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nsh-if · 18 days ago

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NO SAINTS HERE is an 18+ interactive story where you step into the role as the newest recruit in a secret group of immortal agents, you're the wild card—exactly what this mess needs. Inspired by The Old Guard and Hellboy.

YOU DIED.

The gods, or whatever higher being watches from the heavens, have dealt you a shitty hand since adolescence.

Now, thanks to that bad luck that's attached itself to you like a leech, being at the right place at the wrong time, you've become just another name on a long list of casualties. There's no one to mourn you, leaving you with a whole lot of nothing but painful silence.

But when you're there bleeding out on the floor, your life doesn’t flash before your eyes—you're seeing things that've never even happened to you.

Memories of happiness you never experienced, love you never felt, faces of strangers you somehow know but don't.

Then you wake up—in a body bag, surrounded by the very same strangers you saw in those memories.

You’re a part of something bigger, much bigger than you could ever bargain for.

A team of misfit immortals drag you into their reality. They’ve been protecting mankind for eons against ancient cults, government nonsense, and demons looking for their next meal.

You’re one of them now, whether you like it or not.

The clock’s ticking, and shit's about to hit the fan.

TIME TO RAISE HELL.

Customize your character with several different options, including but not limited to: gender and sexuality, physical appearance, weapon of choice, and more.

Try not to die—too much—while you're learning the ropes, or maybe you're just reckless, doesn't matter when you'll come back anyway.

Romance 1 of 3 options, all burdened with the shadows of their own unkillable demons.

CODE NAME: VISAGE [he/him]

As the involuntary commanding agent, Visage bears an oppressive weight on his shoulders that he doesn't dare speak of to anyone else. He's the eldest of the group, whatever good that does. Visage is sharp and silent like the blades strapped to his waist; he hardly ever sleeps, and he's wound up so tightly, like he's running from something, that every time you're alone with him, he looks like he'll snap—though in what way, you don't know.

CODE NAME: SERVAL [she/her]

The ever-teasing espionage specialist, Serval, cares little about being serious beyond her role in the team; she's as capricious as a feline and the shit she pulls sometimes makes you think she's anything but the elusive expert her job title requires her to be. The way Serval looks at you sometimes is unnerving, sizing you up like you're her next meal, and honestly, that doesn't sound so bad.

CODE NAME: ENOCHIAN [they/them]

Enochian is the team's resident bookworm and occultism analyst; they're the one usually making sure nobody gets their head chewed off by whatever demon decides to cause chaos, but if you manage to snag a sample for them without dying? Oh, they'll love you. Enochian isn't the meek bibliomaniac most think them to be; they aren't afraid to get down and dirty, only if it benefits them.

DEMO (TBA) | RO INTROS

@interact-if

#no saints here #no saints here if #nsh-if #interactive story #pinned intro #cyoa game #interactive fiction #if game #if wip #if intro #cyoa #interactive game #intro post #text game #cog #choice of games #choicescript

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gutsby · 12 days ago

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Like Father, Like Son

Pairing: bfd!Joel x Reader

Summary: When your boyfriend won’t, his father will.

Warnings: 18+. Unprotected piv. Age gap. Dad[dy] kink. Infidelity — Reader cheats on her boyfriend with Joel. Pervy!Joel. Cocky!Joel. Subby!Reader. Finger-sucking. Spitplay. Joel c*ms on your tummy then fucks it back in.

Note: I was about to take a nap today, and this thought popped into my head. Couldn’t rest until I wrote it out LOL

Word count: 1.3k

The apple doesn’t fall too far from the tree, apparently.

At a staggering 6’4, Jimmy Miller is the single tallest boy in your class; his father, Joel, is scarcely an inch taller. Both of them prefer to keep their hair cut pretty short. Their shoulders are broad, and their jaws have a square-ish set—Jimmy’s chin and neck are dusted in the darkest black stubble imaginable, and Joel’s is all salt-and-pepper, thanks to the passage of nearly fifty years.

Jimmy plays football and lacrosse, and Joel runs the equivalent of a 5K on a daily basis, in addition to more strength training and core exercises than you’d think possible for a man even half his age. They both are able to boast physiques that are fit, taut, toned, and strong.

The only area where the elder Miller might have your boyfriend beat is in the way the tip of his cock can reach your cervix—and keep hitting it, repeatedly, in just the way you like it, to make you cum quicker than anything.

You shouldn’t have known what that felt like.

Your first instinct when Jimmy rolled off of you tonight and collapsed into the space beside you in bed should not have been to wait until he fell asleep and then sneak off silently to his father’s room. That was wrong of you.

This is borderline evil, what you’re doing with your hips in the heat and comfort of this oversized bed. Joel is smug.

He has a firm hold on your thighs watching you ride him.

“That’s it,” he drawls. He lifts his right hand and swiftly brings it down to smack the skin, and then he kneads. He nods, like this is something that he taught you to do. “Up an’ down, darlin’. Give that pussy what she needs.”

You really wish he wouldn’t say it like that.

Like you were in some way wanting. Deprived.

Like your boyfriend—his son—couldn’t make you moan and whine in the same way you’re doing it right now, cunt split in two by Joel’s big, thick, throbbing cock and your juices leaking out all over his belly. Jimmy’d been inside you, too, no more than twenty, twenty-five minutes prior, so Joel clearly wasn’t the only one responsible for this mess. He just helped finish it.

“I love him, Mr. Miller. I—I—I really do,” you whimper. With one shaky set of fingers, you squeeze your breast, and you feel a web of pleasure blossom down from your chest to the wet, greedy hole where you have him deep.

“‘M’sure you do.” Joel grins. “Gonna get hitched, buy a nice, big house, and have a boatload of kids? Is that it?”

“That’s what it’s gonna be.”

You bite your lip staring down at him, bracing your free hand on that broad, hairy chest, and then you nod your head, as if to convince yourself of what you just told him.

Then Joel flips you both.

He folds you in half, so your knees are pressed up against your chest and your feet are poised in the air, pointed to him. Joel hums, and he keeps on fucking you, not seeming to take issue with how loud the sounds of your cunt sucking him in happen to be. If anything, he likes it.

Your walls clench around him for what feels like the fiftieth time, and you writhe underneath him. You moan.

“Gonna leave this dick alone, too? Once you’re married, I mean.” Joel’s tone is teasing. It’s steeped in incredulity, as well as the experience of being decades your senior.

“Y-Yes,” you stutter.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he simpers.

Then he pulls a long, sad face like this is the worst news that he’s heard all day, and he leans forward until his chest is flush with the backs of your legs and his cock is driven in to the hilt. He cups your face with his big hands.

“I’m gonna miss this pussy,” he says. Sighing. “Bad.”

“Daddy.”

You can’t help but say it when one hand drifts down and starts to toy with your nipple, and the thrusts keep coming in. The bed shakes with every stroke, and you can tell that you’re close to coming apart at any second.

Joel slides the touch that was cupping your cheek to stuff fingers in your mouth. He makes sure that it’ll stifle your cries—he knows you like to scream when you cum, and though he normally loves to hear it, along with all the noises your pussy makes getting stuffed, tonight he’d rather not have to fight his son. He fucks you harder.

He smiles.

“So when it’s late at night—” Another thrust. Another short, sharp intake of breath as you bite him and whine. “—and my son gets what’s his and leaves you needy—”

You bare your teeth and practically keen as Joel fucks you so deep that you can feel him in your lungs. His length drags in and out, in and out, until the imprint of every vein must be seared into your wet, velvety walls.

“Mr. Miller,” you moan, words garbled.

Joel shoves those fingers even further in your mouth at the same time he bottoms out inside your cunt, and both orifices leak with moisture. He licks the spit trickling out at either side of your lips, the old, sick bastard that he is, and you feel that silver-flecked beard tickle your chin. You can sense a little twitch in his cock from root to tip.

Your eyes roll, and your toes curl tight, the same as they’ve done for him the last three nights in a row.

No, this isn’t Jimmy.

Try as you might to pretend that it is, it just—

“—ain’t enough for ya, is it?” Joel must read your mind. “Jimmy ain’t doin’ ya like this, an’ he never fuckin’ will.”

The fingers slide out. They cup your chin hard instead.

“Mr. Miller, I’m gonna…” Your eyelids flutter back open.

It’s happening again. Your boyfriend’s father is balls deep, pounding you relentlessly into his bed, and your legs are pressed to either side of his neck, taking him in.

“Need a real man to make you cum, huh?”

You look up at him, eyes wide.

Between your thighs, your cunt is as stretched and sore and washed in a deep, heady pleasure as it’s ever been.

Then, you’re about to peak.

Frantically, you nod your head.

“Yes, yes, yes—Mr. Miller, make me cum.”

Joel beams. “Gonna let me fuck it in her, too?”

“Please.”

And he does.

Well, in Joel Miller’s own, particular way, he gets it inside—you cum around his cock, bliss rolling and pulsing and squeezing in time, and he lets you milk him all through it. Your walls constrict, pushing him right over the edge. Then he pulls out. Jerks his cock furiously. Lets his sticky-white spend paint your belly in the thickest, warmest ropes, until he’s completely spent. Then, no doubt thanks to the help of a Cialis or a Viagra taken earlier that night, your middle-aged man is able to stay hard for a good while longer. Keep his hypersensitized shaft in play just to make sure that he can stuff you full.

Unlike his son, Joel doesn’t do rubbers.

Unlike his son, Joel loves to play fast and loose with the term ‘pulling out,’ and when he unloads his seed all over your stomach, he makes sure that he fucks it all back in.

So, holding his still-pulsing dick by the base, Joel swipes it over where he came. Smears the stuff messily. Then, with jizz sticking to the tip and all down its length, practically soaking the whole underside of his shaft, he angles it down. He meets your gaze and slides it back in.

He pulls out, takes a little more, and pushes in again.

And again.

Eyes never leaving your own, smile growing on his lips, hips pistoning back and forth, gently, and a bevy of obscene thoughts no doubt filling his head, Joel leans in. He doesn’t stop until his nose is hovering less than an inch from yours, and then his hands slide to your thighs.

He sinks in.

He grins.

“Think my son will mind if I fuck you one more time?”

#SUPPORT WOMEN’S RIGHTS AND WRONGS - PARTICULARLY IF THEY INVOLVE CRACKING THAT OLD MAN IN HALF LIKE A GLOWSTICK #LIKE A COLD BUD LIGHT ON A BLISTERING SUMMER DAY #FRIDAY BEERS BUT IT’S ME GUZZLING JOEL MILLER’S- [G*NSH*TS]#joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller imagine #joel miller one shot #joel miller tlou

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mildeleef · 5 months ago

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