their foot against his clothed bulge. Satan is thinking about everything possible, the type of stuff that's instant turn offs to him. Satan does not go silent either, he uses conversations as a distraction so he sits there chatting about the most random things possible. If Mc's doing a good job and he really needs a distraction, he'll start a random conversation with Lucifer, he thought having a conversation with Lucifer would distract him, since he knew it would piss him off. Imagine how awkward that conversation would be, mans is unintentionally drawing attention to himself. Talking to Lucifer does piss him off, but it doesn't take his attention off Mc and their actions under the table. If Satan gets mad enough he might just grab Mc and drag them off to his room in the middle of dinner. He may want to win but he's not the Avatar of Pride so he's willing to admit defeat. However if Satan can control his wrath, he'll try and make it through the whole dinner. He'll only give up if he has to, he's not cumming during dinner with his brothers right there. Do you know what Lucifer would say and think? Satan's not giving that to Lucifer, that prideful bastard would hold that over him for the rest of his life. "Satan couldn't control himself at the table" The arrogant prick would treat him like a child.

Satan's reaction does draw attention and suspension from his brothers. One he's incredibly flustered the entire time, and he's brothers are always pointing out and picking on him when he's flustered. Two he's talking about the most random things, kind of sounding like Levi, and he's only like that when he's talking about a good book or crime show, or cats. It's not that his brothers think that Satan's a "calm person", but his brothers know he can usually hold a conversation. Three, he willingly started a conversation with Lucifer, one that seemingly wasn't supposed to be a prank or an argument, that's immediately suspicious. If Mc ends up getting Satan to cum it will only draw attention because he'll stand up and just bolts to his room, which isn't normal for Satan unless he's mad.

I don't think Satan would let Mc make him cum at dinner with his brothers. Satan has some restraint, and he'll know when he's about to finish, so I feel like he'd just stand up and excuse himself, but before he actually leaves the room I feel like he'd grab Mc and drag them off to his room with him. He may want to win the challenge but he's not determined enough to cum in the middle of dinner with his brothers. If he didn't do that then he'd definitely be messaging Mc once he's in his room, Mc started this mess now they have to finish it. Doing this to Satan is dangerous as Mc has now made it fair game for Satan to get Mc back, so do expect to be experiencing pay back sometime during future meals at the house of Lamentations. Who knows, maybe Satan will be bold enough to do it somewhere besides the house.

Asmodeus's Reaction:

Like with Mammon, I believe it's hard to sit across from Asmo but not as hard as it is with Mammon. I feel like Asmo sits next to Mc because he likes being close to Mc, Asmo like Mammon complains and argues usually when he can't sit next to Mc. But all Mc would have to do is ask Asmo to sit across from them so they can stare at his beautiful face during dinner and Asmo would be all over it.

I can see this going two ways I feel like it'd just depend on Asmo's mood and how goofy and horny he's feeling, the joking way I would say is that Asmo jokingly asks Mc if they are getting friendly under the table, just to realize that Mc actually is. But in seriousness here's his reaction: When Asmo feels something touch him from under the table he squeals loudly and dramatically drawing everyone's attention to him. Asmo goes to make a huge scene, but stops when he sees what touched him under the table.

When Asmo notices it was Mc's foot that actually touched him he squeals again, but this time it's more out of excitement, he knows what Mc's up to before Mc even has to do anything. Even though Asmo has all his brothers attention on him he plays it off like a pro, Asmo will start chattering about some make up brand or something that he's just been DYING to tell his brothers, when. In all reality hes just trying to keep their attention off of what's happening under the table. Asmo's face may get a little red as Mc begins rubbing their foot against his clothed groin but he mostly plays off his arosual extremely well. Asmo will gladly let Mc do as much as they want with this situation, if Mc wants him to whip it out under the table all they have to do is send a message and he's quickly but discreetly unzipping his pants and getting it out. Getting Asmo to cum would not be too hard of a task, you just have to be really dedicated and willing to deal with any repercussions getting Asmo to cum may cause.

Asmo's reaction while it's happening is not too suspicious, his brothers may think he's being extra chatty but besides that he'd hide it really well, Asmo's the Avatar of Lust, he has done all sorts of things and knows how to mask his pleasure well. But making it so Asmo cums could be a problem, now I think he's extremely capable of not being loud when finishing if necessary, but this is Asmo we're talking about, I feel like he's saying he's blessing everyone's ears by letting them hear him finish. But he may also not want to get in trouble, because then they may stop allowing Mc and him to sit next to each other, so he may keep quiet just so it can be done again.

Getting Asmo to cum wouldn't be too hard so if that's Mc's endgame then they're in luck, cause Asmo will let it happen. Asmo has no shame cumming in his pants, he may be upset if it's his favorite pants or undergarments, but he'll just make Mc go shopping with him. If Mc had Asmo whip it out, he'll use a napkin or something so they don't make a mess, especially if he's not trying to get them caught. If Asmo doesn't moan loudly while finishing then he just casual hangs out for the rest of dinner, Asmo will whisk Mc away after dinner, if not to have more fun then to just cuddle and hang out. If Asmo can't whisk Mc away then he'll definitely send a D.D.D message, probably talking about how much fun he had and how naughty Mc is, but he'll most likely mention wanting to do it again.

Beelzebub's Reaction:

It's not incredibly hard to sit across from Beel like it is with some of his brothers. Beel enjoys just sitting at a table with everyone he cares about and eating some good food, though that doesn't mean that Beel doesn't prefer when Mc is in a closer proximity to him then not, Beel just won't make a scene cause he doesn't want to ruin a good meal.

When Beel first feels something touch him from under the table there's like no reaction at all, Man's is focused on eating, he thinks one of his brothers just kicked him whether it was on accident or because he stole some food he doesn't care he's just gonna keep munching away.

When Beel feels something sliding up the inside of his thigh from under the table he finally looks under the table. Seeing it's Mc's foot Beel is a little confused, but he doesn't mind Mc touching him so he just continues eating. When Mc starts rubbing their foot against Beel's clothes groin Beel's face may get a little red and he may make "mmm~" sounds while he's eating but other than that Mc doesn't really get much of a reaction, Beel continues eating all the same. Mc fairly mistakes the lack of reaction as a lack of enjoyment and goes to remove their foot from Beel's lap completely. Beel gently grabs Mc's ankle, moving their foot back to his clothed groin. Mc's confused until Beel ruts a little against Mc's foot while still eating the whole time. Mc gets the point and begins rubbing their foot against Beel's clothed erection. Beel munches away happily, enjoying the pleasure from Mc and enjoying his food, it's one of the best meals he ever had if not the best meal he's ever had.

Beel's reaction does not draw suspicion from his brothers, Beel is always enjoying food so him blushing or groaning in enjoyment is nothing new to anyone who's ever eaten with Beel. If Mc makes Beel cum his reaction will cause attention to be drawn just because of what happens.

Mc could make Beel cum but that's a really bad idea. Mans may start choking on the food he's scarfing down, if Beel started choking all attention is going to be drawn to him, and in a very fast manner, he'd literally be choking, man. So cumming during dinner with his brothers doesn't happen for Beel but he will sit there and enjoy Mc just rubbing their foot against his clothed erection and basically edging him until dinner is over. After dinner Beel will willingly follow Mc to their room to finish things off, Beel's a hungry man so the favor will be returned. Beel is one of the only ones that will straight up admit he wouldn't mind if Mc did it again during a different meal, it made the meal all the better for him, even if Mc doesn't do it again, it'll be memorable for Beel.

Belphegor's Reaction:

It's honestly pretty easy to sit across from Belphie, Belphie is a brat about a lot of things, but where he sits during dinner is not one of things he's a brat over as long as he's sitting somewhere around Mc. It doesn't even have to be close to Mc, as long as he can see and hear Mc he's fine and surprisingly won't throw a tantrum. So sitting across from Mc isn't going to earn any whiny remarks from Belphie.

Belphie is half asleep when he first feels something touch him from under the table. He jolts awake in surprise, causing his brothers to look at him confused. Belphie ignores his brothers's weird looks and looks under the table, seeing it's Mc's foot Belphie's tired mind is nothing but confused. He can tell by the mischievous smirk Mc has that Mc's up to no good, but he's still too half asleep to understand Mc's plan.

It's when Belphie feels Mc's foot sliding up the inside of his thigh that he realizes what Mc's planning. When Mc's foot reaches Belphie's clothed groin and begins to rub against it, Belphie's face gets bright red and his eyes go wide, even though he knew that's where this was going he feels suprised Mc was brave enough to go through with it. Belphie may have been half asleep before this but Mc's actions are enough to have the Avatar of Sloth wide awake now. Belphie is a brat, one would expect him to cause a scene or do something bratty, Belphie even expected himself to do that. But Belphie doesn't throw a fit and grab anyone's attention, nor does he try and do something bratty. Belphie moves his plate out of the way and then lays his head down on the dinning room table, not because he's tired, but because he wants to hide his flusteredness and reactions from his brothers and Mc. Belphie will keep his head laying down on the table like he's sleeping the entire time Mc does their actions, but that doesn't mean he's not enjoying it. The fact that Mc's foot is rubbing against his clothed erection is a clear sign that Belphie's aroused and enjoying it, but Belphie occasionally ruts his hips, grinding against Mc's foot which shows he's really enjoying it and being a needy brat. Like usual. Belphie is at Mc's mercy, he'll oddly be a good boy and just sit there and take whatever attention Mc will give him. Because he's an attention whore.

Belphie's reaction doesn't draw suspicion unless he cums or makes too much noise while enjoying Mc's actions. Belphie falls asleep at the table often, he falls asleep literally everywhere, honestly his brothers probably looked over to make sure he wasn't laying on food and then his brothers probably went back to doing their own thing while eating. The fake sleeping act totally would work for Belphie with this. If Belphie cums he may draw suspicion but he could play it off by saying he had a nightmare, Belphie would moan all high pitchedly because he'd be trying to hold back and not make sound, not wanting to be embarrassed by his brothers, so he may be able to say it was more of a scream in fear, but that'll earn teasing too. If Belphie can't get them to not take any lie or excuse he comes up with, he'll try and put all the blame on Mc, he's a brat.

If Mc wants to edge him til dinners over they can, if they want him to cum in his pants they just have to push him over the edge and he'll let it happen. Maybe it's the scenario, but Belphie's brain just blanks, no bratty way to combat Mc's actions, nothing but enjoying the pleasure Mc's ballsy enough to give him during a meal with his brothers. If Mc chooses to make Belphie cum they have to be willing to deal with any consequences if there are any. The rest of the brothers would def make a big deal out of it, and punishments could be dished out. Idk if they'd be the kinky kind this time man. If Mc and Belphie don't get caught he'd hide the wet stain on his pants from his mess with his little cow pillow, then after dinner he'd head up to the attic or follow Mc to their room. He's got pay back to give and then cuddles are deserved. Truthfully I don't think Belphie would mind it happening again, I could see him honestly just liking Mc keeping him awake at random times by edging him, and meals would be one of those times.

━☆*:･ﾟ✧✧ ♡ ❀ ♡ ✧━━☆*:･ﾟ✧✧ ♡ ❀ ♡ ✧━

Thats all for now babes! Hope you enjoyed!! ♡ This is not proofread. Feel free to comment or reblog any thoughts or any add ons you have! Sorry some of these aren't as great as others, I just spaced out writing each one too much. Do you guys want a version of this where it's the brothers doing something to Mc during a meal? Let me know if so. Anyways more content is coming soon so Stay Tuned! Stay Safe! & Stay Groovy Scooby! ♡

━☆*:･ﾟ✧✧ ♡ ❀ ♡ ✧━

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wonuwonder · 10 months ago

Note

Hi! I love the way you write!

So I was thinking about seungcheol taking reader’s virginity…maybe that would inspire you to write something idk

Have a nice day/evening!

first time - choi seungcheol (m)

an: thank you sm for the request anon!! ngl i was kinda intimidated by it but i think it came up pretty well? i got carried away honestly, sorry if i took too long! mdni

content: smut, choi seungcheol x fem reader, virgin!reader, best friend!cheol, non relationship, first time, anything else lmk!! lowercase intended, 1.9k words😵‍💫

“if i wasn’t a virgin, would you have fucked me the other night?” you ask blantly, piercing at his darkened gaze.

“thoroughly” he simply replied, maintaining his gaze.

‘the other night’ yeah well, the one where you crashed at your friend’s place after hanging out, and basically dry-humped seungcheol until he made you cum on his fingers, exactly that night.

your mind went blank after that happened, and the tension with seungcheol had escalated almost painly, you just saw that man and wanted him to ruin you, but he was too much of a gentleman to do it, even though you had asked, multiple times.

seungcheol was your best friend, and quite frankly you have had a thing for him for a very long time, but since you didn’t want to ruin your friendship, you never said anything or told anyone. all this time you had thought it was a stupid one sided crush until you found out it wasn’t, and that he also was attracted to you, which made the tension you already felt, become almost unberable.

but before that was known, since there was no one else you trusted more than cheol, you had asked him, to just take your virginity, which he had refused every single time, even though it pained him, he didn’t know you felt something for him too, so he just didn’t want to waste your first time like that, and ‘get it over with’ like you had said.

“it’s not like i haven’t done anything myself” you said “i have a bunch of toys and dildos, wanna see?i got one that’s ginor-“ you continued but he hushed you before you could finish, putting his hand on your mouth.

“please stop y/n, i don’t need to know” he said, half laughing half dying inside, you were totally oblivious to the effects you had on him with the words toys and dildos coming out of your mouth. just the thought of you with one of those stupid toys buried deep inside your cunt made him go insane.

but even if he was itching to touch you, he’d thought that your first time should be with someone important, at least. he just didn’t see himself as that person, although there was no one else who would fit in that description apart from him.

now you were in your apartment, as he had insisted on bringing you home after hanging out with the guys. you were both standing on each side of the kitchen island, glaring at each other, seungcheol, trying to restraint himself, and you almost begging with your eyes for him to just fuck you, once and for all.

after a few minutes of silence, you say “i’ll walk you out” but as you brush past him, he’s faster and captures you by the arm, locking you in front of him, breathing heavily, he brushes your lips with his thumb and presses his mouth against yours, you kiss him back almost instantly, he grabs the back of your neck and starts leading you towards your room.

he settles you on the bed before him. standing, he gets loose of his jacket, his pecs and biceps pressing hard against the white fabric of his t-shirt, making you drool at the sight. he gets back to you smirking and you quickly loose all your clothing, spreading them all over your bedroom.

laying on the pillows with him on top of you, you pull back from the kiss and look at each other’s eyes, he tilts your chin up with his hand and says “if there’s anything you don’t like, don’t wanna do or just want me to slow down or stop, please tell me” you nod, as if you could possibly want him to stop “use your words” he adds.

“i will” you finish, and he gives you a kiss on the cheek, making you shiver.

he starts to make his way down your body kissing your tummy all the way to your –very wet panties, he places a kiss through the fabric, making you whimper in surprise, and then discards the tiny piece of clothing, displaying yourself for him, and only him.

he kisses both of your thighs and spreads them apart, he settles himself between your legs and grips each one of them tightly, you huff out a moan, and he goes down on you.

he starts by circling your clit softly, making you jerk your hips at the sensation, he goes up and down your slit with his tounge, gathering all of your arousal.

“tell me how you feel y/n, talk to me”

“feels s-so good” you say, while trying not to whimper too much.

you feel him smirk before going down again, his tongue now going lower, pressing your hole with the tip, and then gliding up to your clit. your hands tangle at his hair, and he loves it. his tounge flattens against your folds gathering all your juices from up and down your slit. you jerk your hips up one more time and he lets go of one of your thights to start teasing your hole with one of his fingers. then he kitten licks your clit and adds one, your hands gripping his hair, making him look up at you, already pussy drunk. he licks your folds again and adds another one, stretching yourself, you start to feel a familiar knot in your stomach.

“i’m gonna”- you start, and he presses his thumb against your clit, with his toungue sliding between your folds, you come undone, moaning his name. he gathers your juices with his fingers and puts them in his mouth. while you stare at the ceiling, defeatedly. “that was so good” you finally mutter out, he smiles and kisses your cheek, he leans close to your ear.

“where are your toys?” he asks, getting on top of you again, “the ones you always like to tease me about” he says almost growling, and kisses your neck, your bare legs entertwining around his hips, rubbing yourself against the erection pressing hard on his boxers, he grabs one of your thighs and kneads it softly.

“my favorite one is on the bedside drawer” you answer looking at him playfully, and he shakes his head, reaching for the drawer next to you, he pulls the fake dick out, and looks at it trying to hold in his laugh. “i told you it was huge-“ he looks back at you and laughs mockingly.

his attention drawns back to your entrance, and he rubs the toy up and down your slit, coating it with your arousal. he starts to press it against your hole and you whimper, slowly feeling the toy entering you, as he pushes it all in.

“show me” he demands, “show me how you do it” you moan and grab the base of the toy, pushing it hard against your core, and with your left hand you start stimulating your clit. cheol starts rubbing himself through his boxers, groaning, he kisses your lower abdomen and says “you look so pretty like this” he leans closer and bites the hem of your ear as you continue to fuck the toy inside you, “but you know i’m bigger than that toy right? think you can handle it?” —fucking tease

“cheol please just give it to me” you plead, already a whimpering mess.

“who do you think about? when you do it?” he asks grabbing your chin finding your eyes.

“you” he groans at your response.

“fuck-"

his hands find your cunt and he pulls the toy out, edging you, you moan at the loss. he finally pulls his boxers down and his cock springs out, already leaking with pre cum, and he was not lying, his cock was fucking huge. he grabs a condom from his pants and rolls it over his length.

he turns you over, pulling you on top of him, straddling him, you moan as you feel him under you, rubbing himself against your core.

“use me” he says, grabbing your hands to steady yourself, “whatever you do, i will enjoy it, just do what feels good, you can’t do anything wrong” he tugs your hand and kisses it, reassuring yourself.

you grab his dick and give it a few strokes, before you start sliding down him, your eyes shut at the new feeling, it was completely different, much more intense.

“that’s it, go slow” he says, his palms sliding over your ribs trailing your spine, which made you relax under his touch. whimpering, you ease down further, he halts a breath at your welcoming, groaning, he caresses your back with his palms.

“fuck cheol” you mutter out, your hands moving to his shoulders for support, he kisses your wrist. “gosh i just-” you whimper and your eyes flutter shut as you go down another inch, “already feel so full”

“you’re almost there baby, you’re doing so good” his praise reassures you and you drop yourself down the rest of his length, crying out because of the stretch, you move your hands to his chest for support as your head falls, nails digging on his skin to get through the feeling, “you okay?” he asks, massaging your back, you nod, lips shut. “talk to me y/n”

“yes, ugh, it’s just-” you whimper, “you’re so thick” you confess and look up at his eyes, can’t believing the sight in front of you, Seungcheol spread on your bed, gripping your ass with his cock buried deep inside your cunt.

he smirks at you, trying not to groan, “alright when you’re ready, just move, lift yourself and go down again, make yourself feel good, i’ll enjoy every second of your pleasure as well” his guidance encourages you, easing out your nervousness, you nod and do it just like he told you, instantly biting your lower lip.

you feel all of his girth as you lift yourself, when sinking down, you moan out loud, suprised at the feeling of his thick cock inside you, so foreign, but becoming more and more used to it as you do it over again. cheol grunting under you boosts your confidence as well, knowing that what you’re doing is making him feel good too drives you crazy.

you start moving your hips in ways you didn’t know you could, but every movement feels better than the last one, your muscles relax onto him as you rise and drop more roughly, making you and him whimper at the feeling and sight, your cunt filled with his thick cock looked incredibly hot.

“fuck that’s it baby, ride me, make yourself feel good” he moans, grabbing your waist with his hands, he presses you down even more against him, whimpering loudly at the sensation, he starts guiding your hips, his cock filling you up completely.

“you like that?”

“fuck yes!” you scream, and he moves one of his hands, coating his fingers with your arousal, he starts fiddling your clit, the pleasure overwhelming you, taking you to the edge. “i’m- m’close” you mutter out in between moans, he grabs your waist again and presses you down on him harshly, making you reach your high instantly.

you cum on his cock, moaning his name, holding onto his shoulders for dear life, he thrusts one more time and comes undone. breathing heavily, he grabs the back of your neck and hugs you against him, laying on his chest, both trying to steady your breaths as he slowly pulls out of you.

grabbing your cheek slowly, he kisses you and rests his forehead against yours “you did so good baby, so good”. you stay like that for a while, snuggling and kissing, and then he runs a warm bath for you, taking care of you, as he always has.

an: likes, replies, reblogs are appreciated i love to read what you think! x

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ja3hwa · 9 months ago

Text

♡ 𝐏𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐞 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐞𝐟 | 𝐉.𝐖𝐘 ♡

【Synopsis】 : You started to think you were losing your mind. Where on earth is your underwear disappearing to? Your roommate wouldn't happen to know, right?

『Word count』 : 750

-> Genre: Smut. Roommate au.

Pairing: Bestfriend!Wooyoung x AFab!Reader

[Warnings] : Masturbation. Pantie fucking. Swearing. Pet names. Kisses. Light banter. Flirting.

Note: I'M BACCKKKKKKK!!! DID YALL MISS ME HEHE.

My darling @shinestarhwaa , the minute i saw your request, i was up all night thinking about it. I would have made this longer, but Idk why i didn't, honestly, haha. I hope you like it hehe.

Based on this request ♡

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This was the fifth pair in weeks that had gone missing. At first, you thought you might have been forgetting them at the laundromat in the basement of your apartment. But when you couldn’t find them there you started to believe only one thing. Standing in your silky robe with your hands on your hips, you head down the hall from the bathroom, going past your room towards your roommate. If anyone knew what might have happened it’ll be him.

But little did you know, Wooyoung, your precious roommate was the one stealing them. It didn’t start like this at first. One time he did his laundry with your stuff and one of your pretty pink pairs of lacy panties got mixed up with his stuff. Tucked perfectly in his jeans. Out of sight. When he was putting his clothes away, he couldn’t help it, you were napping and he didn’t want to sneak into your room, fearing he’d wake you.

So he did the natural thing. He was going to leave them on his counter and wait until you woke up. He was going to leave them on his counter…. He was going to wait. Wait for you to wake… How on earth can your panties be so soft? Are they silk? So warm, and they smell like your floral detergent. God, they're perfect. “Fuck…”

He was ashamed at first, rushing to pull his sweats down, awkwardly wrapping the garment around his aching cock. He had never came so hard in his life before feeling the sweet material around himself. It was messy, filthy. Sinful. He couldn’t help himself, as the days turned into weeks and one pair turned into five. He hid them under his bed, of course, not knowing what to do with the cum filled cloth. He couldn’t just put them in a wash, cause you do the washing nine out of ten. And he couldn’t possibly say all of these panties just happened to end up in his load. He was in too deep. So hiding them became the best option.

Then a knock at the door alerted him. He was right in the middle of pleasuring himself with your panties when you walked in and man the look on your face turned him pale. Pure shock was best to describe your features. Standing there in a bathrobe of all things, looking at him with utter disbelief. Wooyoung wanted nothing more than to hide away, and never return. Tucking his cock away in his sweats, his hand was tightly clutching the -your- panties. “I… I. uh. I can explain.”

“I was wondering where my panties went. What the fuck Youngie!?” You folded your arms across your chest, tapping your bare foot on the ground. “Do you have the rest of them??”

Wooyoung’s brain had successfully stopped working, just staring at you like a deer in headlights. In his mind, your friendship was over, but in yours, he needed to be punished. Sure it was weird but not the worst thing you’ve seen. And it probably doesn’t make it as bad since you have a huge crush on him. So right now, you wanted to play a game. Since he made you lose your mind, you wanted him to have just a taste. “Well? Why did you do it? I’ve been searching myself stupid for them.”

“Look, doll, I’m so sorry. It just happened and I couldn’t stop. I uh… god I’m a creep.” He was still seated in the middle of his bed, banging his head lightly on his headboard. You were silent for a moment, letting him sit in some guilt before you couldn’t hold back the smile. Starting to laugh. This caught Wooyoung’s attention so fast, letting him snap his neck in your direction.

“Oh lighten up Youngie.” You waltz over to him, leaning down so your face is inches away from his blushed one. “Just tell me so I don’t lose my mind over where they went.” he kissed his cheek before turning away and heading for the door.

Wooyoung didn’t move though, no, he sat with bulbous eyes watching you with a stopped heart. You gave him one more smile before saying. “Oh and next time you want to fuck your cock with something of mine. maybe try my pussy.”

And with that you left with a beaming smile, closing the door to leave Wooyoung with his short-circuited mind and aching hard cock.

—

Special Taglist: @wlv-asteria @isiloiale @imperfect0angel @sugarnspice630 @yeorisanaxox @maeleelee @uarmytess @mxnsxngie @shuporangporanglinossss @nopension @sanhwalvr @gypsythrift @hyukssunflower @dearinsaniiity

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charliemwrites · 2 months ago

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It’s been a minute - the last two weeks have been mind bogglingly stupid. But hopefully things are settling now? Idk anyway - consider this something to tide yall over until I can put out the Price/Reader/Simon fic

I am thinking about that threshold of dating when you get past all the prettiness. Like, when being human just becomes part of the relationship. It stops being carefully picked outfits, styled hair, nice perfume/cologne, careful bites of food.

I’m talking about the intimacy of stupid, stupid shit. I’m talking about the first time Krueger calls your name and you reply in a little gremlin voice “wHaT”.

I’m talking about Simon bringing home a treat for you and you do a weird little run, arms swinging and knees coming up too high, to get it from him.

Kyle staring in a mix of horror and fond exasperation as you quote, word for word and perfect intonation, your favorite bit from a YouTube video or tv show or comedy special.

Baffling Nikto by having a stupid ongoing bit that he doesn’t understand and you refuse to explain. Something like, “and I’m gonna eat your captain, of course”. What does that mean? You’re going to eat him?? “Yeah, with salt and butter. Nom nom.”

You pull that bit where you do shitty cosplays of characters. Johnny nearly pissed himself when you wandered into the kitchen covered in green paint with construction paper ears, mumbling in a little old man voice “consume cheez-its, I must, or rip Kenobi a new one, I will.”

Dancing badly, like not even cute badly, just BADLY in the kitchen or while you’re cleaning. It looks almost like you’re having a seizure really. Price is about two seconds from banning that “shake it” song by neon trees

Konig fears “Squirrel Girl” - his pretty little girlfriend disappears to be replaced with this creature that mutters about nesting and acorns and hibernating for winter.

Keegan just about died of embarrassment the first time you pretended his dick was microphone and leaned in close, saying “is this thing on? What’s the deal with airplane food?”

On that note - Gromsko didn’t realize having a pretty little stay at home wife like a traditional marriage meant his dick becomes fair game. She’s grabbin’ him like a handful of candies. When he asks why she points and says “that’s mine by law” and puts a bottle cap on it. “He’s got a hat now”. You make fantastic pies but you also keep asking to hold it while he pees.

You fuss at Velikan to hold still so you can preen in the visor of his helmet. You also put stickers on it and purposefully guilt trip him if he tries to remove it.

Oh and stealing clothes? Oh sure a t-shirt is hot. But their workout shorts? Their underwear or ugly military socks? Sooooo much better than the cute silk set you bought when you first started dating - for you, anyway.

I’m just so here for the weird intimacy of people moving past the aesthetic honeymoon phase of their relationship. Especially when it’s one of the guys who def hasn’t been in a comfortable long term relationship before (like konig or simon).

Same vibes as that time Robert Pattinson invited his stalker out to dinner and she lost interest because he simultaneously so weird but so boring. Not cute weird shit, just weird shit that you would never do in front of anyone else. Stupid, ugly faces and funky voices/impressions and cursed walking/running around.

#cod #thoughts™️#my writing #fanfiction

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illubean · 11 months ago

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Hi hellooo <3 I love your blog and since I have a thing for this bug-eyed boi, I wanted to ask you to please write a headcanon or a small one-shot (whatever you are comfortable) about teenage!illumi SOMEHOWWWWW having a secret friendship and he meets reader in the forest etc :)

Assassins Don't Have Friends

Characters: Teenager!Illumi Zoldyck Type: Fluff, oneshot, Teenager!Gn!reader

this turned out kinda long >.< idk how to feel about it tbh

Warnings: mention of human trafficking kind of?

Illumi Zoldyck was a perfect assassin and a perfect son. He never showed fear, vulnerability, was excellent at his job and followed all the rules to a t. Or so everyone thought.

It wasn't long ago that Illumi had went on the job that would unknowingly change his life, maybe about three months give or take. He was assigned to take out a member of the mafia known for trading illegal goods. Apparently he had owed the man who hired Illumi money and had no means of paying it. He was to dispose of the target swiftly and silently.

After the job had been done the young Zoldyck somehow failed to notice the figure in the corner, who had been watching him with surprised and tired eyes. Upon realizing he was not alone, the boy was quick to pin the figure down, ready to take their life at any given moment. Now that he was up close to this person, he realized it was another kid around his age, wearing tattered and dirty clothes. The part that intrigued him most is that they didn't seem afraid of him.

The mysterious person only smiled at him, eyes softening with admiration as they spoke.

"Thank you for saving me."

The young assassin stared blankly in confusion. Saving them? All he did was his job and you just happened to be there, he didn't really try benefiting you on purpose. Illumi lowered the needle he had pointed at the persons neck, eyes narrowing before he responded.

"What are you talking about?"

"That man you killed. I was just auctioned off to him and needless to say he was a horrible man, so thank you. I'm Y/n by the way."

Illumi got off of Y/n, turning around to leave before speaking up once more.

"I didn't kill him for you, I was doing my job. I should kill you too for being a witness, but I'll let you go this once."

The Zoldyck boy began to embark on his journey back home before he heard footsteps running to catch up to him.

"I never caught your name? Who are you anyway?"

He continued to walk, not once turning to face Y/n.

"Quit following me."

"But I have nowhere to go-"

"I don't care where you go, just get away from me."

It was silent for a few moments as the teens continued to walk. Y/n ignored Illumi's demands as they neared a path that stretched through a vast forest. At the end of the trail there was a large mountain. Illumi knows he shouldn't have led this stranger so close to his home, but something inside him wouldn't let him push them away.

"You still haven't told me your name. Are you like a secret spy or something? Geez we've been walking for so long- don't tell me we have to walk all the way up that mountain!"

The young assassin stopped when they got to the base of the mountain, causing Y/n to run into his back with a small 'oof'.

In front of them was a large stone wall with metal doors in the center.

"This is as far as I can allow you to get. I shouldn't have let you follow me for so long but frankly you don't pose any threat."

"Aww, I think you just let me follow you so far because you like me! Noowwww can I finally know the name of my new friend?"

Y/n smiled at the stoic male in front of them, blinking and awaiting a response.

"Assassins don't have friends, now leave."

Illumi approached the seven large doors of his home and began to push them open before pausing.

"It's Illumi."

He entered through those doors while Y/n stood confused for a few moments before realizing.

That was his name.

While the doors were closing he heard a voice yell from the opposite side.

"Okay Mr assassin! I'll come back here here every day to see you!"

{Pov switch? kinda?}

And that's exactly what you did. Every day for about a week you showed up at the foot of the mountain, sometimes convincing Zebro to call the butlers quarters.

After Illumi found out about this, he finally went down to meet them. This time you looked much cleaner, holding a small basket with a cloth over it.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

"I told you I would visit every day, didn't I? Oh, and this is for you. I managed to make a little money by fighting so consider this as a "thank you'. Y'know, for killing that guy?"

You held out the basket, gesturing for the boy in front of you to take it. He lifted the cloth to reveal some baked goods underneath. Illumi sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"You can't keep trying to call the house. I told you assassins don't have friends."

"Welllll can't you make an acception for little ole me?" you asked, batting your eyelashes at him. "It could be our little secret!"

Without a word, Illumi grabbed one of your wrists and began walking into the forest surrounding his home. He stopped as the both of you came to a clearing, sitting down against the trunk of a tree.

"You're annoyingly stubborn."

You only smiled before sitting down next to him, reaching into your basket and pulling out two custard buns.

"Well it seems to work," you started, offering him one of the buns. "We're friends now, after all."

Illymi accepted the sweet treat with a sigh and ended up sitting there with you for hours. At some point you had both agreed to meet there once a week.

After these visits Illumi began developing a soft spot for you. He anticipated the days you would show up and the time you got to spend together.

Maybe he wasn't a perfect son.

He had secretly been seeing you without his family knowing and you were beginning to break down those walls of his.

Maybe he wasn't the perfect assassin.

Because after all, assassins don't have friends.

#hxh 2011 #hxh x reader #hunter x hunter #hxh #hxh illumi #illumi zoldyck #illumi x reader #illumi hxh #illumi x you #illumi x y/n #illumi zoldyck x reader #illumi

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petertingle-yipyip · 8 months ago

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SO LONG LONDON - STEVEN GRANT

Pairing: steven x reader (established) (and then marc shows up)

Word Count: 2,489

Summary: Dating Steven was always a bit of a gamble. So when a beautiful woman comes to town claiming your boyfriend as her husband, you find a whole new side to the man you love.

//honestly idk what happened here, just go with it//

It made no sense.

You two were scheduled together all the time. Donna claimed it was the only way to make sure Steven actually showed up to his shifts. And for the most part, it worked. Occasionally, you two would have a day or two different and he wouldn’t show or would be ridiculously late. But you were usually able to explain it away to your manager so Steven wouldn’t get in trouble.

But now, it has been three straight days of Steven pulling no-calls-no-shows. Even when you tried to call him, it went straight to voicemail. Like his phone wasn’t even on.

You were walking around the city that day after work. You picked up some lunch and were looking at your phone, contemplating whether or not you wanted to try calling out texting him again, but the sharp whizz of a woman on a moped cut you off.

You stopped so suddenly in your tracks that your phone fell from your hands as you scrambled to catch your food.

“I’m so sorry!” The woman said quickly, suddenly in front of you with your phone in hand. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, don’t worry about it.” You shrugged it off and held a hand out for your phone. She went to pass it back to you but her eyes lingered on your screen where Steven’s contact photo was waiting.

“It was my fault for not looking.” You tried while she quietly stared at the screen. Your fingers hooked on your device and with a slight tug, you got it back.

“I’m Layla, by the way.” She said when you had moved to leave.

“Y/N.” You nodded. “Nice to meet you.” You tried to leave again but she spoke up.

“Boyfriend?”

“What?”

“The guy on your phone.” She gestured to your hand where your phone still sat. As subtle as possible, your thumb hit the lock button to hide the photo that was still waiting. “Is that your boyfriend?”

“Yeah.” You nodded. “He’s M.I.A. right now so I’m starting to worry. Normal girlfriend things, y’know? He’s a bit of a sleepwalker so…” You finished awkwardly.

“Would you…” She began and your brows raised. “Would you wanna get some coffee maybe? I think we should talk some more.”

“Oh, well.. Thank you but I should get home. I’m like three missed calls away from a missing persons report.” You tried to joke.

“It’s just that your boyfriend looks an awful lot like my husband.”

“What?” Your heart sunk.

“Yeah, uh..” She hurried to pull her phone from her bag. “My husband, Marc Spector. Maybe you’ve heard his name? He comes and goes for work but then I got a call and now I’m here trying to find him.”

“Oh!” You sighed in relief. “Okay, it’s probably a coincidence because my boyfriend’s name is.. Steven… Gra…”

Your sentence trailed off as Layla showed you her screen and a photo of her and someone who looked exactly like Steven faced you. His posture was different and you assumed his aura was as well. His hair was styled differently and he even wore different clothes than Steven would. Too similar to ignore but too different to convince you.

“Wow, um, that resemblance really is… Y’know what, maybe we should get some coffee.” You agreed.

After a while of you two talking, neither of you were convinced the other person was talking about the same person. Layla’s ‘Marc’ seemed to have a completely different personality than Steven. He seemed rougher, insufferable even. To be able to completely abandon your wife with no explanation was borderline appalling, and Steven would never. He hardly even went to run errands without giving you a full list of everywhere he intended to go.

As far as you could tell, the only similarity was their looks.

You offered to bring her to Steven’s apartment to show her that he was a different person with a different life. But when you knocked, your usual habit just in case he was home, he actually answered the door.

“Hello, Love.” He smiled at you, though the expression quickly faded when he saw yours. “Something wrong?”

“Steven, this is Layla. Layla, Steven.” You introduced before she had pushed past you both and into the apartment.

Steven looked at you in confusion but you smiled in apology with a small shrug. He stepped aside and gestured for you to come in so you did. Layla was investigating the small space and Steven was staying close to your side. You could feel his fingers tapping the back of your hand, his silent request to interlock your fingers together, but you put your hands in your jacket pocket instead.

“This is your flat, Marc?” She asked and you were thankful someone finally spoke to break the tension.

“I’m Steven, actually.” He answered.

“And you live here with her?” She gestured to you.

“No.” You answered for yourself. “I stay a few blocks over.”

“It’s my mum’s flat, actually.” Steven defended.

“You guys are talking again?” She asked as she found one of the poetry books on his shelves.

They exchanged remarks about the French poet and the hieroglyphics on Steven’s desk. You watched quietly and were finding nothing that could indicate Steven was Marc. But then again, the one French poet he knew just so happened to be Layla’s favorite. And his explanation of hieroglyphs was the same as hers.

Was it possible?

While the two turned to argue about divorce papers and Steven’s identity, you were distracted by the unusual gym bag on the table. You glanced and saw them take their conversation to another side of the room so you went over to the bag. You were thankful it was already unzipped so you pulled the sides apart and were dumbfounded by what you saw.

Stacks of money, a gun, a golden bug, and a passport.

You were drawn to the document so you pulled it out quietly and opened it, seeing a different name printed on the page.

“Marc Spector.” You read to yourself and your heart came to a screeching halt in your chest.

“Who’s Marc?” You asked suddenly, drawing attention to yourself. You held up the passport expectantly.

“Oh, jeez, uh…” Steven rushed over, crumbling the divorce papers under his arm as he reached for the passport.

“No.” You held it further away. “Who are you?”

“C’mon, love. You know me.” He tried, almost desperate for you to be on his side.

“I don’t think I do.” You said sadly. “Who’s Marc? Is he your twin brother or something?”

“I don’t know.” He answered quickly.

“He is Marc and he needs to tell me if we’re getting this divorce or not.” Layla spoke up and snatched the papers from under Steven’s arm.

“You seem lovely, Layla, truly. But I’m not Marc Spector.” He insisted and you so badly wanted to believe him. “I’m Steven Grant and I work at a gift shop. Well, I used to work at a gift shop. I just want my life back.”

“Doesn’t seem like you know which life that is, do you?” You slammed the passport against his chest.

“Y/N, please wait.” He reached for your hand but you backed away.

You nearly ran down the hall to the elevator. You needed to get away. From Layla. From Steven or Marc or whoever the hell he was.

It felt like you didn’t know him anymore. A different name you could live with. A secret job, sure, you could get over that. But a wife? An entirely opposite personality? That shook your entire world, the very foundation of your relationship. You could justify the rest but the idea of him loving someone else so wholly and being someone else so entirely, it had you questioning everything you knew.

About him. About life and love. Even about yourself.

It made you wonder if you could walk away from it all. Say so long to the quiet london boy that stole your heart.

You were back in your apartment before you knew it and you leaned against the closed door for a moment once you were inside. Your head was spinning with the new situation and you decided you didn’t want to think about it. You pushed yourself up and headed to your fridge, picking out one of the cans you usually reserved for after dinner or nights you had friends over for drinks and movies. You took it into your room and got changed before dropping onto your couch.

You put your can on the side table and picked up the remote, flipping through channels until a familiar movie played. You let it run as background noise while you read your book and slipped your drink. But despite your best efforts, Steven was still present in your mind. When you were picturing the main male character, all you could picture was your boyfriend. One of the female characters started to look like Layla. It drove you insane.

You threw the book to the coffee table and dropped to your back across the cushions. You didn’t know how long you had been staring at your ceiling when someone knocked on your door. The first time the noise came, you didn’t move. Surely whoever it was would leave. But after a few seconds the knocking came again, with more authority than the first time. so you hauled yourself up and shuffled over.

Opening the door, you were greeted by the ghost of your boyfriend. For the most part, it was the same man. Same clothes and same facial features. But his dark curls were pushed out of his face. His posture stood taller and his shoulders pulled back.

It didn’t take long for you to recognize you weren’t looking at Steven.

You moved to close the door when his hand shot out to stop you. You tried leaning some of your body weight against the door but it hardly budged. You muttered a small complaint to yourself before stepping back and opening the door fully.

You stared at the imposter expectantly.

“Not gonna let me in?” He asked, gesturing slightly towards your apartment.

Even his voice was different. Missing the accent, deeper and fuller than Steven’s. Seeing the more mature sound come from your boyfriend’s face sent goosebumps across your skin.

“Why would I? I don’t know you.” You shrugged.

“C’mon, Y/N.” He groaned and ran a hand down his face. “You really wanna have this conversation in the hall?”

You sighed heavily and as if on cue, your nosy neighbor was leaving her apartment. You grabbed Marc’s jacket and pulled him in, giving the woman a quick wave and a tight smile. You heard her question who he was but you shut the door before having to answer. You stared at the door for a second to collect yourself before turning to face Marc, who had already made himself comfortable on your couch.

“Little early in the day for drinks, don’t you think?” He tried to joke and shook the empty can but you didn’t laugh.

“Well when I find out my boyfriend is married and absolutely not who I thought he was, I’m entitled to a spiked lemonade… Just be glad it isn’t the bottle of vodka in my freezer.” You countered, the words spilling faster than you could control them. “So who the hell are you this time?”

“My name’s Marc.” He began and you rolled your eyes. “Steven and I are…”

“Twins?” You tried your earlier guess. You just desperately wanted something simple for an explanation. A case of mistaken identity among twins was simple enough.

“No, not exactly.”

“But you are the one married to that girl, Layla, right?” You pressed.

“Yeah.” He nodded and a small smile crossed his lips. “Steven’s never met her till today.”

“Well…” You said awkwardly, coming a few steps closer. “She’s very pretty.”

He smiled a little wider for a second before he seemed to remember why he was there.

“Listen, I came here because I wanted to try and explain what I could to you.” He began carefully.

“Is Layla right then, Steven’s just an act?” You cut in sharply. “A fake name so you can lead a life away from her? Because it seems to me that that woman loves you. Why she would is baffling to me and why you would divorce her is even more ludacris.”

“He’s not an act and he’s not fake.” He seemed to flinch at the last word. “Maybe he’s not all that real, either. It’s…” He blew out a heavy sigh. “It’s complicated, Y/N/N.”

“Don’t you dare.” You said tightly, closing the distance to put yourself in front of Marc. “You’ve existed to me for all of ten minutes. You have no right to call me that.”

“You’re right.” His hands went up in surrender. “I’m sorry.”

“How do you know about that anyway?”

“I know pretty much everything about Steven’s life.” He shrugged innocently. “You, the gift shop, his really shitty boss. I know what bus he takes, that goddamn fish. Jesus, I even know what underwear brand he wears.”

“How? Why? I just-“ You groaned and pushed your hands into your hair. “What the hell is going on, Marc?”

“Sometimes…” He spoke carefully, as if he was treading around land mines. “There were a few nights when you would come to Steven’s, or walking back to his place after work, it wouldn’t be him… He wouldn’t take over in time and it would be me. Kinda got to know you through that.”

“Oh my god.” You said quietly, your hand covering your mouth as you sunk into the chair beside you. “When he would be super quiet and just nodding or making little humming noises…”

“Yeah…” He hesitantly agreed, clearly embarrassed. “I tried to kind of push him forward but- I don’t know how this shit works, Y/N. I’m just living with it at this point.”

“So… You’re Marc and he’s Steven, but you’re also the same?” You questioned as the information tried to sink in. “Like you two are-“ You interlocked your fingers together.

“Same body, different people.” He nodded. “I know it’s a lot but don’t.. Don’t leave him over this.”

“Leave him?” Your brows furrowed and you almost laughed. “I’m not gonna leave him over this.”

“Really?” His brows raised quizzically. “Cause it didn’t seem that way when you walked out.”

“I can handle personalities, I think. It’s the marriage that’s a problem.”

“To be fair, it’s my marriage.” He offered. “Like I said, he never knew her.”

“I just need a day or two to let it process.” You confessed. “And I think you need a day or two to figure out things with Layla.”

“Yeah, probably right.”

“And if you two work it out, me and Layla are gonna have to figure out an arrangement.”

#steven grant fic #steven x yn #steven grant one shot #mcu steven grant #steven grant hc #steven grant x you #steven grant x reader #marc spector moon knight #steven grant moon knight #moon knight fic #moon knight x yn #moon knight x you #steven grant angst #marc spector angst #marc spector #steven grant #moon knight

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holmsister · 8 months ago

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I think one of the things Dungeon Meshi is definitely about is how different people deal with being an outsider/marginalised/neurodivergent/what have you and basically what im getting at is that Kabru is TEXTBOOK "high functioning [insert diagnosis here]". Its that how they say it still? Don't care.

Basically. This man shows up and you listens to him talk and see how his party treats him and you think. Oh this is a cool guy who has his shit together. And then after like two pages you find out that he has constant flashbacks to Utaya that make him completely freeze, anxiety attacks, thought spirals, is incapable of analyzing his own feelings, is a stuttering mess when the stakes are high, has never done a chore in his life, keeps putting himself in triggering situations and re-traumatising himself, and the icing on the cake is when you read the extra material and it turns out he regularly forgets to eat and lives in a depression nest of dirty clothes and self-medicates insomnia with alcohol and also is 22. Which also kind of puts Misilril not wanting to let him go in another light - yeah for sure she's controlling and infantilising and also its not like she was really helping his issues but also she was not entirely wrong in her judgement. This man does NOT know how to take care of himself. He knows how to do the bare minimum so when he shows up at work the next day he can fool his coworkers into thinking hes got it together enough. For a bit.

He is DEEPLY unwell and he knows it but he is carried by the desperate wish to avoid another catastrophe. If he stops for a moment he KNOWS he'll collapse so he doesn't.

I also think this is why him acting nurse to Mithrun is such an important part of his arc. Its like. This person who has spent all of his adult life focused on a single objective disregarding everything else is faced with what happens when you do that for too long. And the result is a wet tissue of a creature who looks like he doesn't know where he is most of the time.

He is a man on the brink. I have no doubt he felt relieved when he decided he could trust Laios - not even in a Labru way, straight up because he knew he could not keep going like this.

But also like. Of all the characters in the manga, I think Senshi and Kabru are the most lonely ones. Except Senshi seems to be OK with solitude - for sure it's not entirely healthy to be alone for as long as he was but he definitely did well enough. He is very good at taking care of himself. Meanwhile Kabru *knows* a lot of people but can you really say he has friends? Rin, maybe, arguably, but even she does not seem to truly know him, you know? He keeps himself hidden from everyone. I think the only time we see him entirely honest is when he says to Laios that he wanted to be his friend, and hes so shocked when it comes out, you can tell he did not mean to say it. And differently from Senshi, he does NOT fare well alone. He likes people, he needs people. Again compare with Mithrun - he has like a squad of people taking care of him. If Kabru had a breakdown of that size can you say his party would go out of its way to help? Im not sure. Not because they're bad people, but because he's simply not that intimate with any of them.

Idk man it just struck me all of a sudden. Laios is weird and offputting and doesn't care about other humans the way Kabru does and YET he is infinitely more successful at building deep, meaningful relationships and taking care of himself as well. I think this is part of why Kabru is so fascinated with him as well. He can tell Laios has something he doesn't have. Wait this is turning into a whole another post I'll write this next time.

#kabru #dungeon meshi spoilers #dungeon meshi manga spoilers #meta #meowing to myself #this is why ive grown so attached to him i realised. i mean who said that. now if youll excuse me i have to go wash a week worth of dishes

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3nni3 · 1 month ago

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Shadows In The Street Lights <3

A/N: Finally it's here. I don't know if this should be a series or not, but in the meanwhile I think about it, I hope you enjoy this little creation of mine, which was inspired by my childhood favourite movie, Starstruck. I hope some of you have pleasant memories of the movie as well, and now, welcome to live your own Starstruck movie in a form of this text. Also for the plot, if your native language is Dutch or English - now it's not. :)

CW: smoking, cursing, idk the basic stuff.

F!reader

This doesn't have any smut, fyi horny motherfuckers ;)

Word count: 3k ish

Have a nice day.

-E

(Gaat het? = You okay?)

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It was over. Something you had planned and waited for months was now over. But you couldn't be happier. You finally got to experience the one and only, Joost Klein live show. And it was so much better than anticipated. You walk out of the venue with your friends, the cold autumn breeze of Amsterdam hitting you, but you don't mind. After being inside a venue that you swear was at least hundred degrees Celsius, this felt nice for a while.

You hug your friends at the bus stop in front of the venue, saying goodbye as their bus arrives. The promise of never complaining about anything else again when you get back to your car crosses your mind as you curse your choice of clothing, thinking of the hoodie you decided to leave in the backseat. The night really was getting a bit cold, and even though everything was perfect, the cold air of Amsterdam and lack of cigarettes in your possession kinda made you irritated. You look at the ground, shoving your hands deep in the pockets of your thin jacket, as you walk to the direction where you left your car, turning the corner without watching where you're going. Mistake number.. whatever it is.

A door was opened right in front of you, and nearly hit your head, but your shoe stops it, and you nearly lose your balance.

"Oh, sorry! Gaat het?" You hear a male voice speak as you regain your balance. "I'm fine." You chuckle, as you look up at the man in front of you, shocked. Holy fuck. "Joost? Oh shit, sorry, I mean, like, that was my fault, I wasn't looking where I was going." You ramble without thinking. Taking in the features of his figure, a tall Dutch man in front of you, your heart skips a couple of beats. Black jeans that has some kind of wavy seams as a decoration, Ed Hardy hoodie with the hood pulled up, and some shades covering his eyes. However with a simple outfit like that, he manages to look better than ever, making it impossible to look away. The man looks to the side as he notices you eyeing him. "It's alright," Joost laughs lightly, "as long as you're not hurt, we're good." You smile at his reassuring words, still a bit dumbfounded.

"You were at the show?" He continues, noticing your eyes on him, recognising who he is. With a slight chuckle leaving his lips, he takes his sunglasses off, putting them in the hoodie pocket. 'God it should be illegal to see those hazy, blue eyes without glasses framing them,' your thoughts racing as well as your heart. "Yeah, I was." you smile back at him, trying to regain your composure, mesmerized by the blonde in front of you. "How did you like it?" He decides to small talk a little bit. 'Why not,' he thought, since there was no other fans around, a little small talk never hurt nobody. "It was so good, you're so good!" You babble, immediately regretting it. He laughs, a warm comforting smile forming on his lips, making your worry about your overly enthusiastic babble fade away. "I'm glad. Are you here alone?" He asks, looking around you guys, not noticing anyone with you. "Yeah, or like… I was there with friends, but they left like five minutes ago." You gesture to the side with your head. "Ah, alright, alright…" He says in an awkward voice, trying to continue the conversation somehow.

"You're not from here." He states, bringing up the fact that you're talking in English. You shake your head, telling him where you're from and he nods, urging you to continue. "I just moved here, still struggling to learn Dutch." A laugh leaves your lips with that sentence. "That's fine, I know it's not easy." Joost answers with an understanding smile, "Duolingo lessons done?" His comment making you grin. "Yeah, definitely."

A silence following it, not quite knowing how to continue, not wanting to ask for a photo or ruin the nice interaction with your favourite artist, and the tiny voice in your head is screaming at you for not knowing what to say next.

His facial features look beautiful under the dim street light, and those damn ocean eyes staring back at you make you think you would die if you kept looking at them any longer. Shaking your head to clear your thoughts, you began speaking, wanting to escape the awkward silence before it's too late, "Listen, it was so nice meeting you. I- eh, I need to-" He cuts you off, "You here by car?"

You nod, confused, his eyes still staring into yours. "Yeah it's parked behind the corner at the parking lot." You point at your right. His eyes following your gestures, looking at the direction you're pointing at. "Mine's there too, come, I'll walk you to your car." He says, quite enjoying this normal interaction with someone, and not wanting it to end just yet. You shake your head, "No you don't need to, I'll be okay-"

"It's not that safe in this area during these hours," he explains, worried about your safety, "there's been a lot of weird shit happening here lately…" You listen to him talk, as he gestures for you to walk with him. Before you even acknowledge it, your legs start moving on their own, agreeing to his request by following him. The silence settles down on you two as you wonder how the hell you ended up in a situation like this, and how on earth could you ever explain this to your friends later.

You agree silently by following him, as he gestures you to walk with him. A silence falls on you two, but this time it doesn't feel as awkward.

He pulls out his cigarette pack from his pocket, taking one and offering the pack to you. You gladly accept, taking one. He reaches out to light your cigarette that's hanging between your lips, before lighting his own. "Oh my, you're a saint. Thanks, this was very much needed." You laugh as the smoke fills your lungs, your thoughts sidetracking somewhere, possibly containing something about the man next to you. "What made you move here?" He suddenly asks, bringing you back to the present from your thoughts. "Oh, uh, I guess I just needed some change, you know? My job has multiple locations around Europe, internal transfer making it easy to relocate basically anywhere." You explain and he nods, blowing out smoke as he starts speaking again, "What do you do for work?" "Short answer is media," You say, deciding to go a little bit indepth with your answer, "and the long one is graphic design and editing for bigger corporations and managing their public image on social media."

Joost looks at you, raising his eyebrows as you two turn the corner. "Oh. That sounds so interesting. If I hadn't gotten into this music thing, I would've probably gotten into graphic designing as well. I like drawing on my iPad and doodling."

"I've seen your doodlings online, they're good." You admit, taking the final drag of your cigarette, before dropping it on the ground and stepping on it, while trying to still keep up with Joost's pace. He slows down for a few steps, seeing you got left behind, looking at you. "Thank you. That means so much. I want my art to be seen, either music or some doodles. I want my art to inspire people, help them or just for them to enjoy it in general. I guess it's somewhat a dream of mine..." He rambles. But you don't mind. You like listening to him. He drops his cigarette and steps on it putting it out, and is about to say something, when your phone rings. "Sorry." You mumble to him as you take the call, "It's my friend." He listens carefully to the foreign language you speak. While he doesn't understand a single word, he still manages to pick up two words - "Joost Klein".

You say goodbye to your friend, putting your phone back in your pocket. "She called to make sure I'm alive and on my way home," you explain as you feel Joost's questioning look at you, "and I told her I'll be okay, that you're walking me to my car." His smile visible on his face, feeling good that he's able to provide the feeling of security to you, so you wouldn't need to walk alone in a sketchy neighborhood.

You reach the parking lot, the only two cars remaining are yours and Joost's, funnily enough, parked only one car length away from one another. "That one yours?" He points out at your car, somewhat amused, "Because if it is, mine's right next to it." You chuckle, "Yeah, that's mine. But don't judge, she's old, I know." You continue talking about your little Volkswagen Polo that has seen it's better days... almost two decades ago. "Hey, not judging," he throws his hands up, "as long as it gets you home tonight, it's good." His warm smile making your heart skip a beat. He leans against his car's passenger side door. "Well, I think I really need to thank you," you start as you open the car door, sitting down while putting the keys in the ignition, "for making sure I'd get safely here." You continue as you turn the key - but nothing happens. "No worries, honestly. It was my pl-" Joost starts but quickly stops seeing your frustrated expression. You try again but all you get is flashing lights on the dashboard. "Everything okay?" He asks, worried, pushing himself away from his car, taking a couple of steps to your way. You groan in response. "Well she's not getting me home tonight, I guess." Your laugh comes out unamused, as your head falls back against the headrest. He leans his elbow against your open driver's side door, cringing, "I'm sorry, I think I kinda jinxed it..."

You shake your head, sighing, "No, not your jinxing. Just a horrible battery, which was supposed to be replaced way too long ago. A fucking ticking time bomb the whole car..." You laugh, not knowing what else to do, "I think I need to call and wake up my roommate." He shakes his head, "How far away do you live?", the blonde man asks, furrowing his brows. You groan and step out of the car, leaning against it, "Like half an hour away." The cold night air makes you shiver, so you decide to grab your hoodie from the back seat and throw it on. Crossing your arms, feeling the comfortable warmth your hoodie is providing, and you sigh. Joost puts out a cigarette you didn't even notice him smoking before this. 'What a chain smoker he is...' you think and mentally chuckle at that. He keeps fidgeting with his car keys and looks away for just a second before returning his gaze to you. "I'll drive you." The words come out of his mouth suddenly, surprising even himself with that, but for some reason, he really enjoys your company. The first normal interaction he's had in a while and to be honest, who wouldn't enjoy being accompanied by a pretty girl who's polite. You're not taking photos of him, asking about music, demanding something - quite the opposite, as you once again decline his offer, shaking your head. "I can't accept that, I'll call my roommate, she'll come pick me up." He huffs, "Seriously now, I really don't mind. I feel guilty for jinxing that-" "Joost." You stop him, letting out a little laugh, "It's fine." He rolls his eyes jokingly as you pull your phone out of your pocket, ready to dial your roommate. "Absolutely not." He chuckles as he pushes your phone down. "You're home much faster if you let me drive you. It's getting late, c'mon now." He says, giving you a sympathetic look.

God what a dream come true, Joost Klein _begging_ for you to be his passenger princess. But something in you just won't let him do that. Drive an hour extra so YOU will get home. It doesn't feel like a right thing to do. And you're pretty sure he's just suggesting it to not sound selfish. "Joost I absolutely can't-" "Get in." he cuts you off smiling, opening the passenger door to his car. You sigh, pushing yourself away from your car, grabbing your bag from the driver's seat, slamming the god damn stupid door shut and locking the car. "There's no point arguing, I'm not leaving you out here. It's fucking scary - even for me." He says as you reluctantly sit down in his passenger seat. He gently closes the door for you and walks around the car, getting in the driver's seat, starting the car. "Thank you. Like for real." you mumble quietly as he puts the car in drive and steers the car to the exit of the parking lot and onto the main road. "I owe you one." You say as he laughs, handing you his phone. "You can pay back by being the DJ, so I can focus on the road."You take his phone from his hand, your fingers gracing his hand, sending shivers through you.

You don't know what to play, since all you've lately been listening to is, well, Joost. You test the waters of his music taste as you press play, and the first chords of 5 Seconds of Summer's Youngblood starts playing. He starts humming along, and a surprised look lands on your face, but you don't say anything. It feels weird. Sitting in the passenger seat, while the driver is literally your favourite artist. A silence falls among you as the music keeps playing, neither one of you knowing what to say. You know too much about him considering the fact he knows literally nothing about you. Of course it's all just public information, in his songs, or on his social media. Online in general. You're not a stalker either way, but it doesn't feel like you should know that much about someone you just met. You seem to notice Joost humming or singing along with you to almost every song you play, and smile to yourself, knowing he vibes with the same music as you do.

"Take the next exit." You give directions to the man next to you. He nods and proceeds to take the next exit. The landscapes flash by as you drive in silence. But this time it's not an awkward silence, it's a comfortable one. The music is still playing in the background as his phone sits on your thigh and you once in a while keep adding more songs to the queue. At some point, you started playing some of your favourite songs in your native language, knowing he probably doesn't understand much of the lyrics, but he still keeps vibing, nodding his head along to the music.

"And turn right from there." The words come out nervously, as you slowly overcome the shock of the situation and realise that Joost Klein is actually driving you home.

"You know, you have a great taste in music." Joost's compliment catches you off guard, "Thank you?" You don't mean the answer to come out sounding like a question, but it does. "And I don't just mean my music, you know?" He states, chuckling a little, "It's refreshing to know someone else too has as huge of a range of favourite genres." You feel a smile tug on the side of your mouth. "Well, your music isn't bad either." The joking tone in your voice gets more visible as the fan-artist barrier breaks down a bit by bit. All the small talk is becoming more natural, which warms not just your heart, but Joost's as well.

As you continue giving him directions, the surroundings start looking more and more familiar, meaning you'll soon be approaching your neighbourhood. The nearest grocery store gets left behind as you pass by a pub of some kind you have yet to visit, and then comes the intersection where you guide him to take a left into a road that leads to your house. A tiny pang in your chest tells you that you won't want this night to be over.

"It's that one on the right." You point out and he pulls into the driveway in front of a gray coloured small apartment complex with bushes framing the walkway up to the door. Lights and decorations could be seen on almost every balcony out of the six that were in sight on the front side of the house. "What a pretty place, I like the lights." He admires the decorations. "Yeah, I quite like it here..." You hum agreeingly, but tired. A nice silence sets between you guys for a few seconds again, and Joost definitely doesn't want to be the one breaking it.

You hand his phone back to him, your hands touching again, but you brush off the butterflies in your stomach, and grab your bag from the floor between your feet. "Listen, so, I wanna thank you, this was really nice of you..." You smile at him, not really knowing how to continue. "You're welcome, I'm glad to get you home safe." He returns your smile with a nod. As you open the door to step out, you feel devastated that this interaction with him is over now. "How much do I owe you?" You ask as you get up and lean forward, leaning your arm against the door. He laughs and shakes his head, "I'm not a taxi, you don't owe me anything. Besides, I really liked this. You're a nice girl." His words make you blush and you look away. "Alright then. Thank you, for real, Joost. And you're pretty nice too." You smile at him and he nods, "Goodnight. Hope your car gets fixed soon." "So do I... Goodnight." You decide against prolonging the pointless chit chat, and close the passenger door as you walk towards the front door. Joost stayed in the driveway, watching you walk up to the door, put in the door code, and walk in. Only after that he allows himself not to feel worry about you getting home safe, as he sees your figure walk up the stairs through the windows at the staircase. He let's out a sigh, puts his car in reverse and starts moving. As he backs out of your driveway, he realises - he never asked your name.

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