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mari-positas · 1 year ago

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fall into temptation | three

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). several mentions of religion and religious symbols, reader has a father and two sisters, all who come with names, reader gets put into a a very uncomfortable situation, insecurity, anxiety, Seth is an asshole, protective Joel, he threatens to break someone’s jaw which is a warning in and of itself. SMUT. loss of virginity, reader is inexperienced but not totally clueless, oral (both m and f receiving), risky unprotected p in v sex (please wrap it up), lots of praise and pet names (baby, babygirl, honey, you know, the works), Joel gets a teensy bit rough, creampie, hint of aftercare, ends with a cliffhanger, but also not really if you think about it?

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

word count: 10k

a/n: it was not my intention to post this on jesus day, but here we are. this took forever and a day considering the second part was posted back in september, but i am so so proud of myself for finally completing a wip i could cry. i did a bulk of the editing while i’ve been sick and in all honesty i probably should have asked someone to beta for me because i think i coughed out like 90% of my brain cells this week, but i think it turned out okay. ish.

Somehow, even over the volume of the live music, you could still hear their hushed, astonished whispers.

“Are you seeing what I’m seeing?”

“Is that Joel Miller with Pastor John’s daughter?”

“What’s she doing holding his hand?”

“He’s got to be at least twice her fucking age—”

Throat bobbing anxiously, you glanced up at Joel.

His shoulders were squared back, his head held high.

Solid. Steady.

Joel couldn’t seem to care less about the bewildered stares, the judgment that was being flung his way. Not once did he seem to waver. But you?

Oh, you were already starting to crumble underneath it all, on the verge of falling apart right before everyone’s prying eyes. Shame sat heavily inside of your chest, the weight of the feeling suffocating you, making it harder and harder to breathe as it prevented air from reaching your lungs.

It had nothing to do with Joel. Of course it didn’t. It had all to do with you and with who you were. Their beloved preacher’s sweet, innocent young daughter.

His youngest daughter.

Suddenly, the whispers were no longer whispers.

“Oh God, she’s not going home with him, is she?”

“That’s not right! Someone should say something!”

“Pastor John would never allow something like this.”

“Poor thing’s naive—she doesn’t know any better.”

Hot, stubborn tears of frustration glazed over your eyes and threatened to spill. It was as if you were a child who didn’t know any better, a gullible, clueless little girl with nothing in her brain who needed to be rescued—saved from the bad, bad man before he did bad, bad things to her.

Had it been anyone else, no one would have batted an eye. No one would have noticed, let alone cared. But it was you that Joel Miller was leaving the bar with in the middle of the night and it was you whose hand he had clasped in his own. That is what made it wrong. That is why it was a problem.

Everyone’s concerns had nothing to do with him at all, they had everything to do with you. You, you, you. You were the sole reason why it was a problem, the reason why he was being perceived as the Devil himself, horns out as he dragged the poor little unsuspecting angel down to the fires of Hell.

“Joel?” Overwhelmed, you instinctively reached for his arm with your free hand. Cold and trembling, your little fingers curled tightly around his bicep, digging into the firm, bulging muscle through the thick corduroy fabric of his sleeve. You whispered his name again. “Joel—”

“S’alright, babygirl,” he reassured you quietly over his shoulder. He gave your hand a comforting squeeze. “S’alright. Just keep your eyes on me, sweetheart. I’ve got you. You just keep on lookin’ right at me, okay?”

Nodding, you inhaled deeply and focused on him. Only him. The broadness of his back and his shoulders. Tufts of hair that curled over the collar of his shirt. Only him. He’s what mattered. He’s all that mattered.

“Almost there,” Joel murmured, squeezing your hand again as the door came into view. “Breathe, baby. We’re almost there. I’ve got you. You’re alright. Ain’t gonna let anythin’ bad happen to you. Promise I’ve got you.”

It wasn’t until his fingers wrapped around the old, brass handle that you finally exhaled the breath you had been holding out in utter relief, though it was very, very short lived. Just as Joel pulled the door open, you felt a hand wrap around your arm. Dry, slender fingers dug into the soft flesh above your elbow as an attempt, and a feeble one at that, was made to tear you out of Joel’s grasp.

The music stopped and the bar fell silent. Everything and everyone came to a sudden standstill, freezing mid dance, mid drink, mid bite, mid gossip.

Shocked, you glanced over your shoulder. “Seth?” you squeaked his name. “What—what are you doing?”

Seth didn’t acknowledge you. His focus was on Joel.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing, Miller?”

Joel’s anger couldn’t be seen, but it could be felt. So palpable you could have wrapped your fingers around it. It radiated off of him and loomed over the entire bar like an incoming storm cloud. Threatening. Dangerous.

“Where are you taking her?” Seth demanded, his other hand curling around your wrist as he tried, but failed, to snatch you from Joel’s side once more. “Let the girl go! You let her go right now, you hear?”

Caught in between the two men, you nervously turned to look at Joel. Nostrils flared, jaw clenched, seething eyes that did the talking for him. His message was loud and oh so abundantly clear.

If Seth didn't take his hands off you, he wasn’t going to have any hands.

Not after Joel Miller was through with him.

Blazing heat flooded your face. As if it couldn’t possibly get any worse, everyone had now gathered around you to watch the tense encounter, eyes wide, brows raised and jaws practically on the weathered, hardwood floor.

Tommy Miller stood among the crowd, subtly shaking his head, his lips pressed together in a tight, thin line of disapproval as he glowered at his older brother. Would he be looking at Joel like that had it been Esther in your place? If she was the one he was taking home? Would any of this be happening if it was her instead of you?

“Seth.” Uttering his name, you shifted your attention back to him. You sounded calm and collected, despite feeling anything but. Joel’s hand in yours was the only thing keeping you steady and grounded. His touch was the only reason you hadn’t yet spiraled into a state of panic. Clearing your throat lightly, you spoke again and tried your hardest not to waver. “Please let go of me.”

Still fixed on Joel, he spat, “I’ll be damned if I let him take you anywhere.”

“He’s not taking me anywhere, Seth.” Without thinking, the words came tumbling out of your mouth—loud and clear for everyone in that room to hear. “He isn’t forcing me to go with him. I’m making the choice to leave with him. Out of my own volition. Please let go of me.”

Finally, Seth looked at you. His old, worn features were twisted in disbelief. “What?”

You swallowed dryly. Part of you wanted you to shrink away, curl into yourself. Instead, you straightened your posture, forced yourself to stand a little bit taller. Willed yourself to have a backbone for once in your life.

“You heard me,” you said, lifting your chin in defiance. Several onlookers gasped in surprise at your rebellion. Where had this insolence come from? “I’m choosing to leave with Joel. Now, please let go of my arm.”

Behind you, Joel stood silent and still.

Watching. Observing. Waiting.

He wanted nothing more than to intervene. Rip you out of Seth’s hands and shatter each and every last bone in all ten of his fingers for putting them on you. Had Joel not realized that this was probably the first time in your whole, entire life you’d mustered up the courage to use your voice, he would have easily given into the urge. He wanted to protect you. He needed so badly to protect you. Yet, he knew you weren’t helpless or incapable of standing on your own two feet. He knew you deserved the chance to stand up and speak for yourself after a lifetime of being silenced, a lifetime of being forced to stay in your place, seen but never heard.

“Seth, let go of my arm,” you repeated. It was no longer a polite request. It was a demand.

He scoffed. “Do you honestly think I’m going to let you leave with somebody like him? You think I’m just going to stand back and let him take advantage of you?”

Oh, you hadn’t liked that insinuation, not one bit.

It caused something inside of you to finally give way.

Snap.

The blood in your veins boiled, ran hot enough to make you feel like you were about to burn from the inside out. “Joel isn’t taking advantage of me! It isn’t like that,” you seethed, furiously. The quiet, well mannered, obedient good girl everyone in Jackson knew was gone. And she could stay gone. In your periphery, you could see Leah elbowing her way through the sea of people to the front of the crowd with an incredulous look plastered on her face. She stood there beside Tommy, who appeared to be just as incredibly bewildered by your outburst. “Don’t treat me like I’m some child who doesn’t know any better! I’m an adult and I’m old enough to make my own choices, okay?”

For a moment, you had forgotten it was Seth standing there in front of you.

“I’m capable of making my own decisions! I don’t need you to dictate my life. I don’t need you to tell me what is and isn’t good for me—controlling what I should and shouldn’t believe in.” Your voice trembled as emotions you’d been suppressing for years bubbled their way up to the surface. Amidst the chaos, you could feel Joel squeeze your hand again, as if silently encouraging you not to lose your nerve. He was your anchor, the only person who could keep your world from capsizing. You knew he wouldn’t let you drown. Not even God, who you had always been forced to believe was your pillar of strength, had ever made you feel this protected. Safe. “I don’t need you to tell me how to live and much less when it’s the end of the world.”

It wasn’t Seth you were addressing.

It was your father.

Your father, who controlled every last thing, from what you would eat to the way that you dressed and how you wore your hair.

Your father, who refused to let you have a mind of your own, who simply could not bear the mere thought of you thinking for yourself.

Your father, whose love felt like shackles, heavy, rusted metal restraints that had been digging into the flesh of your wrists for far, far too long.

“You need to let me go now,” you said, swallowing back the lump in your throat. Once more, you caught Leah from the corner of your eye, your heart lurching in your chest when you noticed her desperately trying to wipe at her eyes with the back of her hand. She was the only person in the room who understood how you felt. Her rebelliousness only ever masked the pain of knowing her father’s love came with terms and conditions—and the fear of knowing what would happen if those terms and conditions weren’t met. For several weeks, you’d gotten a taste of what she went through everyday, how her fear of putting her foot down led her to run around in secret and live a double life. “Just let me go.”

Seth firmly shook his head. “No! I’m not letting you go anywhere with him. I don’t know what the hell he did to you, but he’s clearly got you all fucking brainwashed.”

That was fucking enough. Joel stepped in, lowering his voice as he said, “Y’know, I’ve just ‘bout lost count of how many fuckin’ times she’s asked you to let her go now and it’s really startin’ to piss me off.” Raising an eyebrow, he laid his offer out on the table. “Here’s the deal. You let go of her right now and I won’t shatter your fuckin’ jaw into pieces. That seem fair enough to you?”

“No.” Seth gripped your arm even harder, prompting you to let out a little yelp as his nails dug painfully into your skin. Though it’d been accidental and he hadn’t meant to hurt you, it didn’t matter. He’d just set off the ticking time bomb that was Joel Miller.

Furious, Joel snatched a fistful of his shirt with his free hand—the other still held yours. Gentle, despite being mere moments away from beating someone to within an inch of their life.

“Joel! Stop!” Tommy’s voice broke through the tension as he approached. His footsteps were slow—careful and cautious, as if he was afraid to make any kind of sudden movement. “Joel. Hey. C’mon now, let’s not do this, alright? Ain’t gotta handle things this way. We can talk it through. No need for anyone to wind up bleedin’ in the fuckin’ infirmary tonight, so just take a breath and let him go.”

Blatantly ignoring Tommy’s attempt to keep the peace, Joel tugged Seth forward, yanking him closer. “Listen to me and listen to me good ‘cause I ain’t gonna fuckin’ say it again. You’d best take your fuckin’ hands off her right now unless you wanna spend the rest of the night sweepin’ up your teeth off the floor of your own fuckin’ bar,” he threatened, his tone enough to send a chill up anyone’s spine, even your own.

“You wouldn’t dare, Miller.” Somehow, Seth managed to keep a straight face, but you could see it so clearly in his eyes and in the tremble of his lower lip—oh, he was terrified of Joel and rightly so. “Not in front of all these people. Not in front of your brother. That wouldn’t be a smart move considering you’re already on thin fucking ice for what you did to that boy’s face, now would it?”

Joel tugged him closer. “Test me,” he hissed through gritted teeth. “Go on. Fuckin’ test me.”

His challenge was immediately met with a pathetic look of defeat. Seth dropped your arm and he was released.

“S’what I fuckin’ thought.” Without another word to the man, Joel whirled around and roughly pulled the door open, leading the way outside. As you both descended the building’s old, creaking wooden steps, you began to shiver and he suddenly remembered he’d left his jacket behind inside the bar. He wrapped an arm around your shoulders. “C’mere, my little dove,” he murmured as he tucked you against his side for warmth. “I’ve got you.”

The first thing he did was light the fireplace.

“Should start warmin’ you up, sweet girl,” he’d said to you over his shoulder. He tossed a log into the blaze as you sat perched on his couch rubbing your bare arms with your hands. “M’gonna go upstairs and find you a blanket, alright? You stay put.”

“Okay,” you’d mumbled, knowing there was no point in telling him not to fuss over you.

Even with the soft, fleece throw blanket he had draped around your shoulders and the warmth of the flames in front of you, you continued trembling. Subtle, but he’d noticed it, felt it when he had sat down beside you and pulled you close against his side. “Oh baby, you’re still shakin’?” That was when he realized you weren’t cold. Frowning, Joel rose to his feet and disappeared down the hallway. He came back to the living room a minute later with a glass of water in his hand. With a small, labored grunt, he dropped to one knee in front of you and held it out. “Here.”

“No, thank you.” You shook your head. “I’m not thirsty.”

“Maybe not, but I’m kinda worried you could be in a bit of shock right now,” he stated, the creases in between his brows deepening as he observed you for any other physical signs of distress. Carefully, Joel lifted the glass to your lips, gently coaxing you to take a drink. “C’mon, darlin’. Think you can be a real good girl for me and at least take a couple sips? Hm?”

Sighing softly, you nodded and did as he asked of you, taking a small sip of water. It soothed your dry mouth and throat and you took another one. Maybe you were thirsty after all.

“Little more, now. Little more. That’s it. That’s my good girl.” Once he was satisfied with how much you’d had to drink, Joel set the half empty glass down on the oak coffee table behind him. He turned back to you, placing his large hands on either side of your thighs below the hem of your dress. He started tracing soft, soothing circles into your skin with his thumbs. “M’real proud of you for standin’ up for yourself back there, sweetheart. Took a whole lot of fuckin’ courage to do that, y’know.”

You glanced down at your hands in your lap. “Mhm.”

“Baby. Hey. Look at me.” One of his hands abandoned your leg and he reached up, delicately taking your chin between his thumb and index finger. He tilted your face upwards, his worried gaze meeting your own. “Talk to me. M’right here.”

“That—that was a lot,” you admitted meekly, shoulders sagging as the adrenaline started wearing off and your body slowly came down from the peak hormone rush. “It was a lot.”

Sighing, Joel’s hand fell away from your face. “Yeah, I know it was a lot, babygirl. I know. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

“No.” You were quick to cut him off. “Don’t be sorry.”

His chest heaved with another sigh, this one deeper, heavier, bearing the weight of his guilt. “Well I am,” he said. He planted his hands on either side of you on the couch and lightly shook his head. “Didn’t even fuckin’ think twice when I pulled you outta that fuckin’ supply closet and took your hand in front of all those people. I was so fuckin’ hellbent on showin’ everybody you were mine that I didn’t even stop and think ‘bout what all it would mean for you. It was selfish of me. Real fuckin’ selfish. And I’m sorry, little dove.”

“Do you regret it?” you asked, quietly.

Joel chuckled in spite of himself. “M’pretty sure I’m the one who should be askin’ you that question, darlin’,” he remarked. “Tell me. Do you regret it? Do you regret me pullin’ you outta that closet?” He momentarily paused. There was a stutter in his heartbeat when you dropped your gaze away from his, silence your only reply. “Do you regret me takin’ your hand in front of everyone?”

Of course not.

You wanted to be his and you wanted everyone to know it. There was no regret, none.

Still.

The consequences that you would undoubtedly have to face in the morning were overwhelming. Daunting.

Surely, by then, your father would know about you and Joel. When he came downstairs right after sunrise and he discovered you weren’t in the kitchen helping Lydia prepare breakfast, he would question where you were and make some kind of remark about how you should not be sleeping in this late. He would tell her just how irresponsible it was for you to ignore your duties and obligations to him and the family. Sloth was one of the seven deadly sins, after all. He would make her trek upstairs and wake you, and when she did, your sister would find your bed empty.

Meanwhile, there would be a knock at the front door.

No stranger to having members of the congregation show up on his doorstep when they were in need, be it of prayer or comfort, your father would answer it only to find someone, not in need of solace, but who felt that it was their responsibility and moral obligation to inform him that they had seen his youngest daughter leaving The Tipsy Bison with Joel Miller in the middle of the night, hand in hand.

He wouldn’t believe them.

“Now, that is simply not true,” he would say, offended that anybody would have the nerve to show up at his door and accuse you of something so vile. “That’s not possible. I know my daughter and she would never do such a thing. It must have been someone else that you saw with him. Someone who looked like her, perhaps.”

Then, Lydia would descend the staircase and tell him you weren’t in your bedroom. “She must have gone up to the main street as soon as she woke up,” she would suggest with a shrug, not yet privy to the events that had taken place the night before at the party you and Leah had snuck off to. She never had to worry about you, the good one. “I did notice we were running pretty low on eggs. Sugar, too. She probably wanted to be the first in line at the pantry to—Papa? What’s the matter?”

The color would drain from your father’s face when the realization slowly sank in. No, you weren’t out on the main street picking up eggs for breakfast and sugar for his tea. You were lying up in Joel Miller’s bed—defiled, impure, and with the curse of Eve on your flesh. Even after dedicating his entire life to making sure you did not stray from the path of righteousness, he had failed. You had fallen into temptation.

There was a chance he would have mercy on you. All you had to do was beg and plead for his forgiveness—and more importantly, for the forgiveness of God. “Vow to atone for your sins,” your father would say, his gaze fixed on the Holy Bible in his lap. He probably wouldn’t be able to look at you, not after what you had done. “Repent. And swear to me, child, that you will never so much as glance in that man’s direction ever again.”

No. That’s not what you wanted.

You wanted Joel and the freedom to be with him.

But that freedom came with a high, high price.

You were willing to pay it, but you’d be lying if you said you were prepared to navigate the consequences. Then again, was there really any way for someone to prepare themselves to be shunned by their own father?

“I can take you home,” Joel offered quietly, the sound of his voice taking you out of the future and bringing you back into the present.

“What?”

“I can take you home,” he repeated himself. “I can take you home right now if that’s what you want, sweet girl. Won’t give you any kinda grief ‘bout it.”

Confused, all you could do was stare at him.

“Listen to me, baby. You mean a lot to me. More than I can even begin to explain,” Joel reassured you before any kind of doubt could find its way into your mind. “I want you to stay with me. There’s nothin’ on what’s left of this fuckin’ earth I want more than for you to stay here with me. But what you want matters to me a hell of a lot more than what I want.” He reached up, lightly stroking your cheek with his thumb. “If you decide you wanna go home and go back to your family—back to your old man—then that’s where I’ll take you. Okay?”

Your father would give you an ultimatum. But Joel? He was giving you a choice. And he’d respect that choice.

“I wanna free you from your cage, my little dove. But I think we both know you’ve gotta make the choice to fly outta there on your own.” He lightly swept his thumb over your quivering bottom lip, his eyes meeting yours as he whispered, “Door’s wide open for you. What you do next is all up to you.”

“I’m afraid, Joel,” you confessed. A tear slipped from the corner of your eye and rolled its way down the side of your face. He was quick to wipe it away, along with the others that followed. “I do want out of my cage. I really, really do. But I’m terrified. All I have ever known is my family and my faith. I have never been apart from my father and my sisters.”

His expression softened. “I know you’re scared. Can’t promise you things will be easy, but there is one thing I can promise you.”

“What’s that?” you questioned, then waited with baited breath.

He gingerly cupped your cheek in his large palm. “I’ve got you,” he swore to you, just like he had done so back at the bar. “If you decide to stay, I promise I’ll take real, real good care of you, alright? For the rest of my life, I’ll take care of you. You won’t ever have to worry ‘bout a thing with me by your side. Swear it on my life.”

Warmth blossomed in your heartspace and finally, you stopped trembling. Lifting a hand, you curled your fingers around his wrist as your gaze fell to his mouth. “Joel?”

“What is it, darlin’ girl?”

“Kiss me. Please.”

With a gentle nod, Joel’s other hand found your hip, the warmth of it seeping through the cotton fabric of your dress. Leaning in, he brushed his lips against yours. It was a chaste thing, soft and innocent until you grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled him closer to you. “Babygirl,” he mumbled against your lips. He deepened the kiss, sweeping his tongue through your parted lips and into your mouth. He tasted like bold bourbon and citrus beer. There was a faint hint of tobacco too—you recalled him admitting to you one night in the church house that while he wasn’t all that much of a smoker, at least not like he used to be when living in the zones, he would occasionally partake in the habit if he happened to come across a pack of cigarettes while out on patrol, pairing the nicotine with a drink. He tasted delicious. He tasted delicious because he tasted like yours.

You sank back into the worn, supple brown leather of his couch, tugging him forward so he sank in with you. Over you. Releasing your near death grip on his collar, you managed to wedge your hands in between your bodies and began to claw furiously at the buttons of his shirt, your fingers shaking out of pure desperation to feel him. It wasn’t until you were halfway down that he finally noticed what you were doing and leaned back, catching both of your wrists.

“Baby, wait,” he panted, shaking his head. “Don’t think now’s a good time for that—”

“Joel, please,” you pleaded, the intense ache between your thighs almost too much for you to bear. “Please. I want it. I want you.”

“S’been a rough night for you.” Joel’s voice was hoarse—strained, like he was aching just as much, if not more. “You’re real emotional right now. Vulnerable. Last thing I want is to take advantage of you at a time like this.”

You frowned. Had Seth’s words gotten into his head?

“You’re not taking advantage of me.”

“Darlin’ I just don’t think we should—”

“Joel, please,” you begged him again. “I was so good for you, was I not? Wasn’t I patient, just like you asked me to be?”

His lips thinned into a tight line. He wouldn’t be able to resist much longer. You, his beautiful little temptress of Eden.

“I waited for so long,” you reminded him. “I’ve been so, so good for you. Please, just make me yours already. I don’t want to think about anything else right now. I just want to be with you. Please, Joel. I need you so badly it hurts.”

Christ.

No man could stand it. No man could possibly have the strength to deny you.

With a look of utter defeat, he folded. Before he could say another word or make another move, your greedy mouth was on his, and you kissed him with fervor, with urgency, as you finished the task of unbuttoning his shirt. Pushing it off of his shoulders, the corduroy fabric fell into a crumpled heap behind him, nearly knocking the glass of water off the coffee table. You broke away from him and shamelessly marveled at his mouth watering form—you admired the way miles of smooth, tanned skin stretched over his wide shoulders, broad chest and soft, soft belly. Arousal pooled between your legs and you reached out and raked your fingers down his chest, and over his stomach, going lower and lower, following the trail of coarse, dark hair that led you to his brown leather belt. You clumsily started fumbling with the brass buckle until he caught your hands once more.

“Slow down, my little dove,” he murmured. “No need to rush this. We’ve got all night.” He stood up and held his hand out to you. Time blurred a bit—maybe it was your nervousness mingled with the eager anticipation of what was to come, but there seemed to be a small gap in your memory, a blank space that spanned from the moment you rose off the couch until the moment you found yourself standing in his bedroom where you were about to answer to the call of the flesh.

Dropping your hand, Joel switched on the lamp on his bedside table and kicked off his boots before taking you into his arms. “C’mere, honey.” He nuzzled your cheek with the tip of his nose as he spoke, the scruff of his beard tickling your cheek. “Couple’a rules, sweet girl. I do somethin’ that you don’t like, you tell me. You want me to stop, you tell me to sto—”

Without waiting for him to finish his sentence, you slowly lowered yourself down onto the floor and knelt at his feet with purpose, as if kneeling before an altar, a sacred, holy space. Though you felt anxious, you were eager to worship. “I haven’t forgotten about what I said earlier tonight,” you cooed, noticing the mild look of surprise on his face. “I said I’d make it up to you and I intend on keeping my word.”

All the blood in his body rushed south to his cock and it strained painfully against the crotch of his jeans. “Baby, I—” Again, he was cut off, only this time by the sound of his own groan when your hand brushed up the front of his thigh and over his growing bulge. He glanced down, his heart thrumming painfully hard against his sternum as he watched you reach for his belt buckle.

With all your might, you willed your hands so as not to tremble. It was self-explanatory, what you were about to do, but your total lack of experience sowed seeds of doubt into your mind—you wanted to make him feel good, just like he had made you feel good outside of the church house during services. Just how you knew he would make you feel tonight.

Hand still over his buckle, you pressed the tenderest of kisses to his bulge through his jeans. Then, turning your head, you rested your cheek on one of his thick, blue denim clad thighs and peered up at him through your eyelashes with a small, nervous smile as you confessed what he already knew. “I’ve never done this before.”

Oh, how sweet and endearing you were. Joel reached down and smoothed your hair back and away from your face, tucking it behind your ear. “S’alright, honey,” he crooned, grazing the silkiness of your cheek with his index finger. “I’ll walk you through it. Teach you how to be a real good girl and suck my cock just the way I like it. That what you want, my little dove?”

His filth made your cunt clench hard around nothing.

Slowly lifting your head off of his thigh, you pulled your bottom lip between your teeth and managed a clear, consenting nod as your hands fumbled with his buckle, the clinking sound of metal ringing loudly in your ears. You undid the button on his jeans and pulled down his zipper, your throat drying when you saw the outline of him, his size intimidating even behind the cotton fabric of his faded, black boxer briefs.

With a harsh swallow, you glanced up at him, silently asking him for his permission to continue.

Such a polite little thing, Joel thought to himself. “Go on, sweetheart,” he encouraged.

You tugged his jeans down to the middle of his thighs and hooked your index fingers underneath the elastic waistband of his boxer briefs, pulling them down and freeing his cock. There was a deep, swooping sensation in your belly as you watched it slap up against the lower part of his abdomen. After many nights of sitting in his lap, feeling him through his clothes, grinding your cunt down onto him, you thought you’d at the very least had an idea of what you would be in for, but oh, how wrong you had been. He was so much bigger than you could have imagined, and your stomach swooped again when you realized he was not going to fit. Anywhere.

Licking away the dryness of your lips, you take him in one of your hands, feeling the heaviness of his length in your palm. He was so long and so, so thick.

“Oh fuck,” Joel hissed the curse through gritted teeth, his hips jerking forward involuntarily as your touch sent a charged jolt of electricity shooting up the length of his spine. He looked down at you, his pupils blown wide with arousal. Christ. You hadn’t even done anything to him yet, but seeing you sitting so prettily at his feet was almost enough to make him come on the spot.

Delicately wrapping your hand around him, you found yourself almost in awe at the way your fingertips barely, just barely, touched. The sheer size of his cock dwarfed your hand, and made it seem so much smaller than it really was.

“You’re so big,” you murmured, echoing your thoughts. You licked at your lips again, suddenly feeling ravenous, an appetite that had seemingly come out of nowhere making you salivate. The tip of him was flushed red, slit already glistening—how badly you wanted, needed a taste. Never, ever, did you think you would be down on your knees for anything but prayer, but there you were, starved and desperate to bite into the forbidden fruit.

“What’re you waitin’ for, darlin’ girl?” he croaked.

“Permission,” you replied, sweetly.

“Go right ahead, baby. S’all yours—I’m all yours.”

Yours.

Yours, yours, yours.

Finding your first push of courage, you leaned forward and so carefully swept your tongue along the tip of his length, collecting the slight saltiness leaking from the slit and getting your first delectable taste. With your hand still wrapped firmly around his base, you looked up, your eyes locked on Joel’s face as you flicked your tongue up against the rigid underside of his cock.

“Fuckin’ Christ,” Joel groaned, all of the muscles in his stomach already pulling taut when he felt you dragging your tongue in a slow, purposeful lick along the length of him. “Babygirl.”

“Is that good?” you asked him, sounding hopeful. “Am I doing good?”

“Doin’ so, so fuckin’ good for me, sweetheart. Look so fuckin’ pretty down on your knees for me.”

Pleased, you wrapped your mouth around the head of his length, pressing forward and taking him in as far as you possibly could—which, in all fairness, wasn’t very far. At least not as far as you would have liked. Another groan tore itself from the depths of his chest as your plush, plump lips sealed around him, your tongue warm and wet on the underside of his cock. Moving both of your hands to rest on the sides of his thighs, you began to move your head back and forth, following what felt most natural to you. The nerves you initially felt slowly but surely dissipated, vanishing one by one with every curse, every tremble, every sharp breath.

Joel resisted the urge to buck his hips forward, fought the desire to feel himself at the back of your throat. He needed to be gentle, so careful with such an innocent, pliant thing who had much, much to learn. “Sweet little fuckin’ mouth feels so good around my cock, baby, just like I fuckin’ knew it would. Y’think it can take more of me, little dove? Hm?”

You hummed, the vibration intensifying his pleasure.

“Yeah? Y’trust me?”

Your reply came in the form of a muffled, “Mhm.”

Joel reached down and cradled the back of your head in the palm of his hand. He carefully guided you further onto his throbbing length, slowly feeding you one inch at a time. Your fingers dug into the denim of his jeans. He was much more than a mouthful for you, and you could only take about half of him before he hit the back of your throat, prompting you to gag around him. Drool dribbled out from the corners of your mouth and down the sides your chin, dripping onto your lap.

“Oh fuck, sweetheart. Yeah, that’s it. Little more now, honey,” Joel encouraged. He bucked his hips forward, his head slipping further down your throat. Just when you felt like you were about to choke, he pulled out and you tried your hardest not to cough and sputter as you took in a much needed, precious breath of air. He gave you a few seconds or so to finish catching your breath as he shoved his jeans and boxer briefs further down his legs. He stepped out of the articles of clothing and kicked them somewhere off to the aside, standing before you completely bare. “Open up.”

Your absolute devotion to him bred sweet submission, so as worried as you were that you wouldn’t be able to handle it, you nodded obediently and very willingly did as you were told.

He guided himself right back into your waiting mouth, pressing deeply. You tried to relax your jaw, reminding yourself to breathe in and out through your nose. Tears streamed down the sides of your face as you did your best to forestall another gag. “Little bit more,” he said, thrusting his hips in a slow, steady controlled rhythm. He advanced even further into your mouth—trusting he wouldn’t suffocate you, nor push you too far past your limits, you opened up wider. He moaned, “Yeah, baby. That’s my good girl. That’s my good fuckin’ girl.”

With a bit of newfound confidence, you hollowed your cheeks and sucked him. You swiped your tongue along the thick, prominent vein on the underside of his cock, earning yourself more of his sweet, sweet praise.

“Fuck, yeah, suck me off, sweetheart. This pretty little mouth was fuckin’ made for sin,” he breathed, guiding your head back and forth with a firm, but gentle hand.

You moaned, the noise muffled around his length. Slick soaked through your panties and coated the insides of your thighs. With another moan, you tightly squeezed your legs together, inwardly reminding yourself that patience was a virtue.

Noticing the way you had shifted, Joel moved his hand from the back of your head, lightly curling his fingers around your jaw. He pulled you off of his cock, a loud, lewd popping sound bouncing off the sage green walls of his bedroom. “C’mere, baby.” He grabbed your arms, effortlessly hoisting you up to your feet.

“What’s wrong?” you questioned him worriedly. “Did I do something wrong?”

Chuckling softly, he brushed a finger along the strap of your dress. You could do no wrong, his perfect, perfect girl. “Of course not, sweet girl. You did so fuckin’ good for me,” Joel reassured you, lightly tracing along your collarbone with his finger and making your flesh erupt in goosebumps. He leaned forward and feathered a kiss onto your lips, murmuring against them, “Are you wet, little dove?”

Before you could even process the query and generate some kind of coherent response, he dove his opposite hand between your thighs, cupping your warm heat in his palm. At this, your weak knees buckled, prompting you to reach out and grab onto his arms to hold steady and keep yourself from falling into a helpless heap on the floor.

“Oh, honey. You’re soaked. That what sucking my cock does to you?” he cooed. He peppered another kiss, this one onto the corner of your mouth. His voice lowered another octave. “Poor little thing. She needs me, don’t she? Needs me to take care of her?”

You whimpered. “Yes.”

“Manners, babygirl,” he reminded you, skimming your cheek with his nose. “Yes, what?”

“Yes, please.”

Humming in approval, Joel withdrew his hand from in between your legs and guided you backwards towards his bed. “Sit,” he commanded gently, bidding you to let go of him. “Arms up.”

Reaching for the hem of your dress, he took great care in pulling it over your head, then discarded the vibrant yellow material over his shoulder, leaving you in nothing but your cowboy boots and thin, cotton white panties. Without a word, he knelt before you and pulled off one boot, and then the other, setting them both aside. He hooked two fingers underneath the elastic waistband of your underwear, coaxing you to lift your bottom off of the bed, just long enough for him to pull them down and slide them down your legs. He was so tender in the manner in which he undressed you.

“Fuckin’ beautiful, beautiful girl,” Joel praised. His dark gaze dragged down the length of your body as you sat before him wearing nothing but the delicate, gold chain around your neck. The holy cross nestled between your supple breasts gleamed in the light of the lamp on the nightstand. He would leave it on until your decision was made, set in stone. “My pretty little dove.”

“Joel.” You whimpered his name, hands curling around fistfuls of his dark blue sheets. You were drenched now, in dire need of some relief. If he didn’t touch you where you needed him most, you would surely lose your mind.

Desperate, you leaned back slightly onto his bed and parted your knees, your folds glistening as you showed him just how badly you needed him.

Joel groaned, almost visibly salivating at the sight. The blazing heat in his eyes sent ripples of desire coursing through your body, straight to your throbbing core.

You opened wider. “Please.”

“Christ, babygirl. Already soakin’ the sheets.” Sliding a finger up along the seam of your pussy, he grazed your clit, the touch light, but somehow still enough to make your hips arch off the mattress as white-hot pinpricks of pleasure danced their way up your spine. He lowered his head and leaned in, your sweet scent drawing him in like a moth to a flame. Just when you were about to start pleading him for more, he dipped his face into the apex of your thighs, his mouth finally, finally, meeting your wet heat.

“Oh!” you gasped, your head falling back. “Fuck!”

Against you, his lips curled upwards into a wicked grin. He’d never heard you curse before, not until now.

Joel took his time devouring you, savoring the essence of your cunt with each broad stroke of his tongue. Sealing his lips around your clit, he flicked the swollen, sensitive bundle of nerves over and over again, eliciting from you some of the sweetest noises that he had ever heard in his entire life. In preparation for what you both knew was to come, he pushed one finger inside of you, the invasion causing you to fist his sheets even harder. He then slipped in a second finger, groaning in sheer, carnal bliss at how your walls squeezed them, at the mere thought of them squeezing his cock in the same manner. How was it that you felt so much tighter this time around?

“Oh God.”

You shouldn’t be saying His name. Not like this.

Not when something this sinful was being done to you.

Hungrily, Joel lapped at you, curling both of his fingers in an upwards motion to hit the perfect spot. He knew you were close, felt it in the way that you squirmed and writhed. Draping his arm across your hips, he pinned them down onto the bed, holding you still as he chased your high as if it were his own.

“Joel,” you chanted his name over and over again in a fevered prayer. Releasing the sheets, your hands found his hair, tangling themselves in his curls. Your head fell back, and you cursed at the ceiling of his bedroom. “Fuck, fuck, fuck Joel—”

Pushing onto his mouth, you came, moaning his name so loudly you were certain the whole neighborhood was getting an earful.

Joel pulled back, his beard and mustache slicked with your spend. “S’right, honey,” he crooned, his digits still buried to the knuckle as he helped you to ride out your wave of ecstasy. Eventually, when he pulled them out, you tried closing your shaking legs. He tsked and shook his head, wrenching them open further. “No, no, baby. Keep those pretty thighs open for me. Wanna see her.” He admired his work, his cock twitching at the sight of your pussy, swollen and shining, and ready to take him.

Like earlier, there was another brief skip in time.

Mind still in a haze, you hadn’t even realized that he’d risen to his feet and guided you further up onto his bed, not until you were lying on your back with your head on his pillow and he was hovering over you, his hard length brushing against one of your messy, inner thighs when he settled himself between your legs.

Your heart began to pound in a mingle of both fear and excitement.

Joel’s eyes met yours. His pupils were blown so wide, there was not one, single trace of brown anywhere to be seen. “Y’absolutely sure about this, little dove?”

Your response came without hesitation. “Yes. I’m sure.”

He pressed a kiss to the underside of your jaw. Your submission was a gift, and he would cherish every last second of your surrender to him, savor it for as long as he possibly could. His lips, soft and warm, skimmed along the column of your throat, leaving a trail of fresh goosebumps in their wake.

If, by some chance, you decided that you wanted to go back to your father and to your faith, Joel didn’t know how he would find it in himself to let you go, not after this. Of course, he would have to let go, though.

The last thing he wanted was to help free you from one cage just to stick you right back into another. While he was no stranger to loss, he had to admit to himself that to lose you would be a knife to whatever was left of his heart.

Shoving the thought out of his mind, he reached down and gripped the base of his cock, pumping it in his fist before running the leaking head along your puffy lips, coating himself in your wetness with the hope it would ease some of the pain you were bound to feel. “Ready, babygirl?” he asked you, lightly teasing your entrance. “Might hurt a bit. M’gonna go slow. Just need you to relax for me, alright?”

“Okay.”

“I’ve got you,” he promised.

You nodded, saying softly, “I know.”

Though he knew he had all of your trust, Joel could still sense your anxiousness. He reached out for your hand, lacing your fingers together with his own as he gingerly pressed forward and eased himself into you, taking the very innocence you had been taught your entire life to preserve, one slow, careful inch at a time.

“Oh—Joel!” You cried loudly at the initial stretch, your pretty face scrunching in discomfort. Tightly slamming your eyes shut, sparks flew behind your eyelids when he finally bottomed out. The burning sting in between your thighs was too overwhelming, almost impossible to cope with. He felt so enormous within you, you could have sworn he was in your belly. Another broken cry fell from your lips and he swallowed it with a comforting kiss.

“Jesus Christ,” he hissed against your lips, a thin sheen of sweat coating his brow, neck, and chest. He wasn’t sure where he found the strength, but he suppressed his urge to thrust. Instead, he dropped his face into the hollow of your neck and waited, giving you the chance to adjust to him. He mumbled against your skin. “Doin’ so good for me, sweet girl. Y’know that? You’re doin’ so fuckin’ good for me.”

Even in discomfort, you preened at his praise.

He squeezed your hand, and after a minute, he gave an experimental thrust of his hips—and then another and another before he ceased his movement once again. He was so big and you were so deliciously full of him.

Eventually, the pain subsided, and you found yourself asking, no, begging for more. “Move.” Your other hand found itself cupping the side of his face, coaxing him to lift his head and allowing your gazes to meet. Your soft, plush thighs parted further to help accommodate the breadth of his hips. “Please, Joel. I need you to move—I need you to fuck me.”

Surely, you would be the death of him.

He drew his hips back with cautious, tender care, then advanced in the same manner to fill your precious cunt all over again. He did it over and over, your pleasured moans encouraging him to begin picking up the pace. He drove his cock in and out of your weeping pussy, the slapping of flesh against flesh, the lewd, wet squelch of you around him inspiring him to fuck you harder, faster. And the noises you were making?

There was something oh so beautiful about your cries, sweet raptures of submission as you laid there beneath him, all too graciously taking everything he had to give you like the good, good, good girl you were for him.

“Fuckin’ hell, sweetheart,” Joel rasped. “Look at you—look at the way you take my fuckin’ cock, honey.”

And you did.

Glancing down, your gaze fell between your bodies and you watched in awe, openly marveled at the way Joel slid in and out of your cunt, how he knocked hard so deeply inside of you, driving himself as far as he could possibly go.

“Fuck Joel, I’m gonna—” You tried warning him as the pressure in your belly neared its peak, but you tumbled over the edge before you even had the chance to finish your sentence. Arching up off off the bed, you pressed your chest against his, your fingers squeezing his own so hard you feared you might break them.

“That’s it babygirl, let go,” he grunted, speeding up his thrusts. “Squeeze my fuckin’ cock—just like that. Good girl. My perfect, perfect girl.”

You didn’t quite get the chance to let the praise sink in.

Joel pulled himself out of you, and with ease, he flipped you over onto your belly. His hands gripped your hips and pulled them up off the mattress, his fingers moving to firmly knead the fleshiest part of your ass. He leaned over you, the head of his cock nudging at your hole. “Y’think you can handle a little bit more, sweetheart?” he whispered the question into a tumble of messy hair, the delicate scent of the lavender shampoo you used to wash it filling his senses. “Answer me, little dove.”

“Yes,” you replied breathlessly with a nod. “I can.”

With a satisfied hum, Joel sank into you, this second stretch not quite as overwhelming at the first, but still intense. “Relax,” he murmured, hunching further over your quivering back. He pressed a kiss onto the top of your head and then leaned down to brace his hands on either side of you. “Need you to be sweet for me just a bit longer, okay, baby?”

“God,” you whimpered when the heaviness of his balls came to rest on your sensitive clit.

It was the second time you’d uttered His name.

Joel almost grinned at the irony. He found his rhythm, groaning in gut-deep satisfaction with each snap of his hips—each smooth stroke in and each smooth stroke out.

“Oh fuck, sweet girl.” Heaven was indeed a real place, and Joel Miller was buried in it to the hilt, right at this very moment.

He was getting closer and closer.

Maybe it was your eagerness to help him reach his own release mingled with the pride you knew you would feel once you did that gave you a second wind, a fresh, new burst of energy. You planted your hands firmly on his pillow. Rolling your bottom lip between your teeth, you curved your spine and pushed back onto Joel with purpose, meeting his thrusts halfway as you rode his aching length to the satiation that waited for him at the end.

“There’s my girl,” he rasped. “Oh fuckin’ Christ—”

No way he could live his life without you now.

He needed you.

He needed you so much more than you needed him.

Joel slipped an arm around your shoulders, across your chest.

“Oh!” you gasped as he then yanked you back, pulling you flush against him. The rough crash of your back against his chest, combined with the angle in which he was fucking you knocked the wind out of your lungs.

His lips were at the shell of your ear. “Stay,” he panted, his breath hot against your cheekbone. He wrapped his other hand lightly around your throat. Relentless, were his hips now—his movements had become frantic. Desperate. “Stay with me, baby.”

Even as you fought to catch your breath in the position he had you in, you picked up on the fact that he wasn’t asking you of it, nor was he demanding you of it.

He was begging you.

Him, the most feared man in this town. Begging you?

“Joel,” you choked.

“Please, my little dove,” he pleaded, turning your head towards him. His mouth was then on the corner of your own, his beard roughly scratching the soft and delicate flesh of your cheek. “I need you, babygirl. Stay with me. Please, just fuckin’ stay with me.”

Your hands curled around his wrists. “Yes, I’ll stay,” you moaned. “I’m yours, Joel. I’m all yours. I—I’m not going anywhere. I promise. I’ll stay with you.”

A low, guttural sound rumbled through his chest. Joel firmly took hold of your cross, and without so much as a warning, he ripped the chain from around your neck and tossed it somewhere over his shoulder. He heard it land on the hardwood floor with the tiniest, faint clink the moment he spilled into you, ropes of warm release coating your fluttering walls. Curses and groans spilled from his lips and into your neck. Your cunt clutched at his pulsing cock, greedy for every last drop of his spend she could get.

Once you were filled, you both collapsed beside each other on the bed, heaving to catch a steady breath.

“Y’okay, sweetheart?” Joel managed to ask, his chest still rising and falling rapidly.

Exhausted, all you could do was nod and utter, “Mhm.”

He exhaled an amused huff through his nose. “C’mere.” He reached for you and pulled you against his side. He draped an arm around your shoulders, holding you as close to him as was possible. “Y’did so good, honey.”

Your mouth curled into a small, contented smile.

Several minutes had passed by, and despite telling him that you were too tired to even think about moving, Joel made you get up and use the bathroom, and while you did so, he ran a clean washcloth under warm water. “Here, darlin’. Let me clean you up,” he’d said, his lips meeting your forehead in a loving token of affection before he sank down onto one knee and ran the damp cloth along the insides of your thighs. He took extreme care when he wiped at your swollen folds, knowing you were still sensitive to the touch. “There we go. All done, now.”

Not long after, you were both back in his bed, wrapped up in his sheets.

Yawning, you nuzzled into bare his chest, your eyelids feeling heavier and heavier with each and every second that ticked by. You’d started drifting off when you heard his voice.

“Baby?”

“Hmm?” you answered sleepily, eyes still closed.

“Did you mean what you said?”

“Mean what, Joel?”

There was a brief pause. “Y’know, when you said you’d stay with me.”

Snuggling closer to him, you mumbled, “Mhm. Of course I did.”

“S’not gonna be easy,” Joel murmured into your hair.

“I know.” You yawned. “But I have you.”

“You do. You’ve got me—and I’ve got you, babygirl.”

“Mm. I know that too, Joel.”

You felt him kiss the top of your head and then fell fast asleep in his arms.

The sun bloomed over the Grand Tetons.

Your father would wake soon, that’s to say if he wasn’t up already.

The nerves began to set in.

Joel must have sensed it. “Breathe, baby. S’gonna be okay,” he soothed, squeezing your hand.

With one of his warmer, heavier jackets that normally didn’t see the light of day until winter season draped around your shoulders, the two of you made your way down the road and towards your house. Or better said, towards your father’s house. Because after what you were about to do, that yellow and white cottage would no longer be a place you could call home.

He led you up to the porch. “Y’sure you don’t want me to go in there with you?” he asked, quietly.

You could have laughed. You almost did.

“Do you believe that to be a wise choice?”

“No, I reckon it ain’t the best idea,” Joel admitted with a sigh, raking his free hand through his unkempt, salt and pepper hair. He looked up at the house, then back at you. “Look, little dove. No matter what happens in there, just know that everythin’ will be alright. M’gonna take care of you. For the rest of my life, I’ll take care of you. I’ll try my hardest to be everythin’ you need.”

“You already are, Joel,” you said, your gaze earnest.

His chest swelled with warmth.

Truth be told, Joel didn’t know how he had managed to defy the odds—how he, of all people, had managed to make his way into that sweet, innocent, beautiful little heart of yours, but somehow he did, and he would not take this responsibility lightly.

He brushed your lips with his and promised, “Gonna be waitin’ right here, okay?”

“Okay.” Inhaling deeply, you willed yourself to let go of his hand and took a step back. You then started up the porch steps on wobbling legs. When you made it to the top, you glanced over your shoulder at Joel, who gave you a subtle nod of encouragement. Exhaling slowly, you reached for the knob with trembling fingers and turned it, opening the door. You stepped inside, your heart dropping into your stomach when you saw your father sitting there at the foot of the staircase, as if he’d been waiting for you. He had been waiting for you. Fully dressed, he sat on the second to last step with both hands folded on his bible in his lap, a rosary clutched between them. “Papa?”

He said nothing. Instead, he silently observed you—his eyes glazed over the men’s jacket and the short dress you wore underneath it, the disheveled, loose hair and kiss swollen lips. Your holy cross nowhere to be seen.

“Papa.” You swallowed harshly and shifted your weight anxiously from the heel of one boot to the other. “We, um—we really need to have a talk.”

He peered around you, catching a brief glimpse of the man standing outside, waiting for you at the foot of the porch.

He cleared his throat, lightly. “Yes, child. I suppose that we do.”

Nodding tightly, you turned around and slowly closed the door. Joel’s words rang in your mind over and over, giving you the push of strength you knew you would need.

I’ve got you.

divider credit goes to @saradika 🤍

#fic: fall into temptation #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x afab!reader #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #joel miller series #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller angst #the last of us fic #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #post outbreak joel

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pullthehilt · 8 months ago

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Reader is Yuu with an implied family with siblings. Not re-read or edited.

One day you realise that there is just a bit too much food on the table. It takes eating with the others to truly notice, but it starts with Grim complaining.

"We've been eating the same thing for days now!" And you laugh because it's true. After eating it fresh the first day, you tend to pack up and store the rest equally in the fridge and freezer because, yes, it's a lot. Dishes that are soups, or meals that are cooked in the larger pots and pans. Food that is to be served with rice on the side, portions that are bigger than your face. That isn't to say that you had a lot of thaumarks on you as you're just good at making bulk purchases worth it.

Everyone laughs at Grims moping, remarking of how he should be greatful you're feeding him at all. The banter is great.

But you're picking at your packed lunch now.

Why do you cook so much? Why do you reach for the bigger pots and pans? Why are your portions always for more than one?

From the fog of your mind, you see... your kitchen. Or you think it's your kitchen. It's not the kitchen back at Ramshackle, but the one from before Ramshackle. You're bustling around the counter, chatting to a faceless figure by the table, and reaching for seasonings without even looking. You're opening cabinets and finding what you need easily and asking the figure to make some rice to accompany whatever is in that pot. There's the squeals of children and hearty laughter from the other room. And hands, there's a hand at the small of your back and you think it's a motherly touch because how else can you describe the gentle way they press you to the side of their body.

For the next few days you can't eat properly. There's weight at your gut that substitutes for food and you don't make anything more. When your friends come over to invade the living room of Ramshackle, you don't have much snacks to offer them.

Peering into the fridge only reveals the stacks of containers of food you were eating days prior. You're mulling about maybe something you can make for them when,

"Whoa, talk about excess. Grim wasn't kidding." Ace's voice is right behind you.

"Ugh, sorry guys. i don't think I have anything proper to really feed you guys--"

"Is that some sort of egg salad?" Deuce's hand slithers forward to grab at one of the containters. "You have bread?" Nodding you gesture to the other cabinet. "Then I'll snack on this-- Er, if you wouldn't mind."

Epel peers from the doorway. "You don't happen to haf' some meat in 'er do ya?" Your fingers linger, before meekly pulling out a corrisponding tupperware.

"It's a bit stiff though, Epel."

"Hah, I'll jus' throw it on tha' stove or somthing. If it's still tough, I dun' care. Sometimes just gotta eat the greasy foods." He takes the tupperware and slaps it into a pan to heat it up. The aroma of sizzling meat is quick to attract both Sebek and Jack who add to the noise of chatter amongst the others, the former mostly.

You find yourself to the side, watching as they scour through your leftovers, opening and nodding at the meals inside before choosing which to heat up. And it's loud, but not grating. They're navigating through your space with expertice, slipping past each other and peering into cabinets. Jack's making rice and Sebek is counting the plates (whilst also making sounds whenever he sees a chip in the odd one or two). Over the stove Epel and Ace are jerking their hands into the pan, nipping their fingers to the corner pieces of the meat to just 'check if it's ready to eat'. Gathering the spoons and forks, Deuce nibbles on a piece of his egg salad sandwich before disappearing in the living area where everyone is setting up.

The dinner table has been set. You don't feel entirely there, floating to a cushion on the floor as your left overs are bought over to the table plate-by-plate. Everyone sits around you, Grim settled into your lap as he nibbles on a piece of fried fish, and they're passing the dishes around.

You've eaten these things before but you've always eaten them with Grim or alone when Grim takes his naps early. Instead of one set of cutlery scraping at porcelain, there's multiple sets-- a symphony playing to their hunger as they gather more to pile onto their plates.

#and then i didnt want to write anymore #JDSIFASF just a thought fr #i was talking to my friends who moved out for uni and we were all just talking about meals and specifically family meals #i got really sad just thinking about it #in my culture we dont really have individual meals and instead have meals where its quick and convenient that can feed quite a few #and we eat it with rice so its like long lasting too icl #anyways i have a lot of thoughts but my writing is soooo bad lol #twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland x reader #x reader #jack howl #epel felmier #ace trappola #deuce spade #sebek zigvolt #grim #twst yuu #>hilt.rambles

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idrellegames · 3 days ago

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Hello everyone!

Welcome to Wayfarer Q3. A lot has happened since the last roadmap, and I am very pleased to announce that the Episode 3 finale has been fully drafted. There is still a lot of work that needs to get done before I can start coding it—edits, polishing—but the bulk of the difficult work is done. The Episode 3 finale in total is approximately 278,154 words across all possible variations and routes, and includes three unique endings depending on player choice.

This content is currently not available to play in Wayfarer’s alpha build. I have made the decision that I am going to continue to write and use Q3 to finish up the remaining Episode 3 openers. This covers events that follow any of the Episode 2 endings that involve Melchior or his theatre company, as well as miscellaneous endings like the one where the MC gets drunk. Once these sections are done, I will be finished writing Episode 3 and will be able to move onto coding the remaining content. It’s still too soon to give an accurate estimate, but I am aiming for an Episode 3 alpha release sometime in Q4.

I am putting Patreon short story content on pause for the month of July while I sort out the next steps. I am uncertain if the pause will continue for August and September as well, as I would very much like to get Episode 3’s writing out of the way before I do anything else. If you’re interested in the bonus content, please keep an eye on my socials for updates regarding those.

✦ Q3 Overview — July to September 2025

Q3 is the last push to get Episode 3 finished. I will be using July to return to a section I haven’t touched in about two years; I will need to re-orient myself to remember what is going on and all the threads that need to be untangled as Episode 3’s opening is very different from its finale. August will be about drafting the miscellaneous openings and funneling them down the correct bottlenecks, while September will be about finishing off the last of the connective tissue between the opening and the middle sections of the episode.

As much of this writing will be using existing content (there are some conversations that need to occur on every route) and editing it for continuity depending on which characters are present, there is a small chance that it may go a little faster than projected. Depending on how Q3 goes and if I do finish all of the writing I need to get done, I will be opening new playtester applications in October to test Episode 3 once it is fully coded.

Wayfarer’s roadmap is an estimated timeline and is subject to change.

✦ The State of Episode 3 — July 2025

Right click to enlarge for better viewing

This flowchart is a summary of the paths, variations, and routes involved. Teal sections have been added to the alpha build; blue sections have been written, but not coded. Orange sections are WIPs. Red sections have not been drafted yet. There are only a few red sections left now!

Episode 3’s current total word count and breakdown is:

Green is content that is playable in the alpha build, Blue is content that has been written but not coded, Yellow is content that has been started but not finished, Red is content that has not been drafted yet.

I do not have an estimate for the Episode 3 alpha’s release date yet. The public build will not receive any content updates until the Episode 4 alpha is complete.

✦ Alpha Build Stats — July 2025

Average Word Count Per Playthrough: 193,900 words (approximate)

Average Playtime: 11 hours

Total Cumulative Word Count: 1,414,800 words (approximate)

The build was last updated in July 2024. It is playable on my Patreon. If you are interested in the alpha, please note that you do not need to restart the game from the beginning. The alpha and public builds share meta data, so any public build saves can be loaded directly into the alpha and they should work.

✦ Socials

Tumblr — @idrellegames

Instagram — @idrellegames

Bluesky — @idrellegames.bsky.social

Patreon — patreon.com/idrellegames

Thank you so much for your continued support! ❤️

~ Anna Idrelle Games

#wayfarer #wayfarer if #dev log #announcements #interactive fiction #interactive novel #twine game #cyoa

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vintagerpg · 2 months ago

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Planet of the Mists (1992) is one of the second wave of Star Wars adventures, new trade dress, perfect bound. I find most of this era’s adventures to be a bit more generic — they’re better at feeling Star Wars-ish than their predecessors, but suffer a bit from the lack of weirdness of say, Otherspace, that made the early adventures so memorable.

This one is a bit of an exception to that rule, because it is penned by the always interesting Nigel Findley. It still adheres to the basic template — investigate the Imperials because the Rebels need A Thing (well, need to take a thing away from the Imps — a mineral used to power turbo lasers), crash (there are a lot of crashes in WEGSW modules) run afoul of enemy forces and eventually square off against their leader. In this case, it’s Managing Director Tyne (anticipating Director Krennic of Rogue One perhaps?) who is both a fascist bureaucrat and a dark side force user. Complicating things further is that Imperial mining operations threaten the native alien civilization, giving the proceedings a slight taste of Trek.

The adventure is surprisingly open. The first chunk is a wilderness sandbox, punctuated by pre-scripted events. This leads to the mining facility, which takes up the bulk the adventure. It’s huge and invites players to cause all sorts of chaos infiltrating it. Successfully dealing with the mine leads to a final land battle, followed by a dog fight in space. It’s all surprisingly open-ended. There is a lot of leeway in the event scripting and the NPCs are well-drawn and can be convinced to make big impacts on the proceedings. Tyne is a pretty good villain, and his henchwomen — twin mercs with conflicting loyalties — are fun. There are also no stormtroopers; instead, Tyne’s force is made up of swamp troopers. They’re Imperial Army, with different armor and cool guns that feature a grappling hook. Everyone of your players is going to want to salvage those for themselves…

Cover art is production work from Lucasfilm. I’d guess McQuarrie, but I am not entirely sure. Inside is Tim Eldred. I’ve seen his work before, maybe in Paranoia? I’m not sure. He’s good here, fits right into the vibe established by Vilardi/Nunis in the second edition era.

#dungeons & dragons #tabletop rpg #roleplaying game #rpg #d&d #ttrpg #West End Games #Star Wars #Planet of the Mists

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reverie-starlight · 10 months ago

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kenma for the soul <3

gn!reader, no physical descriptions. this was in my drafts for so long that I forgot abt it. based off of my own routine when I get a panic attack. I believe I wrote the bulk of this after one, actually.

warnings: depictions of a panic attack, my own personal coping methods (I swear they make sense in my head) and kenma being soft for you. this was edited at like 2 am so if there’s some mistakes… no there’s not.

it’ll pass.

you know that. you’ve known that for years, actually, yet somehow the sentiment doesn’t hold up in the moments you need it to the most.

kenma watches as you switch between sitting on the edge of the bed with him and pacing the length of your bedroom.

he really feels for you. he still gets panic attacks from time to time, after all, so he knows the basics of what you’re going through like the back of his hand.

he’s still trying to learn your specifics, though.

he’s observant and he’s strategic. with those skills, he’s gathered that you do not respond well to sitting still and taking deep breaths.

you continue pacing and wringing your fingers together, clenching and unclenching your fists and shaking your arms out (he recognizes this as literally trying to dispel the panic from your body).

he watches you closely, wanting to figure you out as soon as possible so he can utilize his strategic side and end your suffering. are you trying to tire yourself out? why is it that you don’t find the breathing exercises useful? why doesn’t sitting still and meditating benefit you?

oh… of course, why didn’t he think of that sooner?

you don’t like those coping methods because you see it as another opportunity to focus on your trigger. by trying to stop it, you just end up thinking about it more. they require you to be aware of every sensation in your body, but if you’re moving around a lot instead, it acts as a distraction.

so he’ll need to help you redirect your train of thought some more.

“babe,” he calls out quietly, not having the energy or willingness to be any louder at two in the morning.

you don’t stop pacing, but you look at him and nod to let him know you’re listening.

“let’s go to the kitchen.”

you blink as he gets up and takes your hand, leading you out of your bedroom. he hopes the change of scenery and mystery of what he has planned brings you out of your head a bit.

“kenma-“ you start, voice raw from the crying you did earlier.

“do you want to make cookies?”

you watch as he goes to the fridge and gets some water and ice cubes. (he read once that the ice can shock you out of panic and act as a good redirection strategy.)

you take the glass when he hands it to you and allow the chill of the ice ground you a bit.

your head feels clearer now. the panic had mostly subsided well before you were led out of the bedroom, but you had continued pacing anyway.

in your mind it makes sense- relaxing too soon, when it’s not quite gone, gives it the chance to come back and restart the cycle all over again. tiring yourself out and distracting yourself with the familiar movement patterns that helped stopped it in the first place…

it’s always worked for you.

and now, sitting up on the barstool by the kitchen island with kenma, you definitely feel the exhaustion.

so you shake your head. “no, I’m too tired, babe.”

he nods, successfully getting a read on your energy level. “okay,” he says. “drink your water, I can make toast for us.”

you blink at him. “why?”

he shrugs. “you must’ve worked up an appetite with all that walking, right? I got winded just watching you.”

you snort, surprisingly, and the corner of his mouth lifts up a bit. “I guess so… oh but kenma, I kept you up, you must be tired too.”

he gets the bread ready to put into the toaster and glances at you over his shoulder. “you do realize you’re dating someone who once streamed for twenty-four hours straight, right? one late night is nothing.”

you sip your water and hold an ice cube in your cheek, letting it melt. “still, I’m-“

“and don’t apologize. I know that’s what you were about to do.”

you sheepishly look down into your glass and let the silence linger until he presents you some buttered toast. “remember how I told you I used to get really bad panic attacks in high school? the ones I get now aren’t nearly as intense as those, but I do still know how draining they are,” he rips off a chunk of bread and feeds it to you. “it’s not too much to care for you, okay?“ he knows the feeling of being afraid to be a burden well, too, unfortunately.

you smile and knock your head against his as you chew. “thanks, kenma. I love you.”

there’s still a lot he has to learn for you, but he knows that if this were a video game, it’d be the easiest level he’d ever complete.

“love you too. now let’s finish this and get to bed.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@dira333 some kenma :3

#kenma x reader #kenma x reader fluff #kozume kenma x reader #kenma kozume x reader #hq x reader #haikyuu x reader #kenma fluff

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spaceprincess04 · 3 months ago

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Just a lil sun from my drafts… this is like a year and a half old, but enjoy!

It’s day three of the press tour and you’re learning more and more about your co-workers, outside of what you’d usually chat about on set. You’re now at the Vanity Fair interview where you literally have to play a guessing game with two of your co-stars about their personal lives.

“What’s a fun fact about me? I guess there’s not just one answer to this, so answer this one freely?” Michael reads the card he pulled aloud.

“Oh, easy. You love basketball.” Jonathan eagerly answers.

Michael nods, “very true. More so when I was younger, cause I liked to play a lot. I still love to watch though.”

“You only have one tattoo. Makeup crew always covers it for films, of course, but it’s hella cool.” I answer when my turn comes around.

“Yep. I have the outline of Africa and the eye of Horus tatted on my left shoulder.” He Winked, which was very unnecessary if you ask me.

“Of course she would know that.” Jonathan gave me a pointed look. This man always accuses Michael and I of having a crush on each other.

“Well I find it to be a form of method acting, staring at Michael's shoulders. It’s very crucial part of playing Bianca.” It’s my turn to wink at the camera. The fans are going to have a field day with that clip, I can just see the edits already.

“Anywassss! If I were a drink, what would I be? Wait, regular drink or spirits?” You look past the camera, asking the interviewer.

“Either or” she answers.

“Let’s do spirits.” Your costar Jonathan helps you decide.

“Cool, okay. I’ll write my answer now so you guys can guess..”You finish dragging your sharpee along the piece of paper the crew provided you with.

“Coffee martini? I don’t know, Just kinda seems like your vibe.” Jonathan answers with uncertainty.

“You know, I’ve never had one. It’s crazy because i loooovvveee coffee, which Jonathan knows. I’ve just never been brave enough to mix coffee and alcohol.” You shrug. “So, no. That’s not the answer I wrote.” You laugh, patting Jonathan on the arm.

“Awe, man.” He replies and puts his head down in mock shame.

“She grew up around southern folks, so i’ma go with whiskey.” Michael answers.

“You, you are correct. I’d be a glass of Maker’s, neat.”

“Oh, yeah?” Mike responds.

I smirk at the camera before bursting into laughter. “Please don’t take me seriously, y’all. I cannot be serious for very long. Who’s turn is it next?”

“That would be me. This one’s easy, what do I take with me everywhere?” Jonathan takes a couple seconds to write.

“Your cute little cup, of course.” You make a tea drinking jester with your pinky out.

“I do not drink like that, but yes I always have a mug with me. I have about.. three? in rotation.”

“You definitely do drink like that.” You pretend to whisper to him.

“Yeah your mug and your speaker for sure.” Mike nods.

“Yes, the speaker was second on the list.” Jonathan reveals his paper.

“Alright, last one.” Michael pulls the last card. “Aside from acting, what is my other talent?”

“Trick question? Directing?” Jonathan questions.

“Tap dancing? No, I’m kidding.” I ponder over what his hidden talent could be.

“Oh wait, are you gonna say basketball?” Jonathan slaps his knee, clapping and laughing as he looks away.

“You’re a piece of shit.” Michael responds in between laughs.

“Ummmm” you drag out my response, trying to create more time to think.

“Damn, do y’all know me?” He turns his card around and it reads ‘cooking’

“I don’t, I need you to make a meal for us to refresh our memories.” You point in between Jonathan and yourself.

“Ooooh, yeah. No, no, I knew that.” Jonathan rubs his eyebrow.

“What? Yes guys, I cook all my food. When I’m bulking, I get the meal plan from the nutritionist and do the cooking.” He speaks into the camera.

“No way. What can you cook? Chicken and Broccoli?” you cracked yourself up, squeezing your sides from laughter and everything.

“Wow, I really am going to have to cook for you now. You’re doubting me?”

“I believe my brother. If he says he can cook, he can probably cook.” Jonathan joins in the banter.

“Alright. Y’all name it, I’ll cook it at the crib TONIGHT! Y’all not gone play with me like this.” He’s dead ass serious right now.

“Okay then, do a seafood boil.” You raise a brow at him to see if he’s bluffing or not.

“Bet.”

“Okay, we’ll see. That shit better not be nasty, Mike.” I’m still laughing when I tap Jonathan. “Watch us pull up and his chef is leaving at the same time.”

“You can watch me cook it if you want to stay that long. I’ll even film it for y’all.”

“No, you’re good. We believe you, bro.” Jonathan straightens his face into a more serious expression.

“What time will I see y’all then?”

“You’ll see y/n whenever she’s free.” Jonathan pats your shoulder.

“What? Why can’t you be there? I’m not going through this alone. I’m scared, guys.” Your eyes widened in the lense of the camera, as if the fans could see me live and come to your rescue.

“I have a thing.” Jonathan tucks his lips, trying to hide the taunting expression.

“That’s bull. what thing do you have?”

“I already made the commitment to myself. I gotta do my post press-tour self care routine. Self care is very important, to all my fellas out there. Bubble baths, face masks, and whatnot.”

“Oh booo! Forget you and your pink bathrobe.” You scoff.

“How do you know what color his robe is?” Michael’s eyebrows knit together followed by the straightening of his spine. You can hear some of the camera crew snickering in the back.

“I don’t, I was made the joke from that one magazine cover he did.” You shrug, not quite noticing the change in the man’s body language.

“I’m appalled. My bathrobe is actually red. My favorite color, in case y’all were wondering. Sorry bro, I can’t make it tonight. You’ll have to let me know in the group chat how it was, y/n.”

“Yeah yeah whatever, sassy man. I’ll be there sometime after 7, Mike. Oh, and another fun fact about me is,” you turn your attention back to the camera “ I can’t eat seafood in nice clothes. I will be pulling up in my non-interview clothes.”

When it’s time to close out the video everyone does their outro. “Welp, looks like I don’t know Michael B Jordan very well. Thanks for tuning in, be sure to check out Creed III in theaters.”

…

You finished your interviews for the day that you had with other cast members and went home to shower, relax and reset. Then, you remembered you had one more thing to do.

It’s half past seven when you pull up to Michael's place

in a ‘I heart dilfs’ baby tee, comfy shorts, and some pink hello kitty bling flip flops.

No later than ten seconds after the doorbell rang, your handsome co-star himself opens the door to greet you with a smile. “Y/n” he steps to the side, allowing you to walk in and closing the door behind you.

“You look cozy.” You comment, pointing to his basketball shorts and wife beater. “Nice shoes” you knew he was a sneakerhead, those retro ones are dope and hard to get.

“Ah, thanks. I was just tryna keep up with you.” He refers to your earlier comment made at the interview about how you dress when eating seafood. “‘I love Dilfs’, huh?” He smirks at your shirt.

“Yup, that includes Amara’s dad.” You wink in his direction

A hand meets the small of your back as he guides you to the kitchen. “Aight, this is what I got. I’m finishing up right now, so don’t try and say I ain’t cook this shit.” He warns.

“Ouuu, it smells good in here. I’m not gone lie, I’m kinda excited.” Your mouth is in the verge of salivating.

Michael takes the last of what he’s frying off of the stove and turns the fire off. “Okay, so we got crab of course, with the potatoes, corn, and sausage in it. We also got garlic noodles and fried butterfly shrimp on the side.”

He fixes a big hefty ass plate and walks over to the table. “This is for me or you?” You quirk your brows.

“Girl, sit down.” He laughs, scooting your chair out for you to sit at this huge glass table.

“What do you want to drink?” He asks walking back to the kitchen.

“Water is good, thank you.”

“Oh, I got some of those food gloves and bibs. I know you got your nails done and shit.” He chuckles, handing them to you.

“Oh, thank you!”

When he’s brought drinks for the two of you, y’all settle at the table and you prepare to eat your words as well as his food because it smells good. You just know you won’t be able to trash it.

“Damn man, I don’t think I’m gonna be able to shit talk you anymore. Let me just get into it. You, Jonathan, and the whole vanity fair crew are anticipating my reaction.” You crack open a crab leg, dip the meat into the sauce and pop it in your mouth.

His gaze is fixated on you. He hasn’t moved his fork not once, too excited to know what you think.

“It’s fire, sheesh.” You smile, cracking your next piece and dipping into the sauce.

“You and Jonathan had me messed up, I had to come correct.”

“Your place is nice. This is very Aquarian male of you. Modern as fuck, cool art but not so many momentos.”

“Yeah, when my parents moved out I kinda just re-did the decorating myself.” He shrugs. “Are you busy after dinner?”

“I was just gonna go back home. Why, what’d you have in mind?”

“Maybe a movie?” He leaves space in the air for you to answer, not completely sure if you were down to stick around for longer than what you’d agreed to earlier in the day.

“That sounds good, what do you have in mind? I’m only staying if it’s Sci-fi or Anime. I can’t do that rom com shit tonight.”

“So you didn’t watch ‘A Journal To Jordan?’ I thought we supported each other.” He pretends to be hurt. “But nah. I definitely was thinking the same thing to be honest.”

“You know I did.” You side eye him. “Ouu, should we watch those old ass reruns of Star Trek?”

“Hell yeah.”

We clean up the table and do the dishes together, he washes and you put them on the drying rack because he says that’s all you’re allowed to do. You like that he doesn’t have maids and cleaners at all times to do every single thing for him. Yes, he’s a well paid celebrity and can do that now but it’s refreshing to be around people who don’t move like that. You’re the same way, you do your own shit when I’m home and have the time.

“I’m not a huge wine drinker, but someone gifted me this Pinot Grigio. If you want, we can crack it open. My mom gave me this wine rack when she moved, she said it makes the kitchen look classier. As you can see there’s only one bottle in here.”He playfully shakes his head, grabbing a bottle.

“Oh wow, Mr. Jordan. Are you encouraging me to drink and drive?” You falsely gasp.

“My fault, I didn’t even think about that. Most people don’t drive themselves in LA.”

“No, you’re good. I’m just giving you a hard time.”

“I can take you home, or call a driver, or you can stay here if you want.. there’s guest rooms for you to choose from if you.” He clears his throat after the last sentence, realizing how it might have sounded and not wanting to insinuate something.

“It’s cool, we’ll figure it out. I will have a drink with you, though.. or a few. You know, wine goes fast.”

He smiles, your joke lightening the air. He’s focused on getting the cork out of the bottle, his muscles flexing ever so slightly and you can’t help but to look. “Ah, there we go.” He reaches into his cabinets to grab two glasses, pours yours and hands it to you before pouring his own and leading you a living room area with his glass and the bottle in hand.

The two of you are a whole glass in, and have completely forgotten about the show playing on the tv as it’s just become background noise to your conversation. Michael sitting on the other side of you. You’re so comfortable. You're against the arm of the sofa, legs crossed and laid out over the pillowy cushions.

“Why did you have to be such an overachiever? Not only is the item I requested perfect, you had to go and make some good ass sides too? Sick. It’s that damn Virgo rising.”

He chuckles and refills your glasses. “Well, thank you. I remember you telling me about my chart and how you’re into astrology, but I don’t really know much else about it. Can you tell me?” He picks up your legs, settles them onto his lap and starts working on massaging one of your feet. “This is a cute color.” He rubs your sparkly peridot painted toes. You never try anything outside of white, he must’ve noticed the difference.

You could moan, right now. This is the most orgasmic feeling you’ve had all month. With the stressful ass press tour, working all day and barely having the time to fucking chill. For you, this felt like heaven. It didn’t hurt that your fine ass, hubby material co-worker was the cause of it all.

“Awe, thank you. I- I um, found your chart online that day we were talking about it in your trailer and I remembered your big three. You’re an Aquarius sun, Virgo rising, cancer moon. I think that you being an Aquarius sun makes you inclined to live and do shit in more of an unconventional way that fits you perfectly, and it makes you iconic, to be honest. Virgos are like the perfectionists of the zodiac, the true performers and artists, they have such a meticulous eye for perfection in regards to what they do. Part of why you and Jonathan are some damn good actors, attention to detail n allat. That could also be why you both get along so well, but that’s a whole other thing called synastry where you'd compare your chart to other peoples and see how your relationship with them could be. As far as your moon, Cancer moon people can tend to be super tender, caring and comforting people. y’all lowkey some homebodies, all about comfort.”

“Wow” his eyes slightly widen, it’s a lot to take in. You love to run your mouth about the things you’re passionate about, he just loves that you’re sharing this passion with him.

“I went off on a whole tangent there, but it’s honestly way more complex than that. I love it. I think depending on how people use it, it could be a great tool for life. It’s like my version of ethics class… and wine makes me run my mouth extra.” a giggle seeps from your mouth after you take another sip.

“That’s dope, to think there’s a whole ass science behind people’s lives and personalities. I never would’ve thought it could be accurate.” He replied.

“Yeahh, I know! I was never really into it when I was younger, but moving to LA and all these other new experiences that I got going on made me want to open up to it and give it a honest try.”

“I'd pay you for a chart reading, I never trusted those little magic booths at Malibu.” He smiles, kissing the arch of your foot before moving on to massage the other.

You hide your noise of satisfaction with a yawn. “Mmm, I’d do it free of charge if you can cook like that again. I shouldn’t have doubted you, Mr. Jordan. My apologies.”

“It’s all good, now you know I can cook for you whenever you’d like.”

…

“So, what about you? You’re so good with kids. It’s adorable seeing you with them online, when we had the babies on set, and even with sweet little mila. Do you plan on having any? Or are you just like the cool uncle figure to other people’s kids. Cause’ I’m not at all judging. As the oldest sister, I once upon a time swore I wouldn’t ever have em.” Your hands go up in a mixture of shrug and surrender.

He’s amused by this. “I don’t buy that for a second, kids love you. I definitely want some. I love kids, I hope to have them one day. I just haven’t had a point in my career yet where I’ve slowed down enough to truly be the ideal dad that I’d like to be.I don’t know though, are you still holding yourself to that promise?” His dimples adorably peer through his smile.

“Ha! You know, I don’t know if I ever did, really. I mostly said it because I saw the stress that parenthood brought to people's lives, especially when they weren’t truly ready for it. I guess it's more me swearing not to be a parent if I didn’t have the resources to do it how I deemed proper, or not being at a place of stability for my child. You know? I can’t truly say that I wouldn’t want to bring that type of joy into this world. My heart ain’t cut like that.” You shake your head.

“No, I definitely get it. Being at the right capacity mentally, physically, and financially before I have a child is super crucial. I also want them to have parents who can be role models to what love should truly look like, like I had. I know everybody didn’t get to grow up seeing that. You know, that strong and unconditional, healthy, in love-love shit.”

“Definitely, that’s vital. I wish I had that growing up. It’s beautiful that you got to have that and can recognize the impact it has on people who don’t. Everything from childhood molds you into who you are, I believe. I would just want to give my baby the best childhood possible.” Your lips curl upwards. “It’s weird, I’ve never gone much into depth about this topic. But yeah, you pretty much filled in the gaps that I couldn’t put my thumb on.”

“Same” he points to my shirt. “Somebody gotta get that ‘I love milfs’ shirt to match you one day.”

“You’ve been teasing me about this shirt since I came in.” You jokingly swat his hand away.

“You started it, tryna clown on my fit as soon as you walked in the door.”

“Nah, I like the color gray on you.” You unintentionally stare at his shorts, the outline of him softly speaking to you.

“Yeah? You look pretty in everything.” He pulls you onto his lap. His hands explore your sides, traveling upwards for his thumbs to meet the peaks that hardened through your shirt. “You cold?” The pads of his fingers ran over your clothed nipples.

How do you tell him that your skin is burning up and freezing at the same time? That you don’t know how far of a line has been crossed with your coworker and friend? Who knows, but tonight wouldn’t be when you figured it out.

“You keep the ac on blast.” You shyly nod.

He picks up a fuzzy white blanket from the other side of him and throws it over your bodies, even though he’s naturally radiating warmth. Michael lays back on the couch, neither of you talk. Just feeling each other’s hearts beating, the movement of your chests as breath comes and goes from your bodies when you you inhale and exhale. His large hand gently rubs your back, in a manner that you almost fall asleep to.

“You want to stay with me tonight?” He whispers, lips brushing along the shell of your ear.

You nod “can we watch Innuyasha?”

“Of course, princess.” You feel the vibrations of his deep voice travel through your skin, scratching your brain in a way that feels so good. Your body gets heavy, you feel comfortable enough to let it relax. He smiles as your face rests in the crook of his neck and your breathing becomes deeper.

#michael b jordan #michael b jordan smut #creed #creed iii #adonis creed #erik killmonger

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heartofbusan · 4 days ago

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Are we getting BTS Song Camp content?

Because there is ALWAYS a good reason to revisit AYS, I wanted to expand on @curio-queries comment on my linked post.

If anyone knows a lot about the production side of this show, it's them. Please check out their posts on the show, they give great insight into choices made and possible reasons for those choices. 💙

Not the AYS snark 🤨😭

I was ready to scold you for the snark, but I have the same frustration with the editing. I cannot lie. The AYS producers, ya'll are still on the hook 🤨

Admittedly, the producers were given a difficult task and did an amazing job with what they got. I think the infamous 'I'm amazed you managed to make something put of it', comment from Jungkook during their own viewing party of episode one was in regards to that.

I can imagine the director saying to the editing team to 'throw whatever little story arcs you can find and have it on my desk by end of day' during the post production. Because the filming was built around rest, relaxing, eating, and 1 or two activities and the bulk of the show banking on Jikook being Jikook, well, it was a clear recipe for clear storytelling disaster.

Just because they have chemistry through the roof doesn't mean they are good at verbalizing their innate couple language. Jikook don't need to have entire conversations about subjects the viewer needs more context on because they already know everything about each other.

They wanted it to be a natural show, so no scripted prompts. Just jikook staring at each other, thinking they just had a whole conversation recorded on camera. No boys, you need to actually talk for us to be able to film it, not hang upside down each other's bodies in the name of 'banter' 😓

Jimin’s health working against them. When the social battery is drained, good luck on getting good material from the neurodivergent one. He collected rocks and said END SCENE. Took a literal bow.

Even their special guest didn't add anything towards a good conversation. He felt the vibes, said: 'hello third wheel my old friend', and ditched them.

No Jikook, giggles, and staring do not a storyline make, not even in a bl.

Inside jokes and inside pokes.

Yes, it was troubled, but I actually really still love watching it because it has such a 'ruminating' quality to it. The forward momentum is just 'another day passed'. At the start of AYS, it's not even made clear how long they will be traveling. That's why AYS feels endless, like an eternal moment in time. A bubble of comfort. Again, all signs point to it being a great excuse to travel for them.

With this new, highly anticipated 'song camp content', the end goal should be pretty clear. An album. Same goes for the duration of filming: 2 months. Our subjects are old familiars, back after a long time apart. The inherent artistic drama is pretty solid, as long as they do commit to open and honest conversations around this topic! It would be so interesting to see them work this problem out. Unless most of this has already been addressed in pre-production meetings, but I would love more insight into their creative rediscovery. Even more if they allow the rough edges to show.

These people have such great chemistry, I just love seeing them together.

As for format, I think it will work best as an episodic show, maybe broken down song by song? This would mean a long lead up to the release. After the album is out, maybe as part of the comeback while they're on their (presumably) year long tour?

A documentary also makes sense. Like @curio-queries mentioned, once HB discovered this theatrical medium, they'll keep churning out new movies. And we're very happy, more please, sir. That doesn’t say anything about the quality of the end product. I thought,'I'm Still', Jungkook’s documentary was very muddled. RPWP was my favorite of them all. Jimin’s producion Diary only got a streaming run, but that one was also very good. At least it had a clear thematic sense. An established artists finds himself in the scribbles of his notebook and in the passing melodies that he can't stop singing.

What do you think? Should BTS song camp be a docuseries or a long form documentary?

#ays?!#jikook #park jimin #jungkook #are you sure #bts reunion #bts content #documentary production talk

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crescencestudio · 2 months ago

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๋࣭⭑ Devlog #48 | 5.26.25 ๋࣭⭑

two monthly devlogs in a row. when i say we r BACK

Hello beloveds, the time for the monthly devlog is upon us.

This past month I focused on art development, as I said I would in the last devlog, so let's jump right into it! (yeah, that's right. we're keeping it short and sweet this time.)

As I mentioned before, writing would progress a lot slower in the coming months to make room for faster art development. This month, I mainly handed off routes to be edited.

So Kuna'a's second arc is currently being reviewed for developmental edits (and Wudgey is a superhero and has actually finished most of the big dev edits, meaning once I review those and we do one last pass, Kuna'a's LAST arc will be the only thing that needs to be edited!).

Etza's route has also been handed off to Allie for line editing. So as we make headway on that area, we approach the last route being DONE and ready for our Early Access release!

Now for the area I focused most on this past month: I finished a sprite recently for one of the side characters. I teased them in the last devlog as a silhouette, but here we can see a close up of how the sprite has come together!!

pronouns: they/them. and that is All i'll be disclosing on the character OLJSLIDJILDJ

It's been so long since I've completed a sprite aosdjfoaisj. These assets take me the longest to create, so I always lowkey dread them LMALIJ. And especially with how stunning the OG design was from Saf, I wasn't sure if I'd be able to do the character justice. But I'm really happy with how it's come out and excited for you all to see them in game!

I've also been working on updating the other sprites after finishing this one since I was really happy with how I rendered them! I finished updating all the LI sprites---nothing major but just adding a bit more dimension to them ^^

before (left) and after (right)

As you can see, it virtually looks the same, I just added more shading and rendering to the sprite. I've received comments in the past saying the sprites didn't really match the rest of the art for the game, and for a while I sat on these comments to decide whether I wanted to change up the look. And while I didn't want to change anything major, I did start to feel that the rendering at least was a bit faded compared to the rest of the assets.

While I do love the soft look, I do feel like the updated versions are a bit more cohesive with the art assets while staying true to my usual art style! Hope you all like it too \o/ ((because this is permanent I already merged the rendering layers LFAJLFISJLDFIJ))

We also entered beta testing for Etza's route this past month!! YEEAAAAAAAHHHH.

my shayla

Reception so far has been positive for our sweet angel, and if you'd like to try out their beta, it will be available on my Patreon (Hydra Tier) until we enter beta testing for the Early Access build, which will contain all four routes!

Finishing Etza's beta was honestly a huge weight off my shoulders because it really means we're That Much Closer to an EA Build. In the beta versions, I do my best to make them virtually the same as the completed version with camera movements, sprite expression changes, etc. The only things missing are the actual art assets.

And since coding expressions, movements, transitions, etc. can be so time consuming for me, having the bulk of that completed for all four EA routes is a huge relief because most of the foundational work is already done :')

And then because I finally can have an actual normal life now, I've been able to squeeze some gaming time in. So of course I returned to FOM and got to unlock THEIR DRAGON

BOOOOM SHAKALAKAAAAA

someone reblogged it w this and i laughed so hard

but literally me liike HELLO??? ALARIS?? DRAGONS???

Anyways, that's all for this devlog. I hope you all have been well and staying cool in the approaching summer! Until next time ^o^

#alaris #devlog

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desiree-uk · 5 months ago

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Using NRaas Master Controller's Filters, Skill Stamps and Hot Keys - Part 1 Filters

This is part 1 of a little (big!) tutorial on how I use filters, skill stamps and hot keys from NRaas Master Controller together in my games. It's also an appreciation post! 😊

See also: Using NRaas Master Controller's Filters, Skill Stamps and Hot Keys - Part 2: Skill Stamps and Hot Keys

Tutorial under the header!

Mods needed for Filters, Skill Stamps and Hot Keys to show up: Master Controller v.135 Master Controller Cheats v.134+

(9th Feb 2025 - desiree-uk correction: Additional mods needed for filters and door locking system (my apologies! 😌) GoHere v.45 Tagger v.5

Filters:

I use filters, skill stamps and hotkeys for various things, mostly to edit bulk sims, refine door locking options, set filters for parties, functions etc and add short-cuts of often-used MC interactions to the NRaas menu when clicking on a sim/household/terrain. Once you know how to set these, you can set as many as you like and use them in a lot of different combinations.

Here are a few examples on how I set them up, but you can name them whatever you like.

MC Interaction: Save Filter Prompts the user to save a custom filter that can be used for Sim queries.

There are already a lot of default filters for sim-criteria like Age, Species, Residents, NPC etc, but I want to set one specifically for Adult and Elder sims together so I can set door options and skill stamps for them (more on skill stamps in Part 2!)

Click on Town Hall/Computer>NRaas>MC>Settings>Filters Click Save Filter - Age - Adult and Elder Oh, also set 'Species' to Human otherwise all adult and elder cats, dogs, horses and the Grim Reaper will show up! I always forget that part. 😄

Name the new filter (e.g AGE: ADULTS and ELDERS) Click Accept ☑ Your new filter will show up in the list of filter criteria.

I only want these sims to use a particular door. You can use the EA door locking system to select sims you want to use the door if you want, but if you want more stringent rules, then the filters are better.

Click on the door>Lock…>Door Options… Click on 'Door Filter Type - Deny Click on 'Enable/Disable Filters' - 0

Click on the new filter you made earlier 'AGE: ADULT and ELDERS Click on it until it shows 'True'. Click Accept ☑

On the previous dialog box you'll now see the 'Door Filter Type: Allow' and 'Enable/Disable Filters: 1' You'll also see two new options 'List Sims Allowed Through' and 'List Sims Denied Access'.

Click on them to double check you have the right sims listed. ALL human adult and elder sims are showing up in the 'Allowed..' list. The 'Denied Access' list should show all the baby, child, teen and YA humans and pets. (Allowed: 1st picture. Denied: 2nd picture)

You can set any filter with as many different criteria as you want. When you set a filter with more than one criteria and you specifically want that sim to use the door e.g a YA female, with the charisma skill level 2, make sure to set 'Match All Active Filters' to 'True' (above screenshot) so only a young adult, female sim, with a charisma skill of 2 can use the door. If the 'Match All…' option isn't set, then any YA sim or any female sim or any sim with the charisma skill of 2 can use the door - it's more flexible.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In the next part, I'll be showing how I use skill stamps together with filters and hot keys!

Click for part 2: Using NRaas Master Controller's Filters, Skill Stamps and Hot Keys - Part 2: Skill Stamps and Hot Keys

#ts3 mod info #ts3 test gameplay #ts3 gameplay #nraas #phoebejaysims #arro #ts3 tutorial #sims3 #ts3 #ts3 mod

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customboytoyz · 4 months ago

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You know what, now that I think of it with that “monsters other than werewolves” ask I sent months ago I didn’t give possessed by a demon that makes you take hrt enough development.

Like imagine a social media influencer. She’s pretty, but not the scalpel-enhanced doll-pretty of the most popular on her website of choice. She doesn’t have the money for that, she’s never had the money for that, but what she does have is her grandfather’s grimoire. Despite all she’s clawed and scraped and kicked down ladders to get where she is, she does still have a soul and she’s willing to trade it for the perfect body.

She’s shocked when the demon tells her he doesn’t want it. Instead he holds up a single clawed finger.

“You have good bones, but I’ll need significant time to make the necessary adjustments. I want one year in full control of your body.”

She blinks at that, one year with a monster steering her around. She decides he’s probably some fucking pervert and shrugs. A year of ogling her own tits would be worth it if she hits 1 million by the end of it.

“Fine,” she agrees. “One year.”

As they shake on it, he melts into her skin and she begins her year as a passenger.

The demon begins a daily course of injections. Some glowing red shit she doesn’t figure would have any earthly counter part. He keeps posting to maintain her online presence. Lots of shots of them drinking pre work out, going to the gym. She hadn’t been a wellness influencer beforehand but she guessed it was fine, they were getting a decent amount of engagement. She tells the demon to lay off the creatine she doesn’t want to get too bulked up but he always just laughs and insists in her voice that he knows what he’s doing.

The panic hasn’t set in quite yet, that only comes when she helplessly watches her own thumb hover over the edit button of her bio.

“What are you doing?”

The demon clicks it. Removes her carefully crafted bio and replaces it with “need some time to think. Taking hiatus” before replacing her profile pic with a blank red circle and her screen name with a single period.

“What the fuck are you doing?!”

“I’m moving to the next stage. We want them to think this was surgical not supernatural.” He says flatly. Tossing her phone on the couch as he finishes. She can’t help but notice her voice is huskier than it used to be. The explanation makes sense but she can’t help but feel like something’s wrong.

Even without being online they still go to the gym. They’re starting to get more and more stares. Looking at herself in the mirror as the demon exercises she can’t help but notice that her jawline has gotten sharper. Her cheek bones more prominent. It gives her hope. She’s going to look fucking snatched.

After the gym she watches him order a pair of clippers online.

“What are you planning to do with those.”

“Your hair is too damaged to work with properly.”

She desperately tries to wrench back control of her body.

“You’re going to make me bald?!”

“That’s part of why you’re going on hiatus. I’m giving you time to grow it back.” He assures her. Still she fights him every single day to no avail until the clippers come.

He sheers all of her hair off as if it’s nothing. It becomes nothing. Just a pile on the cut open garbage bag he had been using as a make shift tarp. He runs her hand over the remaining bristles and she wretches uncontrollably.

“Don’t be a baby,” he sneers. Her voice is definitely deeper.

He begins upping their dose to two injections per day and the changes start to become more radical, but he refuses to let her see. He begins covering every single mirror in her house and working out there to avoid her catching a glimpse in the gym mirrors. But even if she can’t see it she can still tell. At night she feels it as she lies awake but paralyzed. Her shoulders cracking, her ribs aching, the sharp pain in her shins. During the day she starts sleeping more often while the demon moves about. It’s easier to sleep when she isn’t in pain.

One day he walks them over to a mirror and wakes her up. She hardly has time to shake the rest from her mind before he whips the cover off. She doesn’t recognize what she sees until the figure in the mirror shifts the way her hand shifts gently turning his face so that she can see. She stumbles back and the demon lets her, ceding control. She’s grown strong lean muscles that complement her broad frame, her jawline is sharp and darkened with five o’clock shadow, her short dark hair is neatly combed away from her face, framing her harsh brow and piercing eyes, her breasts are completely gone. If she saw herself on tinder she’d say she had the perfect body, but the face in the mirror makes her scream.

It’s suddenly cut off as the demon takes back control. He stands, picks up her phone, takes a new profile picture and types up a new bio.

“What do you want your new user name to be?”

“FUCK YOU!!!”

He shrugs and types something new in himself, before drafting an announcement post.

“CHANGE ME BACK RIGHT NOW!”

“I can’t do that.” He answers calmly continuing to type. “I’m not done making your body perfect yet.” He hits post. “And even if I was, I still have 6 months.”

ohhhhhhhhh ohhhhh WAITER WAITER MOOORE POSSESSION FORCEMASCCCCC dude this is the first long scenario in a WHILEE that ive been sent on here thats making me crazy. 😋😋😋 thank youu

also do you think after the reveal the demon jacks off their cock in front of the mirror as she protests internally. i think he would. :)

#sighs. its funny to have people dedicated to serving you #ask #forcemasc #force masc #forced masculinization #ftm hypno #ftm nsft #transmasc nsft #fav #i loooveee possessionnnnn

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girldriveroscar · 7 months ago

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UGHH the SUIT. the more i look the more it seems oscar has lost a bit of weight by the end of this season? even his face looks more chiselled and his legs look less meaty overall if that makes sense?whereas lando has bulked up a bit, i swear i remember after the summer break there were a few weekends where his race suit was so tight around the chest that he very nearly couldn't zip all the way up

i also have crazy feelings about oscar's insane blush but i'm starting to ramble and lose focus

for oscar i think a lot of its just residual babyfat going away and his training !! going off the assumption his training includes a lot more cycling these days (cycling is his preferred cardio/got a bike/moved to monaco) id agree his thighs are more toned/ass is fatter now (and the suit kinda just adds to the illusion more that hes lost weight)

(mind u hes wearing shorts under the wetsuit)

converselyyyy i think landos gained a lot of healthy weight, like second puberty weight LOL IMO before he looked fit in the way young guys w good metabolism r naturally toned wo rlly trying — and now he looks intentionally swole from exercise and diet which is Deliciously better. imo. imo imo.

both of them i think REALLY grew into their features and lost their “teenager” face over the course of the season - theory supported by max commenting on how Oscar looks like a chad now (bro just say he's hot wtflmao) and my mother who thinks both are "glowing up" (we had an extensive conversation) (atp i could do a highlight reel on all the weird shit my mom has said about drivers.)

ik the photos r getting redundant but for personal sake i need the side by side. God.

and honestly. Honestly. im kinda waffling. u can really make up any narrative ab their appearances bc their looks/size varies sm in photos. im not claiming this as bible Landoscar Aesthetic Growth frm the 2024 Season.

BUT. but i think i can say with some conviction, the biggest factor separating 23 landoscar to 24 is purely the Race Winner EffectTm aka just. self actualizing in tune with their cars.

feb 24 — nov 24

like the physical diffs r so slight! BUT the energy…the aura... 100% shift. and that shift reflects in how we (me) feel like these r two completely different men. have a longass draft ab this but cant b assd to edit it GUH. U Get what im saying. MCL38 stays fastest and lando can achieve orgasm. Basically.

mini tangent for funnnn. i tried soooo flipping hard to find more recent pics but I cannnnnnt! #recruiting unemployed oomfs. but from the Spanish GP 2023 their Nomex sizes were both S/M ! ngl I feel like Oscars poor posture (sorry I rly do love him its Endearing tome and I have to bring it up every time I talk about him) makes him look a lot bigger than he really is, especiaaallly when u see him from the back. Like he dwarfs lando from the back! but anyway I bring it up bc I think he rly is still one of the smaller drivers on the grid and wouldn't be surprised if his size is still a S/M

Lando is a funny case to me bc sometimes he looks pretty thick? then u see a close up of his wrist or thighs n its like wow ! u are literally breakable!!! to me he's got like..a lean sleeper build idk though

and yesss let s talk about oscars blush bc i could go on and on. does his chest get as rosy as his inner cheeks. do his thumbs go red when he's drunk. does his Three Sixteenths Chinese come out and give him asian flush when he's fucked up. (joking... but do es it... does it....) is his blush the color of his dic (GET DOEN GET DOWN GET DOWN) yeah. anyways.

#tldr its about vibes or something #sure. maybe!#landoscar #asks #oscsense

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thefandomsfervent · 7 months ago

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Viktor x Reader Personal Pigments(Part 17) - Prussian Blue

This is a jayvik x reader fic now but it'll still be labeled as a Vik Fic until it's fully implemented. Ft. JayVik and wine, drunk Jayvik, it goes 18+ here (masturbation). Find my imagine that inspired it here. Previous and next chapter will be linked at the bottom. It's late, I was on a roll, and I didn't proofread this a whole lot, I'll edit it later.

Planning on writing as much as I can this weekend to post in bulk before Christmas week, I'll be traveling a distance away and can't bring my laptop with me.

stay tuned and Thank you for reading <3

╔═*✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*.·:·.✧-✦-✧.·:·.*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧*═╗

It only took you thirty minutes to find your way back to the lab. Although, those first few minutes had you stressed and embarrassed. You and Mel had spent almost two hours walking and talking and you thought she had taken you all over the Academy, but she really had you both walking laps. You were closer to the dining hall than you thought, from there you were able to find your room, and then the lab. Just as you walk up to that heavy door it swings open.

“Zlato, please, use your feet.” It’s Viktor, doing his best to keep Jayce above the floor. You rush forward without thinking and get under Jayce’s other arm to prop him up. You have to drop your pouch and your sketchbook. It gets kicked behind you into the lab once you’re able to stand taller.

“What happened?” You’re asking as you shift Jayce between yourself and Viktor. He’s laughing to himself at the situation. “Oh my gods. He was drunk. Jayce Talis sensible golden boy was drunk.” You remember the wine that Mel had gifted them. But it had only been two hours. Three and half maybe?

“The wine was stronger than we thought.” When you look at Viktor you see his hair is tousled, his cheeks red from exertion or his own drinking you aren’t sure.

“Did he have the whole bottle?” You’re laughing and trying not to. The shaking of your shoulders makes it hard to keep Jayce up straight. “Hun you have to help us help you okay?”

“Mmm you’re both warm. ‘S nice.” You were not letting him live this down tomorrow, if he wasn’t suffering a raging hangover.

“He had four glasses, too close together I think.” Viktor is adjusting his cane straighter with one hand and moving his shoulders around to get a better grip on Jayce’s back with his other.

“And you?”

“I also had four, but I am much better with alcohol than he is.” He thinks back to the first time they had drank together. Some whiskey that was spiced heavily at a cocktail lounge many many months ago. Viktor had enjoyed it, nursing a glass for the first thirty minutes. But Jayce? He slammed it and immediately gagged. Coughing and sputtering. That one drink alone had almost knocked him clean on his ass ten minutes later. He’s laughing at the memory. Especially when he remembers that Jayce made the exact same mistake another ten minutes after drinking a seltzer and they had to sit on the curb outside nursing water. Since then Jayce had learned how to pace himself, learned that he preferred drinks that did not burn his throat and were easier to sip on. Wine was hit or miss. “The wine was sweet, so he was not as cautious as he should have been.”

“WE ARE CELEBRAATING!” The sudden input from Jayce surprised you both. Despite his jelly legs his arms are strong, squeezing the two of you closer. He wasn’t yelling, as much as he was whisper screaming.

“Oh! Congratulations, a new development?” You’re following Viktor’s lead as you take patient steps down the hall. Viktor looks down to Jayce, whose face is flush from all the wine, who has a smile so bright it could be seen in the dark, and who is actively starting to fall asleep in their arms. They needed to move him quickly before he was dead weight. At that point it would be impossible to move him even with your help. There was no time to explain what they were celebrating.

“Yes, a new development.” He can’t help the gentle grin growing on his face. It was so warm. This endearment blooming in his ribs, the wine finding its place throughout his body, feeling your arm against his as you help him haul Jayce down the hallway. He can see their rooms. His was closest and Jayce’s was a couple doors down. There were many reasons he was thankful for the proximity of their moved rooms, but now more than ever. His hand using his cane was starting to go numb from the pressure, a pain shooting up his arm into his shoulder. “Here, to the left. Can you get him to the wall?” Jayce is heavy but you manage to move him to the wall by yourself, needing a breather as you slump against it with him.

He looks sleepy. Eyes struggling to stay open, his mouth parted, his usually perfect combed back hair disheveled.. “Pretty boy indeed.” You’re brushing it out of his face when he leans into your hand. He’s smiling, white teeth and happiness blinding even in the dim light of the hall. “You alright?”

“Neveerr betterrr.” It’s a slurred breathy reply and he slots his head against your shoulder. Viktor is glancing at you while also fiddling with a ring of keys. The clinking sound of metal against metal echoing in the hallway. He finds the one for Jayce’s room and starts unlocking the door. He nods at you to try and get Jayce to his feet.

“Hey big guy, you ready to get up again?” Jayce just hums, pushing the back of his head against the wall now. “Don’t you want to lay down all cozy in bed?”

“Mhmm.”

“Okay then I’m going to get up and I’ll need you to come with me. Can you do that?” Jayce gives another hum of agreement and Viktor watches how gentle you are with him. Helping him stand gingerly, holding onto his waist with one arm, and pulling Jayce’s arm over your shoulder again. Intertwining your fingers with his golden partner’s as you try your damndest to get him through the door. He watches as you give Jayce affirming words and praise for just moving forward with you. It pulls at his core, at all the things him and Jayce had discussed tonight. At all the moments that have been shared. “I’m a sappy drunk,” he thinks as he directs you to Jayce’s bedroom. Viktor pulls the covers back on the bed and lets you set the man down before he sits with him. Helping him take off his shoes.

“Thank you for your help. I am sure he will apologize tomorrow.” Jayce is leaning against Viktor, whispering something you can’t catch.

“I can’t say I won’t give him a hard time.” You laugh at the thought, then again when Jayce’s hand is slapped away from Viktor’s tie. It almost dies in your throat when you watch Viktor’s slender fingers work at Jayce’s. You know it’s to help Jayce get ready for bed, but after all that you’ve seen today it was an image you weren’t sure you were supposed to be burning into your memory like you are. “Goodluck. I’ll be in the hall if you need help.” Viktor just nods, trying to get Jayce to sit still as you leave.

You can hear Viktor talking to Jayce, instructing him as you close the bedroom door. Jayce’s apartment is neat but lived in. It smelled a little of oil? And baked spices. A jacket tossed over a couch, shoes neatly lined by the front door. A table with notes and blueprints that looked similar to how he kept his own room. Stacks of books filled with sticky notes. There are a few plants around. A guitar? So much information about a person in one space. It made you wonder about Viktor’s room. If it was neater than this knowing that he barely spent any time there. As you make your way into the hall you remember that Viktor had a key, on his own key ring, to Jayce’s place. So intimate, the care they had for each other. So sweet in its normalcy. A feeling brews in your chest as you wait by the door. Overwhelming and unknown, something akin to wanting.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

“You are drunk Jayce.” Viktor is trying his hardest to not laugh at the man in front of him, struggling to unbutton his own shirt.

“ ‘know that.” An irritated huff, an uncommon sound for his partner. “ ‘m trying.”

“I know you are, let me help.” It takes a few minutes to get Jayce set up for bed. Viktor leaves him in his undershirt, let’s Jayce take care of his pants despite the struggle. There’s a want brewing in him. He wants to stay here, to hold him til he sleeps, be there with water and maybe a pain reliever when he wakes up. But he doesn’t. He ignores the whine in Jayce’s throat when he goes to the kitchen to get his partner water. When he returns Jayce is out cold. Snoring softly under the covers. He leaves the water on the bedside table, watching the even breathing that moves Jayce’s chest. A hand moves to cup his cheek, rubbing a circle into the apple of it. Viktor’s heart swells when he feels the weight of Jayce push into it unconsciously.

He joins you in the hallway shortly after. You were staring at the wall in front of you, zoning out when the closing of the door snaps you out of it.

“Hey, he alright?” You’re leaning forward, hands by your side as you face him.

“He will be fine. Embarrassed, but fine.” Viktor was tired, the wine making him sleepy and warm. He starts walking towards his room and you follow.

“Didn’t think he’d be a lightweight. It’s kinda-” cute. You don’t finish the sentence but it seems like Viktor agrees with you, laughing softly as his cane taps against the floor.

“Unexpected. I did not know either when we first met. He will deny it though, if you ask it. Blames it on anything else.” He likes hearing you laugh. He likes knowing he caused it. He frowns when he realizes how short the walk is to his room. You would be leaving now. “Goodnight Ms. L/N. We shall see you in the lab tomorrow, yes?”

“Yes. Goodnight Viktor.” Your voice is so soft, so sweet. Viktor watches as you walk down the hall, flipping through all the keys he has before finding the one for his door. He hadn’t gone to bed this early in a long time. It wasn’t even ten o’clock and he was already in his room getting ready to shower. Discarding clothes, finding ones for tomorrow. Brushing his teeth as the shower heats up.

When he steps in it fogs up the window over his sink. The warm water soothing the aches of his body. He goes over today’s events as he lathers a shampoo through his hair. How Jayce’s teasing of you led to teasing him. And now they were… together. Officially. Finally declared as two parts of a whole, and that they both wanted you. He thinks about the wine. How it was sweet and rich and strong. How it was sweeter on Jayce when he kissed him again. How pliant Jayce was in his hands, the heat of those broad shoulders in his palms. The sounds of their kissing, teeth clacking, lips hungrier after every glass.

He should be rinsing the soap out of his hair, he should be washing his body. The routine of putting soap to a washcloth, rubbing it between his hands to form suds lingers in the back of his mind as he continues to think of those kisses. How he could taste fermented fruit and cinnamon and Jayce. A different familiar memory cuts through the haze, much stronger this time. Of release, of teasing touches from past lovers. His imagination taking over. When Jayce tried to bed him would he touch him the same way? The shower is getting hotter, the wine on his breath despite having brushed his teeth. When he tried to bed you, would you react like he did? Would you feel the same that he and Jayce did, would you want them together?

His hand was moving lower, lower, lower. He could feel it happening, the blood moving down, the water against it but he is surprised at how hard he is. When he moves his hand down, the tip moving past the opening of his fist he imagines your lips. How would they feel on him, would you be experienced enough to wet them before starting. The image of you on your knees alone has him moving faster but then his thoughts wander. Would you start slow or would you try to take him all at once? Could he fist both of his hands in your hair and hold you there so could he fuck your mouth. Or would you take the lead, bobbing your head up and down. He imagines your hands holding it or maybe braced on his hips, fingers digging into the flesh. Would Jayce talk you through it once he knew what worked for Viktor?

He can feel it building, all too quickly. It's been a while since he indulged himself like this. A raspy breath falling from his chapped lips. You were so soft. Sweet. Your voice. Quiet and gentle. Would it be honeyed with a returned lust or would it be strained? Dazed like that morning he woke you? "Viktor?" It’s your voice. It’s Jayce’s. The intensity almost knocks him off balance, free hand bracing on the tiled wall as he finishes. Shooting forward onto the handles of the shower. A long burst followed by several short ones as he slows his hand. Twitching when he lets himself go.

And then the only fog he's left with is the steam of the shower. He felt faint, the shower water was too hot and he hadn't been taking full breaths. He turns a handle to make the shower cold and his hand is sticky with his release. Shame. Regret. Oh. What did he just do? He wants to blame it on Jayce’s teasing today. On the glass of wine that warmed his chest. But he knows that's not it. That it's his own depravity.

Well, he could blame all of those things. Embarrassment burns his cheeks more than the water, more than the wine. He hadn’t indulged in that in so, so long. And the realization that there would be something with Jayce in the future settles in his chest. That Jayce wouldn’t be upset with him for this. He takes a deep breath.

More thoughts for later. Exhaustion is deep in his bones now, it had been a long day despite coming to his room early. He needs to sleep, to clean up. He lathers the rag on the hook and enjoys the rest of his shower. Tomorrow will be a new day. A good day.

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#chat he jorked it #fanfic #fanfiction #arcane #viktor arcane #x reader #viktor league of legends #viktor lol #jayvik #jayvikmel #jayce talis #mel medarda

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